“Why is that?
“You’re very persuasive,” I said, stepping closer to him.
“Am I?” he replied, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me closer.
I gazed up into his eyes. My heart beat hard. “Yes,” I whispered in reply, unable to form an acceptable witty comeback.
He reached out and gently stroked the scar on my face. “Look who is convincing whom,” he said then set a soft kiss on my lips. The sweet and salty tastes on his tongue, the feel of his body pressed against mine, and a terrible but wonderful sense of want washed through me.
It seemed that Lionheart shared the sentiment. It was only when we heard a door open nearby that we broke apart.
Lionheart coughed lightly then adjusted his waistcoat. “Very well, Agent Louvel. I shall see you in the morning.”
I grinned at him. I didn’t want to let him go. I wanted to stay there with him. I wanted…him. An avalanche of carnal thoughts crossed my mind.
Hell’s bells, Clemeny. Get it together.
“In the tomorrow…I mean, morning. Bye.”
Lionheart huffed a laugh. “Bye.”
Swallowing hard, I turned and left Temple Square.
From the first moment I’d met Sir Richard Spencer, I’d been attracted to him. In truth, I’d spent more than a moment lusting over him even before we were together. But it was one thing to lust over someone you thought you’d never have, and quite another to realize that you were actually on a path that could actually lead to…
My cheeks reddened at the thought.
But even so, my mind delighted at the idea. I was brave enough to slay a werewolf. Was I brave enough to bed one too?
Chapter 8: Nothing, No One, it’s Nothing
I drove the steamauto across town to Harper’s flat in Piccadilly. I had thought to leave a note with the doorman to inform Harper the auto was hers to take to Willowbrook, but as it turned out, Harper was home. Somehow, I imagined her perpetually in the office buried in paperwork when she wasn’t with me.
When I reached her door, I heard Harper singing inside. Loudly. And giddily.
Grinning, I shook my head then knocked on the door.
“Coming,” Harper called.
A moment later, she opened the door with a wide smile. “You’re early. I thought you said eight—” Harper stopped cold when she saw me standing there.
I eyed her over. She was wearing a decidedly feminine dress, jewelry, and lip coloring. My eyes flicked to the room inside. She had laid out a fancy cape and reticule.
“Clemeny,” she said, her voice filled with dismay. Behind her painted cheeks, I saw the color drain from her face. “What are you doing here?”
“Good evening, Elaine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, a guilty expression crossing her face. “I was just…surprised.”
“Why are you dressed like that?”
“I’m going…out.”
“Out. Right. I guess I’ve come just in time. I’m headed out of town in the morning. I thought to leave you the steamauto in case you want to drive it to Willowbrook. It’s parked outside.”
“Oh, okay.”
“So, you’re going out?”
“Um. Yes. The theater.”
I smiled. “What, Cabell finally convince you to give him a chance?”
Harper snort-laughed. “God no.”
“Quartermain?”
“Oh. No. He’s…no.”
Harper and I stood staring at one another.
“I thought you’d be getting ready to go to Willowbrook,” I said.
“I am ready,” Harper said, a slight tone of indignation in her voice. Harper cleared her throat. “Thank you for bringing the steamauto. That was thoughtful of you. You aren’t going to need it?”
“No. Lionheart is going to drive.”
“Good. Good. I’m glad he’s going. The druids…you just never know,” Harper said as she fiddled with the door handle.
“You’re right about that,” I agreed.
“Yep,” Harper said then cast a glance toward the stairwell behind me.
“Yep.”
We stood there in silence for a long moment.
“All right, partner. See you when you get back,” I said.
Harper nodded.
“I’ll…I should go,” I said, pointing behind me.
“Okay. Be safe.”
“You too,” I replied. I turned to leave, only pausing a moment to look back at Harper. She had a strange expression on her face. “You look pretty,” I told her.
She let out a strangled half-yelp, half-something that sounded like a hiccup. “Thank you. You too. I mean, thank you. Not that you aren’t pretty too—”
“Good night, Harper.”
“Good night, Clemeny.”
I gave her a little wave then headed back out into the night air. It was cool but not cold. It wasn’t a far walk to Vesta’s Grotto from here. Pulling up my hood, I headed back across town.
All right, so Harper had a gentleman caller.
That was perfectly fine. That was her business. But she didn’t need to act so weird about it.
I frowned then shook my head.
Harper could do whatever she liked. I had a case to worry about anyway. And a glowing dagger. Why in the hell did the dagger glow when I touched it? A sharp wind blew off the Thames. On it, I heard a soft voice.
Clemeny.
Clemeny Louvel.
“Yes, yes. I’m coming. I’m coming.”
Chapter 9: First Impressions
The gate outside Vesta’s Grotto squeaked when I swung it closed. I crossed the courtyard to the house. Sitting on a window seat inside the house, a furry black shape watched me, its eyes glimmering. The kitten leaped from the ledge, making the curtain sway. A moment later, the front door opened and Grand-mère appeared.
“Just in time, my girl. Just in time. Dinner is ready,” she said then bent to pet the kitten, praising the feline’s watchdog qualities in a slew of sweetly chirped French. She kissed the kitten on its head then set it back down.
Grand-mère turned and headed inside. The kitten scampered across the courtyard toward me.
“Tattletale,” I said, pausing to pick her up. “And what have you been busy with today?” I asked, petting the little cat on her head. The kitten, whom I’d rescued from Lady Cabell, had grown from the tiny puffball I’d smuggled off the Fens to a long-legged creature Grand-mère had named Minuit.
The kitten purred sweetly, rubbing her head against my hand.
I slipped inside, closing the door behind me.
“Oranges and lemons, it’s so cold outside,” Grand-mère said. “You’d hardly think it’s almost spring. You need to work in the office until this cold weather passes.”
“I guess this means you won’t approve of me leaving for Cornwall in the morning.”
“Cornwall,” Grand-mère protested. “What’s in Cornwall?”
“The Cornish,” I replied, hanging my cape on the hook just inside the door.
My nose led me to the kitchen where rosemary chicken, fresh-baked sourdough bread, and roasted potatoes sat on the table. Grand-mère worked busily setting out the plates.
“Cornwall. Is Harper going?”
“No. She’s headed north. I left the auto with her.”
“Then how are you going to get there?”
“Professor Spencer.”
“Oh,” Grand-mère said, the delight evident in her voice. “And how is the good professor?”
I chuckled. “Very well, Grand-mère.”
“I was so disappointed to see Edwin go, but Professor Spencer is such a gentleman. A truly refined man, a scholar. He’s such a marvelous catch, Clemeny. You’ve done very well.”