Page 125

They could smuggle their way back to the Continent, find their way back to Smyrna.

Though Emir was now more proficient in French and English.

Perhaps they could settle in France, despite the unpleasant memories tied to that place. She couldn’t avoid every location associated with painful memories; otherwise, she would run out of places to call home.

Maybe they could stay in England, close to Gideon.

He had all but offered her a position as his mistress…

No.

She couldn’t do that.

If she were alone, without Emir, perhaps she would consider it. As for the sin, she had already committed enough in the name of fear and survival to justify one more in the name of love without her conscience nagging at her.

Emir would probably not mind it either. But she wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye, and she would feel uncertain about her future, worrying whether Gideon would decide to marry someone suitable in a few years.

She had experienced enough uncertainty in her life—enough humiliation to last a lifetime.

She deserved better.

And Emir deserved stability. He deserved to be proud of his Abla.

Just then, St. John returned and slipped silently into the carriage. “Just as we expected,” he said. “The place is deserted and has been for a while.”

“Have you checked for secret passages and trapdoors?” Leila asked nervously.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied instantly. “I haven’t left a single stone unturned.”

Payne rapped on the roof of the carriage irritably, and it jolted into motion.

“We need to find him,” he gritted through his teeth. “But he could be anywhere—the countryside, another city, even abroad by now. It will take a small army to find him.”

Gideon and Jarvis exchanged a knowing glance, and a smirk twisted Gideon’s lips. “Good thing I have a little army at my fingertips.”

Lavinia and Sebastian

“Aren’t you happy you married me?” Sebastian asked, the mattress dipping as he crawled into bed beside his wife. The last of the late-night guests had finally departed, leaving the house blissfully quiet after hours of tense conversation and veiled accusations. He settled next to her, still processing the revelations that had unfolded in their drawing room. “Both men you were on the verge of marrying or attempting to seduce are involved in a secret society plot that could derail their lives.”

Lavinia turned toward him, her brown hair spilling across the pillow like silk. “Yes,” she replied, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she reached for him. Her arms wound around his neck, fingers threading through the hair at his nape. “That is surely the only reason I am happy I married you.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows rose in mock offense, his hands finding her waist beneath the covers. “Is that so?” Without warning, his fingers began their tickling assault on her ribs, and she erupted into helpless laughter.

“Sebastian!” she gasped between giggles, arching away from his touch even as she remained trapped in his embrace. “Please, mercy!”

He paused, studying her flushed face in the candlelight before leaning down to capture her lips with his own. The kiss was hungry and desperate.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Sebastian rested his forehead against hers. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?” he murmured, his voice husky.

Lavinia pretended to consider this, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “Well, perhaps the second most pressing reason?”

“Just second?” His tone carried a wounded pride that fooled neither of them.

“Well, maybe third?” she teased, delighting in the game.

Sebastian tightened his grip possessively around her waist. “What are the first two?”

“Your kisses,” she whispered, her voice dropping to match his intimate tone.