Circle of Spies (The Culper Ring #3)

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Not what I wanted that to be, Lord.”


“Pardon?” The cold compounded, and she wrapped her arms around herself again. Still, it seeped all the way to her core.

Slade rubbed a hand over his face and leveled a gaze on her that was…warm. Open. With no hint of the wolf. “My conscience. I’m sorry. I had no right to kiss you, not when you’re promised to Hughes.”

Now her blood ran as cold as the air. “I’m not going to marry him.”

“He doesn’t seem to know that.” A small glint reentered his eyes.

Her chin lifted a notch. She couldn’t stop it. “Do you think it a wise time to send him into a rage?”

Now the flashes she saw race across his face were more of fear. And somehow she suspected they weren’t for himself. “No. You can’t do that. He would…”

He would what? She didn’t want to think he would hurt her, but Cora’s scream echoed in her ears. She could almost hear the fire of his dueling pistol, the gasps of a dying man who had done nothing worthy of a fight.

If he could be so violent because of her, what would he do to her if she broke things off? Or what if the duel had been more because of the castle under the house? Her house. And if she refused to marry him, what would he do for that? She shivered.

Slade ran a hand down her upper arm and cupped her elbow. “Do you realize what will happen to him if he succeeds in his plans, Marietta? He could hang.”

The shiver turned to convulsion. She couldn’t love the man he was, the one who had lied to her about the things he valued most highly. But she didn’t want to see him executed. “Do your job then, Slade. Stop him.”

“I will. But he’ll still be arrested and spend the rest of his life in prison.”

She would never have to see him again. He could never reach her, but she wouldn’t have his death on her hands. She nodded.

“You’re sure you’re all right with that? To the point you’d be willing to testify in court?”

Testify? She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, but she forced them open wide. Forced her breathing to steady when it wanted to ball in a scream or a sob. “Is that what this was about?”

Had that always been what it was about? Had she ever been more than a means? A means to her father for Lucien, a means to the house for Devereaux, a means to a witness for Slade.

“This?” He looked baffled for about half a second, and then realization dawned. He squeezed her elbow. “No, this was about your being too blasted alluring. The question is because I’ve been watching the two of you together for almost a month now. You look to be very much his girl.”

She didn’t pause to examine why the observation made her blood boil. It was enough that it fired through her. Surging up on her toes, she pressed a hand to the back of his head, pulled it down, and caught his mouth in a kiss as searing as the anger in her veins. And then, just as his arms started to come around her, she pulled away. Not to tease, but because the fire turned from anger to shame, and a small voice inside chided her.

No doubt the same voice that had just chided him. She couldn’t quite catch her breath when she turned away. “I’m not his girl.” Unwilling to look to see if he believed her, she spun for the stairs and charged up them.

The door refused to budge when she pushed, and the circle of light dogged her heels. Giving in now to the urge to close her eyes, she leaned her head against the unyielding wood.

She heard the lantern come to a rest on the step. His hand settled on her back. “I’m sorry. Again.” Oh, he had such a voice. So rich. Just the right timbre. It was a shame he so often chose silence. Although he could have chosen it again now, and she wouldn’t have minded. “I’ve made a mess of things where they should have stayed neat and put us both in danger. Worse, I didn’t show you the respect you deserve.”

As if she deserved any respect. What was wrong with her, that she must always have a man’s affections? Her stupid, foolish heart was as fickle as the weather over the bay. From Walker to Lucien to Devereaux, and now would she focus her vain hopes on Slade Osborne?

Willing the idiotic fluttering of her heart to still, she pasted on indifference and made a show of examining the door. “There’s no need to dwell on it. We shan’t make the same mistake again.”

He ran his hand down the opposite side of the door and found the latch within five seconds. Though he paused with his hand upon it. “Thanks for listening. About Ross.”

They must have been identical twins for Ross to have tried to take his place as he had. Two of them with the same dark, brooding good looks, the same strong jaw. Had they both had the wolf’s eyes? Not that the predator shone through Slade’s in his softer moments. Only when he was at work, playing the part his brother had written for him. The part, perhaps, he had played of his own volition before he went home changed?