Page 2 of How to Tempt An Earl
‘Do you think it’s just that easy? That I will tell what I know to a stranger in a church simply because he asks?’ Nervous or not, the woman had the ability to keep her wits about her. Kieran gave her credit for that, especially if this was not her usual game. But the question chased itself around his mind—why was she nervous?Followed by another question: if she was nervous because she worried she’d been followed, why not tell him and go? She’d want to expedite the meeting, not draw it out.
‘Your knuckles indicated you were eager to depart,’ Kieran murmured. ‘Lingering makes you nervous. Should I be expecting company?’ That company would come in one of two forms: those who also wanted her information for themselves or those who didn’t want her information to get out. He did not want to play host to either form.
‘I do not think I was followed.’ There was defiance in her tone as if what she really wanted to say was,I was not naïve enough to be followed.
‘Forgive me if I don’t trust the assessment of a novice.’ Kieran growled impatiently. ‘Remember,yousummonedme. How do you recommend we resolve this slight impasse?’
Her long, slender fingers curled around the prayer rail. ‘How do I knowIcan trustyou?’
Yes, clearly a novice if she thought trust was on the table, that its presence mattered as a means of guiding discussion. Trust, like faith and hope, did not exist in his world—not after Sofia had nearly gutted him in a bed chamber for the contents of his diplomatic pouch.
‘You can’t, no more than I can trust you.’ Kieran gave a dry laugh. ‘Did you think you were the only one with something to risk? Did you stop to think whatIrisked in coming here? This might be a trap and your supposed information the lure. But, still, I am here. Perhaps that is proof enough that I am who I say I am.’ He edged closer to her and she reflexively brought a hand to her nose.
He gave a quiet laugh. ‘You cannot doubt I am a Horseman now. Forgive me for the fragrance. I rode hard and there was no time to change. Your message indicated a certain urgency.’
Kieran covered her hand with his. People confessed to all nature of fears and feelings when they were touched. Touch inspired confidence. Perhaps she needed a dose of that now in order to open up. ‘We’ve established who I am. Now, my lady, who are you?’
* * *
Whowasshe? Such a complex question; Celeste hardly knew any longer. Once, she would have said she was a wealthy man’s ward, a boarding-school-educated young woman who’d spent her youth on the Continent. Up until two weeks ago she’d been that same man’s pawn, a tool he used now that school was behind her. It wasn’t a very flattering picture of who she’d been, but it was accurate.
Now, kneeling here in the church, she was a fugitive, a woman on the run with nowhere to runto…all because she’d eavesdropped on the wrong conversation, which had been the final straw.
‘It doesn’t matter who I am. It matters what I know.’
His hand was warm on hers and, despite the fact that he smelled of sweaty horse and worn leather, his touch felt…good…like reassurance. And for a moment it felt as if she wasn’t alone, that she wassafeat last. It was an illusion only. Men betrayed; she knew it empirically. If he knew she was the ward of the Continent’s most notorious arms dealer—the man responsible for his brother’s death, the manhewas hunting—it would go poorly for her.
Still, for a few brief moments she would allow herself the luxury of the illusion, a chance to refresh herself after two weeks of looking over her shoulder, of doubting everyone she came into contact with; two weeks of being scared twenty-four hours a day. Even when she managed to sleep, her sleep was filled with nightmares of being caught, of being returned to her guardian and the unpalatable fate that would await her.
She lived in a zero-sum world now. There was no margin for error, and she was in over her head. There was no other choice. She simply could not live in her guardian’s world any longer. She wanted out. Every day she stayed was a day closer to becoming like him, to being dragged irrevocably down a path of violence and corruption from which there would be no escape. The Horsemen were her ticket to freedom.
‘What do you know?’ The Horseman’s voice was quiet, encouraging, his thumb running a slow caress across her knuckles.
Celeste swallowed. After hoarding her secret for so long, it was hard to let it out, to give someone else knowledge of it.
Just tell him, her mind cried.Then you can lay down the burden.
This was what she’d come for. She was so close to the finish line. ‘Cabot Roan has left his munitions factory in Brussels. He is coming to England for revenge. He is hunting you.’ She’d surprised him. She felt his thumb stop for an infinitesimal moment.
‘Why?’ His thumb started its caress again but she had all his attention now. She’d become an expert at reading men. Her survival had depended on it.
‘He is personally hunting the Horsemen in retaliation for the killing of Amesbury and foiling his chance at an arms deal to Greece.’ She was glad his chance had been ruined. Roan was already supplying the Ottoman forces arrayed against the Greeks. He took perverse delight in selling firearms to both sides, prolonging the war as long as it pleased him and thinking he could control the outcome of that war.
The man beside her slid her a considering look with eyes like sharp agate, his tone quiet. ‘Have you come to warn me or simply to deliver Roan’s message on his behalf?’
Are you his tool or his enemy?
Celeste jerked her hand away as if his touch suddenly scorched instead of comforted. Her temper flared, its fuse shortened by exhaustion and hunger. ‘Howdareyou insinuate I am that despicable man’s puppet?’ That very fate was among the many reasons she’d fled. To be accused of it was the height of insult, if only he knew it. ‘If you understood what I have endured these past weeks, you would know I would not lower myself to be his messenger.’
‘You are not the only one who has suffered recently.’
There was grit in his growl. He was thinking of his brother, no doubt, the one who’d been lost. His gaze swung towards her, giving her a glimpse of his face in full for the first time since he’d knelt beside her. His eyes flashed with dark fire and his jaw was lined with dark stubble, perhaps evidence of his claim that he’d ridden hard.
She was suddenly and keenly aware of his size: the breadth of his shoulders; the strength in his hands. It was difficult to reconcile the earlier offer of comfort with the sheer ruggedness of him. He could overpower her with little effort if he chose. Her previous sense of safety evaporated. A shudder rippled through her. She knew big men and how they used their strength. Roan surrounded himself with them and had no compunction about turning them loose on those less powerful in order to get what he wanted. She’d been on the receiving end of that once. But not ever again—not from Roan or from any man.
It was time to leave before she lost control of the interaction. Celeste rose somewhat awkwardly, her joints stiff from kneeling so long.
The Horseman rose with her. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
