Someone to Watch Over Me (Bow Street Runners #1)(74)

"I'll explain later." Unable to help himself, he bent and possessed her mouth in a hard, impassioned kiss. "Let's go."

Carefully they made their way down the broken stairs, Grant leading the way. He tested each step and landing before allowing Victoria to proceed. She was surprised by the weakness of her own legs. Although she knew she was safe, she could not stop trembling. Shivers and chills passed over her skin, and she stiffened in reaction.

"Are you hurt?" Grant asked at one point, and although his voice was calm, she heard the undertones of anguished concern.

"No," she said, clamping her teeth together to stop a spate of chattering. "He didn't...that is, you reached me before he..." She fell silent as Grant lifted her gently over a broken step. "I'm perfectly fine," she said, strengthening her voice in an effort to reassure him. However, he seemed far from convinced. She winced as she saw the hardness of his profile, knowing that he was silently berating himself for what had happened.

It seemed an eternity passed before they finally reached the ground floor and stepped outside. As soon as they reached solid ground, Grant lifted her in his arms, holding her high against his chest. Victoria pushed at his shoulder as she realized that they were in the midst of a crowd of constables and Runners and curious onlookers. "I can walk," she murmured as rumbles of praise and relief went through the assemblage.

Ignoring the words, Grant continued to hold her. One of the horse patrol captains approached, dismounting and nodding to Grant respectfully. "Sir," he said, "I'm glad to see that Miss Duvall is safely recovered." He paused and glanced at the crumbling factory. "Is Mr. Keyes still in there? That is, what should we--"

"He's alive," Grant replied, sounding none too pleased about the fact. "But he'll need assistance coming down from the second floor."

The captain frowned with dismay. "The place is a death trap, sir. I couldn't guarantee the safety of any man who might venture in there."

"Then knock the place over and dig Keyes out of the rubble," Grant said flatly. "I don't give a damn how you get him."

The captain blinked uneasily at Grant's callousness toward a former comrade. "Sir, may I offer the use of my own mount?" He signaled a member of the horse patrol, who led a large chestnut to them.

Grant lifted Victoria into the saddle, immediately swinging up behind her. He flicked a cold glance toward the dilapidated building. "When Mr. Keyes is brought to the ground floor," he said to the captain, "arrest him and have him sent to the Bow Street holding room. I have unfinished business with the bastard...and after Cannon is through with him, he's mine." "Yes, Mr. Morgan," the captain said, regarding him with a mixture of awe and trepidation. Clearly Grant was not a man he would risk displeasing.

Too exhausted to bother with modesty, Victoria sat astride the chestnut, her skirts riding to her knees. She leaned back against Grant while his steady arm came around her front. His long fingers curved around the cage of her ribs, and he pressed her against him as he signaled the horse to an immediate canter. She was jostled a bit, her body too stiff and tired to move naturally with the horse. But she welcomed the cold, pattering rain on her face, and the soreness of her limbs, all physical reminders that she was still alive.

Grant had come for her, she thought in wonder. He had stopped Keyes from killing her. It was a miracle almost too great to comprehend. She was filled with gratitude, and more than that, there was a sense of intimacy that went beyond all her previous feelings for him. She knew now that he would risk anything, do anything, for her, that he cared for her more than anyone ever had. She knew also that he would have killed Keyes, but instead had left him alive because she had willed it. The thought caused a thrill of pleasure inside her. Grant was a magnificent man, and very much his own master...but she had the power to influence him. Because he loved her.

Savoring the feeling, Victoria leaned back harder against him, not minding the cold and discomfort of the ride. The rain-pierced darkness was barely illuminated by the light of a streetlamp as they reached number 4 Bow Street. Dismounting first, Grant reached up for Victoria and lowered her carefully to the ground. He kept his hands at her waist, steadying her. She smiled up at him, sensing the worry lurking behind his expressionless face.

"I'm all right," she said.

His jaw hardened. "I keep thinking of you lying on that factory floor. And Keyes over you--"

"But you stopped him." She reached up and caressed his cheek, his stubbled skin startlingly warm to her chilled fingers. A tremor of fierce emotion went through him, and she felt the vibration against her palm.

"What if I had been too late?" he asked hoarsely, his eyes so dark they appeared black instead of green.

Victoria stared at him compassionately, realizing that he needed comfort as much as she did, perhaps even more. Since the death of his brother, Grant had never faced the possibility of losing someone he cared about. He had not allowed himself to truly love someone, because he had not wanted to risk feeling such pain again.

"It wouldn't have been your fault," she said carefully. "Some things are beyond your control."

But that wasn't what he wanted to hear, she saw with a sudden flash of amusement. He wasn't the kind of man who would admit that anything was beyond his control.

"That's damned cold comfort," he muttered, one dark brow lifting in a sardonic arch. "Can't you do better than that?"