Bedford Street Brigade 02 - Love Unbidden (11 page)

She pulled her hand out from beneath him and stared at her palm. “Briggs, don’t move. You’ve been shot.” She turned to where Roarke was attending the assassin. “Mr. Livingston!”

“I’m all right, Polly. I’m not
badly hurt. Stay here until Roarke comes for you. I just need to sleep for a while.”

“No, no. Don’t go to sleep.”

She reached for his hand and held it.

“Roarke!” he heard her yell. “Hurry! Please.”

That was all Briggs heard.

He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Polly sat at Briggs’s bedside and watched him sleep. The doctor had been here then left. He’d removed the bullet from Briggs’s shoulder and put some salve on the wound with instructions that they place a fresh bandage and salve on it every day. Thankfully, Briggs slept through the ordeal.

“How’s he doing?” Roarke asked when he entered the room.

“I think he’s waking,” she said. “Would you
help me hold him down? He mustn’t tear the stitches the doctor put in.”

Roarke went to the other side of the bed, then held Briggs down. “Steady, mate,” he said. When Briggs bucked to escape the hands holding him down, Roarke placed his arm across Briggs’s chest.

“Don’t move, Briggs,” Polly warned. She leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Don’t move, Briggs. Just lie still.”

“Polly. Polly!”

“I’m right here, Briggs. I’m fine. We’re both safe. It’s all over.”

Briggs calmed considerably, then his eyes fluttered open. He looked from one side of the bed to the other. “Polly?”

“Yes, Briggs. I’m right here.”

Briggs’ chest heaved as he struggled to take several breaths. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

He turned his head and locked gazes with his fellow investigator and friend. “Did you get him?”

“Yes. We got him.”

“Is he dead?”

Roarke shook his head. “You didn’t even wound him proper. Just enough to slow him down. He’s locked up in the storage cellar telling everything he knows. I sent one of the servants to London with the details concerning the man who hired him. Including his name.”

“Who was it?” Polly asked. She hadn’t really believed her father when he’d told her there was a plot to harm her. Now, she knew he’d been right.

“The man who hired him was the Earl of Flemberly.”

“Flemberly? I don’t believe it. Why? He’s a friend of Father’s. We’ve been invited to his home on several occasions. I am friends with his two daughters. We are of an age. I’ve known them my whole life.” She looked at Briggs. “Is this over the bill Father is introducing before the House?”

“Yes,” Briggs answered. “Your father’s bill will expand export trade. There are several in the House who are against foreign trade. Some are against it as a policy. Others oppose it because of lost capital.”

“But to resort to murder?”

“Greed is a powerful motivator, Lady Pauline,” Roarke added.

“So what now?” she asked.

“We wait for instructions from your father. When he sends word it’s safe, we’ll return to London.”

Polly looked down at her hand still held in Briggs’s grasp and pulled it free. That meant that after they returned to London, she’d never see him again. It meant that he wouldn’t have to pretend he didn’t care for her, because she knew he more than cared for her. The kiss they shared proved he did. Just not enough to be bothered with her.

Roarke stood and turned to the door. “I’m going to get you something to eat, my friend.”

“I’m not hungry,” Briggs said.

“Well, I am. If you don’t eat what Cook sends up, I will.”

Polly watched Roarke leave the room. When she turned back, Briggs was looking at her. The expression on his face told her he wanted to say something.

Polly knew what that something was and she didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear him tell her he regretted kissing her. She didn’t want to hear him apologize for his reaction to their kisses. She didn’t want to hear him make excuses for kissing her. Excuses that were lies.

“Are you thirsty?”

Briggs nodded.

She stood and filled a glass with water, then placed it to his lips. He drank, and when he finished, she put the glass back down. “I think I’ll leave you for a little while. Mr. Livingston will be back soon.” She walked to the door.

“Don’t go, Polly. We need to talk.”

She stopped with her hand on the knob. He’d called her Polly again. He’d called her a name that no one used when speaking to her. A name only she had ever considered fit her. A name he made sound like an endearment.

She shook her head. “You made your feelings abundantly clear before you were shot. You regret kissing me. I understand that. And I regret that you kissed me.” Polly swallowed hard. “I regret that kiss more than you know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some rest.”

Polly stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her before he saw the tears she couldn’t hide.

. . .

More than a week had gone by since Briggs had been shot. His friend, Roarke, had been correct when he’d predicted that Briggs would heal quickly. He had. Other than having to take it a little slowly, he was out of bed, and able to walk on his own. He spent a great deal of time out of doors, as if being confined indoors was intolerable. Or perhaps, being confined indoors with her was what he found intolerable.

It was evening, and he still hadn’t come in from the garden.

Polly stepped out onto the terrace and looked around. It was starting to get dark and he’d been out far too long. She should have checked on him earlier and hadn’t. Now she was beginning to worry.

She walked across the terrace, then to the bench down one of the paths. This is where he usually sat when he came out. Thankfully he was there now.

“I see you’re reluctant to come inside again tonight,” she said when she approached him. “I don’t blame you. It’s a beautiful evening.”

He turned.

The first glimpse of him caused spikes of longing to
pluck at a soft spot inside her chest. She ached with a need she’d never felt before. She longed for a relief from agonizing desires she couldn’t understand. Desires she knew wouldn’t go away.

She walked closer and he made room for her beside him. She sat, even though she knew there was no wisdom in such a move. “I wonder why we never visited Redwood,” she said. “I know it’s a long distance from London, but it’s beautiful here. So peaceful. It would have been worth the time it took to get here.”

Briggs didn’t answer, for no answer was needed. They sat together and looked up at the moonlit sky.

“Have you heard from Father yet?” she asked. Part of her feared that he had and they’d have to leave soon. Another part of her dreaded that he hadn’t and the painful torture of being with him, yet trying to avoid him, would continue for more agonizing days. Or weeks.

“No. He hasn’t written yet.”

“I imagine we’ll hear before long.”

“Are you anxious to return to London? You’ve missed a large part of the round of balls and social events.”

“Not so very many. I hate to admit this, but I could live without going to one all Season. I find them tiresome.”

“Then why do you go?”

She hesitated. “Because it’s what’s expected of me. And…” She found it difficult to continue.

“And,” he finished for her. “It’s where you go to be included in the marriage mart.”

“Yes.”

“And have you met your future husband, yet?”

“No,” Polly answered through the lump in her throat. “I haven’t met him yet.”

“Don’t worry, my lady,” he said. “You will.”

“Yes, I will.” Polly didn’t want to talk about this any longer. The idea of searching for a husband was the last thing she wanted to think about. How could she even consider searching for that special someone when she’d already met him? When she’d already discovered the only man she could ever love?

She looked up into the starlit sky and breathed a sigh. Yes, she’d already discovered the man of her dreams. But he didn’t want her.

She rose to her feet. “It’s getting late. Are you ready to go inside?”

“Yes,” he answered, then stood. The second he got to his feet, he staggered.

Polly reached out and wrapped her arms around his middle. “Hold on to me until you regain your balance.”

“I don’t know what happened,” he said, clasping his arms around her.

“You’re not completely healed, Mr. Murdock. You’re still weak. Hold on to me until you’re strong enough to stand on your own.”

They held on to each other for several minutes.

Polly wasn’t sure the exact moment she realized that Briggs’s strength had returned. She wasn’t sure the exact moment she realized that his arms had moved from holding onto her, to just holding her. Or when his hold
became an embrace.

She took several deep breaths, then slowly tipped her head back and looked into his face.

His gaze was focused on her—on her lips, and she saw him struggle with his resolve not to kiss her. She knew the exact moment he lost his battle.

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.

He drank deeply from her, taking as much as she would give, demanding more than he’d ever asked of her before. His tongue sought entrance to her mouth and she opened for him.

She’d always thought of kisses as the brief touching of lips, as nothing more than the embrace of two close acquaintances. But kissing Briggs was nothing like that. His kisses were thunderstorms, and bolts of lightning, and violent winds. His kisses were quakes that shook the earth and brought down buildings. His kisses shook her whole world and left her weak with desire.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him with the little strength his kisses left her. She gave up trying to take in breaths of her own but relied on Briggs to give her the air she needed. Relied on him to carry her with him as they soared above the earth.

“Oh, Polly,” he moaned, then he lifted his mouth from hers and pulled her to him. “Heaven help us.”

Polly struggled to fill her lungs with enough air to breathe. Her heart pounded inside her chest as she gasped for air. Her legs trembled beneath her and she knew if Briggs let her go she’d crumple to the ground.

Briggs’ reaction was no less violent. His chest rose and fell as she pressed her cheek against it. His heart thundered beneath her ear like a runaway team of horses. He gasped for breath with the same desperation as
did she. His body radiated heat. It was almost as if he—
She waited until she was able to stand on her own—until she was able to speak—then stepped out of his grasp. “What are you afraid of, Briggs?”

She heard him laugh. Not a laugh of humor or happiness. But a laugh filled with incredulity. A laugh of disbelief. As if he couldn’t believe she’d asked such a ridiculous question.

“Was kissing me so terrible?”

“You don’t know? You don’t realize how dangerous it is for us to let our emotions get away from us? You don’t realize how impossible it is to think anything can ever develop between us?”

“Why?”

“Why! Bloody hell, Polly, don’t you see? I’m an investigator. I deal with the dregs of society. I see and hear and associate with people you can’t even imagine.”

“Why should that matter?”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Because it does. I’m the son of a tenant farmer and you’re the daughter of an earl.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“Well you should. Your father certainly will!”

Polly’s breath caught. “This is about my father, isn’t it? What happened between you? Why do you dislike him so?”

“I told you before. That’s a question you’ll have to ask your father.”

“I’m asking you.”

“Well, I don’t have an answer for you.”

Briggs turned his back on her and Polly watched him separate himself from her. She couldn’t let that happen. She didn’t want to lose him.

“I love you, Briggs.”

“No. You don’t.”

“And I think you love me, too.”

“No, Polly. This will never work. You don’t love me. You may think you do now because of what we’ve been through.”

“It’s not that, Briggs. I felt something the first time I saw you. The first time we spoke. I knew there was something special between us.”

“No. You don’t love me. You can’t.” He turned. The shooting glare in his eyes pierced her like a sharp rapier. “Because I don’t love you.”

Polly felt the air leave her body. Her legs weakened beneath her. And she knew what it must feel like for your heart to crack, then shatter into a million pieces.

The zest for life she’d always believed was an integral part of her, shriveled, and died.

She took a step away from him and turned.

The person she was when she walked back to the house wasn’t the same person she’d been when she’d come out earlier. The person she was now was only a pretty shell that housed an empty cavity.

Without a heart beating inside her.