But he didn’t see that.
A frigid wind ripped down Cursitor Street and she turned to brace herself from it, her wool walking dress no match for the cold. Lavender woke, giving a little snuffle of protest before Temple captured Mara in his strong grip, moving her to one side, shielding her with his enormous body.
She resisted the urge to lean into him. How was he so warm?
He cursed softly and said, “Your pig is getting cold.”
He had released her once she was shielded from the wind, his free hand stealing between them. Mara watched long fingers stroke down Lavender’s little, soft cheek and felt the piglet snuggle into the caress.
For a fleeting moment, she wondered how those fingers would feel on her own cheek. And then she realized she was vaguely jealous of a pig.
Which was unacceptable.
She pulled herself straight, looking up into his face, forcing herself not to notice the way his lips twisted in wry amusement at the piglet’s abandon. “How long will you have me watched?”
He was watching the boys again. “Until I am through with you.”
The words were cold and unwelcoming. And they made her retort easier. “And my trade?”
He stopped stroking Lavender, and returned his cool attention to Mara. “I believe I can extract the information in another way.”
A shiver coursed through her. Trepidation. Fear. Something else that she did not wish to acknowledge.
“No doubt you do. But I am stronger than you think.”
“You are precisely as strong as I think.”
The promise in the words seemed echoed in the cold wind that whipped her skirts against her legs. “And until then, I am the lucky recipient of your watchful eye.”
One side of his mouth kicked up in a humorless smile. “It is good that you see the silver lining in this cloud.”
“More like the lightning storm.” She took a deep breath. “And what is the watch worth to you?”
“Nothing.”
“That was not the agreement.”
“No, the agreement was that I pay you for your time. This is my time. And my men’s.”
“Watching us, like villains.”
“Does it make you feel better, putting me in the role of the villain? Does it help to absolve you of your sins?” The words were soft and unsettling and far too astute.
Mara looked away. “I simply prefer that you and your men not scare the children.”
Temple cut a look at the carriage. “I see that we are threats on that account.”
She followed his gaze, noting that the boys were through with their earlier game and had now set about conquering the huge conveyance. There were seven or eight standing on the roof of the coach, and others scaling the sides with the help of his dark sentry and the coachman.
He and his men had come here, into her life and won over her charges with nothing but a handsome carriage and a few kind words. He’d changed her life in mere days—threatening everything she held dear.
Stripping her of every inch of her control.
She wouldn’t have it.
She clutched Lavender to her chest and extracted the little black book from her pocket. “You’ve had enough of my time today, Your Grace,” she said, opening it. “Shall we call it a crown?”
His brows rose. “I did not ask you to join me.”
She smiled falsely, “But join you, I did. Aren’t you lucky?”
“Oh, yes,” he replied, rocking back on his heels. “I have ever been lucky in your presence.”
She scowled. “A crown it is,” she marked the fee in her book, then turned to the carriage. “Boys!” she called. “It’s time to go in.”
They didn’t hear her. It was as though she did not exist.
“Lads,” he said, and they stopped, frozen in their play. “Enough for today.”
The boys descended as though they’d been waiting for those precise words. Of course they did. Of course they listened to him.
She wanted to scream.
Instead she headed for the house, making it halfway across the street before she realized he was on her heels, as though his escort was perfectly ordinary. She stopped. As did he.
“You are not invited in.”
His lips twitched. “The truth will out, Mara.”
She scowled at him. “Not today.”
His brows rose. “Tomorrow, then.”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“On whether you intend to bring your purse.”
He chuckled at that, the laughter there, then gone, and she hated herself for enjoying the sound.
“I require you in the evening,” he said quietly. “I imagine it’s another ten pounds for the privilege?”
The words unsettled, the discussion of money somehow powerful on her lips and insulting on his. But she refused to acknowledge the way it made her feel. “That’s a fair start.”
He watched her for a long moment, something equally disquiet in his countenance.
Something she ignored.
Chapter 8