Forever My Love (Berkeley-Faulkner #2)(70)

“Give it to me!”

“You don’t understand,” Alec said patiently, ignored ing her demand. “You are not capable of defending yourself with this… and you damn well should staying away from situations in which you would need to use it. Do you have another one?”

“No!” Mira said, holding out her hand.

“Good.” Alec pocketed the knife and smiled pleasantly into her flushed face.

It took Mira several seconds to find her voice. “You arrogant bastard! You obnoxious, self-righteous spawn of a dog—instead of sticking your nose into my affairs, why don’t you stick it up your own—”

“My, my, Miss Germain,” he murmured solicitously his smile deepening, “I had no idea you were so familiar with such vulgar terms of address.”

“Yes, you did. I’ve called you worse before.”

“With less reason.” He laughed softly. “What a quick study you are… a demure society miss one moment, a little caw-handed street urchin the next.”

“I am not caw-handed,” Mira hissed, resenting the implication that she was clumsy.

“No?” His eyes traveled over her with calculating slowness. Then he saw her hands, which were trembling roughly. Alec’s mouth tightened, the muscles in his jaw flexing. When he spoke, there was a hard note in his voice that she had never heard before. It wasnt anger and it wasn’t concern, yet it was undoubtedly born of strong sentiment. “Don’t do this again, Mira.”

“What?”

“Don’t take chances. There might have been a time in your life when you could afford them. But you can’t any longer. Don’t gamble with your safety. Do you know how many women disappear from this area each week? Do you know what kinds of things happen to them?”

“There are Charleys to protect us—” “Oh, really?” He cast an eye around the empty street. “Well, I won’t worry any longer about your safety, not with such an impressive source of protection—”

“I don’t need a lecture from you,” Mira interrupted indignantly. He did not own her… he did not have the right to tell her what to do. He had no vested interest in her safety, and by not coming after her when she had left Sackville Manor, he had made it clear that she had been nothing more than a night of entertainment for him.

“Yes, you do. You can’t go on flirting with disaster anymore. You need to put yourself on a tight rein… or if you’re incapable of that, you need to find someone who’ll do it for you.”

“Do you know what you need? You need someone to remind you that you aren’t the authority on what other people should do… you need someone who isn’t impressed by your conceit-ridden, high-handed attitude… and you need someone to take you down a step or two whenever you storm around like a… like a second-rate Napoleon!” she finished triumphantly.

Their eyes locked together, and they were furious not only with each other but also with themselves for wanting each other so desperately. Questions filled their minds, questions that they would never ask each other.

They wondered.

They still wanted.

“Mira?” came Rosalie’s anxious voice from the phaeton, and Mira tore her gaze away, walking back quickly.

“We couldn’t find it,” she said, and the other woman shivered slightly.

“I’m glad. I never dreamed you were carrying around something like that in your reticule. Promise me you won’t again.”

“I promise.”

“Would you like me to take you to wherever you’re staying, Lady Berkeley?” Alec asked, helping Rosalie into the carriage. “I could tie my horse to the back of the high-flier—”

“Thank you, but I think I can manage. We’re staying the night at a terrace in Red Lion Square. I can certainly drive that short distance without mishap.”

“Slower this time,” Alec suggested, and Rosalie smiled reluctantly at him.

Mira took Alec’s outstretched hand and climbed into the phaeton, letting go of him as soon as she was settled. Her fingers tingled from the touch of his.

“One more thing,” Mira said, her eyes darting to his inscrutable face. “What about the man who… what is going to happen to him?”

“Lord Falkner,” Rosalie inquired earnestly, “should we turn him over to one of those felons associations for prosecution?”

“If you wish,” Alec replied, his expression blank, his tone polite. “Which one would you prefer? The Society for the Suppression of Mendicity, or the Society for the Reformation of Manners?” Only Mira was aware of the utter mockery behind his question, and she longed to tell him what he could do with his suggestions.

“What would happen if we did turn him over to either of them?” Rosalie asked.

“He’ll probably end up dangling from the end of a rope.”

“Could we let him go?” Rosalie entreated. “I don’t think I could bear having his death on my conscience.”

“Of course,” Alec replied, handing her the ribbons. He glanced at Mira. “Au revoir.” He slapped the horse’s haunch lightly as the phaeton pulled away from the bank of the Thames. Mira fought to keep from looking back at him. Au revoir… unlike the more formal adieu, it implied an expectation that they would see each other again.