I didn’t respond, and he continued to stare at me as if he knew. Knew everything. Every little secret. Every deep thought. “Something you found languishing in the attic?”
I tore my hand from him, but the feel of his touch lingered, branding me. What did he want? Why was he here? “Why can’t you leave me alone?”
My voice sounded utterly pitiful, but mostly desperate. Embarrassed by my lack of strength where he was concerned, I lowered my eyes to the baby.
“Because…” He placed the gun gently atop the windowsill. “Because you have my child.”
“You don’t want her!” The baby whimpered, drawing away from my breast and leaving my nipple exposed. His attention slid from my face to my chest. Determined to ignore him, I shushed the child, rocking her gently until her eyes closed. “You don’t want her.”
“But I do.” He stepped closer, lowering on his heels so we were eye to eye. I didn’t dare look away. “Maybe I’ve realized this last year how very much I want her in my life.”
And even as I knew I couldn’t trust him, the heat in my body flared, burning. I wanted him. Wanted him with a desperation that had not eased in the last year. Was he saying he still wanted me? His hands curled against his thighs as if he resisted the urge to reach out.
“What did you mean by saying there are men following you?”
I stood, forcing him to do the same. “Do not play dumb with me. I know you’ve had me followed.”
Ignoring his look of bemusement, I set the baby in the cradle next to the chair. Before I had time to straighten my bodice, he gripped my upper arms, drawing me close. I sank into his steel body, savoring his warmth for one blessed moment. Damnation, it was like coming home.
More, my body seemed to demand.
I wanted more. The aching need deep within my belly shifted, traveling lower. Desperately, I squeezed my thighs together. Since giving birth I’d found my desires to be sinful, my dreams at night erotic and unfulfilling, waking me up twisted and sweaty in bed, lingering memories of Gabe in my mind.
“Ginny, do you think someone is following you?”
Annoyed that he was playing games, perhaps even more annoyed that I still wanted him, I glared at the man. “You know there is!”
His fingers were gentle on my upper arms, but I didn’t miss the strength in his touch. “Who is following you?”
I hesitated, searching his face. He seemed truly worried, absolutely furious. Was he not responsible? Was it Wrolf who was having me followed, as Violet had suggested? Had they found me? A tremble of fear raced through me.
As if sensing my fear, Gabe pulled me close, his voice almost gentle. “Tell me what happened after you left me that year ago.”
Aye, a gentle voice, but it was still a demand, not a request. “I…I… when I left the ball, I was approached by a woman.”
“A woman you knew?”
“I’d met her when I’d worked for the Landcasters. But know her? No. Not really. I only heard her called the dowager.”
He pulled me closer, and I was highly aware of my bare nipple grazing the rough texture of his jacket. His gaze was intense. So heated. “Go on.”
Damnation, but it was hard to concentrate with his body molded to mine. I pulled up the bodice of my dress, covering my breast. It didn’t help. I felt raw, vulnerable. “She told me she would hire me as a maid.”
“And did she?”
“Yes.” Unable to think so close to him, I shoved my hands against his chest and moved back. Distance. We needed distance. I turned toward Izzy. She was sound asleep. She did not sense the tension in the air. “She was cold, even cruel at times, but when she found out I was with child, she let me stay on. She had a male companion who made me more than uneasy. But I couldn’t complain. It wasn’t until I realized my time was near that I understood it all.”
“Which was?”
His voice sounded calm. Controlled. Too calm. Too controlled. I turned to face him. “I overheard her talking to a companion…a Mr. Wrolf.”
“Go on.”
His hands were fisted at his sides. Surely he wouldn’t do anything to the man. I wasn’t worth it. If he felt possessive it was only because he believed he owned me. I shifted my gaze from his clenched fists, to his eyes. The anger swirling in those