Page 11 of Dangerous Exile

“To get an answer out of you. Who did this to you?”

That. He’d asked her that before. Fuzzy snippets of that demand from his lips floated through her head. But she couldn’t chance it. Couldn’t tell him what had happened. Gilroy’s reach was too far, too evil. No one could know where she’d come from. Who had done this to her. Juliet had told her to keep that information to herself.

She shook her head. “I cannot tell you.”

“You can and you will.”

She didn’t think it possible, but he leaned farther over her, making her spine crack as she arched backward to not be swallowed by him.

“Or you can vacate my establishment.” His voice rumbled around her. “Vacate my area of London.”

Her right hand flew up, pushing on his chest. “No—no—you cannot kick me out.”

He grabbed her hand from his chest and flung it downward. “I can and I will.”

Her head shook, fear as stark as blood on snow freezing her bones. “No, I ask you. I beg of you—”

“I don’t care for beggars.”

Her mouth shut, her teeth cracking hard together. Her eyes closed to the danger in front of her as she mentally counted the coin in the boot Juliet had pushed onto her foot in Edinburgh before she’d shoved her onto that mail coach. How long could she live off of those coins? Was it enough to get on a ship? Leave this land?

That was the only way to surely escape her husband. To disappear. But what then? She was trained to be a lady, nothing more. Could she take in sewing? Become a governess? Did they have governesses in the Americas?

Her look darted past Talen, skittering about the room.

Nothing. Where was her dress? Her cape? She didn’t even have any damn clothes. For that matter, where were her boots—Juliet’s boot with the coins in the heel?

The crushing panicked weight from the lack of a path forward descended over her and her breathing sped, almost out of control.

Gasping. Gasping, for no air could make way into her lungs.

“Juliet…” She had to suck in a frantic breath before every choked word she uttered. “But Juliet said you would keep me safe. Help me.”

“Juliet oversteps.”

Stumbling two steps backward, she sank back down onto the bed. Her breath gone. None going into her lungs. None going out. The room spinning. Her right hand flew out, trying to catch her balance on the bed before she began to spin with the room and fall to the floor.

Her eyes squinted closed as she gasped again and again, trying to force air into her lungs.

An audible sigh reached her ears and his boots clunked across the floor and then back to her.

His fingers wrapped around her right wrist, lifting her hand from the bed, and she opened her eyes to find him shoving a tumbler of reddish-brown liquid into her fingers.

He stood straight, pointing to the glass in her hand. “Drink it.”

Her hand quivering, she lifted the glass to her lips, then hesitated, doubting the liquid would go down her throat.

“Drink it.”

She tilted the glass and the liquid burned a quick hole down her throat, and with it, air followed into her lungs. Brandy. She took another sip and another breath made it into her lungs. Five exhales and inhales and the room stopped spinning.

It took several long moments before her shoulders drooped, her hand clutching the tumbler dropping to her lap. She opened her mouth, though she couldn’t lift her eyes to him. “You are right. I will leave. I will leave in the morning. I did not mean to burden. Juliet was positive you would help and I believed her. I should not have done so. It was silly, really. There is no reason for you to help me. May I ask for my clothes and my cloak? I know they were torn and a mess, but they are all I have. If you could be so kind as to have them delivered to the room or tell me where they are, I can collect them. And my boots. I will need my boots, please.”

“Stay.”

Her look whipped up to him. “What?”

“Stay. Juliet told you I would protect you. Then I will. It’s what she intended. But I’ll not hear another word of this past you think exists but doesn’t. You don’t know me. Understood?”

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