Nerves jittered in Julianne's midsection at her father's words and frigid tone. Her gaze flew to Gideon, but his attention was fixed on her father.

"As the intruder tried to enter Lady Julianne's bedchamber via her balcony," Gideon said, "she should not sleep there until this man is apprehended. Given the intruder's apparent dexterity, there should be no balcony or trees near the window nor should it adjoin to a room with either. Lady Julianne indicated there was such a bedchamber two doors down from hers."

"The blue guest room," her mother murmured. "Very well, I'll bring her there." She turned to the butler. "Winslow, see that the room is prepared."

"Yes, my lady."

Winslow departed, and with her mother's assistance, Julianne rose. When her mother attempted to take her arm, Julianne shook her head. "Thank you, but I'm quite all right."

In spite of Julianne's protest, her mother wrapped her fingers firmly around Julianne's upper arm. "Let's not take any chances. After all, we can't risk you falling down and injuring yourself. Especially now."

Julianne's insides curdled. Especially now. Yes-when her betrothal and marriage were imminent. Certainly couldn't have the bride sporting any bruises or a sprained ankle or broken leg.

Anxious to forestall any mention of her upcoming nuptials, she turned to Gideon and looked into those dark, fathomless eyes. "Thank you for all you did for me this evening, Mr. Mayne. I'll never forget it."

His features appeared hewn of stone. He inclined his head and said in an emotionless tone, "It was nothing, Lady Julianne."

His words froze her. Was that merely his way of saying you're welcome-or was he trying to tell her the intimacies they'd shared had meant nothing to him? She longed to search his eyes for some clue to his feelings, but he'd already looked away from her.

With a heavy heart she allowed her mother to lead her from the room. As they passed her father, his scowling gaze raked over her from head to foot. He then turned to stare at Gideon with a narrow-eyed expression clearly meant to freeze the Runner where he stood. The unmistakable suspicion in that expression made her blood run cold.

Dear God, did Father suspect something less than innocent had taken place between her and Gideon in the drawing room?


* * *

Gideon held Lord Gatesbourne's frigid glare and waited for the earl to speak. Years of practice allowed him to project an outwardly calm demeanor, but it was one at complete odds with his inner turmoil.

Bloody hell. What in God's name had come over him? Now that he could think clearly again, he was shocked by his own actions. He was not a reckless man. His greatest assets were his strength and his control. They'd saved him more times than he cared to recall. Against his enemies. Hardened criminals. Thieves and murderers. Yet somehow he'd let a mere slip of a woman, with bottomless blue eyes that reflected such a compelling combination of hope and heartbreak, knock his legs out from under him. In a way no one ever had before. In a way that both confused and alarmed him. In a way he would have wagered all he owned-modest though that was-was impossible.

Yet, there he'd been, legless. Lost in her. Mindless. Heedless of everything and everyone but her. And apparently helpless to stop it. Double bloody hell.

He had to get out of this house. Away from her. Away from this investigation. He needed to catch the bastard he was after and put an end to this. Get back to his life. And forget about her. As quickly as possible. Before he lost his bloody mind. Or his control again.

Finally Lord Gatesbourne spoke. "I'll have your account of this evening's occurrence, Mayne."

"Of course." He related the events in a calm, precise manner, leaving out nothing except the part where he'd lifted Julianne's skirts and rendered her utterly limp.

"I see," said the earl when Gideon finished his recitation. "So you didn't see this man yourself."

"No."

"In fact no one saw him except my fanciful daughter. Who has also heard moans that no one else heard."

There was no missing the earl's insinuation, and Gideon shook his head. "Given the evidence of the footprints under the tree, there's no doubt someone tried to gain access to Lady Julianne's bedchamber, my lord. I saw her immediately afterward. Her terror was genuine. Plus, do not forget the threatening note found in Lady Julianne's bedchamber and the fact that I discovered the very same window where she saw the intruder unlocked this afternoon."

The earl made a disgusted sound and muttered something about wretched timing that Gideon didn't quite catch.

"I beg your pardon, my lord?"

"Nothing." The earl's eyes took on another layer of frost. "That being the case, I'd like to know how this knife-wielding intruder gained access to my daughter's balcony after I hired you to patrol the grounds."

"With such a vast area to cover, it was unfortunately impossible for me to be everywhere at once."

"And why were you not out looking for this scoundrel when the countess and I arrived home?"

"Your daughter suffered a terrible fright. Given there was no trail to follow beyond the mews, I thought it best to remain here and insure Lady Julianne's safety until you returned."

"And you insured her safety by drinking tea and eating biscuits?"

Gideon's gaze didn't waver. "I insured her safety by first making certain all the entrances to the house were secured then not letting her out of my sight. If anyone had been foolish enough to attempt to harm her in my presence, they would have had to get through me-and Caesar-first. And I assure you they would not have succeeded."

The earl jerked his head toward the doorway where Caesar stood at attention. "I take it that large beast is Caesar?"

"Yes. He is a skilled guard dog and has helped me apprehend dozens of criminals."

The earl's scowl deepened, and he commenced pacing in front of the fire. A full minute passed before he stopped directly in front of Gideon. "No harm can come to my daughter," he said fiercely.

A frisson of relief worked its way through Gideon. Finally the man showed some warmth toward Julianne and appeared genuinely concerned for her safety.

"As time is short, you're my best chance to make certain Julianne is kept safe," the earl continued. "Therefore I want to hire you to guard her. You'll follow her everywhere, although it's probably best that she not go about too much. You'll stay here, in the house, and make sure no harm befalls her."

Gideon's every muscle tensed. His first instinct was to flatly refuse. Guard her? Follow her everywhere? Stay here? Bloody hell, he'd go mad. Even more disturbing, however, was the thought that he'd fail to resist her, as he had so spectacularly tonight. The way she stripped him of his control appalled him. Angered him. Indeed, it actually frightened him.

He could tell himself that now that he'd touched her, knew the feel and taste of her, knew that she smelled like vanilla-everywhere-his curiosity and appetite for her was appeased. But he'd be lying to himself. Because the knowledge of her scent and feel and touch had appeased nothing. No, instead it had served only to inflame him further, to make him want her more. This desire for her… it went beyond mere hunger. It was a ravenous craving. He didn't want to merely hold her, touch her, kiss her. He wanted to devour her. Brand himself on her. Touch her so deeply, make her his so profoundly and thoroughly, he'd haunt her every thought. The way she haunted his.

And he couldn't understand why. Obviously he desired her. Bloody hell, what breathing man wouldn't? He'd experienced desire. Lust. Had experienced pleasure with his share of women. Yet as steamy as those encounters had been, they now seemed tepid in comparison to the heat Julianne inspired. Julianne brought out something in him he didn't understand. Something, for the first time in his life, he hadn't been able to control. And wasn't certain he'd have the strength to control in the future. That was very bad-for both of them. It meant he needed to stay far, far away from her and her irresistible allure.

But how could he refuse to protect her? If he did, and something happened to her, he'd never forgive himself. Yet neither could he trust himself. For both their sakes he had to refuse.

"There are other Runners who could-" he began, but the earl cut him off with an impatient flick of his hand.

"From what I hear, you're the best, and I'll have nothing less."

"I appreciate that, but I cannot-"

"I'll make it worth your while financially." The earl named an amount that nearly matched Gideon's yearly Bow Street salary. And therefore raised his suspicions.

"That's a great deal of money," Gideon said.

"It is worth a great deal that my daughter remain safe for the next fortnight."

Gideon's brows rose. "Just the next fortnight? What about after that?"

"Even if the culprit hasn't been apprehended by then, your services will no longer be required beyond that point, as Julianne will no longer be living in London or be my responsibility."

"And why is that?"

"Because she will be married to the Duke of Eastling. And living in Cornwall. And therefore Eastling's responsibility."

Chapter 12

With Caesar keeping pace beside him, Gideon walked along the dark street, his thoughts as gloomy as the shadows that surrounded him. Tendrils of fog rose from the ground, and puddles filled the uneven pavement, soaking his boots. The rain had stopped, but a damp chill infiltrated the still air. His strides ate up the ground, each one taking him farther from the Grosvenor Square mansion he'd departed five minutes ago and closer to Covent Garden. To his own modest home. Where he belonged.