by Dayna Quince
“Let her go,” Lord Densmore ordered.
His brother turned his head toward him. “She’s seen too much already,” he said in a harsh whisper.
“You are scaring her, let her go,” Lord Densmore snarled at his brother.
Luna stared at him in shock. She'd never seen a face so classically beautiful and yet terrifying at the same time. She knew him to be a rather reserved man, but now he looked as dangerous as a broadsword swung with skill, and she was standing directly in its path.
Mr. Denham complied and removed his hand from her mouth.
“Don't scream,” he said.
Luna breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. So frightened that her knees had grown weak, and she'd started to see specks of light as if she was going to faint.
But the feeling went away as she continued to breathe and study them.
“What are you doing down here?” asked Mr. Denham.
“I…” It was so hard to breathe and remain calm when both of them were still scowling at her. She licked her lips, her mouth dry and sandy, as though the salt in the air had evaporated all her saliva. “I'm looking for an herb,” she said.
The two gentlemen shared a glance. In the light of day, they had lovely greenish, hazel eyes, shot through with bits of gold, and thick, dark brown hair. Luna would never admit she’d spent quite a bit of time studying Lord Densmore's eyes from across the breakfast table, especially not now that he'd revealed himself to be a dangerous smuggler.
He and his brother appeared so alike, but Lord Densmore was the larger of the two, older, thicker, honed like a knife to a fine, sharp edge. Whereas his brother was the youthful, more pleasant version. But he did not have his older brother’s mysterious appeal, not in Luna's opinion.
Lord Densmore reached inside his cloak and Luna flinched. He pulled out a pocket watch and considered the time, holding it up in the weak light.
“It’s nearly midnight,” he said. “Who looks for herbs on the beach at midnight?” His gaze pinned her. His brother needn't hold her against the rock, the weight of Lord Densmore’s stare, steely gray in the night, held her immobile. Yet some of her fear slipped away, and she could no longer feel the chill in the air. A flush of warmth replaced it as she stared back at him.
Was she blushing? It certainly felt like it. She hoped he couldn't see it.
“I'm looking for something specific that can only be found at night. By the light of day it's indistinguishable among common weeds, but at night the leaves glow.”
Mr. Denham scoffed. “No plant glows.”
Luna's focus moved to him reluctantly. “According to the medicinal text I'm reading, Star herb does.”
“Enough of this. It doesn't matter what she's doing,” Lord Densmore said.
“Correct. It only matters what she saw.”
Both gentlemen looked at her expectantly, as if anticipating her telling them exactly what she saw. So Luna took a deep breath, prepared to lie through her teeth.
“I saw nothing. The herb grows here amid the damp rocks. If I go any lower, it's too wet. If I go any higher, it's too dry. The only thing I've seen is right in between these rocks, and I was looking between them here, not at the beach, not at the water.”
They shared another glance of brotherly wordless conversation.
Luna lifted her chin. “I don't really care what you're doing here. And I’d rather no one know that either of us were out tonight. Now if you let me go, I will return to my room and you can return to…whatever it is you're doing. Stargazing, perhaps?”
Lord Densmore's lips twitched, and though it was hard to read any of his expression in this weak light, she thought maybe she'd amused him. Oddly, she felt a small thrill.
Mr. Denham’ s arm fell away from her collarbone. She took a full, deep breath, but then he took hold of her arm.
“Why don't I escort you back,” he said, his lips lifting in a sly half smile, and he leaned into her.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “No, thank you."
Lord Densmore stepped close. “We can both escort her back. We should all return to the castle after our stargazing.”
He offered his arm to her, and Luna couldn't pull her gaze away from his as she gently set her hand on his sleeve. The fine wool of his coat, so soft, was almost a shock to her ungloved fingers. He radiated warmth from his heavy fur-lined cloak. She wanted to draw closer. Instead, she settled for the heat radiating from his arm. His brother followed behind as he led her up the inclined path to the top of the bluff, and they walked to the castle in silence, not toward the kitchen garden but toward the back terrace.
Luna slowed. “I must return through the kitchen,” she said.
“I think we should have a little chat first,” Lord Densmore said.
Luna opened her mouth to object but then thought better of it. It wasn't as though they could kill her in the house. She was better off just following along until they released her.
Clearly, both gentlemen thought they could convince her to forget the events of the night. They needn't go to the trouble. She had no desire to share what she'd seen. All she wanted to do was go to her room and remove her wet boots and stockings.
Lord Densmore escorted her into the house, the halls dark, the castle eerily quiet. He navigated the halls as if he knew this place by heart, and Luna wondered how many times such a man had visited and she hadn't even known. She’d never met him until the ball four months ago here at Selbourne Castle.
But they hadn't been formally introduced then. It wasn't until this party that they had actually exchanged words. She had looked into his meadow green eyes with little veins of brown and gold and learned his name, and her opinion of what made a man beautiful was forever changed.
She wasn't certain what part of the house this was. He opened the door and ferried her into a small office-like room with one window, a small unlit hearth, and a writing desk.
“Start a fire.” He threw the words at his brother, an order.
His brother did so without comment, and soon the room lit up with a faint orange glow. Luna wanted to drift closer to the warmth and extend her icy hands to it, but she remained where she was.
He set a lamp on the desk and opened the drawer, searching the contents. Luna's hand dipped into her pocket and she presented the small box of matches. He glanced first at the matches and then at her face. She presented the candle too.
“I came prepared for the evening. Didn't you?”
His lips twitched again, but he did not smile. Did he not want to admit he found her amusing? Was his humor so lacking that a brief moment of expression was all he could muster? He took the box of matches and lit the oil lamp.
More light suffused the room, and her bravery seemed to disappear with the darkness.
She was alone with two men. Two gentlemen, but she didn't know them well.
She put her shaky hands in the pockets of her cloak and glanced between them expectantly. As Josie would say, when going into battle, never show fear. It will only embolden your enemy. “Well? If it's all the same to you, my feet are cold and I'd like to get to bed.”
The two brothers shared a glance again. But what did it mean?
Lord Densmore picked up the chair with one hand and moved it toward the fire. “Please, sit." He gestured to the chair.
Luna lifted her chin and moved to the chair; it was by the fire, after all. She sat, placing her hands on her thighs and waited. The younger brother, Mr. Denham, moved toward her, stopping a respectable distance away and leaning one arm on the mantle. His gaze moved over her speculatively.
“This herb you are searching for, what did you call it?”
“Star herb,” she said.
“And how do you know about it?” he asked.
“I read.”
Luna heard a soft snort come from the older brother, but she did not look his way. He must not know how he affected her or he could use it against her, and clearly they were looking for some way to use her to keep her
from sharing their secret.
Mr. Denham straightened and folded his arms, widening his stance in what Luna could only assume was an attempt to intimidate her with his size, which might be impressive if his elder brother was not present.
Luna almost smiled. It might work in ten years when he'd aged to perfection, like his brother.
“What use do you have for this herb?” he asked.
“Really, now what business is it of yours?” she returned.
“It seems a bit unusual. A woman such as yourself, hunting for herbs at night. It is strange, is it not?”
Luna raised a brow. “Are you certain you want to discuss strange behaviors at night, Mr. Denham? Wouldn't it be easier for all of us to pretend nothing happened at all? That we are all three of us tucked tightly into our warm beds?” She was extending an olive branch, making it clear that the last thing she intended to do was talk about what she'd seen and preferred they would do the same.
Mr. Denham glanced to his brother. “This one's rather sarcastic.”
Lord Densmore drifted over. “Perhaps you are not up to the challenge?”
Mr. Denham dropped his hands to his sides, his fists clenched. “You know I love a challenge. But she presents more of a problem. How do we solve this problem?”
Luna cleared her throat. “Perhaps you could ask the problem, or better yet treat me like the person I am and not talk about me as if I'm not here.”
Both men focused on her. Lord Densmore stroked his chin. Mr. Denham’s attention grew more intense.
“I think I can keep her quiet.”
“How so?” Luna and Lord Densmore said in unison.
Their gazes caught together, two fish snared in the same net. It gratified Luna to see genuine amusement in his eyes, and it also thrilled her to feel such a connection with him. Perhaps it was only the effects of the fire, but her skin warmed, and as he held her gaze, parts of her body tingled in ways she'd never felt before.
She drew in a slow breath.
But it was Mr. Denham’s movement that interrupted the pleasant moment. He stood in front of her, blocking sight of his brother. He set his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned over her, cocking his head to the side.
“I'd like to make you a deal, Miss Lunette,” he said.
“Back away from her.” His brother's voice filled the room with command.
Thrilling goosebumps erupted over her skin.
Mr. Densmore backed away, scowling at his brother. They stepped away from her and whispered to each other.
Chapter 3
“Bloody hell, Callen. I can seduce her into being quiet. I know I can. She's nothing but a simple country lass.”
Callen folded his arms and glared at his brother, suppressing the urge to clip his jaw with his fist. “You're not seducing an innocent woman—especially not her.” He didn't know what it was about her that made his nerve endings stretch in such a delicious manner, like a cat finding a spot of sunlight, but there was no way in hell he was going to let his brother seduce her.
“We don't know that she saw anything or that she has an inclination to report what she saw.”
“Damn it, this is my life we are talking about. We can't afford for her to let something slip in the wrong ear.”
“If you care about your life so much, stop trying to destroy it. I’ve wasted enough of my own trying to save you from all your damned mistakes. I put my body in front of the bullet for you. I won't let her do the same.”
“What is your plan, brother? All-knowing, omnipotent Callen will save the day again, won’t you? Great hero that you are.”
“I must have done something terrible to deserve you as a brother,” Callen said.
“I didn't ask you to help me. I've never asked you to help me,” Theo snarled in return.
“And yet here we are. You'd be dead without my help. When are you going to grow up? You can't charm, bribe, or fuck your way out of every situation. At some point you have to admit you did wrong and take responsibility. And for Christ’s sake, learn from your past and make better choices.”
“Then what would you do, brother? If you didn't have me to make you feel so superior?”
Callen cocked his head to the side. “What would I do if I didn't have to clean up after all your messes? Well, I guess I'd be able to live my own life.”
The muscle in Theo's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth. “I think you can handle this too, can't you?” And then he left the room.
Leaving Callen to deal with yet another of his scrapes. He stared at the door as it snapped closed and took a deep breath. For once, he was happy to take over this task. His brother's hotheaded ideas would not help them with Miss Lunette and would only enrage Callen further.
He rolled his shoulders, easing the tension, and turned toward her. Her eyes were a bit wide as she sat in the chair watching him. Her gaze switched to the door.
She shrugged. “Siblings. God love them.”
“And so do I,” Callen muttered.
She folded her arms and angled herself toward the fire and then she shivered.
Callen drew closer. “Are you cold?” he asked.
“A little,” she replied.
The room wasn't cold in his opinion, but he had a lot more mass than she did.
She seemed so small and delicate huddled in her little brown cloak, like a sparrow, weathering a storm in a hollowed-out tree. She kicked her feet toward the fire.
“Are your feet wet?” he asked.
She glanced at him. “As it so happens, my boots are not as water resistant as they once were.”
“Do you wish to remove them? I promise the sight of your feet won't render me mad with lust.”
She raised a brow at him. “Are you certain?”
He chuckled. “I'm fairly certain, but the gamble is all yours.”
“We could save this little conversation for tomorrow, and I could just as easily go to my room and warm my feet there, as well as remove these blasted wet stockings.”
Now he raised a brow at her. “Mine delicate ears shall not recover from such coarse language.”
She smiled, dazzling him with her raspberry-colored lips, ripe and sweet.
He pushed that thought aside.
“Never put off until tomorrow work that can be done today,” he said. “I need to know what you saw on the beach so I may explain it appropriately.”
“I saw nothing,” she said. “What did you see on the beach?”
“Certainly not a young woman, far from her bed, alone.”
“That is good, my lord. I did not see two gentlemen on the path from the beach. Who knows what they were doing there? It certainly isn't my business or my concern because I was never there.”
He sighed. As much as he enjoyed playing this game with her, he had to know what she saw, and he had to convince her not to repeat it.
His brother's life depended on it.
“As diverting as this conversation is, I fear I should warn you that you may have stumbled on something quite serious. I don't want to alarm you, but it is very pertinent that I find out what you know.”
He saw her throat move as she swallowed and some of her brevity left her.
“I saw a ship,” she said, “but you see that's not unusual here. There are always ships out there, anchored for the night.”
“What else?” he prodded, drawing closer but not wanting to intimidate her. He kept his stride slow and casual as if they were doing nothing more than talking about the weather or the portrait of dogs sitting above the hearth.
Her lips parted and she licked them. His stomach tightened, and while he knew that he'd noticed her more than her sisters, there was something about her that particularly snared him.
He'd made a point to think nothing more of it. He was here under the guise of an unwillful suitor. Lord Andrews had invited him and his brother here under the false invitation that it would be a gentlemen's house party, filled with hunting, cards, and drinking to the early hours of the mornin
g—as they usually did on their visits here.
It just so happened to be the perfect opportunity for him and his brother to leave London. The invitation had been a miracle, really, the perfect alibi.
Just when his brother had needed it.
And so Callen had swept them up north where a ship and passage to France could be found much cheaper, and much more secretly, in a small village harbor then it could in London where the comings and goings of passengers were documented far more rigorously. He turned toward the fire, the week-old wound in his side still oozing blood and aching like the devil.
That would teach him to step between two dueling men, but he'd probably do it again because coming to his brother’s rescue seemed to be his single purpose in life. Even at the risk of his own.
“I saw three gentlemen down the beach,” she said. “I did not know who you were. I thought at first…”
“Yes?”
“I thought at least two of the men I saw were the duke and his brother.”
Callen stilled. “Why them?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I didn't imagine it could be anyone else.”
“What else did you see or hear?”
“Nothing. I could hardly see and I was not near enough to hear anything at all. I couldn’t even recognize anyone of the three. It wasn't until your brother caught me on the path that I realized I knew two of the persons on the beach. I do not know—and I care not—who the third person was or why the three of you were on the beach.”
He lifted his chin and stared down his nose at her. It was a tactic he'd used with his brother many times to make him talk.
“Is that everything? You're not lying to me?”
“Why would I lie? If he hadn't grabbed me, I would never have known who two of those three people were, and I have no cause to raise an alarm. It's not illegal to talk on the beach. It wasn't as though I witnessed a murder and you and your brother hiding the body, now is it?”
Murder? Not yet.
Coombs would send word if his brother’s luck had run out and Sir Kirby, his ill-fated dueling opponent, died from his wound. Callen would have to get his brother out of the country or see him hang for murder.