“I’d reply that I’d be sweet as marzipan if he’d let me out of the cell. He laughed at that. I knew his patience was running out, so one day I accepted his offer. He waited until it was after midnight, then came into my cell. I let him have his way with me.” She gagged at the memory before finishing in a raw whisper, “When he was done and sweaty and half asleep, I killed him with his own knife and escaped.”

Saturated by unbearable memories, she dissolved into wrenching, uncontrollable sobs. She was barely aware when Grey lifted her from his lap and transferred her to the bed. Lying alongside her, he wrapped his warm body around her cold, shaking limbs, her back tucked against his front as he murmured soothing words into her ear.

She cried until there were no more tears left and she felt as dry as dust. But as she finally fell into the sleep of utter exhaustion, she realized that in Grey’s arms she felt safe for the first time since her father died.

Grey held Cassie close as the last light faded from the sky and the fire burned down into embers. His muscles were stiff from not moving, but he didn’t want to disturb her. Didn’t ever want to let her go.

He’d taken her strength for granted, drawing on it as if she had limitless reserves. He never once thought of how that strength had to be hard won. He was a selfish fool.

Finally, she stirred in his arms. “How are you?” he asked softly.

“Water?” she asked for in an almost inaudible whisper.

He rose and fumbled his way across the room. After lighting a lamp, he filled a glass with water from the pitcher and carried it to the bed, then raised her to a sitting position so she could drink. When she’d emptied the glass, she lay back on the pillows again, dark shadows under her bleak eyes.

Since the room was cold, he rebuilt the fire. Then he found a folded blanket in the wardrobe and spread it over her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stroked her back. She looked like a crumpled child, not a supremely capable woman. “I’m sorry I pressed you to talk about your past.”

“I’m not sorry,” she said unexpectedly. “Speaking of what happened released some of the pain. Put more distance between then and now.”

“Then I’m glad you told me.” Though her memories would give him nightmares. “Sometimes I’m ashamed of my sex. You’ve been treated abominably by men.”

“Yes, but I’ve also been treated very well by other men. Kirkland has been a combination of friend and brother, almost a father sometimes. There have been others.” She sighed. “Women can also behave very badly.”

“I’m amazed you will allow any man to touch you.” His hand came to rest on the curve of her hip. “Grateful, but amazed.”

“I had a craving for touch just as you did.” She laid her hand on his. “It took a long time, but I found that with a man I trusted, I could tolerate the intimacy because I needed the warmth. With time and kindness, I came to enjoy the intimacy as well.”

He looked at her tired eyes, realizing that there were mysteries in her past that he’d never know. That he had no need, or right, to know. Softly he said, “You are the most remarkable woman I’ve ever known.”

“Merely good at surviving.” Her lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile. “I was once told that I didn’t have a shred of feminine delicacy.”

Grey was surprised into a laugh. “I hope you took it as a compliment. How did you find Kirkland?”

“I wanted to return to England, and since there was no legal way to cross the channel, I looked for a cooperative smuggler,” she explained. “It took time. I worked at different jobs along the coast, usually as a barmaid, until eventually I found Marie.

“When we came to trust each other, I told her I wanted to go to England and learn to become a spy against Napoleon. After she discussed me with her brother, Pierre delivered me to the Nashes in England on his next crossing. They sent me on to Kirkland, and three days later I was in London telling him he needed me as an agent.”

“And he was wise enough to take you on.” Grey studied her weary face. He’d thought her plain when he first saw her, but he had long since stopped judging her appearance. She was simply Cassie, unique and unforgettable. A woman who made him feel both desire and tenderness. “Are you hungry?”

She frowned. “I do believe I am.”

He rose from the bed. “I’ll find my way down to the kitchen and steal some food.”

“No need to steal. There will be soup on the hob and cold meats and cheeses and bread in the pantry. If Mrs. Powell is there, she’ll flirt with you.”

“I should hope so.” He ventured a smile. “I shouldn’t like to think I’ve lost my touch. I’ll bring up a tray, we’ll eat, we’ll sleep properly, by which I mean not fully dressed, and tomorrow we’ll decide how to amuse ourselves in London.”

“I shall like that.” She caught his hand, her gaze intense. “But before we sleep, I want you to help me forget, if only for a little while.”

He never received a greater honor in his life. He suspected he never would. “It shall be as you wish, my lady vixen. Tonight we give each other the gift of forgetting.” He kissed her hand before reluctantly releasing it. “And tomorrow, we will each be another day further from our demons.”


Chapter 29

Cassie woke with a smile the next morning, Grey’s golden head on her breast, and his arm around her waist. He’d done his generous, passionate best to separate her from her tormented memories, and he’d succeeded. She felt lighter and freer than she had since her childhood. The past couldn’t be altered, but now it felt more like … the past.

Their night hadn’t involved large amounts of sleep, but Cassie and Grey were both in a good mood for carefree roaming across London. The sun had even come out for them, which Cassie privately thought a good omen.

They set off early to nearby Covent Garden market. There they drank steaming hot tea and ate sweet buns from a stall while they watched carts of fresh foods rattle by to feed the city. The bustle was cheerful, the scents of vegetables and early flowers a pleasant contrast to the usual city smells. Spring was arriving, and the market grew steadily busier and brighter.

When they’d seen enough of the market, they boarded the plain carriage Kirkland had provided. The driver drove them west through the city by a twisting route that took the coach past many of London’s great landmarks, from churches and palaces to the quiet squares of wealthy residential Mayfair.

As he gazed at buildings lining the Strand, Grey said, “I’ve ridden or walked down here countless times, yet it seems new and wonderful all over again. The Strand reminds me that I’ve come home. I’ve always loved London.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Cassie said with a smile. “I know a pleasant waterside tavern down in Chelsea. I thought we might dismiss the carriage and eat very English food at the tavern, then hire a boat to take us downriver again.”

“I like that idea.” He looked thoughtful. “I think I’ll ask the driver to take us past Costain House to see if the knocker’s up and my family is in town.”

“If they’re in residence, will you want to climb the steps and rap on the door?” she asked. “Return of the prodigal?”

His face shuttered. “Not yet.”

The knocker at Costain House wasn’t up, which spared Grey any second thoughts, but Cassie thought it was progress that he was interested in his parents’ whereabouts. After traveling through Mayfair, they headed down to Chelsea, where they consumed good British ale and hot meat pies with flaky crusts.

As Grey finished his third pie, he said, “If I had any doubts, this beef and onion pie would prove I’m home.” He brushed crumbs from his lap. “I’m looking forward to seeing the city from the water.”

“If you like, tomorrow we can go east to the Tower of London and the great shipping docks.” Cassie got to her feet, feeling full and satisfied. “What do you think of that skiff down there? The one painted yellow.”

“The boatman looks sober, and I like the cheerful color,” Grey replied. “Let’s see what outrageous amount he’ll try to charge us.”

The amount quoted was indeed outrageous, but it didn’t take long to bargain down to a rate that satisfied everyone. As the boat skimmed along the river, Grey said, “Much more comfortable than the last boat ride we took.”

“So true.” Cassie shuddered at the memory of their fraught journey across the channel. “Look, here comes a chicken boat!”

They sailed by a dinghy filled with cages of screeching, indignant chickens. A small red feather blew into Cassie’s hair. Grey removed it and tucked it in his pocket, saying playfully, “A token of my lady! I shall cherish this chicken feather forever.”

The comment dimmed Cassie’s mood a little as she wondered if he actually would keep the silly feather. Probably not. She didn’t think she’d leave many traces in his life. No matter. They were enjoying a lovely day now.

After the boatman set them off, they walked the rest of the way back to Exeter Street. As Cassie pulled out her key, Grey said, “I’m tired and looking forward to dinner and a quiet evening.”

She guessed that being around so many people had caused the fatigue. “You did well,” she said as she inserted the key in the lock. “You didn’t run screaming once.”

“Male pride is returning,” he explained. “The desire to run screaming is surpassed by my desire not to look like a complete coward in front of a lovely woman.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your gilded tongue has certainly recovered.”

They were both chuckling as they entered the foyer. The door that led to the drawing room on the right was open, and Cassie heard a familiar female voice inside. Pleased, she called, “Kiri, is that you?”