Page 102 of A Story of Love

He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

“Fine, maybe I interrogate sometimes. But that is only because men refuse to take a woman seriously otherwise.”

“I take you very seriously.” The humorous glint from only seconds earlier had vanished.

Lori swallowed self-consciously at the unmistakable heat in his gaze. “If you take me so seriously then stop fobbing me off with excuses and tell me why you left me a prisoner in a brothel while you went off to cavort at a party?”

“I told you: it’s because I take you seriously.”

She shoved away the plate in front of her. “Quit feeding me these vague answers. I want the truth, or you can take me back to my room.”

“But you haven’t even touched your pheasant, Lorelei.”

“I am in earnest… Fast. What is going on? I’ve waited patiently. You owe me the respect of an answer.”

Something flickered in his eyes at her use of his name. He sat back and lifted his wine and took a sip before saying, “You’re right. I do owe you some answers.” He set down his glass. “In addition to your safety—which really is a concern—I’m keeping you here because I have something very important that needs to happen and I can’t have you muddling about and destroying months’ worth of work and planning.”

“Putting aside for a moment how draconian and illegal your behavior is, just how long do you estimate this something will take?”

“I’m hoping it won’t be much longer. In fact, it should be over within the next few days.” He smiled grimly. “One way, or another.”

“Would you let me go today if I promised not to pry into your affairs for the next few weeks—a month, even?”

He smiled and she suddenly noticed the fine spray of lines around his striking eyes was more pronounced, the furrows beside his prominent nose deeply graven in his lean cheeks. He looked… exhausted and yet strangely alert, as if he were on edge and waiting for something to happen.

“I can’t protect you if I let you go,” he said. “You’ve already meddled in something you don’t understand—no, I can’t tell you about it. Not yet,” he spoke over her when she tried to interrupt. “I will make you a bargain, Lorelei. If you will—”

“Another bargain? All I seem to do is give in to the people here.”

Rather than look angry at her rude interruption, his mouth pulled up on one side. “You mean like the bargain you made with Mrs. Marlowe to interview all the employees while I was away?” He chuckled. “She tells me that you have been scribbling like mad—filling enough pages of parchment to make a book. It sounds as if you should be grateful that your captivity has provided you with such inspiration.”

Lori was indeed grateful for the last few days, which had been some of the most inspiring and productive of her life. But she was hardly going to tell him that. “I’m delighted my sudden spate of productivity amuses you.” He didn’t bother to deny it. “However, I have to point out that any stories I want to write are subject to your approval—another bargain I made.”

“I need to protect the people who work here, you must understand that?”

“I do understand. And I want to protect them, too. It would be nice if you believed me. If you didn’t think I’d just destroy innocent women’s lives to get my story in a newspaper.” She raised a hand when he opened his mouth. “And if you are going to mention last year, then—”

“I wasn’t going to mention that business with the child slavery article,” he said, no longer amused. “I knew full well what Parker believed, and I did nothing to deny his accusations. I did, however, try to warn you not to get involved.”

Lori scoffed. “Oh, and I was just supposed to take your word—the word of a stranger at the time—that you were telling the truth? Don’t you think everyone facing exposure tries to threaten their way out of it?”

“I do trust you,” he said, ignoring her question. “As for the story you are writing, if the people who spoke to you give their approval of how you’ve depicted them then I won’t interfere. Is that fair?”

It was more than fair, but Lori wanted more. She wanted what she’d foolishly come up to his room expecting all those nights ago. “I want you to tell me what is going on. Why you came back to England—the real reason.”

“So you can publish it in the newspaper?”

“If it’s newsworthy.”

“No.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”

“You’ve kept me here against my will. How am I supposed to support myself while I’m imprisoned?”

He laughed. “Come, come. If you’ve not drafted an entire literary work during your stay, then you must be close. I suspect there is nothing quite like a story about a brothel to sell books, Lorelei.”