Page 95 of The Big Bad Duke

“I would never,” he replied, taking her hand in his. The contact sent warmth shooting up her arm as he threaded their fingers together, his thumb brushing gently across her knuckles.

“Come closer,” he said softly. “Let me warm you.”

When she raised her eyebrows at the suggestive undertone, he let out a weak chuckle and shook his head, wincing slightly at the movement.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he clarified, and there was something almost boyish in his embarrassment. “At least, not here. I will just hold you…” He paused, and when he continued, his voice was softer, more vulnerable than she’d ever heard it. “If you let me.”

She didn’t understand him. He had been so angry with her just a few hours earlier. Then he had shielded her from an attack. And now he was infinitely gentle with her again.

His moods were like whiplash, and she doubted he understood them himself.

Perhaps, battered and beaten, he just needed the comfort of her touch.

Or perhaps witnessing the men trying to force Leila into that terrible act had softened him toward her.

She settled next to him carefully, acutely aware of his injuries and the need to avoid causing him further pain. But as she shifted to find a comfortable position, her elbow accidentally bumped against his ribs, and he couldn’t suppress a groan of pain.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, hastening to move a little farther away from him, creating space between their bodies. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That is a new development,” he said, and though there was dry humor in his voice, she could hear the underlying pain as well.

She rolled her eyes heavenward, exasperated by his stubbornness. “I never wanted to hurt you, Gideon.”

“Yet you tried anyway.” The words weren’t accusatory, just a statement of fact.

“I did,” she admitted quietly. “At the beginning.” She looked down at their joined hands. “Gideon, I told you the truth about the fire. I didn’t mean for you to die there. I should have told you everything from the start; I know that now. But I didn’t think you trusted me enough to listen.”

“Because you didn’t trust me fully either,” he observed, and there was no condemnation in his voice.

“I didn’t,” she agreed. “Did you? Trust me, I mean?”

He was quiet for a long moment, and she could almost feel him thinking, weighing his words carefully.

“I think deep down, I always trusted you,” he said slowly. “It wasn’t wise; it wasn’t logical, but I just… I just trusted you.” He paused, and she felt him shift slightly beside her. “I understand why the Cardinal chose you to be his assassin. You have an aura about you, something that draws people in. You wrap your prey in a haze, and it’s not easy to escape from it. But more importantly, I don’t think anyone would want to escape from it. It feels so warm and comfortable… it feels like home.”

His words should have been flattering, but instead, they made something cold settle in her stomach.

“I don’t believe I have that effect on everyone,” she said quietly. At least, I hope I don’t.

“Certainly on enough men over the years since the Cardinal deemed you necessary for over a decade.”

She didn’t like to think about her past that way, didn’t like to examine too closely what she had become or what she had been forced to do. She had simply done what was necessary to survive, to protect Emir, to keep them both alive in a world that seemed determined to destroy them.

She hadn’t enjoyed it. She had never taken pleasure in the deception, the seduction, the violence that followed. It had all been a means to an end, a role she played because the alternative was death.

But she was good at it.

Was that all she was good at? To ensnare men into a trap and eliminate them when they were no longer useful?

And if so, was the attraction between Gideon and her just a charade? Would it fade away once the danger was over?

What would she even do once she rescued Emir—if she rescued him? She didn’t have a penny to her name, no resources, no connections beyond the Cardinal.

Emir had received an education as one of her conditions to work for the Cardinal. Perhaps he would be able to find legitimate work somewhere, could build a normal life for himself. But her…

All she knew how to do was deceive, seduce, and kill. Those were her only skills, her only talents. What kind of life could she build with such a foundation? What kind of future could she offer anyone, least of all a man like Gideon?

Gideon’s head grew heavy against her shoulder, his breathing deepened and slowed, and she realized that exhaustion and pain had finally overtaken him again. In sleep, the harsh lines of pain and wariness smoothed from his features, making him look younger, more vulnerable.