supposed to be my servant. You could always see to the tasks that need doing around here."
"Like what?"
"Those dishes from last night have to go back down to the kitchen. The hearth needs sweeping. My shirts could use a washing in the stream."
She slanted him a skeptical look.
He shrugged again and smiled. "Or you can sit around here and stare at the walls if you prefer."
She snorted. "I don't prefer."
"Good. Then have it all done when I get back."
"I beg your pardon!"
"I'm only teasing."
She snorted and folded her arms across her chest.
"Watch yourself," he warned in a softer tone. "You're free to go about your tasks inside the castle, but don't trust anyone. Don't talk to anyone unless you're spoken to directly. Keep your eyes down. Do your work and keep to yourself. And Emily?"
"Yes, Drake?" She rested her shoulder against the wall, leaning closer to him. His magnetism drew her irresistibly.
"Don't go prying anywhere," he warned.
"Who, me?"
"I'm serious. Stay out of mischief for both our sakes. One more thing," he added, pausing with one hand on the door.
"What's that?"
"Don't forget, they think we are lovers."
"Would it were so," she whispered daringly. The words slipped out before she could check them.
His dark eyes narrowed in speculation. "Don't start something you're not prepared to finish."
"You started it. Yesterday. You're the one who kissed me."
Gazing roguishly into her eyes, he leaned closer until his lips hovered half an inch from hers. "But, my dear, that was only for a ruse."
"Do you kiss differently in earnest?"
"You tell me," he whispered, and he pressed his lips to hers, driving her body back against the wall, his hand resting on her waist.
Emily met his kiss in trembling enthusiasm, curling her hands over his shoulders, her heart pounding.
But Drake stopped himself a moment later, his chest heaving. "Careful what you wish for," he warned in a sensuous murmur. His gaze dipped to her moistened lips before he turned and left the room.
She closed her eyes, breathlessly leaning her head back against the wall after he had gone.
Lord, didn't that man know she'd have walked through fire for him?
Lunatic, Promethean, or not.
London
The dogs of Dante House were howling.
Virgil's body had been discovered some hours before, but as accustomed as they were to death, every agent there was in a state of shock, silent with fury.
The man who had been like a father to them, their mentor and trainer, had been cut down, and none of them had been on hand to help him.
The rage, the grief, the hunger for revenge drove them onto the schooner that had been waiting for their departure to the Continent. With few words, Rotherstone's team parted ways with Beauchamp, who stayed behind to handle the aftermath of what was sure to come.
Officials would ask questions, to say nothing of the Elders of the Order up in Scotland. The shock of Virgil's death would be felt as far away as Moscow, and in every European capital in between, where an active cell of the Order had been established.
Beau had hurried them off, knowing Niall already had a lead of at least six hours. He assured them he would see to the burial of their beloved Highlander and that they would have a proper memorial service for him once his killer had been dealt with.
At present, they could not afford to let the trail go cold. Just as Virgil had taught them, they thrust their own feelings aside and got on with the job. It was what the old man would have wanted.
And so that morning, as planned, Max, Jordan, and Rohan set sail down the Thames, on the hunt for Niall Banks. Finding Drake was just as important as it had been last night, but the wound of Virgil's murder was too fresh for them to think of anything other than making their handler's treacherous offspring pay.
They had found Emily's letter missing and knew that Niall must have taken it.
Once he read it, he would certainly realize what her news about James's secret meeting signified.
"Like what?"
"Those dishes from last night have to go back down to the kitchen. The hearth needs sweeping. My shirts could use a washing in the stream."
She slanted him a skeptical look.
He shrugged again and smiled. "Or you can sit around here and stare at the walls if you prefer."
She snorted. "I don't prefer."
"Good. Then have it all done when I get back."
"I beg your pardon!"
"I'm only teasing."
She snorted and folded her arms across her chest.
"Watch yourself," he warned in a softer tone. "You're free to go about your tasks inside the castle, but don't trust anyone. Don't talk to anyone unless you're spoken to directly. Keep your eyes down. Do your work and keep to yourself. And Emily?"
"Yes, Drake?" She rested her shoulder against the wall, leaning closer to him. His magnetism drew her irresistibly.
"Don't go prying anywhere," he warned.
"Who, me?"
"I'm serious. Stay out of mischief for both our sakes. One more thing," he added, pausing with one hand on the door.
"What's that?"
"Don't forget, they think we are lovers."
"Would it were so," she whispered daringly. The words slipped out before she could check them.
His dark eyes narrowed in speculation. "Don't start something you're not prepared to finish."
"You started it. Yesterday. You're the one who kissed me."
Gazing roguishly into her eyes, he leaned closer until his lips hovered half an inch from hers. "But, my dear, that was only for a ruse."
"Do you kiss differently in earnest?"
"You tell me," he whispered, and he pressed his lips to hers, driving her body back against the wall, his hand resting on her waist.
Emily met his kiss in trembling enthusiasm, curling her hands over his shoulders, her heart pounding.
But Drake stopped himself a moment later, his chest heaving. "Careful what you wish for," he warned in a sensuous murmur. His gaze dipped to her moistened lips before he turned and left the room.
She closed her eyes, breathlessly leaning her head back against the wall after he had gone.
Lord, didn't that man know she'd have walked through fire for him?
Lunatic, Promethean, or not.
London
The dogs of Dante House were howling.
Virgil's body had been discovered some hours before, but as accustomed as they were to death, every agent there was in a state of shock, silent with fury.
The man who had been like a father to them, their mentor and trainer, had been cut down, and none of them had been on hand to help him.
The rage, the grief, the hunger for revenge drove them onto the schooner that had been waiting for their departure to the Continent. With few words, Rotherstone's team parted ways with Beauchamp, who stayed behind to handle the aftermath of what was sure to come.
Officials would ask questions, to say nothing of the Elders of the Order up in Scotland. The shock of Virgil's death would be felt as far away as Moscow, and in every European capital in between, where an active cell of the Order had been established.
Beau had hurried them off, knowing Niall already had a lead of at least six hours. He assured them he would see to the burial of their beloved Highlander and that they would have a proper memorial service for him once his killer had been dealt with.
At present, they could not afford to let the trail go cold. Just as Virgil had taught them, they thrust their own feelings aside and got on with the job. It was what the old man would have wanted.
And so that morning, as planned, Max, Jordan, and Rohan set sail down the Thames, on the hunt for Niall Banks. Finding Drake was just as important as it had been last night, but the wound of Virgil's murder was too fresh for them to think of anything other than making their handler's treacherous offspring pay.
They had found Emily's letter missing and knew that Niall must have taken it.
Once he read it, he would certainly realize what her news about James's secret meeting signified.
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