Chapter Nineteen

Half an hour later, Aaron strode the short distance up the high street toward Crystal’s abode, the blood boiling in his veins. His right hand hurt like the dickens, but he could clench and unclench his fingers, so he assumed he hadn’t broken it.

He saw Jenson and his conveyance waiting near the high street next to the close where Crystal lived. “The lady arrived safely, Jenson?”

“Yes, my lord. I escorted the ladies to their door as instructed,” Jenson said.

Now, how to extract Crystal from her abode so she could spend the night in his bed… A promise was a promise. The thought of her cooled his temper a bit.

He had itched to drive his dirk into that damned fool Stuart, whose careless behavior had no doubt warned the weaver delegates they were being spied upon. But Aaron had drawn the line at murder, forcing himself to be satisfied with a bone-crunching punch.

“Wait here,” he instructed his driver, then turned and loped across the courtyard and up the stairs to her front door.

The door opened before he could knock, and Crystal flew into his arms.

“Do you open your own door now?” he asked, looking over her head to see Hilda standing behind her with a scowl.

“I couldn’t prevent her. Right upset she is, my lord,” Hilda said.

“Did the brute hurt you?” he asked Crystal, his tone solicitous.

She pulled out of his arms and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I didn’t want to leave you there. I didnae ken what would happen next. I saw the dirk.”

He pulled out his kerchief and handed it to her, his heart warming at the concern in her voice. “Dinnae be afeard on my account. I fought Stuart in the boxing ring at Eton many a time, and he has yet to best me. I believe I had him at a disadvantage this evening.”

“Aye, with one punch,” she said, pride shining in her eyes.

He’d not had such a lovely maiden proud of him before, and he liked the feeling. He’d like it even more if she showed him how appreciative she was tonight…if he could extract her from under the nose of her disapproving maid.

“I had a little help from the tavern keeper’s lads. I summoned the constable to lock him in the cells for the night to cool down. He’s not suitable to serve his majesty, and I won’t have him threatening you.”

“Now he is your enemy, too,” she said, drying her eyes, folding the handkerchief and handing it back to him.

Even tearful, she was beautiful, and he would have kissed her senseless if her maid had not been standing close by. “So it would seem. He needs to learn my family holds the power here, not his.”

“Promise you won’t do anything foolish. I can see your blood is up. This will be all over the broadsheets tomorrow, and again it will look as if you have designs on me.”

“I do have designs on you.” He raised his eyebrows, realizing he couldn’t stay away from her when his whole body was pulsing with longing.

She met his gaze, and he could see the desire in her eyes. “Never mind. I refuse to stop seeing you because of that fool.”

He pulled her in to his arms, not caring that her maid was there. “Will you keep your promise to me?”

She swallowed and looked past him to her maid. “Hilda, get my portmanteau. I’m leaving with Lord Lyle.”

“Leaving, my lady?” Hilda said in consternation. “Why did you not tell me earlier? I would have packed my bag.”

“You won’t be accompanying me,” Crystal said.

Aaron turned to see the maid’s horrified expression.

“You heard me. Please don’t keep me waiting. I already have mine packed,” Crystal said.

“My lady?” Hilda paused, her gaze pleading.

“Go. Do as I ask,” Crystal said, her voice firm but soft.

Finally. He could feel her body trembling next to his, no doubt knowing she was about to break every social convention there was. She was from the right social background—the most interesting, feisty, and beautiful woman. He couldn’t marry her. He knew that. She was unsuitable to have as a wife, but he could think of naught but having her.

She was finally his.