But Alex had been right. Roderick had had to die, then and there, in that moment. Thanks to Alex’s quick thinking, the pair of them had got clean away.
Daniel raised his glass, locked eyes with Alex, now seated on the sofa nearby. “To Roderick-the idiot-who was convinced to the last that our sire would always save him. He was a fool, but he was our brother.” He drank.
Alex sipped. “Half brother.” Alex’s lips curved. “Sadly, he missed the better half-the cleverer half.”
Daniel tipped his glass in acknowledgment, but said nothing. He and Alex shared a father, but their mothers had been different, so the cleverer half Alex alluded to he had missed as well. He looked at his glass, and decided he’d better stop drinking.
“But Roderick no longer matters, my dear. We do.” Alex’s voice was low but clear, as always compelling. “And we need to take steps to ensure our necks remain free of the hangman’s noose.”
“Indubitably.” Setting down his glass, Daniel met Alex’s eyes. “As ever, I’m yours to command, but I suspect I’d better go and check on Monteith. We need his copy of the letter.”
Alex nodded. “While you’re doing that, I’ll organize another move. Sadly, here, we’re too close to where Roderick met his end. Our opponents might think to search. I’ll have somewhere else organized-not too far away-by the time you get back with Monteith’s letter.”
“And then we’ll need to get a welcome in place for Carstairs.”
“Indeed.” Alex’s eyes glittered. “I’ll start work on that tomorrow, too. Now we know he’s coming down the Rhine, and at speed, then it’s all but certain he’ll pass through Rotterdam. I’ve already sent orders to all those on the other side of the Channel to ensure he runs into a very warm reception. But given that the other three have all come this way, what are the odds, do you think, that he’s making for either Felixstowe or Harwich? They are, after all, the closest and most convenient ports to this part of the country.”
“He’ll be carrying the original, won’t he?”
Alex nodded. “Just the fact he’s coming in on the most direct route… our puppetmaster isn’t trying to draw out cultists with him, but to give him the shortest and safest road, the best possible chance of reaching the puppetmaster. That’s why he’s the last, and also why Monteith is coming in from the opposite direction.”
“So Carstairs won’t be long.”
“No, but what I have planned in Rotterdam will at least slow him down, which is all we need.” Alex looked at Daniel. “You take care of Monteith, and leave me to put our welcome for Carstairs in place. By the time you get back with Monteith’s letter, all will be set.” Alex smiled, viciously intent. “Whoever our puppetmaster is, I guarantee Carstairs will never reach him.”
Daniel nodded and stood. “I’d better get going if I’m to join the men tonight.”
“Where exactly are they?”
“In a deserted barn outside a village called Eynesbury. I left them with strict orders to keep watch for Monteith and make sure he doesn’t reach Cambridge. They’ll know where he’s spending the night.” Daniel smiled, envisioning carnage. “I believe I’ll pay Major Monteith a midnight visit.”
Alex understood what he was planning. “Very good. And who knows what possibilities tomorrow might bring? Take care, my dear-I’ll see you later tomorrow, once you have Monteith’s copy.”
Daniel saluted. “Until then.”
He turned away and strode for the door, and so didn’t see the way Alex watched him.
Didn’t feel the cold, piercing weight of those ice-blue eyes.
After he’d passed through the open doorway and disappeared, Alex sat staring at the vacant space.
Debating.
Several minutes ticked past.
Then Alex turned and looked toward the doorway at the far end of the room. “M’wallah!”
When the fanatical head of Alex’s personal guard appeared, Alex coldly said, “Have someone saddle my horse and lay out my riding breeches, jacket, and my heavy cloak. I expect to be out all night.”
Turning, Alex looked again at the door through which Daniel had gone.
Daniel was, Alex knew, entirely trustworthy.
Yet sometimes trust wasn’t enough.
Alex had a very bad feeling about what was going on. About the quality of their opponents.
Pale eyes still fixed on the doorway, Alex rose, set down the barely touched glass of brandy. “I do hope I’m wrong, my dear. I do so hope I’m wrong.”
Once bitten, twice shy. Alex left the room to change and ride out.
Linnet sat beside Logan on the top step of the main stairs on the hotel’s first floor. All about them the house was quiet, settled, already in slumber. Darkness enveloped them; rather than keep a candle burning, marking their position, they’d let the night embrace them and let their eyes adjust.
The clocks in the town had tolled midnight a little while before, yet the hotel had been quiet for longer. In this season, there were no guests looking to revel into the night. Most of those she’d seen appeared to be travelers, on their way to some other place.
Like them.
In her case, however, she was no longer sure where she was going. To Elveden later that day, but after that? Where would life take her? Back to Mon Coeur to live out her life alone, surrounded by her people?
She shook free of the circling, distracting thoughts, ran her hand along her thigh, the soft leather beneath her palm familiar and reassuring. She’d changed into a gown for dinner, but then changed back into her breeches. If the cult came for them, now or later that day, she couldn’t run or fight anyone in a gown. Not effectively. And while she was with Logan, fighting alongside him, she needed to be at her most effective.
Her movement had caught Logan’s attention; even through the dimness she could feel his gaze.
Elbows propped on his knees, hands clasped between them, he studied her profile for a moment, then said, “Today… I shouldn’t say it was fun, but it was. So much better than just sitting in a coach, rolling along, waiting for the Cobra to strike. Sitting and waiting isn’t something that comes easily to either of us-or the other two, for that matter. Your plan was inspired, and your help with the execution much appreciated.”
She turned her head and met his eyes. Forced herself to seize the moment, the opening. “I know you mean to reassure me that you’re not repulsed by me wielding a sword.” She put a hand on his arm, squeezed gently. “I know it doesn’t matter to you-that you don’t think less of me because of it. But…” Through the shadows she tried to read his eyes-an impossibility. “Believe me, others-lots of others, indeed, most of society-will see it differently. No-don’t argue, don’t try to tell me otherwise, for that I do know.” She held his dark gaze. “I am not, and never will be, an appropriate wife for the son of an earl. Yes, I know Penny likes to ride wearing breeches, and she would probably love to wield a sword, but that’s not the point. She’s not just gently born but well brought up-she’s able to do all the things I cannot. The social things, doing the pretty in duchess’s drawing rooms, going to balls, knowing what to say.”
Pausing, she drew breath, softly said, “I am who I am, and I cannot change-not just because I would find it hard but because to be who I need to be for all the others who depend on me, I need to be who, and what, I am now.”
He’d opened his mouth once, but at her command had shut it and let her speak without interruption, had listened as closely, as intently as she could wish. He continued to look down at her, a slight frown between his brows.
Logan forced his hands to remain relaxed, lightly clasped. She’d just given him the perfect introduction to declare the truth of his birth, but… she hadn’t yet seen all he wanted to show her before he told her the truth. She hadn’t seen, so didn’t know, all the factors that, to his mind, would convince her beyond all question that marrying a well-born bastard was what she should do.
He told himself he should speak now, regardless, yet… simple fear, for all its simplicity a cold, iron-clad vise, held him back. He couldn’t risk it. Just the thought of failing to convince her chilled him. Shook him. He needed her as his-his wife-too much.
“I don’t want you to change.” He held her gaze with his. “I want you exactly as you are-the buccaneering female privateer, the virgin queen of Mon Coeur. I value all you are now, as you are now, and the truth, the real truth, is that I would fight anyone who tried to force change upon you.”
