Page 56 of The Duke and the Darkness

She blinked hard to keep the hot tears at bay. Not tears of grief but frustration. She was so close to finding the men responsible, so close to making them pay—so close!“What you’re asking of me…I can’t say silent.”

“Just for now,” he conceded. “Until we find another way forward.”

She repeated so he would understand, “Just for now.”

From his frown, he wasn’t pleased about that concession, but it was all he’d gain from her tonight. She’d come too far and fought too hard to let justice slip through her fingers now. Especially after tonight.

With watery eyes, she grimaced at the bottle. “That’s a sorry attempt at a peace offering.”

“Fitting, then. Because it’s a sorry attempt at a peace. And brandy.” His expression softened. “But it’s also all I can offer.”

All he could offer… She had no choice but to accept his terms.For now.

Grudgingly, she took the bottle and helped herself to the last of the cognac. It burned as it seeped down her throat, and she wiped the last drops from her lips with her fingertips as she handed back the empty bottle.

“Now come back to bed,” she urged. “We both need sleep.”

He set the empty bottle aside on the night stand. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

He placed his hands on the mattress on either side of her and leaned in, bringing his dark brown eyes level with hers. “Because if I joined you in this bed—”

His mouth captured hers. Gone was any of the sultry slowness that had marked his early kisses. This time, he seized her lips with a fierce intensity that burned through her, as if hewanted to do nothing more at that moment than devour her. God help her, she wanted exactly that, and when his tongue plunged between her lips in a gesture both passionate and possessive, a low moan of surrender rose from her throat.

He shifted back just far enough to finish whispering against her lips, “It wouldn’t be to sleep.”

He flopped back down into the leather chair, kicked out his long legs, and lay back his head, his eyes closed. The posture of a gentleman perfectly at ease. But she knew better. Even from this far away she could see the fast rise and fall of his chest as he fought to steady the breath she’d taken from him.

She lay back in the bed and stared up into the darkness. Sleep wouldn’t come tonight for either of them.

Chapter Fourteen

Devlin held openBrechenhurst’s door as Lucien Grenier, Duke of Crewe, stepped into the building for the first time. He hadn’t wanted Crewe to learn about the place this way—Hell, he hadn’t wanted Crewe to learn about the place at all—but it couldn’t be helped. The enemy had attacked, and Devlin needed to rally his forces.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” Crewe said as he swept his gaze around the ground floor common room and took in the converted old warehouse. “Never figured you for the estate development—”

He froze as his eyes landed on Peyton as she stood next to the long dining table, her hands folded demurely in front of her. His face paled.

His shock was understandable. After all, he was staring at a ghost.

For a long moment, neither moved. Then Crewe blew out a hard breath and muttered, “Demme… It’s true, then. You reallyarealive.”

“So they tell me.” She shrugged a slender shoulder. “I’m surprised you remember me.”

“Barely,” he admitted. This time, the look he gave her scoured over her from head to toe. “But then, innocent misses fresh from the schoolroom weren’t exactly my concern in thosedays.” Then Crewe added in a mumble, because it was expected from the rake he so carefully cultivated himself to be, “They still aren’t.”

Devlin remained by the door and watched as Crewe approached Peyton and held out his hand to her. Their gazes remained locked as she slipped her hand into his. Instead of bowing over it as he should have, Crewe folded both of his over hers and held it, as if he needed to feel her to discern for himself that she was corporeal and not just a figment of his imagination.

It was also a silent acknowledgement of all the wrongs his father had done to her family.

He released her hand with a nod and stepped back. He couldn’t help but rake a second, unbelieving look over her, even as he asked Devlin over his shoulder, “She knows, then?”

“She knows everything about the criminal enterprise.” His carefully phrased answer put Crewe at ease. Lucien’s secrets, at least, were still his own.

“Then she can hear what I have to share with you.” Crewe crossed to the long dining table where trays of leftover food still sat after the children had filed out that morning and took with them their share of sausage rolls, apples, buns—foods that could be easily put into a pocket and kept for later. He helped himself to an apple. “It’s exactly what you suspected.” He shined the apple on his jacket sleeve before crunching out a bite. The casual move hid his own concern over the news. “Horrender’s back. He wants to reassemble the old network, and this time, he’ll make certain to pick peers or officials for protection whom he can better push around than our fathers.”

Devlin glanced at Peyton to see her reaction. But her face remained calm. Like him, she wasn’t surprised.