Margaret looked around the parlor. She had been to Ashmore, but only during visits with his brothers. Back then, she was just the innocent sister they wanted to show around.

Cole sat opposite her in a settee, and she could feel his eyes on her as she carefully sipped her tea. She leaned over and replaced the teacup on the table between them. The sound echoed in the quiet room.

"I was stopped by bandits on my way here—"

"What?" he asked, leaning forward with a scowl.

"I forgot how many holes you have in your plantation. Is there just one?"

"Two," he replied, leaning back, the scowl still imprinted on his face. "What bandits are you talking about? Where?"

"Somewhere a mile away from here. I was on my way to Devonshire," she lied with a shrug.

Eyes narrowing, he assessed her entire form. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Did they take your carriage? Is that why you took a hackney?"

"No. I was traveling in a hackney—"

"Bloody hell, woman!" he erupted and she blinked in surprise. "A hackney!"

"I thought it would be safer than one of our marked carriages."

He scoffed, shaking his head.

"The roads are closed, by the way," she said. "Because of said bandit activities. I'm afraid I'm not the only victim this week."

Suspicion crossed his face. "Truly?"

She eagerly nodded. "And I'm afraid I was being followed on my way here."

That caused him to stiffen.

"I would appreciate if you do not throw me out," she hastily added. "I could stay in Theobald, but I'd hate to impose on family friends."

"But not me."

She let out a guilty smile. "Not you." She held his breath as he sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. "Before you left, you said you wanted to talk. Perhaps we can do so now?"

He froze and Margaret moistened her lips as her mind reeled for more reasons to stay. She looked away when his eyes assessed hers.

"But I'm quite tired. Tomorrow. We can talk tomorrow," she faintly suggested.

His jaw clenched. "Very well." He stood and rang the bell. When the butler reappeared, he ordered, "Please prepare a room for Lady Margaret. She's staying the night." He stiffly faced her, but she could sense that he was at a loss. Maybe he might even still be surprised that she was here. "I'll join you for supper later."

Margaret stared at the doorway speechless after his departure.

"My lady?" the butler asked with a motion of his hand.

She followed the man upstairs to the same guest bedchamber given to her in her past visits with her brothers. She had to hide a smile, knowing Cole was situated in the opposite wing.

"Do you need anything else, my lady?" the butler asked.

"None," she said, looking around the room. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Very good. His lordship will join you for supper. I'll send someone to help you prepare."

As soon as the door closed, Margaret counted in her head. She considered the time and hesitated. Pulling the door open, she poked her head out. There was a long corridor on either side, both empty. With a sigh, she stepped back and closed the door. She could wait until tonight, when everyone else was asleep.

She just had to pray one night would suffice because there was no guarantee that Cole would let her stay longer.

***

"Where is she?" Cole asked the butler.

"In her chamber, my lord."

Cole nodded. "You know what to do."

"She is told not to wander out, my lord," said the butler.

"Good."

Once alone, Cole glared at the papers before him.

His jaw tightened.

Margaret's presence was not a good thing. It was too risky, he thought. He had kept his estate in Wickhurst free of anything that would give away his secret. Even his private office in the Men of Courts was clear.

Everything was here. And Margaret Everard was here.

Perhaps she would understand, a part of him suggested.

Cole shook his head. It was enough that he told her about Leah. Anything more would compromise everything.

An hour later, he found her already in the dining room.

"Good evening," she greeted with a small smile.

Cole sat at the end of the table. The only thing he could manage was a tight smile. Yes, he did plan to talk to her, but it was not supposed to be tonight. It was not supposed to be here.

She looked beautiful in a cream dress. Margaret Everard always looked good in anything. And as he was reminded just a few nights ago, she was just as magnificent wrapped in him.

"Thank you for letting me stay," she said from across the table, pulling him back from the night at the cabin.

"I'll have someone look into the roads first thing on the morrow," he said with a curt nod.

"Thank you. You can be assured that my stay here shall remain a secret."

"That's not my concern, Meg."

She blinked at him from across the room, her face innocent but knowing at the same time. "It isn't?"

"No."

Their food arrived and for a few minutes they ate quietly, the tension across the table palpable. They were fooling themselves, he thought. They knew what was happening here, and yet they'd rather play the ignorant fools.

When their food was cleared, Cole offered, "I'll escort you to your room."

"No tea?"

"I'm afraid I have more work to do. If you wish, you may enjoy a cup in your room."

He noted the disappointment before she turned to climb up the stairs. The trip to her room was quiet, their footsteps muffled by the long carpet. Her smell intoxicated the air and Cole lost count how many times he closed his hand into a fist, or the number of times she cleared her throat to break the awkward silence.

With each step, their breaths were being pulled from them. The longer they took the journey, the closer they were to ending the night. He mimicked her pace, quickened when she seemed determined to reach their destination fast, then slowed when she faltered in hesitant steps. He stole her a glance now and then, and glimpsed the same struggle he was having.

When they finally reached her door, Cole stopped and waited. He did not reach for the handle. He thought he could not. However, she did, and his breath caught when her hand stilled, her head bent as if her life depended on what she would do the moment it opened.

His eyes were glued on her shadowed face, her throat when she swallowed hard. All the while, his hands were clasped tightly behind him. Half of him was silently urging her to twist her hand and push the door open and leave him alone outside. The other was wishing she would look up and give him one foolish reason to do something stupid.

She turned the knob and he began to relax. Just as his mind started to plan a night alone in his study, persuading himself that it was for the best, she pushed her door open and the same sane mind froze, overcome by acute panic.

She murmured something, perhaps another thank you, before taking one foot into the doorway.

He should have just stepped back and waited until she was out of sight. "There are no blocked roads, are there?" The question shattered the debilitating quiet.

He caught the tiny smile at the corner of her lips. "No."

His muscles tightened when she swallowed and turned ever so slightly to look up at him. "No one chasing you either."

She bit her lip and shook her head.

Cole looked away and took a deep breath, pushing his hands deep in his pockets. "You said we are just to be friends."

Her smile did not reach her eyes. Her hand was still around the door handle, her foot one step away into the room. "It was an offer and you refused. We are not friends, Cole."

He let out a shaky breath, nodding. "Very well." He stepped forward. "Good night."

A faint smile played on her lips. "Is that all?"

Another step closer, holding her gaze, his heart pounding hard against his chest. "For now."

She nodded as he bent his head. "Very well."

Stepping into the bedchamber was like a graceful dance. He arm wrapped around her, turned her around as they crossed the threshold. Blindly closing the door, Cole sought her lips as her arms wound around his neck.

There was more to talk about, but words seemed to be a curse between them, threatening to shatter the magic of the moment. They only needed each other's touch and sighs, the silence of the night a cocoon from the fears that held them back from the reality that could shatter them all over again.

There was no talk of what would happen next, or where they would go from here. As they stripped each other, the thick layers of truths and secrets were also pushed aside. She lay in the middle of the bed, glorious in her natural beauty, her dark hair spread on the sheets, and her emerald eyes, as he hovered above her, spoke not of the past but of the longing of now. One naked truth passed between them; one they knew for so long.

Resting on his elbow, Cole cupped her face, ran his thumb over her cheek, tracing her brow. He smiled, lightly kissing her nose. Her hand wormed over his shoulder, behind his neck as she smiled back, her beautiful eyes searching his face with wonder.

His finger traced her nose, parted her lips, traveled across her jaw and down her neck where he felt her swallow in anticipation. His lips worried hers, pulled back when she arched for more. He wanted to savor it this time.

Twisting his wrist, he ran his knuckles over her clavicle, caressing the skin as they trailed down to her breast where it lingered, lightly teasing its peak. Her harsh breath fanned his face, followed by a whimpered plea. With a soft growl, he opened his mouth over hers as her breath hitched, the hand behind his neck following the rhythm of his own as it opened and kneaded her breast.

It was madness, he thought. Just moments ago, there was naught but calm will to make this slow, to take his time. But that was gone now as savage sensations overcame them. He gruffly murmured into her skin as she arched in his touch, and she answered with gasps of plea, her hands restlessly wandering, digging into his skin, deep into flesh.

Claiming her mouth with a moan, he grasped her hands, holding both over her head, their breaths one and the same as he slowly claimed her. Their eyes closed to feel the slide and a shiver ran through them, one that of momentary relief and pleasure when he was finally deep inside her warmth.

His palms opened over her hands, interlacing their fingers before closing in a tight grip. And he started to move, each thrust careful, each draw sending waves of sensations they should have relished that night in the cabin.

The sounds of their lovemaking slowly floated through pillows and sheets, the walls, and the very air they gasped in.

Seeing her face flushed, her mouth open in a silent cry, Cole hastened to chase her to the edge. He wiped her hair off her damp face, his heart racing not because of the moment, but because it was overwhelmed and it was afraid.

She buried her face in her neck and it did not take too long before they raptured together. He held her closer, fingers digging into her skin, not willing to let go.

Margaret tilted her head and kissed his jaw, her fingers wandering along his side. He caught it and brought it to his lips. "You are not running away again, are you?" he asked against her knuckles.

She smiled. "Do they have hackneys at this time of night?"

Picking the damp strands of hair stuck to her face, he allowed a soft smile. "Don't go anywhere," he whispered, suddenly tired. No, he was not exhausted from what they just did, but from everything else—the secrets, the danger, the guilt... the fear. And he was tired of not having her in his life.

How lonely the battle had been.

He closed his eyes against the moisture of tears. "Not yet."

"Can I sleep?" she laughingly asked.

He silently chuckled. "No."

***

Sleep would not come to her. Her mind was racing to many things. What would Cole do tomorrow? Would he insist that she go home in his carriage with footmen to protect her? Or would he let her stay here?

The sound of running faint footsteps from outside in the corridor made her freeze and close her eyes because Cole's hold suddenly loosened and eventually disappeared. She felt him climb out of bed quietly. Margaret kept her eyes closed, holding her breath as she listened to him dress. His footsteps were quiet, and his exit equally so.

Her eyes flew open the moment she knew he was gone. Weakly, she pushed herself to sit on the bed. His side was still warm, she sadly noted.

As she waited, Margaret sighed. Guilt was a horrid thing, but so was her mission. She had sworn to give her life—her loyalty, her service—to the League of Founders.

And here she was, incapable of slipping out of bed to fulfill it. Why? Because she just made love to the man suspected of murder? Because she was betraying his trust?

As she contemplated on what to do next, if she should go out and follow him, to risk everything, the faint noise returned. This time she was certain they were footsteps. And that they were not Cole's.

The Leaguer in her finally prevailed and Margaret hastily dressed.

The corridor was empty, but the footsteps guided her. When she reached the end, she stopped, seeing light moving up the stairs to the third landing.

Her heart began to race as she waited. The footsteps above sounded again. And then they stopped. A long while later, Margaret saw Cole's shadow climbing back down the stairs and she ran back to her room, her heartbeat reverberating to her ears.

She slipped out of her dress and climbed back to bed where she waited with bated breath. He did not return. Wherever he was going, it was not back to her.

She waited another five more minutes. Then, she dressed and slipped into the corridor.

If she was found out, she'd simply say she was awakened by the noise above.

There were at least ten doors that she had to go through on the third landing. Setting out quickly, she went to the first one and pushed it open. It was dark and empty. She closed it and moved to the next one. That too was empty.

She opened three more doors before she went to the fifth one, the one in the middle. At first she thought it was like the previous ones until she noticed that a lamp was lit in one corner and the bed was not empty.

She froze, her eyes growing wide with surprise at the sight that greeted her.

In the middle of the bed was a sleeping child.