near the hearth, away from the threat of his embrace, putting the wing chair firmly between them.
Max watched her in silence, wondering at her skittishness. Surely she didn’t think he would harm her? No, more likely her unease was simply due to self-consciousness at meeting him again. He strongly suspected Caro Evers wouldn’t like exposing her defenses to him as she had that night. He’d recognized the hint of shyness in her lustrous gray eyes just now. Of vulnerability.
Yet he felt vulnerable as well. His relationship with her was unlike any he’d ever had with a woman.
He couldn’t remember ever being this damned intrigued by a woman, either. It was refreshing to find one he had to chase rather than the usual beauties who saw him as prey, but that didn’t wholly explain his fierce attraction to her. His desire for Caro hadn’t dissipated since that night; if anything, it was stronger.
Perhaps it was madness, Max admitted to himself. He’d known her for a few brief days, over a year ago, but his strongest drive now was to claim ownership. And now that he had found her again, he wasn’t about to let her go.
He had no intention of showing his hand, however.
“You mentioned that you have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow. Isn’t that rather sudden, when you just arrived?”
She looked relieved by the change of subject. “I accomplished what I came for.”
“And what is that?”
Her hesitation was curiously noticeable. “Actually I came to fetch Thorne. A very dear friend of mine is in grave trouble.”
“And he can help?”
“I hope so.”
“Thorne works for the Foreign Office, I understand.”
Caro looked at Max in surprise. “How did you know?”
“He told me.”
She frowned, wondering why Thorne had disclosed even that much about himself. That was the tale all the Guardians used to protect their identities and to explain their clandestine activities. In fact, Lady Hennessy believed her nephew to be one of Sir Gawain Olwen’s chief representatives in London.
It wasn’t precisely a lie. In theory the Guardians of the Sword reported to the British Foreign Office.
Publicly Sir Gawain was thought to head a select branch of the Foreign Office, and his work was considered a sanctioned government service. But few people realized the considerable number of agents he had under his command. Fewer still were privy to the secrets behind how the order had been established, or how deeply the Guardians permeated present British and European society.
There was a good reason for secrecy, since it provided a major advantage to their successful operations.
Caro started to reply, but her response was interrupted by another rap on the door.
“That should be Thorne now,” she murmured as she went to admit him.
He entered, carrying a leather pouch, which she knew contained dispatches for Sir Gawain. He handed the pouch to her, but before he could speak, she called his attention to her other visitor.
Thorne halted abruptly when he spied Max, arching an eyebrow in surprise.
“Mr. Leighton was just leaving,” Caro announced.
“Loath as I am to contradict a lady, I wasn’t,” Max refuted genially. “I was waiting to learn about the grave trouble her friend is in, and why you are being summoned to help.”
Thorne hesitated a long moment, looking from one to the other of them. “Lady Isabella Wilde,” he said finally. “Do you know her?”
“I’ve heard of her, certainly, although she was away when I visited Cyrene last year. An eccentric, wealthy widow.”
“She isn’t truly eccentric,” Caro said in her friend’s defense. “She is merely fond of exploration and less chained by convention than most women. Her father was the Count of Aranda, one of Spain’s greatest ministers.”
“But Bella’s adventures have been known to land her in scrapes before now,” Thorne added. “And this one is more serious than most. Her ship was likely seized by Barbary corsairs….”
He proceeded
Max watched her in silence, wondering at her skittishness. Surely she didn’t think he would harm her? No, more likely her unease was simply due to self-consciousness at meeting him again. He strongly suspected Caro Evers wouldn’t like exposing her defenses to him as she had that night. He’d recognized the hint of shyness in her lustrous gray eyes just now. Of vulnerability.
Yet he felt vulnerable as well. His relationship with her was unlike any he’d ever had with a woman.
He couldn’t remember ever being this damned intrigued by a woman, either. It was refreshing to find one he had to chase rather than the usual beauties who saw him as prey, but that didn’t wholly explain his fierce attraction to her. His desire for Caro hadn’t dissipated since that night; if anything, it was stronger.
Perhaps it was madness, Max admitted to himself. He’d known her for a few brief days, over a year ago, but his strongest drive now was to claim ownership. And now that he had found her again, he wasn’t about to let her go.
He had no intention of showing his hand, however.
“You mentioned that you have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow. Isn’t that rather sudden, when you just arrived?”
She looked relieved by the change of subject. “I accomplished what I came for.”
“And what is that?”
Her hesitation was curiously noticeable. “Actually I came to fetch Thorne. A very dear friend of mine is in grave trouble.”
“And he can help?”
“I hope so.”
“Thorne works for the Foreign Office, I understand.”
Caro looked at Max in surprise. “How did you know?”
“He told me.”
She frowned, wondering why Thorne had disclosed even that much about himself. That was the tale all the Guardians used to protect their identities and to explain their clandestine activities. In fact, Lady Hennessy believed her nephew to be one of Sir Gawain Olwen’s chief representatives in London.
It wasn’t precisely a lie. In theory the Guardians of the Sword reported to the British Foreign Office.
Publicly Sir Gawain was thought to head a select branch of the Foreign Office, and his work was considered a sanctioned government service. But few people realized the considerable number of agents he had under his command. Fewer still were privy to the secrets behind how the order had been established, or how deeply the Guardians permeated present British and European society.
There was a good reason for secrecy, since it provided a major advantage to their successful operations.
Caro started to reply, but her response was interrupted by another rap on the door.
“That should be Thorne now,” she murmured as she went to admit him.
He entered, carrying a leather pouch, which she knew contained dispatches for Sir Gawain. He handed the pouch to her, but before he could speak, she called his attention to her other visitor.
Thorne halted abruptly when he spied Max, arching an eyebrow in surprise.
“Mr. Leighton was just leaving,” Caro announced.
“Loath as I am to contradict a lady, I wasn’t,” Max refuted genially. “I was waiting to learn about the grave trouble her friend is in, and why you are being summoned to help.”
Thorne hesitated a long moment, looking from one to the other of them. “Lady Isabella Wilde,” he said finally. “Do you know her?”
“I’ve heard of her, certainly, although she was away when I visited Cyrene last year. An eccentric, wealthy widow.”
“She isn’t truly eccentric,” Caro said in her friend’s defense. “She is merely fond of exploration and less chained by convention than most women. Her father was the Count of Aranda, one of Spain’s greatest ministers.”
“But Bella’s adventures have been known to land her in scrapes before now,” Thorne added. “And this one is more serious than most. Her ship was likely seized by Barbary corsairs….”
He proceeded
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