She must not—
He lowered his dark head to the hollow of her throat, dragging his lips across it. She shivered with the heat of his tongue, her hands curling into fists as her traitorous body surged with throbbing heat.
In a sensual haze, she peered over his shoulder, and then thrust him away, pulling up her bodice. General Dodge and two uniformed men streamed in behind Lucas.
“Colonel Rourke, I warned you to leave Miss Pierce alone. Arrest him.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The library was quietly lit, the spines of many books cast their outlines in deep shadows on the shelves. Rachel closed the doors behind her, silencing the distant strains of the orchestra, and moved to the fireplace. She slumped in one of the several high-back chairs situated about the room, her heart beating a shameful rhythm as she clamored to get a hold of her emotions.
When the soldiers put their hands on Lucas and before he could wrench free, ten more soldiers seized him in their arms, grappling him to his knees, and manacling him. Like a mad bull, he fought against his chains…his beautiful eyes…eyes that moments ago held such sensual warmth…were cold shards of ice that flashed with murderous intent.
How he must hate her.
And she knew for one awful second that if turned loose, his long, sinewy fingers would wrap around her throat. But it was when he lifted his head that impelled her need to flee, to run to the opposite side of the world if necessary. Her blood rushed and her heartbeat thundered in her ears.Flee.Oh, God…she needed to flee, run away.
“Enough!” said General Dodge.
By her hand. By her orders.Like a common criminal, they had gagged and dragged Lucas away, escorting him out the rear of the house and away from the eyes of revelers. She couldn’t stop them and say he was her husband. No, Lucas would get in her way.
Why hadn’t she thought this through? Humiliating him that way, especially after he told her Susan Webster was not to be his bride. The shock of that news must have frozen her brain. She’d reacted solely on emotion, not rational thought.
Her vision blurred, distorting the flames in the fireplace and veiling the motes of dust in the dim orange light. Her fault.All her fault.Guilt stung like needles.
After Lucas was taken away, she hoped still to get the information she needed and had danced the entire night away…to no avail. Her back ached, and her face throbbed from smiling. She removed her slippers, letting them fall to the floor and kneaded her sore feet. Yet for all her effort, there was not a hint of any rebel activity. Bowman had departed early. She had missed her opportunity to find the leader of the Copperheads and had nothing else to go on. She’d failed. Lost her chance. Lost Lucas. Forever.
Her chest ached with the irretrievable loss.
She had no notion what she should do, nor did she have the mental strength to decide. In this moment she was only capable of sitting next to the fire and staring at the flames.
How she wished Lucas was there to comfort her. But he wasn’t and he would never be there for her again. Tears welled.Her fault. All her fault.
She started when the door opened.Please go away. Let me be.She was so tired of the line of cloying males. She closed her eyes, pulled up her knees, and tucked her skirts and hoops beneath her hips, concealing herself from view. As long as no one moved to warm themselves, they’d not see her.
“Let’s make this quick. Tomorrow morning at the Ruther’s place, five miles north of Washington near Steeple Ridge, we meet to finalize the plans for the night’s activities.”
Rachel gripped her skirts. The mention of a specific time and place prodded the hairs on her neck to stand at attention. The man’s voice possessed a hint of a grating drawl. Familiar. How she longed to peek around her chair.
“Did anyone seem suspicious to you tonight?”
Mr. Walsh’s voice, her former employer at Elm Street. She hadn’t seen him all night. Dare he be so blatant to make a public appearance? To flee from the room and have him arrested. They would catch her and all would be for naught.
“No. I’ve kept my guard up. Frankly, I’m tired, and I’m going to turn in, so I can be fresh tomorrow. In the past week, I’ve been to Chicago, Baltimore, and New York, synchronizing our event. I assume everyone here is set. Have there been any difficulties during my absence?”
“Minor. The attempt to assassinate Colonel Rourke failed. We think the Saint may have been aware and interfered,” Walsh said acidly.
Rachel pressed farther into the chair. Her shoes. She leaned over, stretching her fingers and picked them up.
“You idiot! I gave orders to make sure he was dead upon my return, and you call the Saint’s presence minor? He could jeopardize our best laid plans.”
“Don’t worry. Everyone is on alert and ready to meet at Ruther’s place.”
“I hear Colonel Rourke was arrested this evening. Did you have a hand in that?”
“Don’t know what the infraction was, but I’ll learn of it tomorrow. He’s too close as far as I’m concerned. But with him locked up, that puts him out of our way.”
Who was Lucas too close to?
