Heart of Brass (42 page)

“Did we get them?” she asked around a yawn. Dear Jesus, that hurt too.

“The Wasp was found dead in his cell this morning. Turns out the other Company inmates didn’t appreciate that he gave away secrets for his freedom. Erlich is in a private cell, drugged, tied to a chair with the helmet you made on his head.”

Her brows drew together. “The one for storing memories?”

“Erlich wasn’t going to talk. Now, he doesn’t need to.”

“Whose idea was it to use the helmet? Yours?”

He nodded, eyes glittering. “I’m smarter than I look.”

Arden smiled and held out her hand. His intelligence wasn’t something she had ever questioned, and she felt sorry that he had. Her mother had done the same thing often enough, when trying to understand some of the theories and ideas that came out of her father’s mouth. They had been very happy together despite that.

“Any news on Dhanya?” she asked.

“She’s doing well. Healing. She’s coming back to work next week. Alastair’s happy to be giving up the post. She came by to see you. Looked like hell, but strong.”

“Good.” To see something destroy Dhanya would be like watching Buckingham Palace crumble to dust. Chiler would wish for death before Dhanya was done with him. Proper thing.

“Come lie down with me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” And even if he did, it would be worth it. She needed him near—as close as he could possibly get. She was cold inside, and only he could bring warmth back to her bones.

Luke left the chair and came around the bed to crawl in the other side. His every movement was carefully controlled so as not to disturb her, and she adored him for it. Still, the bed dipped under his weight. He was a few stones heavier than a man his size should be.

He propped himself up on his elbow. “I’m glad to see you awake.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll stay that way for long.” She yawned again. Having him with her made everything better, made her realize just how exhausted she was.

“If you need to sleep, you sleep.”

She stared at him. He stared back. There was nothing uncomfortable about it, yet there was a tension between them that hadn’t been there before. She felt as though he was waiting for her to do or say something, and in a way, she was waiting for him to do the same. Had he heard her say that she loved him? Would it be good or bad if he had?

“I thought I’d lost you again,” she murmured. In her mind she saw him lying there, bleeding from the shot to his head. The image brought hot tears to her eyes.

He wiped one away as it trickled down her temple. “I thought I’d lost you, too. I almost killed Erlich.”

“What stopped you?” She was glad he hadn’t killed the traitor—a quick death was too good. But every woman wanted to think her husband would retaliate against someone who hurt her, and she was secretly a little…disappointed not to hear that he had to be physically restrained from killing the bastard.

“Alastair reminded me that you were alive, and that you were my first priority.”

“Did you need reminding?” She couldn’t bring herself to add a smile. She was terribly afraid of the answer.

“No, but I really wanted to kill him for hurting you.”

That certainly did away with any disappointment she might feel. His words filled her with a warmth that eased the terrible ache in her shoulder and chest. She smiled.

He kissed her then—softly, tenderly. So sweetly it caused an ache deeper than any bullet ever could. When he pulled back, he gazed down at her with eyes that made her want to stay in this bed forever. To hell with food and bathing.

“I would have gone mad if I lost you,” he said softly. “You’ve become everything to me. I love you.”

Arden swallowed hard. Her heart was pounding and her fingers tingled. “I love you, too.” It had been so wonderful to hear those words from his mouth after so long.

“I know; I heard you on the ship.” He wiped away another tear from her eye. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you. Even when my mind didn’t know who you were, that you even existed, my heart did.”

He was killing her, did he know that? “I never stopped loving you either.”

“Not even when I was an arse?”

She shook her head. “Not even then, though it would have served you right.”

They smiled at each other and he kissed her again—a lingering kiss this time that made her wish she wasn’t an invalid, that she didn’t hurt all over. There was something about almost dying that made one feel very much alive. It filled her with a desperate, anxious feeling. She wanted him naked. Hard. Inside her. But it was impossible, so she settled for simply having him near.

“Do you suppose the Wardens will give us commendations for this?” she asked with a grin. “I think we deserve them. It will certainly look good on our records of service.”

Luke’s smile faded. “Arden, there’s something I need to tell you.”

It sounded ominous. “What?”

He looked her straight in the eye. “You’re no longer a Warden.”

Chapter 22

“They dismissed me?”

Luke winced at the angry shock in her voice. This was not going to be an easy conversation. Perhaps he should have introduced it in a less abrupt manner. “No. You resigned.”

Her cinnamon eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember resigning.”

“I did it for you when I turned in my own resignation.” There, it was done. And there was no taking it back. He would not take it back, no matter how angry she was.

Her face went completely blank. “You resigned?”

He nodded. “Yes. As of tomorrow we will no longer have any obligation to the Crown save that of any citizen of the Empire.”

She stared at him. The dark circles beneath her beautiful eyes were all the reassurance he needed that he had done the right thing. He was done with being a spy, with putting his life in jeopardy for a country and an agency that would just turn around and demand that he do it again. He refused to be separated from her again. Refused to keep secrets from her, or endanger her because of his actions.

“Why?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “Because you almost died last night.”

“You can’t leave the Wardens just because of me.” Her eyes were wide with astonishment.

“I can and I have. And it’s not just because of you. It’s because of us.”

Her expression was incredulous at best—and a tad suspicious. He supposed he couldn’t blame her. “But you always loved being a Warden.”

“I don’t anymore.” How could he possibly make her understand? Last night he had faced the idea of life without her, and it nearly drove him mad. How could he have given so much of himself to the Wardens when he had her? Had he been completely selfish and vain? Had he been in such need of a pat on the damn head he risked his life to get it? Or had he simply labored under some misguided sense of honor? He didn’t know, and he couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter anyway.

“This is not something we’re going to discuss,” he informed her, figuratively putting his foot down. “We’re done with the Wardens, and if our marriage means anything to you at all, you’ll accept that.”

Color filled her cheeks. He didn’t care that anger put it there, he was just glad to see it. “You don’t speak for me, Lucas Grey.”

“In this matter, I do. I don’t give a damn if you think it’s fair or not. I’m not spending another evening like I did last night, not ever.”

“What of all the evenings I spent worrying about you?”

“I’m sorry for them. I’d take them back if I could, but I can’t. I can only do my best to make certain neither of us ever has to worry about the other again.”

“Leaving the Wardens won’t guarantee the Company won’t come after us in the future.” A hint of fear shone in her eyes.

“The Company has denied all involvement in Erlich’s schemes. They say he acted alone out of a spirit of revenge, and send their apologies to both of us. They assure Her Majesty that nothing like this will ever happen again.”

Arden’s mouth fell open. “Do you believe them?”

“That he acted alone? No. I know for a fact he didn’t, but I do believe you and I will be safe from now on. They’ve lost the Wasp, Erlich and me because of this operation, and the fact that Victoria has personally spoken out against them means all of Europe will be watching.”

“When did the queen speak out?”

“In this morning’s paper. Alastair received a telegram from the Company director at W.O.R. offices two hours ago. Basically they’re crying for a truce.”

“For now.”

He nodded. “For now.” Of course it would be temporary, but it would last long enough that the two of them wouldn’t really matter to anyone once it was over. Erlich had been behind his abduction and the attempts on Arden’s life. There was no one in the Company ranks to pick up the grudge. And if they did…Luke would kill them. He would die for Arden if necessary, and he would kill anyone who tried to harm her. It was that simple.

Her worried gaze locked with his. “It’s over then?”

“Yes.”

“And resigning is really what you want?”

He didn’t have to think about it. “Yes.”

She sighed. “All right. When the Season is over we’ll go to the country. You might change your mind after a few months with only my face for company.”

Luke smiled at her. “I doubt it. I rather like your face.” Then he kissed her and they didn’t speak of it again. He was still smiling when she began to snore softly. A few moments later sleep claimed him as well.

It was the happiest he’d been in his life—he was certain of it.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Arden continued to heal, and at the end of the month she felt good enough to start being social again. There was no shortage of invitations, but two of the people she most wanted to see did not want to see her.

Alastair had left the country shortly after Luke informed him of their resignation from the W.O.R. They didn’t speak of it, but Arden reckoned Alastair wasn’t yet ready to see her and Luke work on their marriage—and their family. He was supposedly on an assignment in Saint Petersburg that had to do with the royal family there. Maybe one of those exotic Romanov ladies would make him happy for a time.

And Hannah still wouldn’t receive her. In time she hoped her friend would forgive her, but for now Hannah blamed her for Clivington’s death. She said Arden had no right going outside with them when she’d known there was an assassin after her. Hannah was correct, of course, and Arden was sorry for it, but she would never be sorry Clivington was dead. Since she wasn’t about to apologize for that, she supposed it might be a very long time indeed before Hannah came round—if she ever did. So, she visited with Dhanya and Evie instead—Zoe too. It was so nice being able to be friends with them now without the Wardens hanging over them.

She had been right about the commendations. They were both given awards for their service. In fact, Luke was to be granted the Royal Victorian Order by Her Majesty in recognition of the sacrifices he’d made for his country. Arden was very proud of him. It was a nice way to end his career in espionage.

Of course, she and Luke would never truly leave the Wardens. They would indeed consult from time to time, but she looked forward to retiring to the country for a while, where it was peaceful and the most intrigue they ever suffered was a marital scandal on occasion—such as someone taking all the covers, or some other irritating behavior.

She didn’t know how long it would last—how much time would pass before Luke began to crave excitement and chafe at the bonds of matrimony. It frightened her thinking he might leave her again one day. As more of his memory returned she began to fear that possibility more and more. She did not want him to feel like a prisoner. On most days, however, she didn’t worry about it. She simply enjoyed getting to know him again—the new parts. There was still a lot of him that was the same as the man she married. She liked—loved—both.

He had his own social engagements as well. A few gentlemen from his past had come forward wishing to renew their old acquaintance, and since none of them were spies, or adulterers (that she knew of), she was glad he had the diversion.

They also had his brother, Henry. Once the younger Grey had learned of what had happened on the
Albion,
he’d come to call. There had been no falseness to his concern for Luke—or even Arden. He went so far as to admit that much of his foolishness stemmed from anger and remorse. He’d been angry at Luke for leaving them, angry at Arden for clinging to hope, and then felt terrible for not having more faith when Luke returned. He had tried to have his brother declared dead and everyone knew it. And now everyone knew he’d been wrong. He felt like an arse—to use his own word—and asked their forgiveness.

Well, of course Luke gave it. He was Henry’s older brother, after all.

Now Luke was returning from a brief social call with one of his renewed friendships. They’d gone to one of the gentlemen’s clubs on St. James’s Street. He came home smelling of whiskey and cigar smoke, neither of which were unpleasant, though she had lost some of her taste for the former and had no interest in the latter. She had waited up because she couldn’t put off talking to him any longer, and because she was rather hopeful he might come to bed with her after. He hadn’t touched her
that way
since the shooting, and she was in desperate need of sexual validation.

She waited for him in his bedroom, wearing his favorite of her peignoir sets—the one with the Chinese embroidery on it.

“Still up?” His rich, melodic voice seemed to rumble down her spine as he removed his coat. “I’d thought you in bed by now.”

“It’s still early,” she replied, twisting her hands in front of her. “I’m feeling almost one hundred percent healed.”

“Excellent.” His gaze held some of the amusement she’d come to find familiar. He wasn’t laughing at her, he was just a little…giddy, if one could use such a word to describe a man, when he was around her. She supposed it was a compliment.

“Might we talk?” she asked.

He arched a brow at her tone and began unfastening his waistcoat. The scars on his forehead, she noticed, had begun to fade. He hadn’t said any more about growing a fringe—thank the Lord. “Of course. About what?”