Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

perhaps? Then why was it in this part of the room?

“He protected me,” Olivia said. “I was in his room.”

Kate sighed. “At least you’re alive. Who could have—”

“—designed such a poor stove?” Clayton said. The person responsible needed to think them none the wiser. It would make him

easier to spot. He pocketed a small brass screw.

“Perhaps the mouse tampered with it,” Kate muttered. She let go of Olivia, allowing Olivia’s maid to reach her. The young woman

brushed dust from Olivia’s gown, exclaiming about overheated stoves and how her aunt had been killed by one last winter and how

the stoves killed hundreds every winter.

Clayton ran a hand down the door frame. He worked loose a flattened chunk of metal that had lodged deep within. A flattened lead

disk. A rifle ball. The bomb had been made to mutilate. If Olivia had been in the room, she’d have been torn to shreds.

Clayton leaned his back against the door frame to remain upright. The buzz of the servants’ voices echoed in his ears. The dust was

dry and chalky in his mouth.

If he’d lost her—

He rubbed his fingers back and forth over the metal fragment, faster and faster. Until a hand clasped over his.

Olivia.

“How are you?” she asked.

The rest of the servants were hovering around her, wanting to see to her every wish. And she’d come up with the daft notion to worry

about him. She wiped the dust from his gloves with the tips of her fingers.

Hell, but he’d missed her all these years. Why not be honest with himself now? He didn’t want to lose her again.

So where did that leave him? He didn’t do second chances.

Did he?

“You don’t love me. You don’t want me here. I can tell.” His mother sobbed, her dark hair clinging to her cheeks.

“She is your mother, boy,” his father said.

Clayton felt the mulish line of his lips weakening. His own eyes burned. He didn’t want to see her cry.

Clayton placed his other hand over the top of Olivia’s, needing the heat of her fingers to free him of the memories. The memories of

how his mother had left two weeks after that episode. “I’m well. Just surveying the damage.”

“The room actually looks better than I expected.” But she edged away from it. With the dust still on her face, she looked rather like a

frightened marble angel.

But she was right. The room remained more or less intact. Why not use a bigger bomb?

Clayton straightened from the door frame, focusing on the voices behind him until he could hear each one distinctly. “Someone didn’

t want to bring the house down around their own ears.”





chapter Twenty

“My maid,” Olivia whispered. Her maid had brought in a dress box and set it next to the stove after the mouse scare. Now that Olivia’

s blind panic had ebbed, she could remember it clearly. She’d paid no attention at the time, thinking it was more borrowed clothing

to add to her ill-fitting wardrobe.

Clayton’s posture didn’t change. “What?”

“My maid planted the bomb.”

Iryna was standing at the edge of the crowd. She’d dusted off Olivia’s skirts and now she continued to linger.

“We need to separate her from the others. I don’t know who in this household answers to Prazhdinyeh. We can’t risk someone

coming to her aid.”

Aid? “What precisely are you planning?”

“To question her.”

That didn’t sound too horrible, and yet the grimness deepened in his eyes. “Lean against me.”

“Why—”

Clayton wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, and for a moment, everything faded but the hard-muscled chest

pressed against her cheek.

“You there!” Clayton called to Iryna. “Your mistress is overset. She needs to be put to bed. Preferably in the other wing of the house.”

After conferring with the butler, Olivia’s maid came forward. “I can show you to your new rooms.”

Rather than letting her walk, Clayton swung Olivia up into his arms and followed the maid.

For a moment, she worried her weight would be too much, but Clayton held her so effortlessly, her fear ebbed. She rested her cheek

against him, enjoying the smoothness of his gait. The strength in the arms cradling her as if she was precious.

Until she remembered he was carrying her so they could interrogate the woman who’d tried to kill them.

She suddenly felt as ill as Clayton claimed her to be.

The maid led them into a small, graceful room decorated in pale yellow and cream. The stoves hadn’t been lit so the room remained

icy cold. “I’ll see to the stove.”

Clayton set Olivia on her feet and shut the door. “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

Iryna hesitated. “Just seeing to my mistress.”

He locked the door with a sharp click. “As you already saw to her?”

She swallowed twice and inched closer to the door. “I didn’t know what was in the box, I swear. He just told me to put it in her room. It

was just a box.”

“It would have taken at least five pounds of gunpowder for a blast that size. What did you think it was? A bonnet? Who gave it to

you?”

Iryna crumpled to the floor with a keening sob. “I don’t know. A man gave me a few rubles to deliver it.”

“Who gave it to you?” he repeated.

Iryna curled up even tighter, rubbing her arms like she was cold. “I swear I do not know.”

Clayton’s lips thinned, his face colder than the air in the room. Olivia fought the urge to step back. She’d thought he’d been cruel

when he’d come to the mill. She’d been wrong. This was pure ruthlessness. This was who he’d been in his years as a spy.

For the first time, she could see the man Golov said had slain a man in his own bed.

Yet she didn’t fear him. What she feared was losing him again to this darkness. Losing the teasing and banter she’d just found in

him again.

Olivia tried to soften his interrogation. “If you know anything—” She took a step toward Iryna, but Clayton drew her back to his side.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I swear.” Iryna scooted on her backside toward the door.

Clayton blocked her escape.

“The truth, Iryna. I need a name.”

“I don’t know his name.”

“You will tell me.” Clayton pulled a knife from his boot. “Or I will have to carve it out of you.”

Iryna squealed. “Please don’t hurt me.”

The darkness was there again, beckoning to Clayton. The emptiness he chose so he could do tasks like this. It would be an easy

transition. He knew how to turn off the extraneous noise of his emotions and his thoughts. To slip behind his shields and let duty

guide him.

Yet as they closed around him, he found himself struggling against them. The darkness was suffocating. He didn’t want to lose

himself to it.

Olivia was watching him. Her eyes were wide, worried. He didn’t know why that bothered him. He’d intended to be frightening. And