Page 41 of No Going Back

It seemed, however, she had other ideas. A hand curved around his neck, and in spite of his morning breath, she kissed him.

“Mm, nice,” she murmured against his cheek.

“Better if you let me shower first,” he promised. “I stink.”

“If you insist. I’m going to get breakfast started, so why don’t you freshen up now?”

“I fully intend to.” He pressed his lips to her knuckles, and shot a quick look at his overnight bag in the corner of the bedroom.

Maddie’s gaze followed his. “You could always leave a few bits and pieces here, if you wanted to,” she offered. “No pressure—just a thought.”

“I like the way you think. Now go, woman, and let me clean up.”

“Okay, then, if I have to. I’ll go and finish breakfast.”

He watched her leave the room. The way those hips swayed was downright sinful. He’d better get used to it, if he was going to keep Maddie in his life.

If? There was no doubt—she belonged in his life. As he let the scorching-hot shower hammer him clean, Guy decided he’d do whatever was necessary to achieve that goal. He’d find answers to his questions, simple explanations that would exterminate even the most sinister of his suspicions, and he’d get to keep her.

He was almost dressed when he heard the knock. Wearing a reassuringly bright smile, Maddie stuck her head around the door.

“Hey, Fawkes, breakfast’s ready when you are!”

Guy froze. That name. He hadn’t heard it in years. Only one person had ever used it. None of his family, none of his childhood friends or brothers-in-arms, none of his colleagues. Only one person had jokingly bestowed upon him a nickname relating to the infamous 17th-century Gunpowder Plot conspirator, and she was dead. Deafened by the blood pounding with a frantic, feverish drumbeat through his veins, he pivoted towards the source.

She covered her mouth with a trembling hand. As he continued to hold her gaze, all the little niggles and questions slotted into place, as if the pieces of a jigsaw had suddenly fallen to earth in the impossible picture he’d somehow known they’d form.

Ice-cold trepidation blasted the truth at him, burned it into his useless brain. The biggest question of all flashed in mile-high letters, and even though he knew the answer, he still had to ask it. He needed to hear her say the words and admit the terrible truth.

“Who the hell are you?”