he painted. Her desire for details warred with her concern for Beatrice. She didn’t want Liam upsetting Beatrice who had enough to deal with. ‘Whoever this new enemy is has to find me first.’
‘He’s desperate. He will find you. He’s a man with resources and you were just in Sussex for a friend’s wedding. Your family knows. Presumably they will have mentioned it to someone, perhaps several people. Someone, somewhere, will know you’re here.’
‘Surely you’re not suggesting we leave.’ Suddenly the thought was appalling, although it had been her very thought just moments ago. This cottage, this village, had become her world. This was where she was free. To leave would be to march straight back into society’s silk-and-lace prison. While she would have given up the cottage to go to Preston in his need, she would not give up this cottage on the outside chance she would be discovered. They couldn’t possibly take Beatrice with them in her condition and yet Beatrice couldn’t stay. If anyone was looking for her, the trail would lead here. Beatrice wouldn’t be safe.
Liam leaned back in his chair, hands laced over the flat of his stomach, his eyes skimming hers. ‘Not at all, Maylark. We stay here and wait it out.’
‘You’re going to stay here?’ It was her turn to be incredulous. In this small cottage? With her? Cosy was already becoming cramped. How would they ever manage to share this space?
Liam grinned, an irritatingly devilish smile full of smugness. She hated having risen to the bait. The dratted man had known how much that idea would irk her. ‘That is exactly what I’m suggesting. I can sleep in the barn.’
‘No, we have a spare room.’ Bea put in quickly. ‘The barn is too cold in winter.’ May shot her a hard look. When had Bea turned traitor? Couldn’t Bea see she didn’t want him here? Maybe not, to be fair. Bea didn’t know Liam Casek. May had told no one, not even her close friends, about that summer at the lakes, the summer Jonathon Lashley hadn’t come on holiday with the Worths and her brother had brought this friend instead.
Liam nodded gratefully at Bea. ‘I appreciate it, Mistress Fields.’ Bea actually blushed. May rolled her eyes. He’d already got to Beatrice with his rough brand of gallantry. She’d forgive her friend. She knew how easy it was to fall for that charm.
‘I’ll go ready the room, Mr Casek. May can show you around our little place.’ May stifled a groan. Mister this, and mistress that. Good heavens, all this polite formality was going to kill her if showing Liam around didn’t do it first.
‘How long do you suppose you’ll be here?’ May asked bluntly.
Liam’s blue eyes narrowed to dancing flints. ‘As long as it takes to keep you safe. Until the new year, I imagine.’ He shot Bea a considerate glance. ‘I’ll be sure to make myself useful. Looks like that barn roof could use a little work and you’ll need an extra set of hands once the bairn gets here.’ That was his breeding showing or lack of it. No gentleman friend of Preston’s would have considered the impact of one more mouth to feed and care for. Neither would a gentleman have mentioned a pregnancy even if a nine-month belly was staring him rather obviously in the face. Liam Casek might have a gentleman’s mouth, but he’d been raised working poor. Life held no secrets for him.
‘It will be good to have a man around the house,’ Beatrice acceded with another smile. Not that man, though. The last thing May wanted was to be alone with him, and now she would be for months, not because she felt threatened by him but because of who she was when she was with him. That frightened her a great deal even as it thrilled her.
Liam stepped outdoors and scanned the yard, looking for a destination. The stone fence to his left seemed as good a place as any to have this conversation. He strode towards it, aware of May behind him. He’d give her five strides before her patience broke and she started demanding information.
One... May Worth could still frighten the living daylights out of him. That hadn’t changed in five years. He would have thought a man who’d been to war, a man who’d seen men die, who’d often delivered that death personally and intimately on behalf of the Crown, would not be so easily frightened by a single female. But logic failed to account for May Worth. There was so much to be frightened by: her beauty, her intelligence, her overwhelming confidence in the rightness of her opinion, but it was her stubbornness that frightened him the most, not because she intimidated him but because he revelled in her fearlessness.
Two... He’d once found her fearlessness so intoxicating he’d believed he could change the world for her. He’d been drawn to it like an addict to opium. He was a stronger man now, his own ideals and expectations better tempered by reality. Was she? He feared that reckless stubborn streak would be the author of her demise someday.
Three... Look where it had led already today: it had her pulling a pistol on a guest and demanding safe passage to her brother’s side, then refusing to leave the cottage. Very shortly it was going to prompt her to ask for every ounce of information he possessed regarding Preston and she was not going to like what he had to say.
Four...
‘Tell me everything,’ May blurted out, catching up to him. Five strides had been too optimistic. ‘We’re alone now, there’s no reason not to.’ There was a scold in there somewhere for him. She was angry he’d held back. She was anxious, which made her anger excusable, understandable even, but he still made her wait until they reached the stone fence. Someone had to teach May patience.
He leaned his elbows on the rough surface of the stone and looked out over the expanse of green field. It was far less disconcerting than looking at her and seeing those beautiful green eyes that could stalk a man like a tiger or burn with emerald passion, the rich walnut sheen of her hair, the elegant sweep of her jaw, the defiant point of her chin, the delicate, straight length of her nose set to perfection on her face, all of which informed a man without asking that this was a lady born to wealth and luxury. And then there was that skin, so perfectly translucent it called to mind every cliché he’d ever heard about silk and pearls and alabaster. It was indeed hard to speak when one could choose to look at May Worth instead. He’d learned to cultivate the skill, however. His sanity and male pride had depended on it.
‘The Home and Foreign Offices sent your brother to track down a man named Cabot Roan.’ He began in low tones, glancing around out of habit. They were in the middle of nowhere, but he couldn’t help it. One could never be too cautious. ‘Roan is suspected of leading an arms cartel whose interests do not always parallel Britain’s.’ He would not patronise May with an elementary explanation. She was intelligent. She would understand the implications.
‘Apparently my brother found him,’ May said drily.
‘Yes, and then they found us, on the road out of town at dark.’ Liam paused, letting her digest the information. She knew the rest from what he’d told her inside. ‘Roan will come looking for you. If he can’t find Preston, he will want to use you as leverage to get to him. The protection I offer is real, as is your need for it.’
May scoffed and repeated her earlier argument. ‘Hardly anyone knows I’m in Scotland. I rather think my location is my best protection.’
‘You’ve already heard my answer to that. Roan is very resourceful. He will find the people who know. Now that his life is on the line, he will be even more redoubtable. We must proceed as if he will find out.’
May was instantly wary. ‘Does this process involve more than sleeping in
