by Diana Bold
“This ’ere’s Brookhaven, miss,” the hack driver informed her. “Will you be wantin’ me to wait?”
“Yes, please,” she told him. “I shouldn’t be long.”
She gave the boy a reassuring smile. “It looks very nice, doesn’t it?”
He didn’t reply, staring at his little feet with downcast eyes. With a sigh, she helped him down and led him through the gate. A lovely young girl opened the front door just moments after Vanessa knocked. “May I help you, ma’am?”
“Hello,” Vanessa said. “May I speak to whoever’s in charge?”
“That would be Mrs. Bohannan,” the girl informed her. “Right this way, please.”
Vanessa and her small charge were led to a room at the back of the house, passing various classrooms and a large dining room along the way. The house had obviously been a private residence at one time and was very well taken care of. Everything was spotlessly clean and inviting.
Their guide poked her head in the room she’d led them to. “Visitors, Mrs. Bohannan.”
“Show them in,” came a soft, harried sounding voice from within.
The girl gestured for them to enter. To her surprise, Vanessa found that Mrs. Bohannan was very young, even younger than herself. The lovely redhead was bent over a stack of ledgers, a pair of glasses perched upon the tip of her freckled nose. She glanced up as Vanessa entered, her gaze immediately fixing upon the boy.
“Hello,” she said, a bit warily. “What can I do for you?”
“My name is Vanessa Bourke,” Vanessa answered. “Prometheus asked me to bring this young man to you.”
“Prometheus?” Mrs. Bohannan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He’s never sent one of the children with someone else.”
“He had little choice last night,” Vanessa replied a bit defensively. “He’d been shot and didn’t think he could make it himself.”
“Shot?” Mrs. Bohannan got to her feet and circled her desk, her green eyes filled with concern. “Is he all right?”
Vanessa nodded, wondering if this woman knew her masked midnight visitor’s true identity. “I believe so. He was wounded in the leg, but I bandaged him up as well as I could.”
Mrs. Bohannan openly sized Vanessa up. She probably had just as many questions about Vanessa’s relationship with Prometheus as Vanessa had about hers. “How well do you know him?”
“How well do you know him?” Vanessa countered.
Mrs. Bohannan laughed and held her hands up in defeat. “I’ve never seen him without his mask, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Vanessa smiled wryly in return. “Neither have I.”
They stared at each other for a moment longer, and then Mrs. Bohannan turned her attention back to the boy. “Hello there, young man,” she murmured, dropping to her knees so she could look him in the eyes. “You’re going to be very happy here. We’ll take very good care of you.”
“He doesn’t talk,” Vanessa said, when the boy didn’t reply.
“A lot of them don’t, when they first arrive.” Mrs. Bohannan gave him another smile, then got to her feet and stepped to the door. “Christina,” she called.
Within moments, the girl who’d answered the door returned. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Can you please take this young man up to the boy’s floor and get him settled in? I need to talk with Miss Bourke a few moments more, and then I’ll come up and see how he’s doing.”
“Of course.” Christina smiled and held out a hand to the child. “Come with me.”
He shook his head and buried his face in Vanessa’s skirts.
Frowning, Vanessa knelt down and hugged him tightly. “It will be all right,” she whispered, stroking his soft, curly hair. “You’re safe now, and if you like, I’ll come and visit you.”
He pulled back and gazed at her with heartbreaking trust.
She nodded, though he hadn’t given voice to the question. “Yes, I promise. I will come and see you every chance I get.”
He stared at her a moment longer, then turned toward Christina, squaring his little shoulders.
Vanessa watched him go, tears burning her eyes. She’d known him less than a day, yet the fierce concern and protectiveness she felt for the boy stunned her.
“I hope you meant that,” Mrs. Bohannan told her with a sigh. “If you don’t keep your promise, it will make it even harder for him.”
“Of course I meant it,” Vanessa replied, stung, even though she understood the other woman’s concern. Truth be told, she’d made the offer impulsively, but she was determined to see it through. The boy needed her, and she’d never felt needed before.
Mrs. Bohannan returned to her chair. “Well, if you did mean it, you’re more than welcome. You can come and see him any time.”
“Thank you,” Vanessa replied, her respect for this young woman growing with each passing moment. “I’ll see you soon, then.”
“I hope so,” Mrs. Bohannan murmured, her attention already back on her books.
Chapter Three
Adrian stole down Brookhaven’s hallway, shaking his head when he saw the light on in Fiona’s office even though it was past midnight. Affection welled deep within him. Fiona had been the first one he’d rescued, and she had a special place in his heart. In the two years since he’d put her in charge of Brookhaven, she’d worked herself to the bone, her commitment to making a difference in the lives of these children even greater than his own, if such a thing was possible.
She’d taken to calling herself Mrs. Bohannan, though she’d never been married, in an attempt to make herself seem older. To him, she’d always be Fi, sixteen years old and sobbing as he rescued her from a house that specialized in men who liked to brutalize women.
Pausing outside her door, he self-consciously adjusted the mask. Foolish, he knew, to trust her with so much, yet keep this one part of himself a secret. It wasn’t as though he feared her reaction to his scars. He’d kept her from learning his identity for purely practical reasons. If anyone ever made the connection between Prometheus and the school, he wanted her to be able to maintain plausible deniability.
“Burning the midnight oil again, Fi?” he asked softly as he entered the room.
She shot to her feet and launched herself into his arms, hugging him with surprising strength. “I’ve been so worried about you! Miss Bourke told me you’d been shot.”
He let himself enjoy the rare embrace for a brief moment before stepping away. “I’m fine,” he assured Fiona, settling into the chair that faced her desk. “Took a bullet in the leg, but it’s healing nicely.” Truthfully, it hurt like the bloody devil. He’d been a fool to venture out tonight, only three days after it had happened, but he’d needed to make sure Miss Bourke hadn’t disappointed him.
Fiona resumed her place behind the desk, shoving aside a stack of ledgers. “I was surprised when you sent the child with Miss Bourke. Wasn’t sure whether or not to trust her. Perhaps we can work out some sort of password, in case you ever need do such a thing again.”
“Perhaps.” He hid a smile, knowing how much Fiona loved being a part of the intrigue of his disguise and daring rescues. “In any event, it sounds as though she managed to get the boy here safely?”
Fiona nodded, giving him a considering look. “She’s very lovely. I didn’t take her seriously at first, when she said the boy had taken hold of her heart. But she’s come back to visit him every morning since she dropped him off, bringing him toys and clothes.”
Adrian frowned at this unexpected news. Though he’d already held her in high esteem, he hadn’t expected her to take an interest in the boy. “What do you think of her?” he asked pensively.
Fiona gave him an amused look. “She’s beautiful, and she seems kind. Smart, too. I don’t think she’ll betray us. She cares too much for the boy.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, relief sweeping through him. “I feared I’d made a mistake.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to spread the load a little,” Fion
a told him, an old argument. “There are lots of people who’d be willing to help you with this, if you’d just let them.”
“I have you,” he reminded her, afraid to think too much about what Vanessa’s visits meant, afraid to hope she might be everything she seemed.
“That you do.” Fiona gave a bright, tinkling laugh. “I suppose the two of us can muck along alone. We’ve been doing it for a long time now, haven’t we?”
“We have.” He handed her a stack of cash, pushing all thoughts of Vanessa to the back of his mind. “Here’s next month’s expenses.”
Fiona took the money with barely disguised relief. What a little bean counter she was. He provided plenty of funds to keep the house running, but she believed so passionately in what they were doing, and she was always afraid the well would run dry. He knew she worried that one day he’d be caught, and the funding would stop, even though he’d assured her that he’d made provisions for Brookhaven to continue, no matter what happened to him. His brothers contributed to this venture, though not as actively as he did, and they would never let it go under.
Unfortunately, Fiona had very little experience with men who kept their word.
“Well, I think I’ll check in on our new arrival and then go home. I’ve been strictly forbidden to jump across rooftops for a few days, so it may be a while before you see me.”
“Take care of yourself,” Fiona said softly, as he turned toward the door. “There are a lot of people counting on you.”
Her words created familiar tension within him. So many people counting on this charade. So many unfortunates still to rescue. For every one he saved, thousands continued to endure lives of slavery and pain. He couldn’t stop, no matter how dangerous it became.
“He won’t talk,” Fiona called, as he stepped out into the hall. “We don’t know his name.”
He paused and glanced back, noticing that she was already back to her ledgers. “Get some sleep, Fi. That’s an order.”
She gave him a sheepish glance, but he continued staring at her until she shut the book and stood up. “All right. I’m going.”
“Good girl,” he muttered, as he headed toward the stairs. Fiona was only twenty-three. She shouldn’t be saddled with so much responsibility, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She loved the children, and they loved her.
Once he reached the top floor, he moved quietly down the hall, looking in each open door, loving the soft chorus of snores. They slept four to a room, but the rooms were snug and warm, the beds clean and comfortable.
He stopped at the last room on the right, where the youngest boys were housed. His most recent rescue slept peacefully in one of the beds, his inky hair a striking contrast to the crisp white pillow.
Adrian stared down at the boy for a long moment, letting deep satisfaction well within him. This was why he did it. So children like this one could have a childhood filled with good memories that would hopefully wipe out the darkness that came before.
* * * *
Adrian slid open Vanessa’s third-floor window, grimacing at the strain on his injured leg as he quietly swung through. He’d meant to go straight home after leaving Brookhaven, but he’d found himself coming here again instead. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Fiona had said. Why hadn’t Vanessa simply dropped the boy off and went back to her glamorous life? Why would a woman like her spend hours playing with children at an orphanage? He needed to find the answer to that question. He had to see her again.
Smoothing his hand over the mask, he made sure it was still in place. As long as he wore it he could be himself, without feeling self-conscious. For the first time in his life, he had the opportunity to interact with a beautiful woman without the distraction of his scars.
He stood for a moment just inside the window, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the darkness, listening for the sound of Vanessa’s soft breathing. When he determined that she was indeed in the room, he crossed the heavy carpet to her side.
The bedclothes rustled as she suddenly scrambled to a sitting position.
“Don’t be afraid,” he hastened to reassure her. “It’s just me.”
“Just you?” She gave a soft, incredulous laugh. “By that you mean, ‘just the masked villain who already broke into my room and scared me to death once before’?”
A smile curved his lips at her sassy tone. The girl had spunk, he’d give her that. And it felt good to smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done so out of genuine pleasure.
“Yes,” he murmured. “Just that masked villain.”
“Why did you come back?” Despite her attempted bravery, a trace of apprehension laced her voice and guilt surged through him.
“I’ll leave if you wish. I just…wanted to see you again.”
Silence fell between them, and his heart sank. Of course she didn’t want him here. He’d been a fool to think she’d welcome him back with the same sweet passion she’d shown before. He spun on his heels, heading back the way he’d come.
“How is your leg?”
He paused and turned slowly back, straining to see her face in the dark. “On the mend.”
“You shouldn’t even be on your feet,” she chided softly. “Come. Sit down beside me and rest for a while before you leave.”
Her offer made him think of the Christmas mornings of his childhood. Before his father had died. Before he’d been burned. When he’d still believed anything was possible.
As he crossed the room, he flicked on the gas, illuminating the room in soft light. He sank stiffly onto the edge of her bed, breathing deeply as her feminine scent enveloped him. Vanilla and a light hint of cinnamon. Warm, homey smells, not the heavy floral perfume he’d expected.
“Is the mask really necessary?”
“I don’t want to put you at risk,” he asserted, sickness blooming in the pit of his stomach at the thought of facing her without the safety of his disguise.
“I read about what you did the other night. It was very foolish. Why do you take such risks?”
For a moment he actually considered telling her the truth. What was it about this woman that made him such a stranger to himself? Never before had he felt the urge to reveal himself in such a way.
“Someone has to do it,” he answered vaguely instead. “I like doing it.”
She shook her head with a faint smile. “I’m used to narcissistic actors. Altruistic behavior confounds me, but I find it refreshing. And admirable.”
Beneath the mask, heat burned his cheeks at her unexpected praise. “My actions are far from altruistic, I can assure you. I do it less for those unfortunate wretches I rescue than from the need to destroy the evil men who prey on the weak and innocent.”
She leaned toward him and squeezed his hand. “You’re a hero in my eyes. I don’t care about your motives.”
He twined his fingers with hers, not such a hero that he wasn’t fully prepared to take advantage of her misconceptions. “You’ve haunted me since I last saw you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you.”
“I’ve thought about you, too,” she admitted with a half-smile. “I’m glad you came back. I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again.”
Her words thrilled him, but he stopped himself from saying something about that kiss. He didn’t want to scare her away, or for her to think he’d come here with thoughts of getting another one, even though he wanted nothing more.
“I hear you’ve been visiting the boy,” he said instead. “Fiona says you’ve been there every day.”
She nodded, her eyes sparkling with obvious affection. “He’s such an amazing little boy. I wish I could take him in, but the life of an actress is not suited for raising children.”
He heard an underlying note of bitterness. “Was your mother an actress?”
“My father was an actor. He and my mother were never married, so I never even met him until she died.” She released his hand and folded her slim arms defensively, obviously unsure how he would take the news that she was
a bastard. “He had no idea how to be a parent. He left me in dressing rooms and empty flats, forgot about me completely more often than not. I would never want that for a child of my own.”
He wished she hadn’t let go of his hand. He wanted to offer her comfort. “Don’t say such things,” he told her instead. “You’re not your father. The boy thinks the world of you. I’m sure you’d be a wonderful mother.”
Her dark eyes sparkled with a sheen of tears, which she quickly blinked away. “Thank you. I hope so. One day, perhaps.”
“One day,” he repeated, throwing caution to the wind and once again reaching for her hand. She surrendered it reluctantly, still rather defensive. He sensed she hadn’t volunteered so much to anyone in quite some time and still wasn’t sure why she’d opened up to him. He couldn’t imagine why she’d chosen to trust him, but her story touched him deeply. He twined his fingers with hers and squeezed her hand. “When I watched you on stage, I was certain you loved being an actress.”
She shrugged, dropping her gaze. “It’s my job to make you think that. But in truth, I hate the uncertainty, the lack of stability. I’ve lived in this flat for two years, and that’s the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place in my life. All I really want is a home, a family…” She trailed off in embarrassment.
“Any man would be glad to start a family with you,” he told her in a hushed voice, wishing he could be that man.
She cleared her throat. “I wish you’d take off that mask. Maybe it’s the anonymity that has allowed me to talk to you this way, but it’s a little disconcerting.”
He lifted his hand, automatically checking to make sure the fabric hadn’t shifted. “I’m sorry, Miss Bourke. I can’t take that risk.”
Her face fell, and he knew he’d disappointed her. “I understand,” she said, but it was obvious that she didn’t. She’d opened herself up to him and apparently hoped he would do so in return. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He didn’t even know if he knew how.