Sweet Treason (Entangled Ignite) by Gail Ranstrom

began a slow descent to the floor.
    …
    So much blood! Ryan feared it would never stop. He’d been frantic when he’d knelt beside her and seen the gash in her flesh oozing thick, red blood. He hadn’t calmed until he’d assured himself it was just a flesh wound and that the depth of her unconsciousness was a result of drugged brandy and not her injury.
    Suspecting she had been a bit too eager to pour him brandy, he’d waited for her to turn her back, then had switched their glasses. When she’d begun to slur her words he’d known his suspicions were founded. But he’d never suspected she’d had an alternate plan. A woman with a pistol, for God’s sake! Had she really planned to kill him?
    He carried her to the room she had identified as hers during his search, placed her gently upon the bed, and bathed her wound with cool water from the pitcher on the night stand, murmuring prayers and curses in the same breath. He ripped a towel from her washstand into strips for a makeshift bandage. The thought did not occur to him until then that whatever she’d put in his brandy could have been a fatal dose.
    He watched her, unable to tear himself from her side. An indefinable quality in her drew him—a kindred spirit. She understood alienation and loneliness. He’d seen them in her gray-green eyes.
    He saw the same desperation and loneliness when he looked in the mirror. Isolated in a foreign land, far from his own country, his very life depended upon secrecy. A chance word, an unguarded moment, could cost him everything. He must always be alert to danger, never trusting anyone and keeping his true thoughts, feelings, and loyalties deep in his heart. Sharing his thoughts—let alone his life, his heart, and his soul—was impossible. He’d come to believe he was not even worthy of love. He’d done things over the past four years in the name of the freedom that had caused him deep shame.
    Emily’s lips moved, but he could not make out her words. She whimpered, and tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. He wished he could slay her dragons. Vanquish her enemies.
    Ah, but he was her dragon. Her enemy.
    This small creature before him posed a greater threat than any he’d faced last night when Erikson had held him at gunpoint, when he’d lunged to struggle for Erikson’s gun, or when he’d been pursued by the king’s men. His mission in England meant hundreds, even thousands, of lives in America. He was under strict orders to dispose of anyone who learned his true purpose in England, and he was quite capable of that ruthlessness. The moment Miss Nevins discovered his identity, he should have strangled her. Failing that, he should have abducted her and found a secure place to hold her for the duration of the war. And tonight, when he should be abroad investigating the circumstances leading to Erickson’s betrayal and uncovering his sources, Ryan was keeping vigil at Emily’s bedside instead.
    He must never give her another chance to betray the cause or the men who served it. If she discovered how he had been using Oak Hill for years… He pressed his fingers to the hollow of her throat. Her pulse beat a strong but erratic rhythm.
    He had only to squeeze.

Chapter Five
    She’d had the dream before. Wind, rain, thunder. Herself clawing at the muddy earth with her bare hands, trying to cover her mother’s grave while the rain kept washing the mud away, exposing her mother along with Emily’s deepest secrets. She was alone, exhausted, and waging a losing battle.
    But this time, he came to kneel beside her. He pushed the wet strands of hair from her face and kissed her with exquisite gentleness. Come away , he whispered. But she was too deeply rooted in the land—her only constant, the only thing she’d ever been able to count on. Fear of discovery, fear for Lucy and of being at Mr. Dodge’s mercy kept her bound to that little plot of earth.
    Now. Come with me now, Emily. I will not wait forever…
    A great aching