"I can explain!" She blurted as he advanced menacingly towards her, making her back away on instinct. "I know it was stupid, and I wasn't really thinking clearly and I know what I have done constitutes as kidnapping but you cannot possibly consider taking legal action? Just think of Jane-"

The rest of what she was about to say was muffled as she collided roughly with his chest as his arms came around her, squeezing her close. His heart hammered beneath her ear as he let out a ragged "Sylvie."

"I-Rafe? Are you alright?"

"No, Jesus! What were you thinking?! Have you seen the way the snow has been coming down? These last seven hours I have gone through every horrible thing that could have possibly happened to the two of you. Do you have any idea-?!"

"It's just a bout of bad weather, I'm alright. Jane has a bit of a fever, but I'm certain it's only seasonal."

"Do you have any idea what it would have done to me if either of you-" He broke off in frustration, not relinquishing his hold on her. "I'm sorry, Sylvie."

"You are?" She stared at him in bafflement. He was not angry? Just worried?

"I lied to you, Sylvie. You're right about me not being someone a child can rely on. My lifestyle has no place for children in it, we both know that. No one in their right mind would want me to be the guardian of their child, you were right to be concerned. But Sylvie you need to stay with me anyway."

"I don't understand, Raphael what is going on?"

"Not here. I will tell you everything in London, where I can be sure there are no prying ears. All I can say for now is that I believe that you and Jane might be in danger."

"That's why you were so insistent on keeping Jane with you; because you knew I would never leave her behind," Sylvie let out a long exhale.

"Yes," he said as he finally relinquished his hold on her, he let her step away from him but held onto her hands still. "You must stay with me in London for as long as it takes for me to sort this out."

"Rafe.....was Thomas involved with dangerous people?"

His shoulders drooped down in defeat, he nodded as he ran a worried hand through his hair.

"He didn't do it, did he? He didn't do that to himself. Someone killed him," and her heart broke for her tormented brother all over again.

Oh, poor Thomas. What did you do?

"No. No, he did not."

"Then whoever did it might know that Jane is a potential witness," Sylvie felt lightheaded and dizzy. This was the sort of thing that happened in novels and outrageous stories. How could this possibly be happening to her? "We were making a fuss right and left about the fact that she was missing."

"Yes. Which is why it's imperative that you stay in London for however long it takes," Rafe lifted her hand and pressed his mouth to her palm in an adoring, soothing gesture that took Sylvie's breath away. "I want you to know that I want you to have everything you dreamed of. I want you to achieve your goals, Sylvie, but I won't risk your life, not for anything. If you are unable to achieve them right now, I swear to you that I will make it happen. But you must come with me to London, Sylvie, even if it comes at the expense of leaving your post come January."

And just like that, seven years of work lay in ash. Sylvie looked to the bed, where Jane lay sleeping, and rallied her composure. There was nothing in this world more important. There was no sacrifice Sylvie would not make in a heartbeat to keep her safe.

"Alright," she nodded shakily. "I will go with you to London."

"There's my girl," he dropped a kiss to her hand once more as if he did not wish to relinquish it. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm........ I can't say alright, it's a lot to take in. But it makes sense, there were some things that did not add up. It's not easy to digest, but it makes more sense now. I feel a little lightheaded, truth be told."

"Lie down and sleep. You ran away from me at the arse crack of dawn, you must be tired. Did you eat?"

"I can't sleep just yet, I'm waiting for some broth for Jane. She couldn't keep down breakfast. And please, do not curse!"

"Did you eat, Sylvie?" He insisted sternly.

"I- no, I didn't eat anything other than some tea. I wasn't sure how long we would be stuck here so I wanted to spend as little as possible in case I needed more money for the boarding fare."

He closed his eyes briefly, as if praying for patience.

"You, woman, vex me to no end!" he snapped. "Wait here!"

He stomped out of the room, returning shortly with a serving girl carrying the broth, a plate of sandwiches, and several slices of some pie. The girl set it down on the table and batted her eyelashes at Raphael as hot irritation sparked under Sylvie's skin.

"Anything else that you need, milord?" And Sylvie could have sworn the woman had thrust out her bust for him to see! "Please do not hesitate to send for me at any time."

Ugh! Was the uncouth woman propositioning him?!

Right in front of Sylvie?!

Why it was unacceptable because.....because.....of Jane! She was too young to be witnessing such uncouth behavior!

"My husband and I don't need anything. Thank you very much," the words were out of Sylvie's mouth before she could stop herself. Silence filled the air as the girl awkwardly left, and then Sylvie was alone with Raphael who had the laziest, most smug grin on his face as the green in his eyes lightened with mischief.

Oh no.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

He was never let it go. She could tell by the look on his face.

"Husband, Sylvie? My, my, just one kiss and you're already a possessive harridan."

"I am no such thing! I just refuse to let you carry on your philandering ways in front of Jane. Additionally, I had to make sure she did not think something uncouth with you in the same room as an unmarried lady."

"Oh, Sylvie, green is such an unflattering color on you."

"Shut up!"

"As my darling wife wishes," he flashed her a Cheshire grin, lazy, beautiful, and utterly predatory. "Now will my dearest spouse have something to eat?"

"I have to feed Jane first before the broth gets cold," Sylvie tenderly shook the child awake who made a noise of irritation through her clogged nose.

"Sit," Raphael said forcefully. "You take care of everyone but yourself, Sylvie. Eat. I will feed Jane."

Raphael then raised his hands and moved them slowly and awkwardly.

'Hello.'

You....need....to....eat.

Jane shook her head defiantly, moving her hands rapidly in reply.

"No, I don't want to vomit," Sylvie said out loud for his benefit.

"How do you say healthy?"

Sylvie showed him the correct motion with her hands which he copied once before turning to Jane.

You.....need....to....healthy.

"Er, I don't think that was entirely correct, but you get my point."

Jane pulled a face and Sylvie was just about to scold her when Rafe held out a hand to stay her stern words.

"Jane, you need to drink it. Just half, I promise. I'll tell you a story and you won't even know you've eaten."

Jane paused, considering his words, and then signed again.

"Do you know any stories about knights and princesses?" Sylvie translated.

"Oh, I'll do you one better, I know a story about a princess who was a knight," Rafe pulled up a chair to the side of the bed, taking a spoonful of broth and extending it toward Jane as he began the story of a princess who became a knight to fight a dragon terrorizing the kingdom. Whatever spell he cast must have worked wonders because before she knew it, Jane had eaten all the broth and Sylvie had polished off an entire plate of sandwiches and a slice of pie.

"Don't fall asleep yet, the two of you, the other room must be ready by now," Rafe opened the door and beckoned to someone to take away the empty tray.

"The other room?"

Raphael hummed in confirmation. "It's a suite with two adjoining rooms, we won't be able to travel back to London tonight with the way the snow is pouring down, and I want the two of you within shouting distance. No, don't look worried, this place is too crowded for anything to happen. It's just a precaution."

"A-adjoining rooms?" Sylvie felt her cheeks go warm. "Like the ones m-married couples use?"

"Oh, yes, the owner assured me it was very popular with honeymooning couples," he winked at her. "And since I am here with my wife....." he trailed off as she felt heat all the way from her cheeks to the back of her neck. She might have caught the fever from Jane. "Oh, you look fit to drop dead, Sylvie. I won't ravish you in the middle of the night, I promise."

"I wasn't thinking that!" She told him defensively as she started organizing Jane's things to put back in their bags.

She had been, in fact, thinking just that.

More alarming still, she had been considering how very nice that might be. She pressed her thighs together as the familiar ache started up between her legs.

Well it wasn't unreasonable, was it?

He was a very, very, attractive man. More so, he undoubtedly knew what he was doing. He was popular for that very reason; women vied for his attention because his rumored talents were considerable. If Sylvie was going to partake in.....spirits, wouldn't it make sense to covet some French wine rather than ale from the neighborhood taproom?

She made a mental apology to Mr. Alder for the unflattering comparison.

"Why, Sylvie, you naughty little thing," Raphael rasped from behind her where he had been handing the other bags off to the staff and for one horrible moment she that he had heard her thoughts somehow, that he was so experienced he could read the desire in her body language. "Now look at what has just fallen out of your bag."

Sylvie's heart began to pound as her entire body went cold with horror. She turned out to see him waving an innocuous-looking book, wrapped in a nondescript brown paper cover with the evilest smile on his face.

Except it was not innocuous.

It was her book! Her book of illicit illustrations!

"I- I don't know what you are talking about," but the tremor in the statement and the heat on her face did not fool him. He clicked his tongue in disapproval, flipping through the pages, occasionally letting out a dramatic gasp. She took a step towards him reaching for the book, but he held it out of her reach. She was a tall woman but, he was just a smidgen taller than her, the only way to get it back would be to plaster herself against his body. "You should give it back to me so that I can dispose of it."

"Oh, my, my, my. This certainly takes me back to when I was in Eton. They've updated some of the positions in the new edition, it seems. But some of my favorites are still in here. I wonder how much of your tastes align with mine?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean," she stood on the tips of her toes to reach for the book but he tugged it further away, still rifling through the contents. "You must give it to me so I can dispose of it before it falls into the wrong hands."

"Oh, Sylvie, Sylvie, Sylvie, not on your life," he snapped the book closed and waltzed out of the room, into the hallway then into the suite that he had arranged for them. She was frozen for a second before horror had her dashing forward. He hastened his strides as she caught up.

"Raphael!" She cried out in distress as he entered on bedchamber, waiting for her to catch up before he grinned at her and slammed the door shut in her face. She lunged for the knob, twisting it but the decisive click of the lock told her it was futile. "Raphael!!!"

A mocking laughter rang out from inside the room as Sylvie suppressed an uncouth swear word.

A few hours later, the sun had sunken below the horizon and each of the members of their party had retired for the night after a good, filling dinner. Rafe sank into his freshly drawn bath with a groan of relief. After riding himself haggard in the snow, the piping hot water was a relief to his stiff muscles and chilled bones.

He let his eyes drift close, hoping to alleviate the joint exhaustion from his sleepless night and his mad chase. The way the water lapped at him lulled him into restfulness, sleep beckoning him. By God, he was so tired. That woman was going to be the death of him, running him ragged as she was.

Hmm? Had he heard the door creak just a little?

He could not help the mad grin that tugged at his lips at the thought of Miss Prim and Proper hiding a lewd book in her belongings. Naughty, wicked little thing. How had she gotten her hands on such a thing? He doubted that she had confiscated it from a student; that was the sort of thing that went on in an all-boys school, which meant that she had actively sought it out.

Did she feel the heat rising in her when she looked at the drawings? When she was alone at night, did she look at it, sliding her hand down.....down.....down to stroke her pretty, wet-

He snapped his eyes open as he deliberately sat up straighter in the tub, soaping himself and then rinsing quickly, trying to put the dangerous thought out of his head. If Sylvie was going to live under the same roof as him, he had to keep his behavior above reproach. He was not going to debauch Thomas' younger sister. She was an honorable woman who deserved the security of marriage, not the unemotional affair that he carried on with widows or actresses who knew what to expect.

He stood up, rinsing himself for the final time, the sound of falling water not enough to disguise the stifled gasp that came from the partially opened door.

He should be angry, offended, and disgusted that she had dared to intrude upon him when he was so vulnerable. There was no person save for his valet who had seen the destruction his captors had wrought upon his body, he should be angry that this was yet another secret that he had been unable to keep from her. Even when he was being intimate with a woman he did not remove his shirt. He loathed for anyone to see how weak and vulnerable he had been at one time, he loathed the idea of anyone questioning his image that he had crafted so very carefully over the years.

And yet....hadn't he left his door knowing she would make an attempt to take back the incriminating book when she thought he had fallen asleep? Hadn't he wanted to test just how far her acceptance of him would go? Did he not now yearn for her to see even more of him, she who always looked too closely? Did he not yearn for her acceptance after she had seen it all?

"Have you looked your fill, then?" Rafe called over his shoulder, spotting her standing in open-mouthed horror, her eyes glued to the scar tissue decorating his back. "Or shall I turn around and give you the real show?"

"Y-your back-!"

He wrapped a drying cloth around his waist, running another along his body to dry himself off, and turned to face her.

"Horrific, isn't it?" He said flippantly as he approached her, tugging her all the way into the room and closing the door behind her.

"How does that even happen?! Oh, Rafe, what happened to you?"

"I have the French to thank for that. They don't take too kindly to having their camps infiltrated, you know," he shrugged nonchalantly, waiting with bated breath to see what she'd say next.

"But there are rules! There are rules for the treatment of prisoners of war!"

"Sylvie.... You're a smart girl. Those rules only apply to men captured in uniform, men who can be identified as soldiers. Not to spies."

And there she had it, she would take the last of his secrets from him too. He was an open book to her, as he always had been, even when he was a naïve, young fool being outrageous for attention.

She exhaled loudly, taking in the revelation, though he was sure she must have at least considered the possibility a time or two.

"I'm so sorry, Rafe. I am so sorry."

"I don't want your pity," he said harshly as he tugged her further into the room. He let her go once he had reached his bed. "But you must pay your penance for being a peeping Tom, Sylvie."

"P-penance?"

"Oh, yes, Sylvie," he filled his tone with severity and dark promise. "You must make yourself useful to me after you've gone and invaded my privacy."

"U-useful?" Her face had turned the color of beet as her eyes traveled between the bed and him, her chest rising and falling.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," he chuckled, tapping her nose with his finger in affection. "Go to the table by the wall, the staff should have left a vial of almond oil on it. My scars itch if they aren't moisturized."

"Oh," the tension fled her body, even as he registered a reluctant hint of disappointment.

"Does that displease you? Did you have some other form of payment in mind?" For someone who had sworn he was not going to pursue her or seduce her, he was teetering very dangerously on the line between teasing and flirtation.

"Of course not," she sputtered. "I am merely horrified at the improper nature of your request!"

"Oh? Is it too much for your delicate sensibilities?"

"I am a gently bred woman, sir! Not some tavern wench accustomed to touching naked men!"

"That's a pity, I suppose I'll have to send for the girl from earlier, she seemed inclined to indulge me."

"Absolutely not!" She scowled as Rafe's heart warmed at her territorial behavior. God knew why he found her so charming when she was being a possessive harridan. "What kind of impression would it make on Jane if she saw a strange woman leaving your room at this time of night? You are her guardian, she will look to you for the behavior acceptable from young men."

"Jane is asleep," Rafe pointed out helpfully, grinning harder as her scowl deepened.

"Jane wakes frequently when she is ill. I won't risk it. Lie down," she waved her hands toward the bed and set off to fetch the oil. Exhaustion hit him full force once his head hit the softness of the pillow, his eyelids growing heavy. He heard her rummage through the items on the desk, stopping short and going still for several long moments.

"Hmmm?" he grunted, half asleep as she asked a breathless question.

"I can't believe you still have it," emotion was thick in her throat as she walked closer toward him, his pocket watch in hand, dented lid and all.

"Mhmmm," he agreed sleepily though he felt strangely bashful, yawning through the next words, "Though it is a little worse for wear."

"You kept it," she sniffled.

"Of course, it was my talisman those last days in Belgium, before Waterloo. Stopped a man from stabbing me in the heart, you know? That's why the lid is dented. Couldn't bring myself to fix it, I liked the reminder that you saved my life. If I hadn't had it on me, I'd be dead," and yet another confession she wrested from him so easily as if all she had to do was ask and he would lay his soul out for her to see. Perhaps it was so easy because he knew she would never find him wanting.

She did not make a response, but he felt the slight cold of the oil meet his skin and then the firm pressure of her hands as she rubbed it into his skin.

"Sylvie?"

"Yes?"

"You don't actually have to if you don't want to. I was teasing," his eyes drifted closed.

"I-I don't mind. I did it frequently enough for my father in his last days to know what I am doing. He used to get aches in his joints that kept him awake at night."

He hissed as she hit a particular sore spot, then groaned as she worked the knots in his muscles, easing his body further and further into relaxation. Through his daze, he heard her sniffle as she traced each and every ugly mark that crisscrossed across his back. He heard her sniffle once again, trying to keep her tears at bay and he wanted to tell her that he did not want her pity, that he did not want her tears, but it was beyond him to open his mouth just then.

He drifted off to sleep to the sensation of her placing reverent kisses on each scar, working up his back to his cheek. Every now and then he felt the hot splash of her tears on his skin.

Ah, she wept for him, for what he had endured, his pure-hearted elven princess. 

"I am so glad you came home," was the last thing Raphael could recall hearing before she pressed her lips to his forehead and pulled the counterpane over his naked form.

She had granted it to him, that acceptance that he had so desperately needed.

As he had known she would.

It was why he lov-

But before the thought could finish, slumber had claimed him. And he slept better than he had in months.