The course most likely to succeed.

Her inclusion in the party for this last dash to Elveden meant she’d have a chance to see with her own eyes and gauge his standing, his circle of friends, his past achievements, his capabilities, even get some idea of his wealth.

He could tell her all that, recite a catalogue, but he’d much rather she saw and made her own assessment. Faster, more direct, more certain that way.

Especially as he didn’t know exactly how she would react to the revelation that he was a bastard, albeit a noble one. In wider tonnish society, he would be accepted as the man he was; he wasn’t in the same boat as the average bastard whose mother hailed from the lower orders. In his case, his mother, too, had been from one of the highest families. His position was more like that of old Lady Melbourne’s children, all of whom where widely regarded as having different fathers, none of whom was Lord Melbourne.

Society accepted him, always had, but would Linnet? Some people had more difficulty overlooking a bastard birth than others.

He didn’t think Linnet would consider his birth a problem, but as he set down his soup spoon, he inwardly admitted that, cravenly, he didn’t want to take a chance.

He’d faced guns and cannon, led charges in battle, yet she was now so important to him that he didn’t want to take even the slightest risk of her rejecting him, not if it was in any way avoidable.

So he’d wait until the end of the mission to break that news to her. Aside from all else, from tomorrow morning on, his mission would take precedence, and he and she would necessarily put all personal matters aside.

Phoebe looked down the table at her spouse, then glanced at Charles. “Well, I expect you two better explain the arrangements you’ve put in place for our journey to Elveden.”

Logan inwardly grinned as Deverell and Charles obliged.

The three of them had spent the afternoon making the necessary preparations-selecting the coachman who would travel with them, provisioning the carriage they would take. Then Charles and Deverell had turned their attention to the two other carriages that would carry Penny, Phoebe, and the children on their journey east, organizing drivers, guards, and weapons.

He’d been impressed by Charles’s and Deverell’s arrangements. Relieved and reassured. He couldn’t imagine even the cult overcoming the heavily, if discreetly, armed cavalcade they’d organized. Their guards were experienced, loyal, and knew their work. Penny, Phoebe, and the children would be safe.

The thought niggled. He glanced at Linnet, on his right; she was absorbed with the discussion, silent but watching. He let his gaze linger on her face, on the delicacy beneath the determination.

Something in him stirred; he looked away before she felt his gaze.

She should be kept safe, too-he should keep her safe, just as Charles and Deverell were so focused on keeping Penny and Phoebe safe.

Inwardly frowning, he couldn’t help but wonder if keeping her with him-and so knowing she was safe, thus relieving his anxiety on that score-was the best arrangement for her-or only the best arrangement for him.

He was still inwardly frowning when, dinner concluded, he rose with the other two men and followed their ladies to the drawing room.

They all retired relatively early. Their plans for the morrow called for a departure before dawn, at least for the three men and Linnet. Penny and Phoebe would be up and about, too, to fuss over their husbands, then wave them all on their way.

Linnet stood by the window in her bedchamber, consciously seizing the moments before Logan joined her to take stock-to fix in her mind just where he and she stood before they embarked on a journey that would be, she suspected, akin to running a gauntlet. They would run, and the cult would attack; from all she’d heard of the men’s assumptions, that was how they expected the next days to unfold.

No time, not the right time, to make any decisions about him and her, yet she didn’t want to fetch up at journey’s end with no clear idea of where they were, what questions still loomed, what next she needed to do.

He’d declared he wanted to marry her, that that was his adamant intent. Her initial reaction had been that she could never be the sort of wife he needed, yet after spending time with Penny and Phoebe and watching Charles and Deverell, seeing and sensing how such marriages worked, she’d jettisoned that stance. She could, if he wished and she wished, be a suitable wife for him.

Assuming she could meet his ultimate expectations, his specific requirements; that was an issue they hadn’t discussed, but would have no time to address now.

Staring out at the night, she pulled a face. Indecision wasn’t a state she appreciated, but she couldn’t decide if she could fill a position without knowing what the specifications were, before she understood what said position entailed, yet any such discussion would have to wait until his mission was concluded.

Aside from that caveat, as far as she could see there was only one hurdle remaining, and while it was a major one, on multiple levels, addressing it before deciding to accept his suit was pointless.

The one thing she could no longer do was refuse to seriously entertain his suit. Not after today, not now that she knew-to her bones and her soul finally appreciated-all he would offer her.

Quite aside from the virgin queen no longer having to remain an all but virgin into her old age.

Children. She had never considered having children with any other man. Still couldn’t imagine it. Only with Logan. With Logan… she could, and if she married him, God willing would, fill that aching, empty hollow that resided below her heart.

She heard his footsteps outside the door, swiftly reviewed her thoughts. Inwardly nodded. As far as she was able, she knew where she stood.

Reaching up, she drew the curtains across the window. Turning, she waited while he came in, saw her, closed the door, then crossed the room to her. She’d left a candle burning on the dressing table; in the soft light, she saw he was… not exactly frowning, yet the expression was there in his eyes. “What is it?”

He looked surprised that she’d asked, then allowed his frown to materialize. “I was just thinking…” Halting before her, he grimaced, then slipped both hands into his breeches’ pockets and looked down. “I was thinking perhaps you would be safer going with the other ladies.”

She blinked. She might well be safer going with Penny and Phoebe-but what about him? “No.” Lips setting in what she’d been told often enough was a mulish line, she caught his gaze as he looked up, and shook her head. Decisively. “Absolutely not. I’m going with you.”

His lips thinned. “But-”

“No.” Turning, she stalked toward the bed. “No, no, no.” Swinging around, she pinned him with her gaze. “ You carried me off my damned ship, in full view of my crew, for heaven’s sake-and yes, I know you bent them to your misguided will by convincing them it was safest for me to go with you-but that doesn’t change the fact that it was your idea that I come with you, travel with you to your mission’s end. And so now, no . You do not get to change your tune.” Lifting her chin, she held his gaze. “I’m staying with you, traveling with you, until your mission ends, and that, as far as I’m concerned, is that.”

He studied her for a long moment, then his brows rose. Drawing his hands from his pockets, he walked slowly toward her.

Halting before her, he looked into her face.

His eyes were still troubled.

“You’re absolutely certain that’s what you want-to face whatever risks we might have to run?”

She searched his eyes, hearing inside the resonance between his mission and their lives-their putative future that yet lay unresolved. Whatever risks we might have to run. The same question applied in that sphere, too.

Was her answer the same?

She didn’t know, but she knew her right answer here and now.

“Yes. I’m absolutely sure.”

Slowly, he nodded. “All right.”

His expression didn’t ease.

In a flash of insight, she understood his problem. “Stop worrying.” Reaching up, she wound her arms about his neck, stepped closer. “This is my decision, and you’ll be there, by my side all the way, in case I need rescuing.”

Stretching up against him, feeling his arms instinctively rise and close about her, she looked at his lips, let her own curve, then, looking up through her lashes, met his eyes. “Just remind yourself of how grateful I might have to be if you do indeed rescue me.”

He sighed, gave in. Bent his head. Whispered across her lips in the instant before his brushed them, “As long as you’re safe.”

“I will be,” she whispered back. “You’ll be there.”

She kissed him on the words, and he let her, let her for once lead the way. Let her please herself by pleasing him, then he gently took the reins and returned the pleasure.

In full measure.

Reiterated, not in words but in deeds, in devotion, with passion and desire fueled by hunger and need, the truth of all he’d told her, that she was the woman he wanted, the one above all he coveted, that she was, to him, all.

All he wanted, all he would ever need.

Much later, when she lay sated and boneless beneath him, her fingers idly riffling his black hair, she saw deep inside a truth she had until then overlooked.

He was everything she had ever wanted, and all she would ever need.

Thirteen

December 18, 1822

The road from Paignton Hall to Exeter

They encountered the first ambush five miles from Paignton Hall. Thick fog blanketed the coast. The carriage’s sudden appearance out of the murk surprised eight sleepy cultists camped beyond the ditch; they scrambled to form up across the road, a human barrier waving short swords.