Page 46 of Broken

“A black carriage was noticed at the crossroads recently.”

“And?” God, finding one old man and worthless chit was like sucking blood from a stone.

“A boy noticed a slow-moving, plain black carriage on Thursday last, then again on Saturday. Except on Saturday, the carriage traveled at a much faster clip. Springing from the nearby crossroads as if chased by demons, the lad said.”

Bartholomew rubbed his jaw. The old man only traveled fast when Lilly was elsewhere. He wouldn’t risk hurting his precious angel. He looked toward the crossroad, struggling to remember the baron’s associates in the area. He must have dumped her and departed. Bartholomew nearly jumped for the joy of it.

Lillian was alone.

Now he just had to work out where she was staying.

Ignoring Brown, he turned for the tavern, slipped into a far table and called for a tankard of ale. Across the room, Lord Carrington held court with the innkeeper. While the viscount waved his hands expansively and earned a laugh for his performance, Bartholomew restrained a grimace.

Pampered, sheltered, good for nothing but a bullet between his eyes. Bartholomew imagined it—vividly. Then had the devil of a time restoring his expression to show nothing but polite boredom.

He managed it as a clutch of coins changed hands and the innkeeper, all smiles and easy familiarity, led Carrington down a hall toward a private dining room.

The fraudulent smile slipped from Bartholomew’s lips. Carrington was a favorite with many and invited everywhere. He had friends in high places: duke, marquess and earl. They all courted his company.

Like Lilly’s former betrothed, the Earl of Daventry.

A grin split his face—startling enough in its intensity to send a tavern wench far from his table. He fought for control of his features, but elation set his being thrumming with coarse need for her blood.

Damnation, could the old fool have returned her to Northamptonshire?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Fear, an overwhelmingly new emotion, choked Giles of a full breath. He strode through the long grass, anxious to reach the bridge. Lilly stood at the highest point, and something about her posture frightened him. He had to reach her.

His feet hit the gravel path and the sound turned her head. Lilly slid her hands over the worn stones and smiled at him, but he was positive something was wrong.

That was not Lilly’s usual smile. There was something on her mind, and he would bet his left bollock that it was not a pleasant thought. Her gaze slipped away before Giles reached her and fell to the bubbling water. Her hands, twisting together, signaled her distress.

Giles walked straight to her side, pulled her into his arms, and pressed his lips to her brow. Scant comfort, but the only kind he could offer. Running his hands over her body as firmly as he dared, he had the unsettling feeling she could fly away, and, if she left, he would not know how to survive the parting.

Lilly raised her hands to his embracing arms and gripped him tightly, but the tension was still there. His presence had done nothing to soothe her. Giles rocked them gently, as he had done the day they danced, but after a time Lilly pulled out of his embrace. Panicked, Giles fumbled for what to do.

Since his most frequent experiences with women were diving under their skirts, Giles struggled for something to say. He longed to pull Lilly back to him, but he could not. He did not think she would let him. She had to choose to let him into her thoughts, and Giles had never dreamed he would want to know what a woman thought before.

He remained close, resting his hip against the stone wall while he waited for her to confide in him. Lilly chewed her lower lip as though mulling over a puzzle. Giles reached for her clenched hands and squeezed. She smiled hesitantly again, a little quirk of her lips that did nothing to ease his anxiety, and blew out a long breath before looking down. Her hands, trapped beneath his, did not move.

“I missed you at luncheon today,” Giles whispered.

“I wasn’t hungry. Please don’t make a fuss about me eating again.”

Polite but curiously distant. Giles wondered what he had done. “I was not aware that I had become odious about it. My apologies.”

He slid his hands back and Lilly did not stop him, but continued to look at her own. Her skin showed the impression of fingers where his grip had been too tight. The moment stretched as they watched the marks fade and Lilly’s fingertip traced over the memory of them.

When she did not respond, Giles dragged in a deep breath. “I did not expect to find you here again. Last time you ran off the bridge very fast. What are you thinking about?”

“Lots of things,” Lilly murmured. “The longer I am here the clearer my memory becomes about the past. I find there is much I do not understand.”

“Such as?” Giles waited, hoping that her deep thoughts would not involve him.

“Why do you like sex so much?”

Her question both surprised him and rendered him speechless. She kept her gaze on her hands, but he could see her teeth worrying at her bottom lip again.