Chapter 33

33

A lthough she was perfectly able to hold her balance, Samantha made a show of gripping the curricle's bench whenever Mr. Croft steered the horses around a sharp bend in the road. He claimed to have brought the vehicle due to the excellent weather, but also, he'd later confided, so they could enjoy an excursion without the need for a chaperone.

It was the first indication he'd made of an increased interest in her, and while it pleased her for the sake of her goal, she'd be lying if she claimed it did not thrill her on a more personal level. However dangerous that might prove for her later.

For now, she would simply enjoy her excursion with him. She would not, could not, think of last night. Only anger and fierce self-loathing would come of that, for while common sense told her she'd done what she had to, the fact still remained: she'd taken two lives.

"Everything all right?" Croft sent her a curious glance. "You're unusually quiet all of a sudden."

She forced a smile. "I'm just admiring your excellent driving skills."

He sent her a wicked grin and she laughed. This was where her focus should lie. Not on Wycliffe or Wrengate or the men who would have killed her had she not killed them.

There was no point in mourning their loss or in letting the incident shake her nerves. For the sake of her mission, she'd do well to steel herself against it.

So she took a deep breath and considered her handsome companion, a principled man who'd stop at nothing to see justice served, who made sure women received the training required to fend off assailants, despite it going against social standards, who saw to a lady's comfort and punished those who preyed on the weak. The fresh bruise marring the edge of his jaw reminded her of the latter.

Did she suspect him of killing the men who'd attacked him at Reed's yesterday? Without doubt. She'd seen the murderous look in his eyes when he'd helped her into her carriage.

Could she fault him for it?

No. She would have done the same had she been in his position.

But what of everything else Kendrick claimed Mr. Croft was a part of? The forced prostitution, the aid he provided criminals and foreign agents, the information he supposedly used for blackmail?

She wasn't entirely sure, so she glanced at him and was instantly struck by the softness currently framing his eyes and mouth. He'd always looked tense during each of their previous encounters. Driving the curricle seemed to offer a welcome escape. It seemed like it helped him relax.

A pity she'd have to ruin that, but since she'd no idea when she'd see him again and time was of the essence, she had to make the most of it. "I've been thinking…"

He shifted slightly beside her, his upper arm brushing hers. "About what?"

She took a deep breath.

"How to discover the killer's identity." Hard lines instantly gathered upon his brow. His mouth firmed and his grip on the reins seemed to tighten. As much as Samantha regretted the shift, she had to press on. "It might be useful to bait him."

The horses cantered onward, their hooves pounding into the firmly packed dirt. Air swept past Samantha's face, cooling her skin. The curricle bounced, perhaps because of a stone, and Mr. Croft pulled the horses into a gentler trot.

He glanced at her with interest. "The idea has merit, but how do you propose to do so?"

"There's a meadow up ahead," she informed him, avoiding the question for a brief moment. "If you turn between those trees right there, we can stop to talk while we stretch our legs."

The spot was lovely – a welcome retreat she'd visited often over the years. Surrounded by trees and blackberry bushes, it also offered a lovely display of wildflowers with the added benefit of a small lake.

It was also secluded and wonderfully private.

She'd never shared it with anyone else. Until now.

Having reached the trees she'd indicated, Mr. Croft steered the horses off the road and toward the meadow as she suggested.

"It's the perfect subject for a landscape painting," he remarked as soon as he'd pulled the horses to a standstill and allowed himself a moment to take in the view. When he glanced at her next, his eyes were filled with equal amounts of interest and curiosity. "A bit hidden away though, wouldn't you say?"

"That's the benefit of it," Samantha explained while hoping her purpose was not too transparent. If Mr. Croft suspected her of encouraging him to take their relationship to the next level, he'd probably suspect her of a great deal more. She shoved the concern aside and gave him a serious look. "Chances are you won't like what I am about to suggest. In fact, I believe you may wish to shake some sense into me once you hear it. In which case I thought it best if you were to do so without the risk of encountering anyone else. Or while attempting to drive."

He stared at her, then firmed his mouth and gave her a hesitant look. "What do you have in mind?"

"Just remember that you yourself agreed my idea to bait the killer has merit."

His eyes narrowed. "Miss Carmichael."

"Well, my plan involves me playing the part of the—"

"Absolutely not." A thunderous expression darkened his gaze. "Are you out of your bloody mind?"

"No. I—"

"Do you honestly think I would ever place you in that sort of danger?" He grabbed her upper arms and held her firmly in place, his fingers digging into soft flesh while searching her gaze. "What sort of man do you take me for?"

"The sort who would walk through hell to do what is right." Inspired by the fierceness with which he'd spoken, the raw emotion that burned in his gaze, and their close proximity in this moment, she set her palm against his cheek and whispered, "The sort who would come to my aid as soon as the murderer shows his face."

He stared at her, his posture rigid, each breath a ragged reminder of how close he was to losing control. She licked her lips and his mouth collided with hers in a feverish kiss for which she was utterly unprepared.

After all, no man had kissed her before and…

Honestly, she'd been a fool to imagine Mr. Croft's kisses would ever be gentle and sweet when everything else about him conveyed some degree of danger. Men feared him for good reason if he was as unforgiving as she believed.

He wasn't the sort to mince words, to pretend he was something he wasn't. And the lack of restraint in this moment was like a reflection of that. It was like getting caught in a storm from which one had no wish to ever escape.

So she curled her fingers around his neck, her other hand clutching his shoulder. Teeth grazed her lips. A warm hand flattened against the base of her spine, scattering heat as he pulled her against the hard, muscular plane of his chest. A new sensation wove its way through her.

She tried to examine it closer, to understand her body's response, only to groan with frustration when he drew back. Pressing his forehead to hers, he panted for breath.

"Good lord. You must think me feral." He withdrew even farther, his brows dipping as he met her gaze. "My apologies. I hope you can forgive me."

The underlying hint of uncertainty lacing his words made her smile. "Doing so would suggest you did something wrong. Or that I was opposed to what happened between us just now. But I'm not, so there's nothing for me to forgive."

"You're certain?"

His question made her begin to have doubts, so she forced herself to say, "Unless you regret it, Mr. Croft."

"Adrian. After what we just shared, I must insist you use my given name."

"Only if you will agree to use mine."

"It would be my absolutely pleasure." Raising his hand, he brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. "And to answer your question, I could never regret kissing you. As it is, I'm doing my damndest to stop from taking things further."

"You mean…" She had to hear him say it – to have him confirm that her plan was working and that she had some sort of chance in hell of meeting her deadline.

"I want you." The words were delivered with raw emotion, his eyes filling with fresh desire as soon as he spoke them.

"As your lover?" He gave a quick nod and she made a show of pretending to give his answer some thought before saying, "My questionable birthright makes marriage unlikely for me in the future. However, I cannot deny being drawn to you or that I'm tempted to know what it might be like to share your bed."

He gave her a roguish look filled with promise and mischief. "I'd make it worth your while."

She cleared her throat and glanced to one side, affecting an air of uncertainty. "I should probably give this some serious thought before committing."

"A wise decision." He snatched up the reins as if preparing to nudge the horses back into motion.

Samantha stopped him with the press of her hand against his arm. He stilled and turned to her slowly, a question burning in his dark eyes. "I meant what I said. If we make a plan to draw out the killer by using me as bait, I'm confident I'll be perfectly safe as long as you're somewhere nearby."

He shook his head. "What you're suggesting goes against my every instinct. I've already lost my sister. I'll not risk losing you too."

"What's the alternative? To hope he'll slip up and reveal himself?" She grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Other women may die before then."

The look he gave her was pained. "Samantha…"

Her name was a heartfelt plea filled with dread. It proved more than anything how much he cared for her safety.

"I won't forgive myself if that man claims additional victims, knowing I could have done my part to stop him. Will you?"

"Of course not. I want him caught as soon as possible, but I will do so without you getting involved." He squeezed her hand. "You're too important to risk."

"No more so than anyone else." Leaning in, she pressed her mouth to his in a gentle caress. "Please. Let me do this."

"Your resolve and courage surprise me." He placed his fingers against her chin, cradling her there while studying her with incredulity. "You don't seem the least bit afraid."

Samantha's mind raced. She was supposed to be a gently bred lady, not a woman trained to do battle.

Aware he waited for some explanation, she picked the argument she believed in the most – the truth she'd have found in this moment had she lacked the skill to fight for survival. "Will you come to my aid the instant I need you?"

"Of course."

The smile she gave him was purposefully sweet. "Then I have nothing to fear, do I?"

Dark eyes stared into hers. "Your faith in me is a bit overwhelming."

"I watched you fight off two men yesterday. One of them larger than you."

"Only because you helped."

"Which proves we make an excellent team." She held her breath and waited for his response, her stomach clenching due to the wary look he gave her.

"I pray I'll never regret this." Sighing, he tied the reins to the seat rail and gave her his full attention. "How do you wish to proceed?"