The Secret Wallflower Society - Jillian Eaton Page 0,85
to ground, and was completely at the mercy of a golden-eyed devil with the silver tongue of an angel.
“P-please go away,” she said haltingly as the courage she’d been able to muster abruptly withered, like a plant that had gone too long without water. “Whatever Andrew is paying you, I’ll find a way to double it. It–it may take me a while, but I promise I can–”
He silenced her by pressing his finger to her lips. “You don’t need to pay me a shilling, love.”
A flicker of hope unfurled within her breast. “Then you’ll let me go?”
His husky laugh did strange, unwanted things to her belly. “That, I’m afraid, is the one thing I cannot do.”
She closed her eyes as tears welled on her lashes. “He’ll kill me, you know.” The gut-wrenching admission nearly brought her to her knees. “My husband. You said you wouldn’t harm me, but if you deliver me to Andrew, that’s exactly what you’ll be doing.”
“That bastard is not going to touch a bloody hair on your head.”
Percy’s eyes flew open in surprise at the savage fierceness in his tone, and what she saw nearly caused her to faint.
Gone was the charismatic rogue with the engaging grin. Six inches from her stood a devil. A devil forged of granite and steel and hellfire. A devil who would not let anything–or anyone–stand in his way.
“Come on,” he growled, taking her arm.
“Where–where are we going?” she asked, struggling to keep up with his larger stride as he pulled her across the lawn towards the house. She hadn’t bothered to lock the door–why would she when she’d only intended for paint for a little while before returning inside?–and they entered through the glass doors without issue.
“We’re going to collect some of your clothes,” he said bluntly.
“And then?” she whispered, not knowing if she truly wanted an answer.
His expression inscrutable, he finally turned to her at the base of the staircase. “And then we disappear.”
Chapter Three
He’ll kill me, you know.
Those five words, so brokenly uttered, pounded inside of Lucas’s head like a drum as he stood guard by Persephone’s bedroom door while she packed her belongings into a leather valise.
Her dark head bowed in concentration, she worked quickly and efficiently, with only the slightest quiver of her hands to betray her nervousness.
Lucas was sorry for that.
Sorry he had added to all that weight she already carried on those slender shoulders.
Sorry he had to put her through more misery before everything was said and done.
Sorry he couldn’t wave his hand and take away all of her fear and pain.
Instead, he’d do the next best thing and get her the hell out of here. Because if he could find her, then that meant someone else could as well. Perhaps not as fast. His lip curled in derision at the thought. Lucas was the best at what he did. There was no one better. But there were others, others who had sold their souls long ago, and when they stumbled upon the duchess’s little hideout–and they would stumble upon it, it was only a matter of time–they wouldn’t hesitate to drag her back to her husband like a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter.
He’ll kill me, you know.
Yes, after seeing firsthand how terror had glazed her eyes as she’d searched for monsters in the shadows, he did know. And even though it meant giving up the biggest reward that he’d ever been offered (no small pill to swallow), Lucas would be damned before he turned Persephone over to Glastonbury.
“I–I think I am finished,” the duchess said softly. She closed the valise and then buckled it, but didn’t move away from the bed. “Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“But I’m safe here.”
He lifted a brow. “Then how did I find you?”
“I…I don’t know,” she admitted, averting her gaze.
“Too easily, love. The answer is I found you too easily. Which means others will be able to do the same.” Was that a carriage he heard? Lucas moved to the window, yanked back the curtain, and bit back a curse when he saw a curricle pull up in front of the house. A man climbed out, then walked around to the other side to help a woman do the same. “We need to leave. Now.”
Picking up the valise with one hand, he wrapped the other around Persephone’s dainty waist and escorted her down the stairs. They reached the bottom at the same time a key turned in the front lock.