A Night Without Stars

by Jillian Eaton

  Bran blinked. “That’s not what I–”

  “Did you think I was so naïve that I didn’t understand the risks?”

  “No, I–”

  “Did you think I was so dimwitted I was incapable of making my own decisions?”

  “No,” he growled in frustration. “Lilly, please try to understand–”

  “There you are, lovie.” Sauntering into the room without so much as a knock, the barmaid looped her arms around Bran’s neck and pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek. “I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for – oh. ‘Ello. Didn’t see you there.” She wiggled her fingers at Lilly before dismissing her with the tiniest of smirks. “Thanks for last night, lovie. You sure know how to show a girl a good time. Come see me again soon, yeah?” And then she was gone, leaving behind a trail of cheap perfume and a silence fraught with tension.

  His color deepening, Bran tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Let me explain–”

  “There’s really no need. I believe I understand perfectly now.” Throwing aside the covers, Lilly swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. “You weren’t concerned for my safety or well-being. You simply wanted to be free to sleep with whomever you wished.”

  “That’s not bloody true. She’s the first woman–”

  “The first woman you’ve slept with in ten months?” Lilly said incredulously. “Just how naïve do you think I am?”

  “Lilly, wait.” He followed her out of the room and down the stairs, nearly doubling his stride to keep up with her furious pace. “I said wait, dammit!” Slamming the front door closed when she wrenched it open, he scowled down at her. “Ye can’t leave. It’s not safe.”

  “That’s odd.” She tilted her head. “I thought it wasn’t safe for me here. Now unless you intend on following me to Bow Street, I suggest you step back.”

  If she honestly believed he had any intention of letting her go anywhere without him she was out of her mind. “Lead the way, love,” he said, opening the door. She sailed through it with her chin held high, but when he fell into step right behind her she stopped short and swung around.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, violet eyes flashing.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “You can’t go with me to Bow Street. You’ll be arrested on the spot.”

  “Then I’ll be arrested.” He shrugged carelessly. “But I’m not lettin’ ye out of my sight.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Fine,” she said after a long pause. “Have it your way. But don’t think I’ll have a moment’s pity when you’re thrown in irons.”

  Shy? Had he ever really thought her shy?

  His Lilly wasn’t shy. She wasn’t timid or weak. She wasn’t helpless.

  She was a bloody warrior.

  And he was a goddamned fool for ever letting her go.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Runner’s headquarters was a small, nondescript brick building that had once been the personal residence of their founder, Henry Fielding. A slender black cat with long whiskers and intelligent green eyes meowed a greeting when Lilly and Bran stepped into the foyer.

  “Hello,” Lilly said politely, kneeling down to scratch the vocal feline beneath her chin.

  “I see you’ve met our secretary, Mrs. Wadsworth.” A fair-haired gentleman with hazel eyes and a friendly grin strolled in from an adjoining room. He looked so much like Mr. Ferguson that for a moment Lilly thought it was him, until she noted that his chin was a bit broader and his hair, while the same color, was several inches longer.

  Brothers, she guessed. If not twins.

  “Is Mr. Ferguson here?” she asked.

  “You’re talking to him, sweetheart.” The flirtatious gleam in the Runner’s eyes abruptly dimmed when his gaze flicked past her to Bran. “Sullivan,” he said curtly. “Finally come to turn yourself in, have you? About bloody time.”

  “Not exactly, mate.” Bran stepped up beside Lilly and wrapped an arm around her waist, which she immediately shoved aside. She was so furiously angry with him she could hardly look at him, let alone stand for him to touch her. They’d walked all the way to Bow Street in bitter silence, and even though she’d felt his eyes on her more than once she’d refused to give him the satisfaction of returning his stare.

  It wasn’t just the barmaid (although the smirking brunette certainly hadn’t helped matters). No. It was the lying. The deceit. The deliberate cruelty. And – worst of all – it was his thinking he knew what was best for her.

  There were plenty of women who didn’t mind when their lovers or husbands made decisions on their behalf. Lilly wasn’t one of them. If Bran truly believed she was danger by being with him, then he should have told her. Then she could have decided for herself whether she wanted to stay or go. Instead he’d taken the choice completely out of her hands by ordering her out of his life as if she were a servant.

  No, not a servant. A servant was at least given an explanation.

  It’s been fun, lass.

  Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.

  He’d cast her out as if she were a dog. A cowardly, spineless dog.

  And that she could not forgive.

  “I really need to speak to Mr. Ferguson,” Lilly said firmly. “It is of the utmost importance, Mr…”

  “Colin Ferguson, at your service.” He flashed another grin. “Ian’s my brother, and I’m afraid he’s not here at the moment. Anything I can help you with, sweetheart?”

  “She’s not yer sweetheart,” Bran growled. Lilly gave him a warning glare over her shoulder.

  “I’d really like to speak to Ian,” she said. “It’s in regards to…to a case he’s working on.”

  For the first time Colin seemed to notice the bloodstains on her dress and the cuts on her cheek and collarbone. His eyes widened. “I thought you looked familiar. I was part of the detail that watched your flat.”

  “Bloody bang up job ye did,” Bran scoffed. Lilly gritted her teeth.

  “Is there someone else I can speak to? I was – I was attacked again last night.”

  “The captain’s in his office. He’ll want to hear about this right away. Follow me. Just her,” Colin said pointedly when Bran started to follow them up a narrow set up stairs. “Not you.”

  “I go where she goes,” he said flatly.

  Colin shrugged. “It’s your funeral, Sullivan.”

  He led them to the second floor and down a narrow hallway to a door at the end. Colin raised his hand to knock, but before he could the door opened and man with ebony hair and the blackest eyes Lilly had ever seen stepped out. He nodded curtly at Colin.

  “Ferguson. I was jus’ talking to the captain about…” His rolling Irish accent faded away as his dark, eerily devilish gaze landed on Bran. “You,” he snarled, and Lilly barely had time to dart out of the way before he launched himself at her former lover.

  With a loud crash that shook the entire house the two men went down like a pile of bricks. Curses and fists flew in equal measure as they pummeled one another and the dull thud of flesh hitting flesh turned Lilly’s stomach. Horrified, she flattened herself against the wall and looked to Colin for help, but instead of trying to stop the fight the Runner was urging them on.

  “That’s it!” he cried. “Go for the ribs, Kent! Ouch.” Colin grimaced when Bran managed to land a hard blow to the Irishman’s jaw that snapped back his head and had blood spurting out of his nose. “That had to hurt.”

  “What the hell is going on out here?” the captain bellowed as he slammed open his office door. Tall and broad shouldered with distinguished features, black hair that was beginning to gray at the temples, and blue eyes several shades darker than Bran’s, Owen Steel was the sort of man who immediately commanded respect. He’d come to Lilly’s flat the day after she’d been assaulted at Haversham Square and she’d been both impressed and intimidated by his no nonsense demeanor.

  “It’s Sullivan and Kent, sir. They’re having a go,” Colin provided unhelpfull
y.

  “That much is clear,” Owen snapped. “What isn’t clear is why they’re trying to kill each other in my hallway. On your feet, men! There’s a woman present.”

  With obvious reluctance Bran and his opponent rolled apart from each other and staggered to their feet. They were both bleeding – Kent from his nose, Bran from the corner of his mouth – and if the hostile glares they were shooting at one another was any indication, their fight was far from over.

  “Kent, go get yourself cleaned up,” Owen ordered. “Sullivan and Miss James, in my office if you please.”

  The Irishman bristled. “With all due respect, sir, this man is a common thief who should be arrested and–”

  “I know who Bran Sullivan is,” Owen said evenly. “Which is why I’m particularly interested as to why he’d risk his neck to escort Miss James here. Be on your way, Kent. Take Ferguson with you.”

  “But captain–”

  “That was not a suggestion. Sullivan, Miss James, this way please.”

  Eager to escape the cramped hallway, Lilly peeled herself off the wall and hurried into Owen’s office. Plainly adorned with a large desk, floor to ceiling bookshelves, and a view of the Thames, the room smelled faintly of sandalwood and beeswax.

  Sitting in one of two oversized leather chairs, Lilly crossed her legs at the ankle and did her best not to fidget. She wasn’t looking forward to reliving what had happened to her, but she knew her testimony was of the utmost importance. After all, she was the only woman who had survived the Slasher’s attack. And even though she still hadn’t gotten a clear glimpse of his face, she knew the sound of his voice and the shape of his silhouette.

  Surely that was better than nothing.

  Owen must have been in agreement, for upon closing the door he immediately went to his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment and a feather-tipped quill. “Here,” he said brusquely, holding out a white handkerchief when Bran sat down beside Lilly. “I don’t want your blood all over my furniture.”

  “Your concern is touching,” Bran muttered as he pressed the handkerchief to his mouth.

  “Careful, Sullivan.” Owen’s cool blue stare was unblinking. “Just because you’re soon to be Grant’s brother-in-law now doesn’t mean I’m not of a mind to do precisely as Kent suggested and throw you in Newgate.”

  Grant’s brother-in-law? What was Owen talking about?

  “Jules is set to marry Grant Hargrave, Steel’s second-in-command,” Bran explained when Lilly glanced at him in confusion.

  “The Runner who was after her the night I left the Mermaid?” Her brow creased. “But…why on earth would she do that?”

  “What can I say, lass?” The side of Bran’s mouth that wasn’t bleeding quirked in a half smile. “Love makes a person do all sorts of strange things.”

  It certainly did. When she felt a traitorous flutter in her belly, Lilly forced her attention away from Bran and refocused it on Owen. “I’m sorry. It’s just – it’s just that Mr. Sullivan and I have not seen each other in quite some time. I was unaware Juliet was engaged, let alone married.”

  “I can safely say their union caught us all by surprise.” Owen dipped his quill in a pot of ink and held it poised above the parchment. “I take it this is not a social call, Miss James.”

  “No.” Her chest lifted and fell as she drew a deep breath. “Although I wish it were. I was – I was…”

  “She was bloody well almost killed, no thanks to ye and yer men.” Bran leaned forward in his chair. “I thought the Runners were supposed to protect the innocent, not leave them alone with crazed murderers on the loose.”

  “You’re right,” Owen said evenly. “Prematurely calling off the watch detail was my mistake, and I take full responsibility. It will not happen again.”

  “Yer damn right it won’t as she’s not leaving my sight.”

  Lilly looked at Bran in disbelief. “You’re not my guardian or my keeper. You have no right–”

  “I protect what’s mine.”

  “What’s yours?” she all but yelped, her eyes flashing a deep, dangerous purple. “I don’t belong to you, you arrogant–”

  “As entertaining as I find your little lover’s squabble,” Owen interrupted, “I have a madman slicing up women and only one viable witness. I take it this incident occurred last night, Miss James?”

  “Yes,” she said, glaring at Bran. No wonder Kent had tried to kill him. The man was utterly infuriating. “I was walking home from the dress shop.”

  “What time?”

  “I don’t know precisely…” When had Bea left? Ten minutes after nine, Lilly recalled, as she’d been complaining that her suitor was running late. “Around ten o’clock, I believe.”

  “I take it you have a usual route from the dress shop to your flat?”

  “Yes, I always walk the same way.” Which was utterly foolish, now that she thought about it. “Down St. James Street and across Broad. The – the attack happened three blocks from my flat.”

  “I see.” His brow furrowing, Owen wrote something down, tapped the quill on the edge of the desk, and then looked up. “I realize this may be difficult, Miss James, but any detail – no matter how small – may be the key to finding this monster. He’s managed to evade capture for the better part of five years. If I have my way, he won’t last another five days.”

  “He came out of an alley. One second he wasn’t there, and the next second he was. Like a ghost.” Or the devil, she thought with a tiny shudder. “It was dark and he was standing in the shadows so I couldn’t see his face, but I knew at once it was him because he was – he was holding the same knife as before.”

  “The one with the curved blade?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he say to you?”

  She looked at her lap, and her stomach rolled when she saw there was still dried blood underneath her fingernails. “He…he called me a whore. And he said he was going to save me one piece at a time. I tried to run, but he caught the hood of my cloak and dragged me back.” She closed her eyes. “He – he held the knife to my throat. I thought I was going to die.”

  “That’s enough,” Bran said sharply. “Bloody hell, man, can’t ye see how difficult this is for her?”

  “No,” Lilly said before Owen could reply. “I need to tell him everything.” Her nails dug furrows in the leather arms of the chair. “I don’t want the Slasher to hurt another woman. He needs to be caught and held accountable for his crimes.”

  “Go on,” Owen said quietly. “How did you escape?”

  “By accident. I knew if I didn’t do something he would kill me, so I pretended to faint. He lowered me to the ground and I heard him take off his coat. To avoid bloodstains, I presume.”

  “What color was the coat?”

  “I don’t…wait.” She bit down hard on her bottom lip as she struggled to remember. “Navy blue, I think. With gold buttons.”

  Owen’s quill abruptly stilled. “Gold buttons? Not brass? Are you certain?”

  “Yes. I mean, I cannot be absolutely certain, but…yes.” She nodded decisively. “They were gold. When he leaned over me I brought my elbow up and hit him right in the nose. He fell back and I – I ran. As fast and as far as I could.”

  “I wouldn’t call your escape an accident, Miss James.” Owen’s clear gaze held a distinct note of approval as he studied her. “You kept your wits about you and used what you had to defend yourself. I’ll share the information you’ve given me with the other Runners and we’ll redouble our efforts to find this bastard before he tries to kill again. If there’s anything else you remember, please don’t hesitate to call. In the meantime, I would like to place you in protective custody.”

  “P-protective custody? What does that mean?”

  “It means they want to lock ye up.” This time when Bran reached for her hand she didn’t try to pull away. “Lilly isn’t a criminal, and I’ll be damned if ye’ll treat ‘er like one. She’s coming home with me.”

  Owen
frowned. “That’s not a good idea, Sullivan. My men are stretched thin enough as it is. I can afford one, maybe two to guard your residence, but there’s no guarantee–”

  “The day a Runner gets within twenty yards of my house is the day I burn the entire thing to the ground,” Bran said matter-of-factly. “Until ye do your bloody job and catch this rutter, Lilly will be safest with me.”

  Owen lifted a brow. “Or I could simply arrest you right now, seeing as you are a criminal.”

  “Ye could,” Bran acknowledged. “But ye won’t.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I’m worth more to ye on the street than I am sittin’ in a cell. Someone has to know who the Slasher is, and it’s clear they’re not talkin’ to ye.”

  “You believe they’ll talk to you?”

  Bran shrugged. “Why not? Ye just said I’m a criminal. Like talk to like, captain.”

  Folding his arms over his chest, Owen leaned back in his chair. “Very well. If Miss James has no objection, she can remain with you. I suppose I don’t have to mention that her safety is of the utmost importance.”

  “I’ll protect her with my life,” Bran said simply.

  Lilly’s throat tightened. She’d been about to tell Bran she had no intention of going with him, but her objection died with his solemn vow. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was completely serious…and maybe, just maybe, he was.

  She was still angry with him. Furiously so. But for the first time in ten months, she felt something other than anger and confusion and sadness.

  She felt hope.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lilly and Bran returned to the East End with nary a word spoken between them.

  “I would like to send word to Bea,” Lilly said as she proceeded Bran into the foyer. “To let her know what happened, and where I’ll be staying for…for the next few days.”

  She dearly hoped it wouldn’t take any longer than that for the Runners to track the Slasher down as she had no idea how she was supposed to live under the same roof as Bran for one day, let alone one week. It felt all too familiar to be back here again…and yet, at the same time, everything was completely different.