Chapter 4

Bode tried not to let his gaze linger down. Isabelle had the covers tucked under her arms, but, thanks to the sheer fabric, he had an intimate view of her porcelain skin, her narrow shoulders, and the slender length of her arms.

Her hands were the most beautiful and gracious he'd ever seen. The idea of those fingers sliding over his rough skin…

Why was he even thinking this? He was a man who had impeccable control over his urges. He'd remained abstinent through most of his adulthood. Not that he couldn't have a woman if he wished…it was just that he didn't wish it.

Emotional connections led to the loss of control. His parents hadn't done much for him, but they'd taught him that.

"Don't underestimate me, Isabelle," he rumbled, pushing to stand.

"I don't know you," she answered, her fingers trembling. "And I barely know him. I…" She stopped, her voice catching before she looked away. "Two months ago, I was worried about how I would find enough money to participate in the next season so that I might marry. Now…" Her gaze swung back to his, her watery eyes still strong and clear. "I am caught in the middle of some criminal war."

His jaw hardened. He couldn't do a thing about that. He wasn't the one who'd married her. He'd never bring a good woman into this life. Hell, he didn't bring any woman into this life. They came of their own free will and he had to remind himself, Isabelle had done the same. She'd married Makem, whatever her motivations, and so her current situation was of her own making.

He needed to keep his wits and strength about him and that did not allow for a distraction of any kind, particularly of the female variety.

She must have seen the hard set of his jaw, her shoulders wilting as she looked away again. Very carefully, she picked up the tea and took another drink. "May I have paper and quill please?"

"What for?" he asked, his arms crossing over his chest.

She set the cup down again, taking the biscuit and slowly spreading some jam on its surface. "I'd like to write to my family. I'm sure you'll wish to read the letter, but I'd like to say a few words to them in case…"

His chest tightened. Christ. She wanted to write her goodbyes. She was here of sound mind. But her clarity about where this situation might lead was an unexpected nettle in his emotional armor. Like a burr under a horse's saddle, it irritated. "I already told you that I will keep you safe."

She didn't look at him as she took a bite of her food. "Why would you do that?"

He stared, flabbergasted. Had he not told her it was his job to keep the women here safe? "Because…"

"You'd put my safety over whatever business you have with Makem?" She took a bite not meeting his gaze.

He didn't answer. He didn't need to. Because God damn it, she was right. Her intelligence and perceptiveness were rather refreshing, though they were making this conversation significantly more difficult.

"In understanding that I am your very last priority in this situation, I may trust that you have the strength to defeat Makem. You look as though you could, but I think I also understand where my safety ranks for both of you. Final messages are in order."

Guilt snaked through him. He'd taken her. Put her in this situation. He could skirt around the fact that Makem was the one who'd married her but as she faced the possibility of her death…"Isabelle."

She waved her hand. "We both know I wasn't living all that long as Makem's wife. I could feel it even before yesterday and our wedding only demonstrated how little he cared. Every worry I had leading up to the wedding has proved true." She set the remainder of the biscuit down, brushing the crumbs from her fingertips. The movement of her hands transfixed him. "Rest assured, if something happens to me, the fault will be his."

Was she exonerating him from guilt? Why did her words and their sentiment make him feel worse? He would have preferred her hate. But saying so would only raise more questions, and create uncertainty in an otherwise clear situation.

So, he silently turned and made his way down the stairs and out of the room to fetch the supplies she'd requested.

The paper crinkled in his hand, as he returned to the attic, cursing himself and smart vulnerable women who made him feel all sorts of emotions he didn't wish and hadn't experienced for such a long time. Years. Why was she barreling through his defenses now?

Distracted as he was, he swung the bookshelf open and took the stairs two at a time before he stopped short. The bed was empty.

For a moment he stared in surprise. He'd left the door unlocked. Considering her state of undress, it had seemed safe enough. Had she escaped? Had the distraction she'd created in his mind already ruined his position? "Isabelle?"

"Give me one minute," she called from behind the changing screen. She came out dressed in the simple cotton gown that Mama Rose had provided. Her hair still cascaded down her back, but she brushed the strands off her shoulder and crossed to him, taking the paper from his hand. "Thank you."

Relief washed through him. Which was surely because his plan could still work. But he had this feeling, that it was more.… He wasn't the apologizing kind of man, but he almost had the urge now.

Mama Rose appeared at the top of the stairs, disrupting the words lingering on the tip of his tongue. "The Duke is here to see you."

Bode grimaced. Duke, named because he was the bastard son of a duke, was Bode's closest, which meant only, friend from childhood. Duke's mother had taken Bode in when his mother had died, and his father had abandoned him. He was like a brother to Bode, and both being bastards and having difficult childhoods, they'd always shared a life philosophy to not fall in love or develop female attachments.

Duke had broken that pact and wed a viscount's daughter. He didn't begrudge Duke his match with Ophelia. She was as lovely as she was sweet, but the marriage had changed Duke's philosophy on life and revenge.

Bode was certain Duke would have a few choice words to say about this plan…

He left with one backward glance at Isabelle. Gently, she tucked her skirts under her legs as she sat down to write. He forced himself to look away before he followed Mama Rose down the stairs and carefully locked the door this time.

Heading down the back stairwell from the third floor to the second where his office was located, he found Duke already in the space, behind the desk. His desk.

"This isn't your office anymore," Bode said, stepping in and closing the door.

"Not yours either."

That made Bode stop short. "What does that mean?"

Duke stood. The only man Bode knew who matched him in height. "Your first job is to protect this place."

Anger pulsed through Bode. "You think I don't know that."

"Then why the fuck would you bring Makem's wife here?"

"What was I supposed to do with her exactly? Her husband left her when he made his great escape."

Duke threw up his hands. "Give her to my brother. Or Upton. Or the fucking King."

"Why would the King take her?" Bode asked, his brow scrunched in confusion, pulling at the scars on his face.

In response, Duke scrubbed his hands down his cheeks and jaw. "She's his cousin, you egit. She's the daughter of an earl."

Bode stumbled backward, his back hitting the door as he remembered Isabelle's comment about next season. She was a lady… "But how could she be married to Makem then?"

His thoughts swirled as he recalled Lockton mentioning a plan on Makem's part to make himself less touchable. He'd married the daughter of an earl…it all made sense.

"He bought her." Duke grabbed a cheroot from the box on the desk, moving to the small fire to light it. Drawing in a big puff, he let out a plumb of smoke. "My guess is he was looking for a political ally in her father."

"I'm sure you're right. Lockton said something similar. He thinks it will make him more infallible." Mentally, he pictured Isabelle's grace and poise. A lady. He rubbed his hands over his short blond hair. "I can't give her back to her parents. It's too late and they'd only deliver her to Makem."

"And my suggestions?"

Bode frowned. Send her to the Duke of Upton? It wasn't a bad plan. That man had the grit to keep her safe. "I've got the chance to end this with Makem."

"By using her?"

Bode scowled. "You used Ophelia before you fell in love, and you know it."

"To help sell a business," Duke barked back. "Not as bait for scum like Makem."

Bode looked away. He'd already committed to the plan. But his earlier doubts when he'd been talking with Isabelle rose again. Duke made several compelling points.

"Does Makem know it was you who attacked last night? Is he coming here? Are the other women in danger?"

"That is the plan." He didn't know for certain, but he assumed. "I need to send our girls somewhere while I finish this."

Duke shook his head. "I've got a house I just finished renovating. It's intended to be a refuge for women of unfortunate circumstances, so I think it applies here. We'll move the girls in to keep them out of harm's way."

Duke had left the business of whores to start true refuges for women. A move Bode hoped to make as well. "I would appreciate that. Their safety is the reason I made this move in the first place. I can't have Makem hurting the girls I swore to protect."

Duke gave a near imperceptible nod. That was as much praise as Bode was likely to get from his friend. Which Bode understood. They were not soft men. "I'll take the women there. Can I use your man Jack to help me keep them safe?"

Bode nodded and then opened the door, calling, "Send in Jack."

A minute later, Jack arrived, cheroot in hand. His past was an enigma, but he'd been a solid second for Bode since Duke had left the business. And he had the sort of dark, charming, good looks that made it excessively easy for him to manage the ladies of the house. They simply did as commanded, often without question, and all while giggling. He was a favorite for certain.

"You called?" Jack winked as he stepped through the door, his swagger alone filling the rest of the space in the room.

"Duke has offered another house for the ladies to stay in while I finish sorting this Makem business."

Jack leaned over, dropping his ash in the tray on the desk. "Am I fighting with you or guarding the hens?"

That is what Bode appreciated about Jack. Intelligent and useful. "Hens."

Jack grimaced. "Are you certain you don't need me?"

"I'll be fine. I'm worried that Makem will attack the girls again. They need solid guards."

Jack cocked his head. "And the hen you've got locked in your room? Will I be guarding her too?"

Tension pulled his shoulders taut as he glared. Not only was Isabelle essential to his plan, but the idea of handing her off to someone else… "No. She stays with me."

Jack cocked a brow but didn't comment on Isabelle further. "The girls aren't going to be happy about losing the work. What are they to do at this other house? Idle women are not happy women."

"You're right." Duke gave Jack a quick nod of acknowledgment. "They can help decorate the house while they're staying there. We'll also make sure they understand when they're done with the décor, this is a place their sisters and cousins can go to for refuge. It will serve their people."

"They'll like that." Jack drew in another puff of his cigar. "And the client list?"

"Tell them whatever you wish, just as long as you make it clear this is a very temporary arrangement." Bode sat in one of the chairs by the fire. "And what should I do with Isabelle?"

"Lady Isabelle?" Duke asked, curling his lip. "Why not stay here? If you're looking to draw a mouse into a trap, make it the trap he knows."

"Or…" Jack raised a finger. "Make him think the plan is to hide her by running. He'll follow."

The idea had merit.

Duke shook his head. "You won't be fighting in a familiar place with your allies around you if you go that route."

Bode stroked his chin. "All excellent points. Which plan potentially keeps Isabelle," he stopped, correcting himself, "Lady Isabelle, the safest?"

"Too late to think about her safety. If that had been the plan, she'd already be traveling up the North Road. Makem is surely planning his counterstrike as we speak."

Bode grimaced, his fist coming down on his thigh. He'd been so angry last night when he'd failed, that he'd not properly thought this through. Then again, what else was to be done? Leave Isabelle in her husband's grasp? Return her to the very same parents who had sold her?

"And if I want to keep her safe here?"

"Let's meet her," Duke said, rising. "When I know her temperament, I can come up with a better plan."

Isabelle's temperament. Surprisingly strong while still terribly vulnerable. The exact sort of woman who had made hard men fall.

He let out a long breath of air. "Come on then. She's upstairs writing a farewell letter to her family."

"A farewell letter?" Duke shook his head. "She's practical, I'll give her that."

Bode's stomach turned again. He still wanted to defeat Makem, more than anything. But keeping Isabelle safe? He knew it was becoming increasingly important. This was why men like him didn't get involved.

But how could he hold himself apart from her when she stared at him with those beautiful eyes?