Trust Me by Natasha Blackthorne

no, he was about to turn everything on its head— she had no
choice but to admit the truth. “Yes, I remember.”
    “You said you wanted
me to guide you in matters relating to interaction with our peers.”
    “I don’t remember
exactly how it was phrased. You said you would protect me in certain
uncomfortable situations.” She remembered intensely the two days they spent at
Eastwood Place, in particular the dark, carnal temptations that she’d had no
previous experience with.
    “And this is an
uncomfortable situation that you are a bit lost in how to respond, is it not?”
    A wan smile stretched
her lips. “I suppose it is.”
    “Therefore it is my
responsibility to guide you and protect you as I see fit. I shall be with you,
always. I am not going to simply deposit you at Lloyd House and then disappear
to St. James’ Place.”
    Warmth curled around
her heart and she couldn’t resist a small smile. “I should hope not.”
    He squeezed her hand
and smiled.
    “But there won’t even
be that many people in town.” She couldn’t help pointing out the obvious.
    Jon shook his head.
“In light of the unfortunate events at Saint Peter’s Field, I think that
Parliament will be called to sit rather early this year.”
    The massacre. When it
had all been transpiring, she and Ruel had been tucked away in isolation,
consumed only with each other.
    Even when she came
back to Whitecross and read the London papers, the massacre had seemed so
distant, so unreal to her. Yet all the stories of other riots and mayhem
occurring in the weeks after had chilled her blood.
    The people seemed set
to revolt everywhere.
    A further chill
settled into her. There was no possible way to avoid London now. “Of course we
must go. If Parliament is to sit and weigh all of these grave issues, then you
must take your seat. You must take a pivotal part.”
    Jon frowned. “I will
go and listen to the debates and vote.”
    “But the earls of
Ruel have always been a bastion of Tory power. Leaders. It is your duty as a
peer of this realm to take a pivotal part in this debate.” The words escaped
her before she could think.
    He sat back with his
long legs spread apart and he steepled his hands between his knees.
    And he was so quiet!
    She held her breath,
wondering if she had said too much. One did not tell a man like Jon what to do.
    Finally, he exhaled.
    “I am warrior, not a
politician.” His frown deepened. “I do not think speeches and talk will help
much with this situation. I would rather take action than sit around and talk
an issue to death.”
    A new, stronger pang
of fear struck into her chest. “Action? Y-you mean increased military action? Against the people?”
    Without looking away
from his hands, he slowly nodded. “If need be.”
    Just like in France,
the revolt would build and build and… Oh God, would England really go through
everything that France had?
    She took a deep
breath, trying to quell her racing thoughts. “Do you think there could be that
much continued unrest?”
    He looked up and his
sober expression chilled her even more. “I hope it doesn’t come to that. But
outrage is sweeping the countryside. The troops attacked a peaceful gathering.
A damned lecture. Now eighteen people are dead. Hundreds injured. The government
needs to reprimand the military leadership who allowed things to get out of
hand. And at this time, it doesn’t appear that they will do that. Who knows
where this could end? God only knows.” He stood. “It is turning late.” His tone
held a final note. He had listened to her arguments and let her have her say.
Now, the subject was closed.
    He reached a hand
down to her. “Come, let’s go to bed. We’ll need an early start on the morrow.”

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    Anne gasped. The air was
so thin. She threw her hands out. They slammed against something solid. She ran
her palms over it. It felt like finely sanded, unpainted wood.
    She pressed. It
wouldn’t budge. She pounded her