Cloaked in Danger by Jeannie Ruesch

siren. “You want me, don’t you?”
    Lust burned through his body, emboldened by the spirits he’d downed. Warning signals clanged in his head, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. He was helpless to ignore her call.
    Her hands curled against her hips and a sexy defiance swirled around her like a growing storm. Even with the air ripe with their mutual desperate need, he wanted nothing more than to pick her up and carry her to his bed.
    A sound echoed in the corridor, and Adam snapped his head around.
    “What was that?” Ariadne asked.
    Adam put his fingers to her lips.
    Good God , what were you thinking , man? Why had he brought her inside? He could have, should have walked in his house and closed the door without a word. Instead, he’d let her in and set them both on this volatile, unchangeable course.
    Stupid , Adam. Stupid.
    He stepped in front of her, pushing her behind him to keep her out of eyesight. They stood still, tension thick in the air, as his youngest sister shuffled by with a candle held in her hand, her nightgown sloshing about her ankles. She hummed a merry tune as she headed back toward the kitchen.
    Too damn close.
    Adam reached over, yanked Aria’s dress up to her tempting bosom and grabbed her hand. He led her into the corridor and up the stairs.
    “Where are—”
    “Shh.” He couldn’t say the words. But he had no other choice. He could not take the risk of someone discovering her, half dressed. Her bodice torn, for God’s sake.
    They’d be betrothed before sunrise and married within a fortnight.
    The only option for any semblance of privacy was his bedroom. If a part of him found a perverse pleasure that despite his intentions, that’s where they would end up anyway, he ignored it.
    They hurried down the corridor and Adam led her into his room, closing the door behind them with a soft click.
    “Get dressed.”
    Her gaze slid to the bed, the same bed he was doing everything in his power not to notice. They weren’t in his bedroom. They were in the dining room. Yes, that was it. The bed was a dining table.
    And well...hell, that didn’t help.
    Now he’d never be able to go into the dining room without thinking about pushing her on top of the table and—
    “Adam, where do you want me?” Aria asked softly. She dropped her gown again, until it pooled about her waist, then inch by inch slid to the floor.
    Where did he want her? Next to him. Under him.
    Over him.
    He turned away from the bed, moved to a chair propped in front of the fireplace, and sunk into it. His head rested in his hands. “What do you want to know?”
    Silence answered him, but he couldn’t look up. This woman... she stirred his blood in a way no woman had. But the past stood between them, and he was exhausted. Tired of holding onto a secret that could send him to prison if the courts didn’t believe his story. Tired of forcing his family to keep quiet what he’d done.
    Tired of pretending that everything was fine.
    “I shot a man.” The words were heavy, laden with the guilt he felt for not feeling guilty.
    “And now you know. I shot him and he bloody well deserved it. What end does that achieve, Aria? What the hell does any of this accomplish?”
    * * *
    The admission floored Aria, and weakness buckled her knees. She snapped her legs straight to keep from falling. No. No. No. She hadn’t realized until Adam said the words how much she had wanted him to be the man she thought he was.
    “Is he dead?” Please , let Papa be alive.
    “Yes.” His words came through clenched teeth.
    “Why? Why would you do it?” A waterfall of tears clogged her throat, even as anger and pain began to swirl as fiercely and blindingly strong as a dust storm.
    “He held a gun to my sister’s head!”
    She reared back. “He would never do that.”
    “You weren’t there. I was.” The earl stood, his hand gripping the chair he’d left. “He left me no choice. If I hadn’t shot him, he would have killed Blythe.”
    “You