Tempting Fate by Kerrigan Byrne (trending books to read .txt) 📗

years. She found where he installed the broiler that now heated their running hot water, and her eyes bulged at the expense. She found her sisters’ allowances, and where they stopped when they’d each taken husbands without his consent.

But what was this? Quarterly payments by banknote to an M.W. Goode at Fairhaven House, in a staggering amount.

If Felicity had yearned for anything in her life, it’d been extended family.

Her parents were both only children, so far as she knew, and neither of them had come from prolific stock. Had her father been helping some distant relative? Someone far more removed than even Bainbridge?

Encouraged, she frantically went through several files, coming up with nothing. On a whim, she searched through all the drawers, shelves, and even his cigar box, finding them infuriatingly empty.

Blowing out a faint curse on a frustrated breath, his bookshelf caught her eye.

Of course. The family Bible. Her father had been a zealous man, perhaps M.W. Goode would be mentioned in the records of family births and deaths.

She lifted it down, turning through centuries of names with no little amount of awe, finding no one with those particular initials.

But an edge caught her attention, the outline of thick paper snared beneath the thin pages of gold-leafed scripture.

Extracting it, she unfolded what happened to be a deed to an estate.

Fairhaven House.

Apparently, a modest manor with acreage on some benighted moor in the north. She could find no income from agriculture or tenants, which wasn’t at all like her father…

So who was this M.W. Goode?

Heavy boots landed at the bottom of the grand staircase and angled back toward the courtyard.

Only one man in this household walked with that rhythm.

And he was going out into the storm.

Felicity abandoned her discovery as she dashed out the study and down the hall after Gabriel, her bare feet flying over the chilly marble floor.

He was already halfway across the courtyard when she reached the threshold and threw open the door. “Gabriel, wait!” she called after him, gripping the frame and blinking against the mist blown in from the deluge, dotting her spectacles.

He froze, massive shoulders hunched beneath the upturned collar of his coat. His fists remained locked in his pockets, and he made no move to face her.

“Where are you going?”

His chin touched his shoulder, revealing the strong profile of his visage. “I’m going to find Marco… or perhaps that solicitor, I haven’t decided yet.”

“In the middle of the night? In this storm? It’s ludicrous.”

“It’s the best time to scare the truth out of someone… or get rid of a body.”

She held out a hand he couldn’t see, stepping forward beneath the eaves. “Don’t do that,” she entreated. “The solicitor was only doing his job.”

“And I’m doing mine, the one you hired me for.”

“No. This is not what our contract entailed.”

“Our agreement is that I keep you safe,” he said over his shoulder before resuming his march toward the stables.

“Then stay here and protect me!” she demanded in an authoritative voice she didn’t quite recognize as her own.

He ignored her.

“Please, Gabriel,” she resulted to begging. “Come inside. Wait until the storm passes, at least. You’ll catch your death. You must be freezing.”

“No!” He whirled on her with such fury, she took a retreating step back into the house. Even from here, she could see his eyes were no longer grey, but molten quicksilver, snapping with unrestrained emotion.

“No, dammit,” he snarled. “I’m not cold. I’m on fire. Do you understand? I have to escape this fucking house before I burn alive. Do you really expect me to sleep with only a wall separating us after—” The words died beneath a clash of thunder, but they each glanced toward the hothouse.

He stood like a warrior before an advancing army, rather than a man against a much smaller, unarmed woman. Feet planted, fists and jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. Rain sluicing down the grooves and scars of his savage face like the tears of an angry god.

Say something, Felicity ordered herself. Say something. Don’t be a coward.

For some terrible reason, her jaw had locked shut.

He deflated with one endless breath, lifting a hand to slick back the wet gathers of his hair. “Felicity… I was wrong to deceive you. I’m just… so damned sorry. Your family is here now, and Raphael will keep you safe while I hunt for the threat on your life. It is time— it’s better— that I go—”

“I’m on fire too.” The words tripped from her mouth and fell into the gathering puddle between them.

He didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe.

And to her ultimate relief, he didn’t leave.

“I’m on fire too,” she repeated, more breathlessly this time, as the visible vapor produced by the heat of her words reached out to him. “I… I want what you want.”

He took one threatening step toward her, jabbing a finger in her direction. “You can’t even imagine what I want.”

She stepped down again, on the thin line of dry cobbles beneath the eaves. “What if I could?”

“Don’t.” He swiped a hand in the air as if to erase the sight of her. “Don’t follow me.” He turned and strode into the shadows between the courtyard gas lamps.

In what might have been her first impulsive decision of her lifetime, Felicity plunged into the frigid downpour and ran to catch up with him.

Seizing his arm with both hands, she spun him back to face her. “I’m not letting you leave like this,” she cried over the storm. “What if I never see you again?”

Something in the grim set of his jaw told her that’s exactly what he had in mind.

“Goddammit, Felicity, get inside where it’s warm.”

The rain drenched her almost immediately, gathering her hair into soaking strings. Plastering her nightgown and wrapper to her skin.

The drops stung, but she barely felt the pain.

“Come with me,” she tugged again.

His gaze dropped to her body for only a moment as she stood blinking against the drops that ran down the surface of her spectacles, obscuring some of his expression from her view.

Swearing