Chapter 9

The next morning, as the sun streamed into the room, Harlan awoke with a groan. His skull felt as though it might split in two and he was not in the best of spirits.

He considered barking out an order to whoever might listen, but he wasn't sure who might be there. If anyone. But no, that wasn't fair. No doubt one of his men had stayed the night with him to make sure he made it through without consequence. Although the bullet had just grazed him, he could have easily contracted a fever or infection. It still wasn't too late for something to occur, but as a general rule, he healed quickly.

He reached up and touched the side of his head, expecting it to be bandaged, and perhaps have dried blood on the linen. To his surprise, the only thing he could feel was the smooth, even stitches that Miss Lindquist had provided.

Curious as to her actual handiwork, but reluctant to move, Harlan gritted his teeth and forced himself to roll out of bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress for a moment and told himself that he wasn't going to embarrass himself by casting up his accounts, although the urge to do so threatened with every breath he took.

Daring to rise, Harlan blinked as he was swamped with dizziness. He managed to stumble his way to the washstand in the corner where there was a small mirror attached. He struggled to gain his focus, but when he did, he inspected his wound. He was surprised to find that it was hardly noticeable, the hair still full around it as if she hadn't had to cut any of it. As for the wound itself, he had to grudgingly admit that he was impressed by the skillful job that Miss Lindquist had accomplished. She had done decidedly better than the mess Hugh had made of his leg. Harlan had the nasty scar to prove it. He was just fortunate he didn't suffer from a limp after it had finally healed.

He walked over to the door and decided that he needed something in his stomach to soak up all the alcohol that he'd consumed the night before. At least it had made him sleep, rather than suffer the sensation of fire that was still prevalent along his scalp.

As soon as he walked toward the kitchen, he was equally intrigued and dismayed by the smell of something cooking. He turned a corner and saw Leah bustling about the modest room as if this was a common occurrence that she performed every day. It was strange, to say the least, but not entirely unwelcome.

She grabbed a pot off the stove and moved over to the counter. She had yet to see him, so rather than risk frightening her, he decided to announce his presence by moving toward her. "Miss Lindquist—"

Instantly, she jumped and spun around to face him, a hand placed directly over her heart.

"Sorry." He gave a slight wince. "I was trying not to startle you."

She offered a breathless laugh. "It's quite all right. But do you think you should be out of bed?"

"I'm tired of lying there alone." He lifted a brow. "I don't suppose you'd care to join me to alleviate my boredom?"

He waited while her cheeks turned a charming, rosy hue. As bad as he felt, he couldn't resist the urge to tease her.

She ignored the innuendo. "I made some chicken soup. I thought you might be hungry when you woke."

He had to smile. "I'm not sick. I was shot. There is a difference." He sat down at the table. "While I appreciate the gesture, I would prefer a strong cup of coffee for now."

"Of course," she returned brightly.

As she set about to grant the request, he watched as she worked. He wondered why she was being so pleasant when she'd had no problem letting her opinion be heard before now. Wondering if there was a reason for that, he asked curiously, "While I am grateful for your sudden consideration on my behalf, I have to wonder why you're being so considerate. I would have thought you would have felt a bit of vindication when I was dragged inside the cottage last night."

She didn't reply until she brought over the steaming cup of coffee. "I suppose now that you mention it, there is something I would like to speak with you about."

He took a bracing sip of the drink and sighed. However, something told him that he might need more fortification than it would allow. "Go on."

She sat down across from him and offered a smile that made him want to grant her any request. With her auburn hair left flowing down her back this morning, she was particularly fetching, which she would likely use to her advantage. "I know why you hold up those coaches. You're searching for a spy."

He had to resist the urge to get up and go find Hugh and plant a fist in his mouth. His fellow highwayman had no right to tell Miss Lindquist anything. It was a matter of security, and should something turn against him, Harlan would be the one who would suffer the brunt of the Crown's disfavor. "I see."

"Before you get angry at them, you should know that I told your friends that I would leave if they didn't tell me the truth."

He eyed her steadily. "Did you?"

Apparently, she wasn't warned by the soft tone of his voice, because she quickly rattled ahead. "After your attack, it is believed that the intended target was in that carriage. If that is true, I could be a worthy asset to your cause. With the skills I have—"

Harlan slammed a fist on the table a bit harder than he'd intended, but his frustration currently knew no bounds. He felt as though he'd been betrayed, but he wasn't sure if it was from his men—or her. "Miss Lindquist, while I am thankful for your care of my wound, I must insist this is where your involvement comes to an end. This is not a game, or a way to alleviate your boredom. What we do is a matter of life and death. There is danger at every turn and you cannot trust anyone. Perhaps not even those closest to you." He allowed his gaze to linger on her, so she had no doubt to whom he might be referring. While he didn't want to say the next statement, she had to grasp the severity of the matter. "I feel it is time that you are released from my hold and sent on to your brother."

Leah truly didn't knowwhat to say. She hadn't thought Harlan would be overjoyed at the prospect of her assistance, but she wouldn't have imagined that he would shove her out the door so quickly either, and without a second's hesitation.

She had hoped that he might hear her out, but apparently, Hugh was right and that was not to be. She could tell by the firm set of Harlan's mouth that nothing she said would make a difference in swaying his mind, so she shoved back her chair and got to her feet. She wasn't about to stay where she wasn't wanted. She had her pride too. "Very well."

Marching into the bedchamber, Leah shoved the small number of items she had brought with her back into her valise. She was wearing the last clean overskirt that she had, a brilliant emerald green. At least when she appeared on Henry's doorstep, she would look halfway presentable, and not entirely like a poor, street urchin.

With her things in hand, she walked out into the hallway and headed for the front door, only to find Harlan leaning against the wood with his arms crossed. He had a dark scowl on his face, but she didn't care. He had made his sentiments clear, and she would too. "You will need to move if I am to go," she said evenly.

He remained where he was, his jaw clenched with a determination that belied his earlier words. But it was the combination of that patrician nose and those direct, hazel eyes that caused her to hesitate. He truly was a magnificent man, and although she could see the hint of his injury, partially hidden by his thick, dark hair, it did not lessen his appeal in the least. If nothing else, it made him appear more… savage.

As the silence lengthened, she spun on her heel and headed toward the back entrance. She was going to leave this blasted cottage if it was the last thing she did.

The moment her hand touched the knob, she was brought back against a firm chest. "Forgive me. I spoke harshly. I don't want you to go." His voice was a seductive growl in her ear.

She expelled a heavy breath. "You just told me that—"

"I said that I didn't want you to get involved and that still stands true, but dammit, that doesn't mean I want you to leave. I've told you this before."

Leah stilled. "Make up your mind, Harlan. Am I staying or leaving?"

He spun her around and pinned her against the door with his hard body. He pressed into her, and she moaned from the delicious contact of their bodies melding into one. From the moment they had first kissed in the kitchen, she had thought of little else but repeating the same, although she had tried to convince herself that it hadn't affected her in the slightest.

"I want you, Leah. Plain and simple." His whispered, husky plea was all it took for her to lean into him.

He captured her mouth with a desperate hunger that she eagerly returned. It was strange how her emotions could switch with such precision, but as the valise slipped from her grasp and fell to her feet with a thud, she wound her arms around his neck and dared to move closer to him, until her breasts were crushed against his chest. She didn't want there to be anything at all between them, but it would be a mistake if they were to take things that far. She had only known of this man's existence for three days, but the sparks flying about them had been almost immediate. She had never felt this sort of connection to anyone else in her life. In all of her travels, this was the one man who made her blood run hot and her inhibitions yearn to fall away.

She didn't dare call it anything more than lust, but whatever label she chose to give it, her body hummed with desire.

When his tongue slipped into her mouth and mated with hers, Leah pressed her thighs together to ease the pulsing ache there. When his hand moved to slide along the side of her breast, she wasn't filled with maidenly abhorrence. On the contrary, she wanted his hands on her, kneading and squeezing her flesh. She wanted his mouth to trace a path of liquid flame from her lips to her core. If that made her a wanton, then she would gladly accept the title, just to be with him.

As they parted, Harlan pressed his forehead to hers. His breathing was shallow when he whispered, "My God, Leah. You are going to drive me mad."

"You don't think you're doing the same to me?" she sighed in return.

He pulled back slightly and whispered, "What are we going to do about this?"

"I have no idea. It's not a situation I've faced before." She lifted her chin. "But neither am I someone who can stand by and allow secrets to run rampant about me. If you don't want me to go, you are going to have to be honest with me. I deserve that much, at least."

His jaw flexed and she could tell he was waging an inner battle. In the end, he nodded. "You're right. It's not fair to conceal the truth from you. We have to be able to trust one another."

She was relieved that he was willing to accept that, at least. "I'm glad to hear it. It will make it much easier to know I'm not so isolated from you."

He cupped her cheek. "I never want you to feel that way, but neither can I condone the sort of risk you would take upon yourself if I allowed you to be a part of this world that I'm embroiled in." His focus turned distant and he let his hand drop back to his side. "There are days I'm not sure if I want to do this anymore. I started serving my country for the honor it would bring to my father's memory, but I might have recently discovered another path worth taking." By the way his eyes warmed when they lit on her, Leah had to imagine he was talking about her and a perhaps, a possible future together.

Could it be that he was just as affected by her as she was by him?

The front door opened and Hugh called out. Leah would have claimed that it was the worst possible timing as Harlan moved away from her. "We will talk later," he said, a promise evident in his gaze. "But for now, I have to work."

Harlan metHugh as Leah entered the kitchen to give them some privacy to converse. While he appreciated her consideration, his thoughts kept drifting to her. From those amber eyes and the auburn hair, to the slight smile on that appealing mouth that tempted him at every turn, he found it difficult to concentrate on the next step he was supposed to take. It was further proof that she was a dangerous distraction.

"Let's step outside," he murmured to Hugh.

As his friend did as Harlan requested, he shut the door behind them. He must have given a heavy sigh, because Hugh asked, "Is something amiss?"

"Quite." Harlan's mouth became grim. "Miss Lindquist thinks that she would be an asset to our investigation. I can't imagine who might have encouraged her with this asinine idea."

Immediately, Hugh held up his hands in supplication. "Don't look at me. She brought it up on her own."

"But I doubt you did little to dissuade her," Harlan snapped.

"Not really, because I knew you would cease such talk."

Harlan snorted, his eyes intent. "You're damn right. It's the worst idea I might have contrived."

"And yet—"

Harlan's gaze narrowed sharply on the redhaired man.

"—Something tells me that she would make a formidable ally."

"You cannot be serious."

Hugh crossed his arms and looked at him directly. "Why not? After last night, we can be confident that the spy is male. While we didn't get a good look at him, there is no doubt in my mind that Miss Lindquist would be able to engage him much more quickly than we might hope for. She is quite comely and possesses the charm that most men would find appealing."

"That is precisely my point," Harlan returned with a snarl. He moved away from Hugh with a pounding in his head that had little to do with his wound. "I am a seasoned agent for the Crown with years of service, more than capable—"

"And the moment this man sees that you have been wounded, he will know who you are," Hugh pointed out firmly. "He will likely know my identity, and that of Benjamin by the end of the day. If he is as intelligent as we have been led to believe, he will not be without the proper resources. As an assassin, he would be armed with military training. He would guess our motives, whereas Miss Lindquist has the element of surprise on her side. Not only that, but she was traveling from France as well, so her sudden presence in England will not be unduly noted, and she can find a common ground with our suspect. Neither Lucas nor Matthew was there last night, so they would be able to escort her unnoticed as her driver and footman—"

"I will hear no more on the subject," Harlan snapped. "The reason I have allowed you to speak this long is because we have been friends for a number of years, but that could alter if you keep trying my patience."

Hugh stepped closer rather than backing away. He lowered his voice but spoke clearly and without restraint. "The reason you don't want to hear what I have to say is because you know that I'm right. You just refuse to admit it. We have the chance to end this rebellion, to halt any true danger before it fully takes root, and yet, you would not take action when we have the chance because your cock is speaking for you."

That was all it took to send Harlan over the edge. He grasped Hugh's jacket with both of his fists. "You are overstepping your bounds." He released Hugh with a frustrated exhale, but his focus was still direct, his voice daring Hugh to interrupt as Harlan added, "Our suspect set out on foot, and since he likely wasn't expecting to be held up by highwaymen, he wouldn't have had time to make alternate preparations, so he couldn't have made it far. My best guess is that he is still close at hand, perhaps in this very village. There is to be entertainment at the windmill tonight. No doubt our man will attempt to make contact with someone this evening. We shall ensure we are in attendance." Although he hated to speak the next words, he admitted that Hugh had made a valid point, one that he couldn't ignore for the good of his mission. "If you are so eager for Miss Lindquist to participate, then that would be the only time I might allow it, so that between the four of us, we might have a chance to ensure her safety."

Hugh brushed at the sleeves of his jacket and smoothed back his hair. "There now, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" he noted mockingly. "I shall see you both this evening."