When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,142
didn’t make sense, but I needed to hear you say it. Do you know where it is?”
“Not at the moment.” King gestured up the stairs. “If you’d like to get settled—”
“And your ring?” She gestured at the ruby.
“A gift from Evan. The last thing he gave me before he died.”
“Ah.”
“You will not be disturbed in your rooms. My staff are only allowed access to the upper floor at my explicit direction—”
“I will meet Marstowe tomorrow,” she interrupted quietly. “Alone.”
“Absolutely not. I will handle Marstowe.”
She shook her head. “You hired me for just this reason. You’re going to have to trust me at some point.”
“I do trust you.” He just didn’t trust himself.
“But not with the secrets that hurt you the most in the past. The secrets that cause you pain even now.” Without warning, she stepped toward him and caught his hand in hers, turning it over and running her fingers over the proper bandage that had been applied over his palm. He should pull away from her touch, hide his bandaged hand under his coat. But he couldn’t seem to do it.
“You did not follow me tonight because you were protecting your investment,” she continued, her fingers winding through his.
He couldn’t answer because her touch was sending a firestorm of heat through his veins.
“You followed me because you’ve reconsidered,” she said into the silence.
“I beg your pardon?”
She sighed. “You regret your decision to engage my services.” It wasn’t really a question.
“No,” King lied instantly. To admit that very regret now would be to admit failure on his part to preserve control. “We reached an agreement, and I gave you my word. Of all the things that I have lost in this life, the integrity of my word is not one of them. I will not renege on our agreement.” He just needed to manage the outcome.
“You’re not the first to discover after engaging me that some secrets are better left buried,” she said. “And like the others who have come to reconsider, I release you from whatever promises you made regarding our agreement. I will not think less of you. But the sapphire stays with me.”
She was giving him the perfect escape. He should seize her offer. He would simply say goodbye to Adeline Archambault on the morrow, and his secrets would remain safe. Wasn’t this exactly what he had just wished for, sapphire be damned?
Yet he couldn’t say the words. He couldn’t let her go.
“No,” he said, hating the weakness that his answer had betrayed.
“No?” She sounded less than convinced. “I will not judge you for reconsidering your decision. Your pain and your secrets are not commodities that I am entitled to but things that you may entrust to my care should I stay.”
He looked away, aching with the strange longing that he had felt the first time he had laid eyes on her. He wished that she would rant and hurl accusations at him. He needed her angry. This gentle dissection of his soul was disquieting.
“And what if I had reconsidered?” he demanded harshly. “If I told you that I will simply kill Marstowe for what he did? What then?”
Her fingers tightened around his. “That would be your decision, of course.”
“Jesus. I don’t think you’re hearing me. I could have killed him tonight. Thought about it more than once.” His voice echoed loudly in the empty hall.
“Yet you didn’t.”
“I could have.”
“And so could I. You don’t scare me, King.”
“I should scare you,” he growled. “I am not a good person.”
“Then what does that make me?”
“What?” Her question caught him off guard.
“I pulled a blade on the baron tonight, and you did nothing. Weren’t even troubled.”
“I knew exactly what you had done. Why the hell would I be troubled? You are magnificent with both your wits and your weapons.”
She made a funny little noise. “But that’s just it. You are the first person to make me feel…seen.”
His gaze came back to hers. She was still watching him, her expression even, her eyes like pools of quicksilver. The urge to kiss her, to make her feel far more than merely seen, was overwhelming. This woman deserved so much more. She deserved to feel treasured and adored and respected.
But not by him.
He’d had women in the past, brief physical interactions that left both sated but that had never, ever involved emotion. Those interactions had barely involved kissing, or even much undressing, for God’s sake, much less conversation or the surrender of secrets. Adrestia deserved a man as honorable as she