Chapter Twenty
Violet lifted her chin and drew in a slow breath, the cool freshness of her small plot filling her lungs. Pip should have delivered the letter to Drake by now, and she should be gone.
Yet she tarried.
And tarried.
If she were truly brave, she’d have sent two letters to Drake. One with the truth. She had even gone so far as to compile a list of all the reasons she should tell him and all the reasons she should not. She had not progressed beyond that list.
Bravery, it seemed, had its limits. So had she.
Outside the gate, a hired carriage and driver waited with her belongings. She had no intention of running from the life she had built here. But she did intend to leave. A trip to Bristol—until the dust settled with Drake and her brother.
And her heart.
Her heart, most of all.
How she wished she could return to the quiet when she had woken up in his bed.
Even before, when their bodies melded, but mostly afterward, waking up to his stare.
She’d thought, for a foolish moment, perhaps she’d found someone of her own.
Whatever the nature of it. Whatever it might become or never become at all.
She couldn’t recall when last she’d felt so at peace. That peace, however, had lasted mere moments.
Violet sighed. She should have slapped that ruffian’s face.
What do you believe lovers to be?
Not them. That had become abundantly clear.
Perhaps she should find a husband after all.
“My lady.”
Violet started at the voice at her back, whirling around. Her eyes widened. Dear blazes. She couldn’t believe her eyes! “Rook? What are you doing here?”
The man stepped through the gate of her plot, nodding. “So it is you, my lady. I had hoped I saw wrong.”
Violet blinked at the man. So many emotions were rushing through her, she couldn’t make sense of what Rook said, of his presence here in her garden. “Saw wrong?” she repeated, dazed.
“The night of the fight, my lady. When you fled the scene with that Fury dog.”
That Fury . . . “Drake Fury?”
Rook nodded, cupping one of his hands in the other. “A nasty creature, that one.”
Violet’s mind spun, her gaze dropping to his bandaged hand.
Rook and Drake? How had that come to pass?
Rook was her father’s man and, after her parents’ death, became her brother’s.
Also hers, in a manner of speaking. He had been a great help in keeping her brother occupied when she snuck from her home.
Which meant . . . Her heart sank. “My brother is here, then?”
“I don’t know, my lady.”
“You don’t know?” Her brows furrowed. “Aren’t you here under his orders?”
“I was, my lady. Then I got caught by a dog,” he muttered with a scowl. “Now I’m under the orders of the dog.”
Wait. “You mean Drake?”
Rook nodded.
Relief filled her. Heh. Drake the dog. A far cry from Drake the tiger. The dual picture almost made her smile.
“How did your ladyship get caught up with him?” Rook asked with concern. “If you need any help, my lady, I’m at your aid.”
Violet shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. I am leaving for Bristol for a while,” she admitted. “Until the two dogs stop fighting over whatever bone the one snatched from the other. The Furys don’t know my true identity yet. I haven’t been able to confess that part.”
“Good, my lady,” Rook said with a nod. “It’s best until they stop fighting over whatever bones.”
“Then do you now work for both of them?”
Rook shook his head. “I am not that mad.”
“What did you do to get caught by Drake?” Voilet asked curiously.
“Tried to stab him, my lady.”
Violet’s eyes flew wide. “Kill him?”
“He probably wouldn’t have died.”
“Rook!”
“In my defense,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “I was operating under orders at the time.”
“You tried to kill a man, and your defense is that someone told you to?” Violet pressed her fingers to her temple.
She ought to be horrified. She had known Rook since childhood, had watched him teach her father’s hounds to sit, had once hidden behind his considerable bulk when her brother was in a temper.
“I have several defenses, my lady. That was merely the first.” His face turned sheepish, the kind that reminded her of a fox caught sneaking into a chicken coop. “You are with the Furys now?” he asked.
Violet paused. With the Furys? No. She could not claim such a thing. Neither could she claim not to be. How could such a simple question be so blazingly complicated? Yes, Rook. I am with the Furys. No, Rook I’m not. I’m with myself. “I am their tenant.”
He nodded in understanding. “A sensible arrangement. Safer to owe rent than allegiance.”
Her mouth curved despite herself. “You speak as though you don’t flip allegiance left and right.”
He coughed. “It’s a matter of survival, my lady. I’ve never betrayed you.”
True. “I suppose I should feel honored, then.”
His gaze flicked toward the waiting carriage beyond the gate. “Do you wish for me to escort you to your destination, my lady? Roads are not always kind to women traveling alone.”
She studied him carefully. Rook had always been many things: capable, cunning, loyal when it suited him, but never sentimental. “Do you not have business for Drake?”
“That is concluded as far as I’m concerned, my lady.”
The man clearly didn’t understand Drake very well. “Just what was your business?”
That foxlike look returned to his face. “To lure your brother to Brighton, my lady. But I swear to you, I did not know you were here.”
The trap the night she met Drake. So that’s what had happened. A chill traced her spine. “Does Reginald know I’m here?”
“I’m sorry, my lady. I truly do not know.”
Violet exhaled slowly. It seemed her decision to embark on a journey to Bristol had been a wise one. As things stood now, she might merely get caught in between the two opposing forces. “Very good. There’s no need to escort me. I shall be fine on my own.”
Rook inclined his head.
The sound of pounding hooves drew their attention to an oncoming rider. Violet knew, as surely as she knew the sun would rise in the morning and sink again come evening, and before setting eyes on the rider, those hooves belonged to Drake.
Call it instinct. Call it sixth sense. Call it retribution for her sins.
Drake had found her. Again.
“Quick,” she hissed, already moving. He couldn’t find her with Rook. “Run.”
The color drained from Rook’s face. He seemed to have the same premonition as her. “Run where?”
“To the carriage! Get inside before he spots you!”
Poor Rook didn’t hesitate. The man dashed off as if the devil were on his heels. Drake must have had him in a dungeon for a time for him to react so swiftly. Surprisingly, the thought wasn’t as disturbing as it ought to be.
A few moments later, the rider drew his horse to a halt. Tall, sinfully attractive, broody as ever. He spotted her at once, dismounting from his horse and crossing the distance between them in big, purposeful strides.
What bee had stung his bottom?
She smoothed her skirts with hands that refused to steady, lifted her chin, and faced the fierce man like a woman with nothing to hide.
She expected a number of ways for this encounter to unfold.
She certainly expected his ire. She had prepared for it, actually.
She had not prepared for him to sweep her into his arms and kiss her as though the journey here had been an emergency and this was the only cure.
Blazes.
He pressed her body into his, and her hands rose to his chest, pressing against the firm wall of him.
Not to stop him. Just to feel him. He broke away, eyes burning into hers before he kissed her again.
Slower this time. Like he was memorizing the shape of her lips, the pattern of her breath, the secrets lodged between her gasps.
It was a kiss unlike anything she had ever known.
She didn’t feel merely beautiful. She felt powerful. Understood.
His hand slipped into her hair, threading through the strands. He didn’t touch her waist. Didn’t mold all the places he loved to mold.
He simply kissed her.
Over and over.
As if the act of touching her could rewrite something inside him.
Maybe his touch could rewrite something inside her, too.
*
Drake lifted his hand to curve around the base of her neck, drawing Violet closer.
She came upon her toes, fingers clutching at the lapels of his coat, holding him fast. The moment her name left Pip’s mouth, a fear he hadn’t known dug its claws into the whole of him.
All his nonsense had lost meaning at that moment.
Not wanting to become like his father. Not wishing to destroy what he touched.
What did those things matter when the only thing he could think to protect was her?
He deepened the kiss, sweeping her tongue in a tangle with his.
He’d had nothing but regret since she’d left his chamber.
Left their den. It had followed him through the night and into the watch outside her shop and back to the tavern and had not left him alone for a single hour since.
Regret for the silence he’d allowed to stretch between them.
For the truths he’d swallowed because they felt too dangerous to voice.
For letting her walk away believing she stood alone in something that had already lodged itself far too deeply beneath his bones.
He wrenched his lips away from her, brushing his lips against hers softly, before drawing back enough to see her face. “My uncle came to see you yesterday.”
She gave a slight nod, blue eyes glowing.
“Why didn’t you come to me immediately?” This was what bothered him the most. “Why did you send a boy to deliver the message?”
Her gaze slipped from his, and she sighed.
“Look at me, Violet,” he said softly. When she met his gaze again, he asked, “Why?”
“I’m taking a trip,” she admitted.
“A trip?” His brows furrowed. “Where?”
“Does it matter?” she challenged.
“Of course it bloody matters,” Drake bit out.
Everything about her always mattered. “Why would it not?” At the raise of her brow, he cursed.
“Fine, I deserve that, but I’ve wanted to talk about it from the start.
” He had hurt her with his actions. He didn’t know what to do about his mistake.
Nothing seemed adequate. Appropriate. He slid his hand from the nape of her neck to cup her cheek. “I want to take it all back.”
“And what is that?” she asked.
“Asking you a fundamentally foolish question about lovers when even I do not know the answer.”
Her lips parted and closed, parted again. “I see. What else?”
“For not agreeing with anything you wanted.”
“Anything I wanted . . .” she murmured. “You can’t even say the word without turning it into a question.”
“It’s not that. It’s—”
“That’s fine, I believe you were right, in any event.”
His thumb brushed the skin of her cheek.
“What do you mean I was right?” Was that good or bad coming from a woman?
Drake didn’t have sufficient dealings with them to say.
Were she an artful female, he’d wager yes.
But this was Violet. She was as artless as they came, and yet, when she wanted something, she went for it with a startling, unvarnished courage.
“I mean you are right to ask. Right not to answer. Right to pause.”
No. No, he hadn’t been. He’d been wrong. So damn wrong. “Are you saying you don’t want to be my lover anymore?” Christ. A question.
She smiled, though it felt forced to him. “Perhaps that’s not our path.”
“Who says it can’t be our path? My damn foolishness? I was careful not to make promises I didn’t know how to keep.”
“Ah.”
His brows furrowed. What did that mean?
“Perhaps that is what it means to be a lover. A promise,” she said quietly.
A promise . . . “I’ve never been good at making promises.” He never made them lightly either. Not even to his own brothers. As a matter of fact, the only promise he’d ever made without effort or hesitation had involved his fists. Retribution. Violence.
“Tell me, Drake, do you believe lovers keep secrets from one another?”
“I believe everyone keeps secrets from one another.”
“Even important ones? Ones that can risk the relationship as lovers?”
“There are always risks when it comes to secrets, love.” He studied her, a thought forming in his mind. “Are you keeping a secret from me? Is that why you retreat?”
“What if I am?”
Drake cocked his head, searching her gaze. “Then why would you suggest being lovers in the first place?”
“A moment of weakness?”
“Is that why you left?” he countered. His mind raced over events, but he couldn’t piece together anything that made sense except for his foolishness. Of course. His foolishness. “Is it because I keep secrets?”
She blinked twice at his question.
That must be it. “All the secrets I keep are to protect.”
She nodded into his hand where he still cupped her cheek. “That’s the thing about secrets,” she said. “Their true purpose. To keep hidden, certainly, but to keep hidden to protect something or someone.”
Something had happened. Something between her leaving his chamber and now. “Did my uncle say anything to you?”
Her features went momentarily blank. “Say?” Her brows furrowed. “Something about his attempts at reconciling having failed.”
Drake clenched his jaw. “Is that all?”
She nodded. “And he asked that I pass the letter along. Why? Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” Drake admitted. “Except that my uncle is a very dangerous man. If he approaches you again, flee.”
“Flee? Is he that bad? I mean, he did have a rather cold air about him.”
“Trust me on this. He approached you to send a message and not the one in the letter. It was a message to me. All of us. He can get to the people we care about whenever he wants. That’s why I came today. To collect you.”
“You just said I should run, now you wish to collect me?”
“That was a figure of speech, love. You’re not safe at your shop anymore.”
“Well, then,” she stepped out of his embrace. “It’s good that I’m leaving today.”
Drake had nearly forgotten about that. “That’s not possible.”
She crossed her arms. “And why is that?”
“You’ll be beyond our protection, Violet. When I say my uncle made a move to approach you, I damn well mean it.”
“You know, ever since I’ve met you, I’ve been in nothing but danger. Have you considered that if I leave, whatever interest your uncle may have would vanish as well?”
“His interest doesn’t work that way,” Drake said, holding her gaze, wanting nothing more than to pull her back against him. “He believes you are a weakness to me.”
“And am I?”
“What a fabulous question,” a grating voice drawled from Drake’s back. “One I’d love to know the answer to as well.”
Violet’s face paled—enough to warn him—but Drake acted one step too late. Pain exploded at the back of his head. A curse rolled off his tongue, or perhaps his mind, he couldn’t be certain, but darkness claimed him once again.