Dangerous Weakness

by Warfield, Caroline

  She’s not my Lily!

  “You too?” Richard asked ruefully. “What do you know, Miss Thornton?”

  She looked over at Sahin and at Richard and appeared to consider something.

  “Damn it, enough secrecy.”

  “Did you call my father home?” she asked softly.

  Richard ran a hand over the back of his neck and sighed. “Yes.”

  She brightened. Sahin leaned forward.

  “At least I ordered it. The dispatch will take time to reach Saint Petersburg.”

  She hesitated.

  She looks like a rabbit faced with a fox—or perhaps I should say wolf. Volkov certainly is one.

  “He threatens your father, little one? I told you the man should be shot,” Sahin said.

  “Our couriers are faster than Volkov’s,” Richard said, praying he was right. “Even if he guesses you’ve told me, we’ll get there first. I ordered a bodyguard to accompany him.”

  Still silence.

  “Miss Thornton—Lily—is that what friends call you? Lily? I doubt if he will know. We have time to protect your father. Tell us what has you frightened.” He glanced up at Sahin.

  “Let us help you, little one,” Sahin urged.

  Lily let out a shuddering sigh. She looked at Sahin, avoiding Richard’s eyes.

  “You know Volkov pursued me in Russia.”

  The old man nodded.

  “I allowed myself to be taken to his apartments,” she mumbled, coloring deeply. Sahin shook his head sadly.

  Richard’s worst images flooded his mind. I will kill the man myself. No wonder she didn’t want to discuss it.

  “We were interrupted,” she added in a rush.

  Before or after the bastard got what he wanted?

  “Go on,” Sahin prodded.

  “A knock on the door. He went to answer, closing the door to the—the room we were in. Some sort of messenger had arrived. I heard them.”

  “What exactly did you hear?” Richard asked; he tried not to think about the room they had been in.

  “I didn’t hear it all, but I heard enough. Volkov has an agent in Thessaloniki.”

  Sahin shrugged. “Agents everywhere. We know this.”

  Lily shook her head. “This one is imbedded in the court of the provincial governor. You have a traitor who will provide support to revolution. When the time comes, he will assassinate the governor.”

  Richard cursed silently. “At which time Russia will step in to assist the rebels,” he said. England needed stability in the region. Greedy Russia threatened all of Europe.

  Sahin looked grim. “Or to assist my government—at a cost. Either way, Russia wins.”

  “People will die in the streets,” Lily said hotly.

  “What else did you hear,” Richard asked.

  “Much sounded garbled, but I think Volkov acts on his own.”

  “The czar’s foreign office doesn’t know?”

  Lily nodded. “Volkov wishes to be a hero. He has the idea he will announce his brilliance after the fact.”

  “Fool!” Sahin pronounced. He looked at Richard. “It appears our friends, the Russians, have more than one effort under way in Greece.”

  Richard nodded agreement. Volkov acting on his own has even more to lose if Lily betrays him.

  “Did you hear the man’s name?” Richard demanded.

  She looked from one grim face to the other. “You must promise not to act until my father is safe,” she said.

  Richard nodded. He couldn’t promise for the Ottomans. The old man shrugged.

  “Your father has been summoned,” Sahin said. “That must satisfy you.” He leaned forward.

  She told them what they needed to know.

  Sahin rose to his feet. “I will leave the two of you to discuss Lily’s protection,” he said. “I must travel if I am to reach London tomorrow.” He smiled fondly at Lily. “You did right, little one. I know this man can protect those you love.”

  “I hope so,” Lily whispered to the old man’s retreating back. “Volkov will be merciless.”

  Richard sat motionless. I have a duty to protect her. A duty. He knew and understood duty; he refused to acknowledge the underlying passion.

  Lilias pressed both hands on the table and rose to her feet. “Too late now. Volkov will know I spent time with you,” she groaned. She turned her eyes to his. Green, he thought. Green and so luminous they light the room.

  The desire to protect overwhelmed him. Richard almost drowned in the flood.

  Lily swayed forward.

  Chapter 6

  Glenaire’s hand, which had shot out swiftly to steady her, lay hot on Lily’s arm. She batted it away.

  “Too late,” she said. “Keep your protection.”

  He rose to tower over her. “You doubt me?” Glenaire sputtered; he pinned her with a glare. “Your father—”

  “Yes, I know. You’ve taken steps. Will I be safe on the streets of London?”

  “He threatened you also.” It wasn’t a question; his eyes burned, hot with rage.

  She rolled her eyes. Damn but the man is exasperating.

  Lily pulled her skirt, giving it a yank to free it from where it snagged on the rough chair. She needed to get out of there. The impulse to seek out Sahin Pasha had been, she thought, ill advised. Ill advised? It may end in disaster.

  The marquess put out a hand again to stop her but stopped short of touching her. “I can protect—”

  “What about my reputation?” she demanded. “Can you protect that? Volkov promised to destroy all hope of a suitable marriage.” Despair enveloped her; she felt her body sag.

  “I shouldn’t have come,” she breathed. “I should have avoided you all.”

  She pushed away from the table. “I have to leave. I can meet Aunt Marianne on the road. I can try to minimize the damage.”

  “I’ll escort you,” Glenaire said. From another man that would be a polite offer. From Glenaire, it sounded like a command.

  “No need. I will send the earl’s horse back to him.”

  He followed her past the taproom to the courtyard; she couldn’t prevent it. “Wait here,” he ordered, “while I get our horses.”

  Leaning against the wall, Lily squinted at an orange and red sunset. The air already grew colder and night would come on fast. Cold from the stones seeped into her. She tried to silence the drumbeat of worry. Volkov will know. Father must be protected. Volkov—

  The Marquess burst from the stables in a rush, looking as if the Furies rode his tail.

  “That damned old man outmaneuvered me,” Glenaire spat, rushing past her.

  “What do you mean?” She hurried after him.

  “He took our horses,” he growled over his shoulder without slowing. Lily skipped to keep up with his long stride. She followed him into the sort of public room no lady should enter; it reeked of ale and stale bodies. Horror over the consequences of her impulse to seek out Sahin ate at her.

  “Rent two more,” she suggested in desperation. “You can afford them. You can afford to buy them.”

  “Sahin Pasha beat me to it. He bought them all,” Glenaire said over his shoulder. He strode up to the bar and demanded the innkeeper.

  Sahin, favored uncle, don’t do it, Lily moaned inside herself.

  The old man wanted to delay Richard long enough to get couriers out of England on their way to Thessaloniki. They would outstrip her father’s travel arrangements. She leaned one hand on a filthy table to keep from toppling over from the sick feeling in her stomach.

  The innkeeper bustled over.

  “What happened to our damned horses?” Glenaire demanded before the man even came to a stop.

  “The mussulman gentlema
n told me you ordered him to take ‘em, to help like. Have a powerful need for horses do the mussulman folk,” the man said. He looked genuinely confused. He wrung his hands.

  “What did the bastard pay you?” Glenaire demanded. The innkeeper looked at Lily. He pretended to look affronted at the marquess’s language for her sake.

  “I have to leave. I can’t stay here,” Lily cried, panic rising.

  “The mussulman gent told me you would be well protected, and so you will be.” He glanced up at Glenaire. “Promised to send horses, he did. Only take a day. No more’n two, once he finds more. Fer now—” He wiped his hands on his apron, ready, Lily suspected, to extort large sums from two people he mistook for fools.

  “You heard the lady,” Glenaire growled. “She cannot stay here. You will send someone to Chadbourn Park to fetch a carriage. You will do it now.”

  “M’lord!” the man exclaimed. “It is come dark already. Send a man ten miles on foot in the dark? Even if a man don’t lose his way, he could fall in a ditch or be gored by Harry Martin’s bull. Safer in t’morning.”

  Neither Lily’s pleading nor Glenaire’s aristocratic bullying moved the man, who insisted, “T’ lady and gent can stay til morning.” When Glenaire threatened to bring the full weight of the Foreign Office, the man suggested Glenaire might meet the full weight of the village blacksmith by morning.

  Dear God. I am trapped at an inn with the Marquess of Glenaire. Volkov will know. All of London will know.

  “I have to leave,” Lily choked. “I can’t stay here.”

  Before Richard could respond, she pushed aside the inn door with one hand and stumbled out. Shadows engulfed her, her graceful figure swallowed up in growing darkness.

  The sight struck Richard dumb mid speech, eyes on the door and one finger pointing at the innkeeper. No one had ever walked out on him before.

  “Best fetch ‘er. Dangerous in th’dark,” the innkeeper said.

  “I’m not finished with you,” Richard responded in a rush.

  He strode to the door with the remnants of his dignity and broke into a run when he did not see Lily in the inn yard.

  He bolted onto the road, short of breath, and scanned it in both directions for Lily without success. Across the open fields, a figure, faint in the darkening twilight, moved purposefully in the direction of Chadbourn Park.

  It took him an hour of hard walking to catch her, delayed as he was by the need to pop back into the inn to fetch his saddlebag and berate the innkeeper. A rabbit hole, a muddy hollow, and a rather tenacious bramble had not helped either.

  At least I haven’t encountered Harry Martin’s bull.

  Every other step he berated the foolish woman for her determination to come to harm. In between he cursed himself for acting like the sort of fool who couldn’t control his impulses. Once he thought he had lost her, and visions of her tiny body broken in a ditch hastened his steps until he saw movement ahead.

  “Where do you think you’re going,” Richard demanded. Gasps for breath weakened the force of his words. Fear gave it an edge.

  “To Chadbourn Park, of course, my only alternative with no conveyance. I plan to throw myself on the countess’s mercy,” she said without breaking stride. That woman is too damned energetic. She’s out pacing me even with the train of a damned riding habit tossed over her arm.

  “She can plot to save your reputation in the morning better than in the deep of night,” he countered, keeping up.

  “I have to get there before Volkov finds out we’ve both been gone all night.”

  “He’s gone.”

  “What?” She spun around so fast he ran into her.

  Richard put an arm around her waist to steady her. “He left this morning before you did.” She didn’t object to his hand at her waist; he left it there.

  “Are you sure?”

  “My man said he left first. I will verify that.”

  Lily laughed, a deep rich laugh, no schoolgirl titter. She reached up and pulled a leaf from his hair. “How do you plan to do that?” she asked.

  For a moment he stood transfixed, her breath sweet warmth on his cheek. The moment passed. Standing in the middle of a field in utter darkness, mud on his boots, and leaves in his hair, Richard felt vulnerable. He did not enjoy the sensation. He dropped his hand from her waist as if on fire.

  “When we return, I will see to it,” he ground out, resuming their hike.

  She picked up the train of her skirt and stepped into place beside him. “So you agree. We’ll return to Chadbourn Park tonight.”

  “No.”

  She sped up, moving deeper into the night. Richard matched her pace longer than he thought possible.

  “Enough of this,” he growled when he reached the end of his rope.

  “I am not returning to that inn, my lord,” she said, giving his title a twist of irony. He could hear the shiver in her voice.

  “No, I don’t suppose that would be practical either.”

  “What then?”

  “We shelter for the night before we freeze and the sheep find our bodies cluttering their pasture in the morning.” February winds cut through his greatcoat. How can she stand it, tromping along in that riding habit, the little fool?

  “Sheep, my lord?”

  “There are always sheep. This is Dorset.”

  As if at his command, twenty minutes of walking brought them to a sheep pen. Lily’s outburst when she bumped into the rough stone wall in the darkness unleashed a frenzy of “Baa” from the pen’s unseen inhabitants. The setting moon left them in gloom.

  “Can you see a farmhouse?” she asked between chattering teeth.

  “No, but I can barely see my hand.”

  “Look there,” Lily said, “across the enclosure. Do you make out a shape?”

  He took her hand; her fingers, icy even through her gloves, laced with his. Together they groped along the stone enclosure until they came to a rough wood structure. The stench told them it was no house long before they reached it.

  “Storage barn?” she suggested.

  “Shearing shed,” he guessed. Will had gone on at some length about shearing one night. Richard wished he had paid attention.

  He tightened a grip on her hand and looked in every direction. When he saw no glimmer of light or other sign of humanity, he tossed about for an alternative. This close, he could feel that she had begun to shiver violently. He needed to get her out of the wind.

  “If the racket those creatures made didn’t bring the farmer, he must be at some distance,” he said. “This appears to be our only choice.”

  She tried to open her mouth, but her teeth chattered too rapidly to speak. If she meant to disagree, she failed.

  If I don’t warm her, she’ll fall ill.

  He pulled her into the shed, and into his arms.

  Chapter 7

  Warmth, wonderful warmth.

  Lily burrowed deeply into it, shaking uncontrollably. Her nose nestled into the soft lawn of Richard’s shirt, and she let the scent of sandalwood, shaving soap—the scent of man—fill her senses.

  “Easy,” he soothed. “Let me warm you.”

  His heavy greatcoat fell around her. In the protective cocoon of his arms, the odor of sheep receded, the ache in her legs eased, and her sense of threat in the darkness yielded to a sense of safety. She snuggled against him.

  “Better?” he slid his hands up her back to her shoulders, as if to push her away.

  “Some,” she replied, cuddling closer. The hands slid back down, sending warmth through her. “I’ve made a mess of it, haven’t I?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Too much a diplomat to agree with me?” she mumbled from deep in his coat.

  “Too intelligent to state the obvious,
” he responded.

  I acted without thinking. I put us both in jeopardy. I led him through muddy fields and sheep dung for heaven’s sake.

  And Volkov will know. She shivered again.

  “More cold?” he asked. He held her tight.

  Volkov will know and Sahin will kill his agent. Papa!

  The weight of it crushed her. Wet tears overflowed, ran down her cheeks, and soaked his shirt.

  Richard jerked away. “Please, no tears,” he whispered. “It won’t help and—”

  A sob escaped her and then another.

  “Don’t!” She could hear his consternation and confusion in that one word, a man all at sea when faced with a woman’s tears. He pulled her close again.

  Some things you can’t control, Glenaire. A woman’s grief is one of them.

  “Don’t,” he repeated more gently and lowered his mouth to hers.

  He kissed her, she thought, to quiet her sobs as much as to comfort. It quickly flamed into something else.

  She tasted salt in the kiss, her tears flowing into his mouth. His harsh lips softened, gently teasing and urging Lily to open to him. She did, falling headlong into the fire that had threatened to ignite between them for two days. One last coherent thought came to her: among the insane events of this foolish expedition, opening to Glenaire would be the most foolish. At that moment she didn’t care. She wanted the comfort he offered.

  He shrugged off his coat, brushing her hand aside when she tried to cling. “I need to touch you,” he rasped. “Let me get this out of the way.” He slipped off his tailored jacket and tossed it over the stall behind him. The jacket of her riding habit followed it, removed by his deft hands before she could protest.