She gave a slow shake of her head, her brow pleated in unease. "They spoke of a necklace.
My necklace."
Lucien sternly kept his expression unreadable. He had hoped that she had not overheard the rasping words of the intruders. It would be difficult enough for her to forget the terror of having her home invaded without worry they might return for the Medallion about her neck.
"Perhaps they noted the amulet when you entered the room and presumed it worth stealing."
"I suppose." Her expression remained filled with doubt. "It is still very odd."
Stepping closer, Lucien carefully encircled her in his arms, hoping to surround her with his strength.
"Let us not dwell upon it, my dove. They are gone and I do not believe that they will soon return."
There was a short pause before she slowly lifted her head to regard him with a somber expression.
"I am relieved you were here."
Lucien stilled, caught off guard by her soft words. Then slowly he smiled deep into her darkened eyes.
"So am I," he whispered gently, wanting nothing more than to ease the fear that lingered within her. This maiden should know only joy, he told himself fiercely. And he would do whatever in his power to see it done. "You see, for a frippery fellow, I do have my uses upon occasion."
To his great relief, a measure of her tension eased and her lips even twitched with reluctant humor.
"Upon occasion, I suppose," she conceded.
He lifted his brow with a wicked glint smoldering in his eyes. "I have numerous other uses beyond rescuing damsels in distress, if you would only allow me to demonstrate."
Despite her best attempts, she could not entirely prevent the faint hint of color that touched her cheeks.
"I believe you have demonstrated quite enough for one evening."
"Ah, but that was only a taste."
"Really, Mr. Valin," she protested in breathy tones.
His hand lifted to lightly stroke the soft skin of her countenance. "I believe you called me Lucien earlier. Such formality is surely unnecessary between friends."
He heard her catch her breath as she abruptly spun away, as if to hide her expression from his searching gaze.
"I think it best if we—" Without warning her words came to a halt and she took a step
toward the bed. "What is that?"
Lucien frowned as she reached out to pluck a scrap of paper from the heavy quilt. "I haven't the least notion."
Holding the paper in fingers that visibly trembled, Jocelyn moved toward the window, where the moonlight offered a silver glow.
"Miss Kingly," she read aloud. "They are dying. Will you save them? It is in your hands."
Five
Jocelyn was uncertain how she discovered herself flat against the wall with Lucien standing directly before her and his hands planted on each side of her head.
One moment she had been slipping on her shawl, preparing to leave for her nightly visit to the streets, and the next she had been swiftly maneuvered toward the wall by an angry gentleman who was currently regarding her with smoldering golden eyes.
"No, Jocelyn," he gritted out between clenched teeth.
With an effort Jocelyn gathered her composure. After a restless night, followed by a long day brooding upon the two thieves who had so rudely intruded into her home, she had been determined to shake off the lingering unease.