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His shoulders tensed. “Yes.”

“But this doesn’t need to be done now,” she cried. “Wait until tomorrow. Tell the army—write to Colonel Pickering and have him send someone else to deal with it!”

“Cressida.” With unbearable tenderness he cupped her face in both hands. “For five years my life hasn’t been my own. I lost everything, not just my reputation but my family, my name, my honor.”

“I know,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her face. “But⁠—”

“Do you think you could wait and go on with your life for a day, or two, or ten, if you knew the answer to your all questions lay just a few miles away?”

“Let me go with you.” She seized his jacket in both hands. “He’s my father. I have a right to know, too.”

“You do. And I will tell you the moment I return.” He gathered her into his arms and kissed her so sweetly she wanted to weep. She wound her arms around his neck and clung to him, the man she loved more than anything, and thought she might die of fear.

If her father had betrayed him in some way. . . if Papa had been responsible for his disgrace. . . Would Alec still want her? Could he look at her without seeing the daughter of the man who ruined him? The premonition that she might lose the love she’d never expected to find made her hold on for dear life when Alec tried to set her away from him.

“I’m going with you,” she said fiercely. “Don’t you dare leave without me.”

“Under no circumstances are you going with me.” He raised one eyebrow at her. “I’ll tie you to my bed if I must, even if I won’t be here to enjoy it.”

She was breathing hard, her heart galloping along. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I think you know I would.” He kissed her again, a hard and ruthless kiss this time that made her weaken. Her grip on his coat eased and she melted into him with a moan.

"Don't go," she begged. "Please. You frighten me. Let me finish translating the journal before you do anything. Please, Alec, if you care for me at all⁠—"

He didn't reply, just kissed her again. With two jerks he pulled up the front of her skirt, pressing his hand between her legs. She gasped, but her body responded instantly. Love and desire, fear and desperation made her hands shake as she yanked at his trouser buttons. By the time she shoved aside the fabric and took his erection in both hands, her knees were weak and she was almost on the verge of climax. He knocked her hands aside, his face drawn tight, and pushed her back against the wall as he drove up into her.

Cressida threw her arms around his shoulders and held on as he moved in sharp, hard thrusts. When he reached down to pull up her knee so he could go even deeper inside her, she came with a great shuddering sob. Her body clamped around his so hard tears sprang into her eyes. Alec thrust once more and gave a guttural exhalation as he found his release, pinning her tightly to the wall and letting his head fall to her shoulder.

A tear leaked from her eye and ran down her cheek. She stroked the back of his neck, running her fingers through the short, crisp hair. Her heart would break forever if anything happened to him. "I love you," she said in a small, lost voice.

He shuddered, and his arms slid around her, holding her tightly to him. For one euphoric moment, she thought he had relented. He lifted his head and gazed down at her with eyes as blue and boundless as the twilight sky. But then they darkened, growing grave and resolute. Without a word he eased away, letting her feet back to the floor and gently smoothing her skirts down. His expression was somber, and she knew he wasn't going to agree to her pleas. She closed her eyes and turned her face away, but he tipped her chin back to him.

“Cressida, my darling, stay here,” he murmured against her lips. “I’ll answer your every question when I return, but don't ask me not to go. If you truly care for me”—he paused when his voice broke, then continued more evenly—"please don't try to stop me."

He was telling her that she could stop him if she tried—but he asked her not to. Without opening her eyes she nodded. Gently, reverently, he kissed her once more. There was a soft rustle as he stepped away, cool air rushing into the space where he had been, and she shivered. Without another word, he opened the door and was gone.

Damn him. Damn all men who thought they could handle any problem alone. Damn him for taking her heart with him into harm's way and leaving her to suffer the agony of waiting. She opened her eyes. Damn her father, for whatever he had done. And damn her, too, if she stood here and did nothing to help Alec in whatever he was about to do.

She ran through the house, hoping her quarry hadn't left already. Madame Wallace opened the door at her knock. “Miss Turner,” she said pleasantly, as if she’d been expecting Cressida, even though they were strangers.

“May I come in, Madame? I must speak to you.” Cressida hesitated. “Urgently.”

"Of course." Madame opened the door wider to allow her to enter. “What is the trouble?” she asked with polite curiosity.

Cressida drew a deep breath and faced the other woman with an even gaze. “Alec has gone to confront someone who was involved in causing him to be suspected as a traitor.”

“Goodness,” said Madame mildly. “Just now?”

“He refused to let me go with him, but it may be dangerous and he would not wait.”

“Men.” She cast her gaze upward with a sigh. “But why have you come to me about this?”

Cressida suffered a moment of doubt. Madame Wallace was so slim and elegant, with her striking features and sensual movements. Next to her, Cressida felt like a giant, clumsy girl. Was she really here to ask this delicate woman to go help Alec? Tom was still in Portsmouth and John Hayes had left, but Mr. Wallace looked very capable. . .

“I think you are more than you appear,” she replied, trusting her instinct. “I think you can help him.”

Something flickered in Madame’s eyes. She leaned closer. “Why is that?”