"Actually, this works perfectly," he mused. "It gives me time to work out Adele's loyalties without having to push her into bed."
"I shouldn't have thought it would be a problem? You're clearly attracted to the girl."
Attraction wasn't the problem. It never had been.
Others may have been indiscriminate with their bed partners over the years, but he'd never been comfortable flitting from bed to bed. He'd suffered enough betrayal in his lifetime to warrant a natural caution when it came to taking a lover. He desired trust, in the least, and preferred a mutual friendship, if he could find it.
He had none of those aspects with Adele.
Only pure, carnal desire.
Challenge.
An odd sense of grudging respect.
"This is merely a means to an end," he replied. "I need to know Adele's loyalties, not... whether we are well-matched in bed."
"You should find out." Gemma shook her head. "It's been months since you've even glanced at a woman. It worries me. I know you still regret what happened to Isabella, but it wasn't your fault. You cannot simply lock yourself away like a monk, just because Balfour's a threat to anyone who gets close to you."
And there it was.
The other reason he didn't dare get too close to another woman.
The baroness had been at his side for years. First as a friend, and then as a lover, and now, as yet another weight upon his stained soul. He'd tried to protect Isabella by ending their arrangement, but it had been too late.
Balfour had used his neural stimulating device to make her betray the Company of Rogues, and then kill herself.
"I love you," she'd said, and they'd both known he didn't feel the same. He'd seen the fire in Isabella's eyes die as she realized she'd never been more than a friend to him. Seen it fill her from within with bitterness.
Guilt. What a familiar taste it left in his mouth.
"Watch me," he murmured.
Gemma shot him a long, slow look. "You've never spoken about it."
"What is there to say? Balfour killed her because he thought he could hurt me." He succeeded. "Until I have his heart in my hand, nobody is safe and I cannot allow any distractions."
"You—"
"I need to speak to the queen," he said, pushing to his feet and swaying just slightly.
"You need sleep."
He shrugged back into his coat. What little of it I can manage to snatch.... He wasn't tired enough to guarantee himself a dreamless slumber if he tried. And with Balfour arisen from the shadows and Jelena lurking out there somewhere, he doubted even exhaustion would allow him such.
"Unfortunately, there's no rest for the wicked."
"Are you still having nightmares?" Gemma said, stepping directly in his path.
He glanced toward the door. She was the only one who knew. He'd like to keep it that way. "They come and go."
Sympathy softened her face. "If you wanted to talk about it—"
"I do not."
A sigh escaped her, and she reached up and fixed his collar. "Then go warn the queen. And try not to murder Lord Devoncourt before we've extracted what we can from him. Or at least, try and understand precisely why he bothers you so much first."
Malloryn strode through one of the hidden tunnels that led into the queen's apartments at the top of the Ivory Tower.
The sound of merriment echoed within, but he had a good idea of her schedule and knew who her companions would be.
As he slipped out from behind a tapestry, he saw Sir Gideon Scott rise to poke the fire. The leader of the Humans First party was a stout man with gray at the temples of his dark hair and a dashing moustache. That he'd attached himself to Alexandra so soon upon her return from Windsor spoke of machinations.
The man was no doubt up to something: Some new law or rule he wanted to discuss in private with the queen. They were never far from each other's side these days, and Malloryn couldn't help wondering what they were plotting.
Several of the queen's attendants sewed and cleared platters, providing an escort for the queen.
One nearly dropped her platter when she saw him appear out of the shadows. "Your Grace!"
"Ah, my Lord Stormcrow." The laughter faded from the queen's eyes as she caught sight of him. "You look particularly dire."
Sir Gideon looked up sharply. "Malloryn."
He exchanged polite greetings with the room and bowed to the queen. As he rose, their eyes met.
Her Highness's smile never faded, but she clapped her hands, capturing the attention of her ladies-in-waiting. "It seems my holiday at Windsor has left me with a mountain of paperwork to sign, no doubt. I shouldn't wish to bore my ladies. You may all retire while Malloryn drones in my ear."
The three ladies-in-waiting curtsied and left the room.
Sir Gideon did not.
"What news?" the queen asked briskly.
Malloryn waited until the doors were properly closed. "You received my missive?"
The queen's hands paused in the middle of pouring herself tea. "I did not."
"Balfour is back."
A breath hissed between Sir Gideon's teeth. "You're certain of this?"
"I do not speak unless I am certain." Malloryn produced the letter from within his coat. "He left this on my desk. In my house."
No need to explain which precise house he referred to.
The queen's expression gave nothing away as she read it. "So Balfour has risen from the ashes once more. I do wish you would do something permanent about that sometime soon, Malloryn. I grow weary of looking over my shoulder."
"If he was so easy to kill, I would have done it. He's a cockroach."
"Then he means trouble?" Sir Gideon looked worried. "You think he'll make another attempt on the queen's life?"
"In the least. I've sent orders to have the guards doubled."
The queen made a vexed sound in her throat. "Let me guess..., you're here to convince me to cancel a certain number of my forthcoming engagements."
Malloryn didn't bother to lie. The queen knew him too well. "Yes."
Alexandra pushed to her feet, her skirts swishing around her ankles. "My fifteen-year anniversary is coming up."