Page 112 of The Bachelor Spy
They couldn’t let that intelligence leave Havensbrooke.
Blake pulled her into his arms, and she came without resistance, her head tucking beneath his chin, her arms wrapping around his waist. He stood there in the darkness, holding her as if he could somehow transfer strength, courage, safety through touch alone.
God, help us.
“If this goes badly—” Blake started.
“It won’t.”
“But if it does—”
“Blake.” She pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Don’t.”
“I was going to say,” he continued, his voice rougher than he’d expected, “that I love you and I would rather haveyoushooting at me than anyone else in the whole world.”
A weak, silent laugh shook from her. “With charm like that, someoneneedsto be shooting at you.”
“Probably.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then another to her temple, then—because he couldn’t help himself—one to her lips that was meant to be brief but somehow became something deeper. Desperate. A promise and a plea all at once.
When they finally broke apart, Evie’s dark eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“You’d better survive this,” she whispered. “Because I fully intend to make an honest man of you, Stephen Blake. And I refuse to be a widow before I’m even a bride.”
His heart fisted in his chest. “Is that a proposal, my love?”
“My love?” Her brow tipped. “I do like that one.”
He chuckled, an action oddly comforting given the circumstances. Her kiss probably helped too.
“But actually,” she continued, “if it’s more incentive not to get yourself killed.” She rose on tiptoe and pressed another kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to make leaving nearly impossible. Then she released him, her entire body tensing with purpose. The vulnerable woman disappeared, replaced by the agent.
“She may use your brother against you,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Don’t let her make him a weapon. You’ve already lost enough to Evan.”
She nodded, releasing her hold on his jacket.
He drew in a breath, pushing away from her with an effort that felt like tearing skin from bone.
She stepped toward the servants’ stairs, then stopped. “Stephen?”
He raised a brow, catching the faintest smile on her face.
“If you survive, I promise to buy you a new oxford shirt in that atrocious color you adore so much.”
His smile flashed wide before he could stop it, a bright warmth bursting through his middle despite everything. “How can I even contemplate failure now? What man of fashion could refuse such an offer?”
Her gaze held his for another heartbeat—fierce and tender—and she disappeared down the corridor toward the servants’ stairs.
Blake waited until she was out of sight before allowing himself one moment of vulnerability. He braced a hand against the wall and looked heavenward.
Protect her. Please.
Protect us both.
Chapter 16
Early moonlight, a nearly full moon, bathed the garden in the type of glow that made Grace’s skin tingle from her fingertips up to her scalp. The latest events in her house probably added to the sense of anticipation. Her imagination probably helped.
And Shams, slipping through the hedgerow as shadowy as the wind brushing bushes in and out of light, probably enhanced the entire ambience. It was the sort of night when mysterious things happened.
