by Laura Landon
“Do you want me to take the papers to McCormick, too?”
Sam shook his head. “I’ll keep the papers. Hunt thought they might hold a key to our traitor’s identity. I want to study them first before I hand them over. Maybe I’ll see something Hunt missed. Besides, McCormick doesn’t know they exist.”
Barnaby nodded his assent, then looked down at the velvet bag in his hands. “Would you like to see what cost Hunt his life and caused such a nightmare for so many other people?”
Barnaby didn’t wait for Sam to answer but opened the bag and pulled the diamond-and-ruby necklace from its hiding place. He laid it out on top of Hunt’s oak desk and stepped back. The sight of it stole Sam’s breath.
“Bloody hell,” Barnaby said in a reverent whisper. “Those are the most beautiful jewels I’ve ever seen. They’ve got to be worth a bloody fortune.”
“Yes,” Sam answered. “A . . . bloody . . . fortune.”
Barnaby didn’t say any more. He carefully put the necklace back in the bag and tucked it into his pocket. “I’ll return as soon as I can. You can’t take any chances, Bennett, so lock up after me. Even if Roseneau doesn’t come back himself, we can’t be sure he won’t send someone.”
Sam nodded and walked out with Barnaby.
“Watkins!” Sam ordered when the front door closed behind Barnaby.
“Yes, Major?” Watkins said, rushing down the stairs.
“Has Doctor Bronnely arrived?”
“Yes, Major. He’s with Lord Halverston now.”
Even though Claire wasn’t aware that Alex was there, Sam knew when she calmed she’d be thankful. Sam knew it would be easier to protect Claire and her brother if they were both in the same place. The last thing they needed was to underestimate Roseneau. There was an outside chance he would retaliate when he realized Claire had deceived him.
“I want every door and window in the house locked and barred. Even the windows in the attic.”
“Yes, Major.”
“Have someone stand guard at every entrance—the footmen, gardeners, servants, all of them. Tell the stable hands to lock the carriage house and watch the back of the house. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Major.”
“Lord Barnaby will be back shortly and he’ll bring more men with him. Until then, don’t let anyone in.”
Watkins nodded, then rushed to issue orders to the staff. Sam walked to the stairs, taking note of every pounding thud of his heart. He wanted to laugh, or shout, or rail at the Heavens. Each one of those emotions raged through him when he relived what he’d just gone through. What she’d put him through. What she’d—
He stopped.
With one foot still on the floor and one resting on the first step, he froze where he was. He’d never felt like this before, even in the midst of the most dangerous mission or after. And never when there had been a life in danger. He’d never lost control like he was doing now.
He’d been a master at evaluating every situation. A master at handling anything thrown at him. He always followed his gut instinct to adapt to the unknown. But today he’d almost lost control of the situation, and he shouldn’t have. This was no different than any other mission he’d been assigned. Except Claire had been involved and . . . he could have lost her.
I could have lost her.
Every ounce of energy rushed from him, stealing with it the air he needed to breathe.
I could have lost her.
He reached out a trembling hand and clenched his fingers around the stair railing. For an agonizing second, he thought he was suffocating. Bloody hell. He could have lost her. And if he had, he wasn’t sure he could have gone on. He wasn’t sure he’d want to. Because . . .
Sam dropped his head back on his shoulders and squeezed his eyes shut. Blood roared inside his head as he came to grips with what he’d known for weeks now. He loved her. He loved Claire more than life itself.
He needed to go to her. Needed to make sure she was all right. Needed to set things right before he sat down with the papers in his pocket. The papers that might identify the traitor.
Sam reached the top of the stairs and walked down the hall. Did she have any idea the risk she’d taken? The danger she’d been in? Every time he thought of her facing Roseneau on her own, he broke out in a cold sweat. She couldn’t possibly have been sure that he wouldn’t look inside the bag. Or kill her when he realized she’d switched necklaces.
And I would have lost her.
By the time he reached her room, he was nearly as angry with her as he’d been when he thought she’d given Roseneau the necklace. He knocked, then waited, but she didn’t bid him enter. He knocked harder. When his second knock went unanswered, he sucked in a deep breath and opened the door.
It took him a second to find her. She wasn’t sitting in front of the fire Tilly had started for her, or resting in bed. But standing by the window with her back to him.
She didn’t turn when he entered her room, only looked over her shoulder to where he stood, then looked back out the window as if ignoring him could make him go away.
“Please leave. I don’t want you here.”
“I know you don’t.”
Sam stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. At the soft click, she spun around.
“I asked you to leave. If you don’t, I’ll call Watkins to have you removed.”
“Watkins doesn’t have time. He’s busy watching the house in case Roseneau comes back.”
Her face showed the slightest hint of concern. “He won’t come back.”
She seemed confident, but Sam noticed the question in her voice. “Most likely not. He’d be a fool if he did. He knows it’s too late to get the necklace, and without it he has no choice but to run. England’s no longer a safe place for him.”
She paused as if thinking over his words, then asked, “What did you do with the necklace?”
“Your brother has it. He’s on his way to give it to McCormick.”
He stepped farther into the room, not stopping until he was so close to her he could touch her. “Are you all right?”
He waited, but she didn’t answer him, so he said, “Your brother thought it best to bring Lord Halverston here to recuperate. He’s in a room down the hall. Bronnely’s with him now.”
She nodded, then turned away from him. “Have you discovered the traitor’s identity?”
“Not yet.” Sam placed his hand over the papers in his pocket. “I’ll look at the papers when we’re finished here.”
“Then don’t let me keep you, Major. I consider everything between us finished.”
“Well, I don’t.”
Sam saw her shoulders sag. “Please don’t make this difficult.”
Sam couldn’t stop the laughter. “Nothing about what we’ve shared has been anything but difficult, Claire.”
“And impossible.”
“Is it?” He stepped closer until her back was pressed against his chest. “Who do you want to forget you love?”
“No one.” She took in a shaky breath that emphasized the hopelessness in her voice.
“Do you know how afraid I was when I walked into Roseneau’s room and saw you with that pistol in your hand? Do you know how afraid I was at that moment that something might happen to you? That I might lose you?”
She tried to step away from him, but he stopped her by anchoring an arm against the window. Then he turned her to look at him. The confusion on her face was almost comical.
“Do you know how afraid I was when I thought you’d given Roseneau the necklace?”
“What I saw on your face wasn’t fear, Major. It was far worse.”
“Yes. Because unlike you, I knew what your brother’s reaction would be. I didn’t know you’d switched bags but I knew, even though you thought saving Alex was your only choice, it was a choice no one would be able to live with. Especially you.”
“I could have lived with it.”
“No, you couldn’t have,” he said, leanin
g in so close he could smell the fragrant soap she’d used to wash her hair. “Every time the papers published a casualty list from the Crimea, you’d hold yourself to blame for every name. You’d think each one of those men would be alive if only you’d given the necklace to me instead of Roseneau. What you’d done would have haunted you for the rest of your life, and you’d never have a peaceful night’s sleep until the day you died.”
She lowered her gaze to a point in the center of his chest. The worry lines on her face deepened. Sam brushed the back of his fingers across her forehead and down her cheek.
“Who do you want to forget you love, Claire?”
She shook her head.
Sam placed his finger beneath her chin and tilted her head until she had no choice but to look at him. “Who, Claire?”
“Don’t ”
“Ah, Claire,” he said, lowering his head until his cheek touched hers. Then he whispered in her ear, “It’s too late to fight it.”
He wanted to kiss her. Needed to kiss her. He wrapped his arms around her and gathered her to him, then lowered his mouth to hers and took her.
He could count the seconds she fought him. Could tell how long she tried to keep from giving herself to him.
He knew the exact instant she yielded.
With a small cry, she wrapped her arms around his neck and met his kisses with full surrender.
Claire fought him as long as she could. She struggled not to give in, not to reveal by her kisses what she dare not speak in words. But the second his warm, inviting lips touched hers, she lost all control. She wanted his hands on her. Wanted his body pressed to hers. Wanted the feel of his touch burning every part of her. And she met his kisses with a greater urgency.
How could she reject the love she’d discovered? How could she not take what she was desperate to have? What Sam offered?
With a soft cry, she clung to him and kissed him with all the emotion she’d denied was a part of her. He held her close, his chest heaving like he’d run a long race, his breathing coming in ragged gasps.
“Oh, Claire,” he whispered. “Who can’t you forget you love?”
“Don’t ask. Just want me. Just . . .”
She reached up to kiss him again, and he took what she offered. He pressed his mouth to hers while his fingers worked at her clothes.
“Tell me, Claire,” he said, bringing his mouth back to hers, kissing her with a desperation that matched her own.
“Want me, Sam. Please, want me.”
His only answer was an earthy growl that echoed in the shadows and settled deep in her belly. He threw off his clothes with alarming speed then carried her to the bed. She opened her arms and held him to her.
This time was more wondrous than before. He took her with a desperation that carried her far away from the dangers connected with this world. To a place that made her forget all the reasons she’d vowed she would never give in to him again. The reasons she had for never trusting him with her heart.
“Who, Claire?” he asked, his voice strained with passion.
“Sam. Oh . . .”
“Who?”
“You. Oh, Sam.”
With his name on her lips, Claire spiraled through the stars. Her release, when it came, was alarming. She shuddered in its wake for what seemed an eternity before she spun back to earth. Sam thrust inside her once more; then, on a loud moan, he found his release and collapsed against her.
Claire lay silent and still for several long minutes, loathe to move. She’d almost admitted that she loved him. Almost said the words she’d vowed never to say. But she hadn’t. She sighed with relief because saying them would have exposed her heart and left her too vulnerable.
Claire squeezed shut her eyes and listened while the quiet house echoed her thoughts. She’d already lived in a fairy-tale world where she’d imagined it would be possible for a man to love her. She’d had seven years of disappointment as her lesson that it couldn’t happen. How could she take such a risk again?
“Would saying the words have been so difficult, Claire?” he asked, rolling to the side.
“Yes,” she whispered, and suddenly realized it truly would. “The cost is too great.”
“What are you afraid of?”
Claire couldn’t give him an answer. How could she when she didn’t understand the answer herself? “It doesn’t matter, Major. Please, leave now so I can dress.”
The mattress sagged and she knew he sat on the edge of the bed. But he didn’t leave her.
“What do you mean, the cost is too great? What cost, Claire?”
Claire jerked her gaze to where he sat. He wasn’t going to give up until he’d totally humiliated her. Wasn’t going to give her any peace until he’d forced her to admit every fear that kept her from giving her heart away. But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
“What would you like me to admit, Major? That I care for you? That I’m foolish enough to make the same mistakes I made with Hunt? Would you like me to give myself over to you so you can remember my surrender as your crowning achievement? So you can have a hearty laugh when my name comes up and you recall what a fool I was? You’ll have to excuse me, Major, but I’m not as young and naïve as I was when I married Hunt.”
“Are you comparing me to Hunt?”
“I’m comparing you to no one. What I’m comparing is my experience with love. I was married seven years to a man who made a mockery of the emotion.”
The mattress sagged when he moved closer to her.
“Claire, look at me.”
She didn’t. She couldn’t.
“I haven’t had a lot of experience with love. With lust, yes. But never with love. Perhaps that’s why it took me so long to recognize the emotion. But you have to believe me when I say—”
“Don’t. I don’t need kind words. I don’t need lies.”
“These are no lies. I love you, Claire. I’ve loved you from the night I cradled you in my arms and prayed I could keep you safe from harm. Loved you even though I thought you had the necklace and intended to give it to Roseneau because you were lovers. Loved you even more when I found out you didn’t have it. Your bravery is unmatched by anyone I’ve ever known.”
He placed his finger to the side of her face and turned her head to look at him. “For whatever his reasons, Hunt put you through an unimaginable hell. I know you carry the scars from what he did. But know this, too—I love you, Claire. And someday I pray you can trust me with your heart, just as I’m trusting you with mine.”
Claire stared at him for a long, agonizing moment. How could she risk giving away her heart again? Where was the guarantee that loving him would be any different than loving Hunt?
The emptiness she felt when the major rose from the edge of the bed was like taking away the warmth of the sunshine on a summer day. Claire wrapped a quilt around herself and sat in the middle of the bed. She tucked her legs to her chest and fought to find enough air to fill her lungs. Sam loved her. The man to whom she’d given her heart wanted it. He loved her.
Claire watched him pull on his trousers and boots, then slip on his shirt and shrug into his waistcoat and jacket. When he was dressed, he walked back to the side of the bed.
“I’m not going to take my words back, Claire. I’m not going to change my mind. When this is over, I’m going to say them again and again and again. Until you’re so used to hearing me tell you I love you it won’t frighten you any longer. Until you’re so accustomed to hearing the words you’ll be able to tell me you love me without being afraid I’ll trample your heart in the process.”
Claire stared at him with a longing that grew stronger with each passing second. He loved her.
“Get some rest now. I’ll be below if you need anything.”
He walked to the door and stopped with his hand on the knob. “I love you, Claire. More than my life. More than words can express. It’s a wondrous feeling, Claire. When you’re brave enough to look for it, you’ll know what I mean.”
&n
bsp; She didn’t need to give him an answer, and he didn’t wait for one. It was as if he knew she needed more time. As if he knew it would take her a little longer to realize what he already knew—that only love could make her whole again.
She watched as he opened the door and left her alone with her thoughts. Every word he spoke assured her that he wasn’t going to let her give up on the love they had.
Claire stared at the closed door long after he left and swiped at the tears that dared to spill from her eyes.
The pain and loneliness she’d lived with the last seven years bubbled to the surface, then slowly evaporated. Sam was giving her another chance to know love. Now, all she had to do was find the courage to open her heart and accept what he was offering.
Except, she wasn’t sure she could.
Chapter 32
The light from the lantern on the corner of the desk flickered with erratic inconsistency as Sam stared at the papers laid out in front of him. It was nearly ten o’clock, hours since they’d returned with the papers and necklace. Hours since Sam had left Claire and opened the message to study the numerical code in front of him.
Hours since he’d realized his world had changed forever.
He fought the jarring disbelief as he stared at the coded message, praying the configurations on the page would change. But they didn’t. Recognition sucked the air from his body. Ice flowed through his veins, paralyzing him so he couldn’t move. He looked at the formula for the hundredth time only to realize he hadn’t made a mistake. He knew the code, understood the formula. He should. He’d created it.
Sam swiped his hand down his face. There was no doubt as to the identity of the traitor.
On unsteady legs, he walked to the study door and opened it. Watkins stood at the front, watching the street from a window. An eerie silence converged on Hunt’s town house. It had seeped into every corner and crevice the minute Barnaby had returned and set up guards around the perimeter of Claire’s land. The laying of a trap, the waylaying of the traitor. Even though he could not hear or see them, Sam knew the guards were there. Claire would be protected.
“Watkins, inform Lord Barnaby and Lieutenant Honeywell that I am expecting a guest. Be sure they let him pass when he comes. Then show him to the study.”