by Darcy Burke
“I’ll put the kettle on so that we can wash that cut again.” He stepped into his breeches.
“It’s nothing. You don’t have to worry about it.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lean over, fingertips grazing the wool of her gray gown. The gown was stained with blood and ash. He shook his head, lifting open the trunk and pulling out of one of his shirts.
He came around the edge of the bed, swapping the clean linen shirt for her soiled dress. “I like you better naked,” he teased.
She rolled her eyes as he held the clothing up higher than she could reach without dropping the sheet. He grinned back, undaunted. Quickly, Kate released the sheet, snatching the fabric from his hands and throwing the shirt over her head.
“I would have gone and gotten breakfast, but I didn’t want you to wake up alone.” He poured water into the kettle and set it up.
“I won’t be here long enough for that.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and winced at the sudden movement. Cautiously, she slid one foot onto the ground and then the other.
His shirt clung to her gorgeous frame, stopping at her knees and leaving her long, velvety smooth legs visible. She ran her tongue across her lips and swallowed. He was hard just seeing her again, recalling much better uses for her mouth.
“Where do you think you are going?” He leaned back against the tea stand, brows arched. “You haven’t a clean dress. Surely you don’t intend to slink through Ratcliffe with only my shirt.”
Unabashed, he watched as she stooped down to pick up her boots. His shirt slid up further, letting him glimpse her rounded rear. God’s balls, she’d kill him.
“It is not as if I have much of a choice.” Boots in hand, she pursed her lips in thought. “I could borrow a pair of your breeches. Put my hair up under your hat and no one need know I am female.”
“As Shakespearian as that sounds, I must refuse.” He closed the distance between them, gathering her up in his arms.
Sweeping away her hair from her shoulder, he laid a kiss on the pulse point of her neck. With only the thin layer of his shirt around her nubile frame, her bottom against the hard ridge of his burgeoning erection was nearly enough to undo him. She leaned against his hold, giving him better access to her neck. His hand palmed the shape of her full breast until she whimpered.
He spun her around so that she faced him, nestled against his unclothed chest. “Stay awhile. Let me love you.”
She wrenched from his hold. “You say you won’t leave now. But you can’t predict the future.”
He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. His fingers lingered along the line of her jaw, tracing the familiar shape of her face. “No one can predict the future, Katiebelle.”
Pain crossed her features as she closed her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”
“What else should I call you?” He kept his voice soft, as if she were an easily startled filly on his uncle’s farm that he needed to calm. “Wife?”
Her eyes popped open, but she didn’t look at him. She kept her gaze focused on the trunk across the room. He had never unpacked his belongings.
“Daniel, please.” Her voice was achingly raw, but not in the way he had wanted. Not with joy, not with passion, instead with the resignation of an already-decided mind.
“I mean it, Kate.” He reached over, delicately turning her chin so that she faced him. “I want to marry you. I’ve always wanted to marry you. I’m nothing without you, love, and the thought of some other man with you rips me to bloody pieces. So say yes, Kate. Say yes to me and what we mean to each other because there’s no one in this world better for me than you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Kate had made the worst of mistakes. One night had unleashed all the feelings she’d tried to keep hidden. Daniel’s fingertips braced against her chin, that slight touch scorching red hot through her body. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, as long as his gaze was locked on hers. He sat so precariously close she could fall into his arms.
His words tumbled like drops of honey upon her, sweet and rich, and she wanted nothing more than to believe in his promises. She could tell him she had his ring again. That she’d never stopped loving him, and she’d been lying before when she claimed she had no feelings for him.
She was wiser, stronger than she had been when they were together. She ought to know that love was a childhood fairytale.
“I can’t.” She found her voice, staring directly at the trunk across the room. Why had he never unpacked? Was he preparing for another quick escape?
He dropped his hold on her chin. Clarity triumphed over a hazy mind when he was not around.
“Tell me why not,” he murmured, winding an arm around her waist and pulling her to him. He brushed her hair out of his way again, nibbled on the rim of her ear.
Those devious lips were her ruin. She could get lost in his arms, forgetting her place entirely. Forgetting who she had become without his help, and the life she had carved out for herself.
“Because last night was a mistake.” She slipped from his arms and stood up quickly. The ground swayed beneath her, head spinning from the sudden rush. She grabbed for the solidness of the bed to steady her, brushing against his calf instead.
Damnation.
She flung her hand up in the air. But that wasn’t clever either, for the movement brought the edge of his shirt up further on her thigh and he watched all too appreciatively.
Stubbornly, he tilted his chin up. “Last night was not in error.”
“Think what you want.” She shrugged. “I know what it was to me.”
He shook his head. “I’ve never heard you say something more false. You’re drawn to me, love. That hasn’t changed—do you think you’d have slept with me last night if you didn’t feel the same way?”
She stiffened. “For all you know, I fall into bed with men quite regularly.”
He arched a brow at her. “I highly doubt that.”
“We almost died, Daniel. I was caught up in the moment.” She propped the lid open on his trunk and yanked out a pair of breeches. Stepping into the breeches, Kate tried the closure, but found that the fabric gaped wide. She was going to have to walk through Ratcliffe holding the damn breeches closed with one hand.
“Don’t do this, Kate.” He slid behind her, crowding her and pushing her up against the trunk. His scent filled her nostrils, thick with spice and soot.
“I’m not doing anything,” she whispered. Yet the fight was dying in her. She knew it and he knew it, and soon she’d be no more.
“Yes, you are.” His arms encircled her waist, drawing her flush against his hard pectoral muscles. “You’ve been doing the same thing since I came back to London. Running from me when you should be staying here, letting me love you. I made a mistake three years ago, but you’re so stuck in your own head that you won’t let me fix it.”
“Some things are too split to slap a bandage upon.” She leaned back into his hold, contradicting her own words.
“Some things, perhaps. But not this. You’ve got to allow me in first, and then you’ll see.”
“I’ve got goods to take in—”
“And I’ve got a murderer to catch. Those things will wait, at least for now. You have to talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.” He tweaked her ear.
“It’s too soon.” She said the first thing that popped into her mind.
“Oh.” He paused for a moment, as though deep in thought. His fingers tapped out a slow beat against her waist. “Is that all? We don’t have to decide this now, Katiebelle. But I need you to know that I came back for you because every day I was gone I thought of you. The way you laughed, that cute quirk of your lips when you smile, that sparkle in your eyes when you’ve figured out something that’s been puzzling you.” He sighed, his thumb tracing the bridge between her ring finger and pinkie. “I tried to drink you away and I couldn’t. There’s not enough liquor in the world to dull you out of my mind.”
His words sunk
deep in her, as if he’d taken a mallet and crushed at her defenses. She leaned back against the trunk, grateful for something to hold her up. Her knees were weak, heart thumping against her chest. Tears dotted the corners of her eyes. She wasn’t prepared for this.
He made no move to wipe away the tears, as if sensing that his gentle touch would be enough to undo her completely. “So I stopped drinking, stopped trying to obliterate you from my memory. There’s something Uncle Liam used to say to Poppy and me, after our parents died. ‘Tá mo chroí istigh ionat.’ It means ‘my heart is within you,’ and Kate, I swear it is true. Without you, I’m nothing.”
But with him, she was vulnerable.
“I—” She fell short, with no knowledge of what to say next. Happiness flooded her at his declaration, desperate, cloying bliss that clamored for her to give in and admit that she loved him too. “I can’t do this, not now.”
“So we don’t run off to Gretna Green right away.” He smiled, unconcerned with her refusal, like he’d expected it all along and it was only a matter of time before she gave in to him. “We stay here for the present, and we find Dalton’s murderer and clear my name.”
She nodded. “That is what I agreed to.”
“And in the meantime, you allow me to go fetch us some breakfast and a change of clothes for you, as I highly doubt you want to wander about in those breeches.” He moved his hand so that he clutched the waistband, tugging it out of her grasp so that the gap was visible. “Promise me you won’t leave until I get back.”
“Fine,” she grumbled. “But that’s the only promise you’ll get out of me.”
He hugged her to him once more before releasing her. “Shoot anyone who comes to the door that isn’t me.”
Target practice, she thought, was exactly what she needed to improve her mood.
***
Daniel chose to cut through a back alley he hadn’t gone down before. He was half-way up the street when a man darted out from a back alley, too close to him. Just in time, Daniel held up his hands. His palms collided with the other man’s chest and stopped his momentum.
“Watch where yer goin’,” the man spat, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth.
There was something familiar about him. Knotted, dirty gray hair touched his shoulders in limp tendrils. His rheumatic eyes were brown. His clothes were ordinary: checkered neckcloth spoiled with dark spots, rumpled waistcloth, and double-breasted wool coat missing half the buttons hanging loosely from his stooped shoulders. Dirt streaked his shirt. As Daniel stepped closer to him, a dank odor drifted to his nostrils, foul like death. The man’s shoes were coated with mud, grass, and stone dust, as if he had been rooting in graveyards.
“What’re ye lookin’ at?” The man sneered. Not waiting for a response, he turned away.
The beggar outside the Red Fist had said that phrase with the exact same accent and speech pattern. It could be a coincidence to meet him in two different places, but after the explosion Daniel no longer believed in chance. Caution was prudent, especially if it meant keeping Kate safe.
“I know you,” Daniel called to the man.
The man tilted his head back over his shoulder to look Daniel square in the eye. “Yer testin’ yer luck, cub.”
“Why are you following me?”
“Yer an easy mark. Ye don’t watch yerself.”
Amidst the sounds of the street, sheets hung to dry from the rafters of the tenement houses whipped in the wind. The beggar’s cloudy eyes focused in on him, and in that dull lifelessness Daniel suddenly felt he could see everything. “Who do you work for? Who sent you after me?”
“I’m a cartin’ man. Movin’ Things for the boys down at the Fortune of War public house.”
“Who set Friggard’s Pawn to blow?”
“Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout no pawn shop, but if I did, I’d not be tellin’ ye, cub. All I got is some bodies. Ye want a Subject, I got some smalls, some larges...” The ruffian’s laugh descended into a hacking cough.
Daniel crowded him back against the wall, grasping the man’s collar and lifting him upward. The captured man flailed in the air, protesting loudly. One arm across his chest, Daniel held him solid against the wall. Daniel applied pressure to his throat, until he coughed and gasped for air. “I want you to take a message to Jasper Finn. Tell him Daniel O’Reilly is done running.”
Releasing the beggar, Daniel stepped back from him.
The man slumped against the wall. “Yer a crazy codger. I’m Ezekiel. Don’t know any Finn.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. He should have realized it when Sally Fletcher had mentioned an Ezekiel. A man of the same name had been on Atlas’s list.
“You lie, Ezekiel Barnes.”
“What ye gonna do? Ye can’t touch me.”
The bastard hurt Kate. Nothing else mattered. He deserved to be punished. With his free hand, Daniel pulled back and punched Ezekiel in the nose. Fist connected with cartilage and bone in a revolting smash. Ezekiel hollered. Blood squirted from his nose and onto Daniel’s greatcoat. The same sticky, dark dots had collected on Dalton’s body when Daniel had found him; that same crimson crusted Kate’s eyebrow.
When would this bloodshed stop? When he’d lost everything he cared for, and Kate lay dead in the street?
Daniel shook his hand out, fist stinging from impact. “What Finn did to Dalton will seem like child’s play when I’m through with your master. If he comes after Kate Morgan again, I’ll cut every limb from his body and scatter the remains across the fucking Thames River.”
Ezekiel ceased shuddering and stood up straight, his movements becoming quick. Thrusting out his arm, his fist connected hard with Daniel’s forearm. Daniel grunted, teeth on edge as he took the blow.
Another bruise to add to his growing collection.
“Finn will make ye watch as he plows her, then kill ye where ye stand. I’ll hold the bitch down.” Ezekiel wheeled back for another attack.
But this time Daniel was ready for him. As Ezekiel’s arm shot out, Daniel blocked with his forearm, wrist rolling over the man’s arm so that he could not bend it. With his free hand, Ezekiel tried to ram his fist into Daniel’s nose.
Anticipating Ezekiel’s blow, Daniel ducked. He threw Ezekiel’s aim off-guard and the brute stumbled, unable to compensate for the loss in motion.
Daniel needed a weapon. Foolishly, he had left his truncheon back in the room. Rough linen hung from the rafters of the tenement house, close to his position. In the second before Ezekiel righted himself, Daniel snatched the linen down from the rafters, wrapping it tight around his fist.
Darting forward, Daniel snapped his wrist, the sheet slapping against Ezekiel’s leg so hard it echoed in the alley. Ezekiel backed off, howling in pain and favoring his right leg. Daniel pushed closer, shoulder connecting with the bully’s chest and jostling him off-kilter.
Daniel shook the sheet out, throwing it over Ezekiel’s head. The cloth deflected some of Ezekiel’s flailed blows, softening the hit and creating distance. Hands gripped in the sheet, Daniel boxed his ears.
Ezekiel could not be trapped for long. Slimy and spry, he squirmed out of Daniel’s hold. Ezekiel darted forward, landing a heavy blow to Daniel’s ribcage.
Sharp pain seared through his body. The bugger had managed to find the exact spot where he’d been injured in the explosion. Daniel forced the pain down, using it to focus him. No matter what he felt now, Kate had endured much worse.
Have to keep Kate safe. That thought above all others kept him going. Send a sign out to Finn through his operative, save Kate, prove his innocence.
He deflected Ezekiel’s next blow, grabbing his arm and twisting. A tight grimace stretched across Ezekiel’s wan lips and he spat. His saliva landed on Daniel’s cheek.
Still gripping his arm, Daniel pinned Ezekiel against the wall, using his weight and height to his advantage. The sheet slipped uselessly to the ground. His hands wrapped around the man’s throat, squeezing tightly. The ruffian gasped for bre
ath but could gather none. His eyes rolled back the harder Daniel pressed, cutting off his oxygen supply.
If Daniel kept hold of Ezekiel, if he didn’t look at the whites of his eyes, the blue tint to his skin—
But he couldn’t look away. He had to stop. With every bit of pressure he ended this man’s life. If he did that, he’d be no better than the blackguard who stabbed Dalton and left him dying in that alley.
Daniel’s grip lessened and Ezekiel stole the advantage, kneeing him hard in the shin. The blow caught Daniel off-guard and he faltered, nearly falling to the ground. He grabbed for the wall to steady himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ezekiel slink away, clutching his throat and coughing. Half-heartedly, Daniel grabbed for him. His fingers brushed against soiled skin.
Ezekiel took off running and Daniel didn’t move to follow. He couldn’t.
He’d almost killed a man.
Alone in the alley, he leaned his head back against the cold stone wall. His breath came in pants. He should have ended the bastard, denied that little voice in his head that said to stop when he felt Ezekiel’s life slipping out of his body. Now, Ezekiel would return to Jasper Finn with several new bruises. Finn had seemed like a cocksure scoundrel. He would retaliate for the damage done to his property.
A life for a life. Dalton’s life to protect Jasper Finn’s operations. Kate’s life to clear his name.
Daniel scrubbed a hand through his hair, clutching at the roots until his scalp protested. He ought to feel pain, ought to bear the injuries done to Kate. No matter how she justified it, he couldn’t help but feel responsible. She never would have been at Friggard’s Pawn if it wasn’t for him.
Pushing back against the wall with his foot, he shoved his hands into his pockets. Kate needed new clothes to replace those damaged in the explosion, and he had little food left in the flat. One step at a time. He proceeded down the street, finally coming to the secondhand clothes shop Atlas had recommended. With the help of an overly friendly shopgirl, he purchased a dress, stays, and a shift for Kate.