Ingrid balked at him. “How can you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth. It’s coarse, but it’s the truth. If I have to protect one of you, it will be you.” Vander took a few steps closer to her field of dust. Dawn crested the cityscape and shed fresh light on his old coat. “It will always be you, Ingrid.”
He was making his choice—who to stand behind, who to sacrifice. It was the right thing for him. Ingrid wouldn’t begrudge him his decision. That didn’t mean it was right for her, though. It wouldn’t be right to stay safely in the back of the line, protected on all fronts. If she allowed it, if she allowed something awful to happen to Papa, how would she live with herself for the rest of her days?
She’d rather have no days left than endure that. And if this was to be her last day …
Without stopping to think, without a thought for propriety or prudence, Ingrid rose to the tips of her toes and kissed Vander soundly. She had startled him, and she stumbled backward with him. Vander grabbed her arms and steadied their footing.
“What was that for?” he whispered.
She shrugged. “Just in case.”
Ingrid expected another question, a demand to know what she’d meant. He quizzed her silently, thoughtful eyes behind a pair of wire spectacles, slightly askew.
Vander brought his mouth to hers. It wasn’t an elegant kiss, or a tentative one like they’d shared in the library. This one was untamed. Ingrid felt it deep in her stomach, reaching low between her hips. Vander settled his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. This time she understood the prickling thrum in her arms and hands. Vander’s touch stirred her dust, and whether he wished for it or not, he claimed it for himself. How was it possible that his hands had the power to change her? As they stroked up her back, then dove again for her hips, Ingrid could pay little attention to anything but them.
When the roof door opened she was slow to pull away from him. Vander kept his hands around her waist.
A throat noisily cleared across the roof.
“My lady, Mr. Burke, I do apologize for, ah …”
Monsieur Constantine had arrived, and when Ingrid looked, she saw Marco towering behind him. They both came out onto the roof, followed by Nolan and Chelle. When Gabby appeared in the mouth of the doorway next, Ingrid eased out of Vander’s hold. Grayson emerged after Gabby, and then finally Luc. He wouldn’t look at her.
A sudden stirring of guilt ripped through her so fast and strong it made the roof feel as if it had tilted beneath her feet. Ingrid had never been so disappointed with herself. She shouldn’t have done it. She shouldn’t have kissed Vander when she had already given her heart to Luc. Even if Luc were to hand it right back to her again and again, it would still belong to him.
She took a step away from Vander. It wasn’t fair to him, these things she felt for Luc. And she would always feel them.
“I am quite sorry about this, my lady,” Constantine said to her as he and the others spread out over the roof.
Her teacher took a seat on the edge of a raised garden bed filled in with snow and propped his hand on his cane.
“I did wonder if Monsieur Dupuis would stoop to violent means, but this tactic is rather surprising. And the senior Quinn’s involvement is distressing. I wonder what his goal is.”
Nolan looked as if he’d been gnawing on oiled leather for the last half hour. He had to be humiliated and furious and, like everyone else, utterly confounded.
“We don’t know anything for certain,” he said in a feeble attempt to defend his father. Carrick still hadn’t shown, and his connection to Dupuis, his having known Luc was to receive a second gargoyle, didn’t do him any favors.
Ingrid searched for her mother, but the countess hadn’t taken the trip to the roof. “Where is Mama?” she asked Grayson and Gabby.
“Resting,” Grayson answered. “And just so you’re aware, she agrees with our decision to find another way to bring Father back. Although I’m tempted to forget all about him.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say!” Ingrid looked to Gabby for assistance, but her sister was inspecting a trellis woven through with withered black tomato vines.
“He’s a bastard,” Grayson said. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I know we have to get him, all right? I’m just tempted not to, that’s all.”
Luc and Marco stood apart from the crowd. Probably without even realizing it, they had come to stand side by side, looking like sentries with their arms crossed over their broad chests.
“There is no other way,” Luc said. “The Daicrypta grounds are well guarded, and the place is sprawling. Marco and I couldn’t go in there on our own and expect to come out.”
“I believe Luc is correct,” Constantine said.
“There has to be.” Gabby stood with her feet wide apart, as if getting ready for a sword fight. “My sister is not turning herself over to this madman!”