A Dangerous Passion (Bow Street Brides Book 4)

by Jillian Eaton

  A light rain drizzled from a dark, overcast sky as Lilly made her way home from the shop. Buried in invoices, she’d stayed later than she had intended. Bea had left two hours ago on the arm of a handsome gentleman, leaving Lilly to lock everything up when she finished.

  It was only half past nine, but the streets felt eerily empty. Pulling her cloak more tightly around her shoulders and drawing up the hood, Lilly increased her step, dashing between the shadows and slowing down in the soft yellow glow of the streetlamps.

  When she heard what she thought was the click of a boot heel on stone she stopped short, her heart thumping painfully against the wall of her chest as she whirled around.

  “Who – who’s there?” Even to her own ears her voice sounded puny and weak. “I – I have a pistol.”

  It was a lie. Inside the pockets of her cloak she didn’t have so much as a sewing needle. Ian had urged her to start carrying a weapon, but she’d been more afraid of accidentally shooting herself than an assailant. A stupid decision, she reflected belatedly, for what the devil was she supposed to defend herself with? Her reticule?

  She was pulling out the beaded purse when a black cat suddenly streaked across the street, its paw striking a tiny rock and sending it tumbling across the cobblestone which resembled the sound Lilly had heard. Tucking her reticule aside, she drew in a deep, uneven breath and released it in a loud whoosh of air.

  “See?” she said aloud, gaining comfort from the sound of her own voice. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a cat. Stop being such a ninny.”

  But the large shape that suddenly materialized out of the darkness was no cat, and the knife he held in his left hand was something to be very, very afraid of.

  “Hello, whore.” White teeth flashing in a cold grin, the Slasher advanced towards her with the slow, purposeful steps of a predator who knew his pretty had nowhere to hide. “I’ve missed you.”

  Fear wrapped around Lilly’s throat like a vice. “P-please,” she croaked. “Don’t hurt me.”

  “Hurt you?” His laugh was long and loud and tinged with madness. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to save you. One piece at a time.”

  Moonlight flashed off the edge of the knife’s curved blade as he lunged forward. Lilly screamed and tried to run but he grabbed a fistful of her cloak and yanked her back against his chest, his arm coiling around her neck like a snake. She whimpered when his breath wafted across her cheek, the smell of it pungently sweet, like something rotting from the inside out.

  “Don’t worry,” he crooned as he dragged the tip of the knife along her flesh. Blood trickled along the line of her collarbone to pool between her breasts in a macabre necklace of dark red. “This will only hurt for a little bit.”

  “Oooh,” the barmaid cried as Bran moved inside of her. “Just like that. Harder! Faster!”

  Well which one is it, Bran thought irritably as he did his best to accommodate his lover’s ever-changing requests. Just like that or bloody harder and faster?

  When she flung back her head and came with a garbled yell he decided it didn’t matter. With a few more thrusts he found his own release and it was every bit as underwhelming as he’d feared it would be.

  The barmaid, a curvy brunette with dark brown eyes and a sultry pout, was the first woman he’d brought into his bed since he kicked Lilly out of it. The past ten months of self-imposed celibacy hadn’t been something he’d planned on when he ended things with Lilly. He wasn’t a saint, after all. But no matter how hard he tried – and he had tried – he couldn’t seem to stop himself from comparing every woman to the one he’d given up. And every woman, no matter how beautiful or intelligent or witty she was, always fell drastically short of the violet-eyed beauty who had captured his heart and left him mourning her absence like a love-struck fool.

  Knowing he’d done the right thing was the only thing that kept him from marching down to her flat (a flat he paid for unbeknownst to her), throwing open the door, and kissing her with all the pent-up passion that had been collecting in his veins for the better part of a year. For as much as he missed her, as much as he bloody loved her, he knew she was better off without him. But knowing something didn’t ease the ache in his loins, which was why he’d brought the barmaid home.

  A decision he soundly regretted.

  It wasn’t the barmaid’s fault. All of the blame laid with him and his bloody inability to get over Lilly. He’d thought ending his celibacy would be the way to go about it, but too late he realized it had only exasperated the problem.

  Once meaningless sex had been enjoyable. A carefree pastime he’d indulged in probably more than he should have. Now it only served as a reminder of what he’d loved…and lost.

  “Did ye hear that?” Frowning, Bran untangled himself from the barmaid’s clinging grasp when he heard someone knocking on the door. The barmaid sat up with a pout when he pulled on his trousers, leaning back on her hands so her voluptuous breasts were standing at full attention. He barely gave them a glance.

  “Where are you going?” she protested. “We were only getting started.”

  They’d been tupping like rabbits for two hours, but who was keeping track?

  “Someone’s ‘ere. Take this.” He tossed a small pistol onto the bed and tucked another into his waistband.

  “What am I supposed to do with that?” the barmaid sniffed, looking at the gun as if it

  “If anyone comes into this room who ain’t me, shoot them.” Arming himself with a knife for good measure, Bran trotted down the steps two at time. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he called out irritably when the pounding intensified.

  Who the devil would come knocking at his door at this hour? Jules was in the country with her new husband – the chit had gone and married the bloody Runner Grant Hargrave of all people – and his mates were still getting drunk down at the tavern where he’d found the barmaid. Maybe she had a jealous husband or lover she’d forgotten to mention…

  Cocking the pistol, he unlocked the door and slowly opened it towards him.

  “Lilly?” he gaped, nearly dropping the gun when he saw who was standing on his doorstep. Of all the people he’d been expecting, it was safe to say she hadn’t even been on the list. “What the hell are ye doin’ here? Are ye all right?”

  As soon as he got a good look at her it was clear she was far from all right. Her pale blonde hair was in wild disarray and her bodice was torn. There was mud splattered across her skirt, as if she’d run all the way here, and there was a gash in her cheek that looked as though it had come from the sharp end of a blade.

  There was blood on her neck. More of it on her hands and the bodice of her dress.

  “What happened?” he said sharply when she fell, sobbing, into his arms.

  “It’s – it’s the Slasher,” she gasped, lifting terrified violet eyes to his. “He’s trying to kill me.”

  “Bloody hell.” Cursing, Bran scooped Lilly up and carried her inside. Stopping only to close the door and lock the door behind him, he proceeded quickly up the stairs and into Juliet’s bedchamber. But when he went to lay Lilly down on the bed she clung to him like a little burr, and his stomach knotted when he saw how afraid she was.

  “Please don’t leave me,” she begged, her nails digging furrows into his neck.

  “You’re safe, love.” He kissed her cheek and tasted tears. “No one is going to hurt ye here. I just need to go get some things, and I’ll be right back.”

  “No!” Her frightened cry tore straight through his heart. “Don’t leave me.”

  Ah lass, he thought as he gently stroked his hand through her hair tangled hair. Who did this to ye?

  Whoever the bastard was…he was a dead man.

  “It’s all right, love. I’ll stay right here.” Speaking in low, soothing tones, he sat down on the edge of the bed and cradled Lilly on his lap as if she were a child. With her head tucked into his chest and her eyes closed she was quiet as a mouse, but he could feel the rapid beat
of her heart knocking against his ribcage.

  Eventually her heartbeat began to slow and with a soft, weary sigh she drifted off to sleep. Waiting until her limbs were heavy and her breathing had deepened, he moved her to the middle of the bed.

  A swift, impersonal sweep of his hands across her body assured him nothing was broken or seriously injured. But his jaw tensed when he saw the dried blood between her breasts, and his hands curled into fists of barely controlled rage when he found the shallow cut on her collarbone and another on her right arm.

  Someone had hurt his Lilly. Someone had tried to kill her. And when he found who that someone was…he was going to tear him apart.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lilly woke in a blind panic.

  A scream wrenched itself from her raw, aching throat as she sat bolt upright, violet eyes frantic and breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. When she saw a man in the doorway she screamed again, instinctively reaching for the nearest thing she could use as a weapon.

  She had the heavy candlestick raised above her head and was ready to throw it when comprehension dawned and she suddenly realized who she was throwing it at.

  “Bran.” The candlestick fell from limp fingers and struck the floor with a clang before rolling under the bed. “I – I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you at first.”

  “Ye have nothing to apologize for, love. I’ve brought ye some food. I thought ye might be hungry.” He approached her as cautiously as he had the lioness at the zoo, his blue eyes, so achingly familiar, never leaving hers even when he set the tray down on the bedside table. “There’s sausage and eggs and nut bread with apricot jam, just like ye like it.”

  It was silly. Ridiculous, really. But knowing Bran remembered how she preferred her nut bread was enough to flood her eyes with tears. Burrowing her face in her hands she began to cry in earnest while Bran stood frozen in place at the side of the bed.

  “Are ye hurting? Should I fetch a doctor? Bloody ‘ell, I knew I should have gotten a saw bones last night but I thought it was best to let ye sleep. I’ll get one now,” he decided, backing slowly away. Sniffling, Lilly used the sheet to dry her eyes and shook her head.

  “N-no. I don’t need a doctor. I’m just…I’m afraid I am a bit overwhelmed.”

  “Of course ye are, love. Of course ye are.” Looking visibly relieved that she’d stopped crying, Bran stopped his retreat. “Do ye mind if I sit with ye for a little while?” When she shook her head again he moved a chair over and pulled the lid off the breakfast tray revealing a veritable feast of food that could have easily fed half a dozen people.

  Lilly bit her lip. “I’m not very hungry.”

  “That’s all right. Ye only need to eat a few bites. For yer strength,” he said as he prepared a small plate.

  It wasn’t until the first bite that she realized she actually was quite hungry, and in embarrassingly short order she’d devoured everything on the plate. But when Bran offered to make her another she politely declined. “No, thank you. I’ll eat some more later.”

  How odd it felt, to address him as if he were a stranger. Bran appeared uncomfortable as well, although she suspected it had more to do with her showing up in his doorstep in the middle of the night covered in blood and less to do with their affair. After all, he’d been the one to end it. Which meant he hadn’t suffered through months of heartbreak as she had. Nor had he been left with unanswered questions, or stayed awake night after night wondering what had gone wrong.

  But in spite of all those things, he’d been the only one she knew she could turn to. The only one she knew would protect her. The only one she trusted with her life…just not her heart.

  “I – I suppose you’d like to know what happened.” Her gaze fell to her lap as she brushed a few crumbs off the coverlet.

  “Only if ye are ready to tell me.”

  Lilly stilled when he slid his hand over top of hers. The weight was as comforting as it was familiar, and her throat tightened when she remembered all the little ways he used to touch her. A brush of his hand through her hair. The press of his lips against her temple. A playful pinch on her derriere. In bed and out of it he’d never been able to keep his hands to himself.

  Once his touches had brought her nothing but happiness and pleasure. Now she felt nothing but pain which was why she slowly slid her hand away and tucked it beneath the coverlet. Eyes fixed on her knees, she began to speak.

  “Three weeks ago I was attacked in Haversham Square. A man stepped deliberately in front of me and when I ran into him he dragged me into an alley. He didn’t try to rob me. He didn’t tell me his name or what he wanted. But he had a knife, and his intentions were all too clear.” She heard Bran’s short, angry exhalation of breath. Felt the tension radiating off his body in waves. Knowing if she stopped talking or looked at him she wouldn’t be able to get through what came next, she kept her eyes downcast and her mouth moving.

  “Fortunately, a Runner was on patrol nearby and he heard my scream. When he came to investigate my assailant ran off. When I told the Runner, Mr. Ferguson, about what had happened he instantly suspected the attacker was a man they called the Slasher.”

  “Bloody ‘ell,” Bran whispered.

  Lilly’s fingers curled inwards, nails biting into the flesh of her palms as she struggled to keep going. “You’ve probably heard of him. I admit I hadn’t.” And I wish I never had, she added silently. “Two Runners were assigned to follow me at all times. But after three weeks went by they thought – as did I – that the Slasher had forgotten about me. Last night I was working late at the shop. I’ve been working for Bea,” she explained, daring a quick glance at Bran.

  He sat in his chair as stiff as a statue, his blue eyes as cold and unreadable as she’d ever seen him. A muscle pulsed in his jaw and his hands were curled into fists so tight that all the blood had leeched from his knuckles. Swallowing audibly, she quickly returned her gaze to her lap.

  “He came out of the shadows. I thought it was just a cat.” Her mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “I wish it had just been a cat. He…he called me a whore, as he had before. And he said that he’d missed me. I tried to run, but he was too quick.” When she closed her eyes she could still smell his breath and her blood as it rolled down her chest. She could taste the fear in her mouth. Could hear the desperation in her voice as she begged for her life. “He – he had his knife, and he–”

  “That’s enough,” Bran said sharply.

  Lilly’s eyes opened. “But I’m not finished.”

  “Aye, ye are,” he gritted out. “I won’t have ye relive what happened to ye. Not when I can see the terror in your face. The only thing that matters is that ye got away. And ye came to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said reflexively. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”

  “If there’s anyone who should apologize, it’s me.” This time when he reached across the bed and took her hand in his she didn’t resist. She couldn’t. Not when the raw pain in his eyes rivaled the pain in her heart. “This is my fault, love. If I’d not ended things between us, none of this ever would ‘ave happened.”

  “Then why did you?” She’d promised herself that if she ever saw him again she wouldn’t risk her pride by asking him why he’d done it. But seeing the regret in the lines etched across his forehead, hearing it in the somber tone of his voice, she had to know. “Why did you ruin what we had? I knew it wasn’t going to be forever. But you didn’t have to say the things you did.” When tears once again burned the corners of her eyes she blinked them furiously away. She wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not about this. “You didn’t have to be cruel and callous. You didn’t have to treat me as if I didn’t matter. As if what we had together didn’t matter. Because it did.”

  “Ah, love.” His voice breaking, Bran moved to the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms.

  They fit exactly as she remembered; clicking together like two puzzle pieces being snapped into place. Tucking h
er head beneath his chin like a tiny bird settling into its nest, she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, letting herself imagine – if only for a moment – that everything was as it had been before Bran broke her heart.

  “I didn’t end the affair because ye didn’t matter,” he said hoarsely. “I ended it because ye did.”

  When Lilly stiffened Bran reluctantly loosened his embrace, allowing her to slip free of his arms and sit back against the wooden headboard.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, her winged brows tilting down towards the bridge of her nose. “That – that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I’m a thief, Lilly.” When she continued to look at him blankly he muttered a curse and stood up. Dragging an agitated hand through his hair, he crossed to the nearest window and stared blindly out through the glass at the clear blue sky above. “My life in dangerous. It always has been, and it always will be. Which means those closest to me are in danger as well.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the bruises on your face from that morning?”

  He braced his hands on the edge of the sill. “Aye. I fell into a trap set by one of the Runners. Tobias Kent.” Just saying his name made Bran’s shoulders tense. “He’s been after me for nearly a year. Were it not for a bit of luck that night, he would ‘ave had me. And then what would ‘ave happened to ye?” He turned to face Lilly, his countenance a myriad of contradictions.

  Anger.

  Regret.

  Fear.

  Love.

  “The Runners are ruthless. Especially Kent. He’d do anything it took to see me locked away in Newgate, even using those I love to draw me out. Jules has always been a part of this life. She knows the risks, and the dangers. But you, Lilly…” His jaw clenched. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to ye because of who I am and what I do. So I did what I thought was right.”

  “You ended our affair to protect me,” she concluded.

  “Aye.” He gave a clipped nod. “Ye were supposed to go back to Blooming Glen.”