Cloaked in Danger (28 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

“She’s gone.”

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Adam strode past Gideon into the house. “Where did she go?”

“If I knew that, do you think I’d be standing here?” The dangerous tone in Gideon’s voice said he was near the edge. “When I woke up this morning, she was gone.”

The nerves he had felt that morning melded into a gaping hole of uncertainty, one that wound like a seductive snake and reminded him that she had rejected him once before. She would do it again.

“You told her I was coming?” he asked with dread. If she knew of his arrival, then this was a clear answer.

Gideon shook his head. “No. She didn’t know. I thought it was best.”

She hadn’t rejected him.

But that meant she had disappeared.

“The park.” Adam turned toward the door.

“I already checked there. We’ve checked everywhere.”

“Not everywhere, or you would have bloody well found her!”

“You will not blame this on me!” Gideon thrust his shoulders back. “She was in your care, and you failed her. If you had protected her, Wade never would have abducted her.”

“If you hadn’t abandoned her to London to fend for herself, she never would have met Wade in the first place! You should have known who he was.
You
should have been here to protect her.” Adam fired back. He closed the gap between them until he and Gideon stood toe-to-toe. “Do not blame me for this, old man.”

“Will you two both stop?” cried a female voice. Adam glanced up to see Emily at the top of the stairs, bouncing the baby in her arms. “I will gleefully murder you both at the moment for waking this child up. It took me two hours to get him down.” She moved down the steps, her arm never losing its perfect, soothing rhythm. “And stop being arrogant asses, while you are at it. Put your heads together and figure out where Aria would have gone. She needs you both now.”

“You checked the entire park? Even the spot behind—”

“—the pathway? Yes. It was my first stop. The Gardens. Hell, I paced the streets three times before daylight.”

“What about Mr. Wade’s house?” Emily’s suggestion was soft, lilted up at the end with a touch of fear. “She would not go back there, would she?”

“Could she?” Gideon looked at Adam. “Does she even know where it is?”

Adam thought of everything Gideon had said to him.

Aria was fading. Losing control. Unable to forget.

What would the woman
he
knew do? If all of those sides she’d shown—the warmth, the blunt coldness and the fragile uncertainty—were just facets of one glorious, drive-you-to-madness woman, what would that woman do?

“She would do anything if she thought it might help her recover,” he said slowly, but with a certainty that resonated in his very bones.

Panic stretched Gideon’s mouth over his face. “I don’t have a bloody clue how to find his house.”

“We found it when we were searching for Wade. It wasn’t where he kept Aria—it was empty. Blythe’s husband is familiar with—”

“So am I.”

They both turned to Emily, who had gained equal ground. Her shoulders were pulled in tight against her neck, and her arms wrapped fiercely around her child. Flashes of fear lit like flickering candles in her eyes, but she repeated her words. “I know how to find the house.”

“No.” Gideon’s hand shot out with finality. “Absolutely not.”

“It could take hours to find it, and I don’t think I could write it down. But I can take you there. I can direct you down the streets. I remember, Gid.” Her words were thick with memory. “I remember, and if those memories exist solely so I can help your daughter now, then please let me.”

“We will bring plenty of men with us to keep you secure, Mrs. Whitney,” Adam started.

“She is not going!” Gideon argued weakly, even as he paced in a conflicted circle.

“It is a carriage ride, that is all, darling,” she assured him. “Johnny will stay here. We will find Aria and bring her home. Nothing will happen. Wade is dead.”

“It isn’t that simple, Mrs. Whitney.” Adam knew that Wade’s organization had not faltered. The ranks were warring for position now, as such types of people did—whoever was left standing at the end of the bloody battle would win the day. And whatever Wade had owned would eventually be considered part of the winner’s booty. If Aria had returned to the house, who knows what she had walked in to?

“We are losing time,” Adam urged.

“I know!” Gideon grabbed his wife by the shoulders and gave her a firm kiss. “You will listen to everything we say. We say breathe, you breathe. Do you understand?”

She nodded. “Let me take Johnny upstairs.”

She hurried up the stairs, and Adam turned to the door. “How many men do we need?”

“As many as we can get,” Gideon replied grimly.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Emily’s directions were short and the only words spoken in the carriage along the way. With a soft “Turn here” or “Next street, direct him to the right” they moved out of neighborhoods with parks in the center circle, well-lit lamps and clean sidewalks with few people to stroll them. In moments, the carriage threatened to roast them out. The weather had taken its grip on the city and engulfed it in suffocating heat. The members of society had deserted the city like bees leaving a fallen hive.

As they continued from the West End of the city to the East, the sidewalks began to fill, swarms of people walking to and fro—silent soldiers, armed and ready to do battle with the day.

Houses were no longer scrubbed shiny. Flowers were found only on the street corners—single wilted blooms held by the downtrodden woman hoping to sell them next to the woman who sold a precious basket full of oranges.

No one dawdled here, except for those who lived permanently on the streets. Heads stayed down, gaits were purposeful and hurried. Fear was served like breakfast daily.

They entered Whitechapel.

The mere idea infuriated Adam. Wade had at least a dozen residences that they’d uncovered on their search, but he had chosen to keep her in this hellhole.

Adam wished they’d had time to hire a hack to bring them here. Though his carriage was far from gold embellished, it was new, clean and obviously made of money. The contingency of six men who held on to the back, sat atop the seat or followed behind on horses were intended to discourage trouble, rather than encourage it. But he wasn’t taking any more chances.

“One more turn to the left,” Emily said softly. “The house is in the middle.”

The house sat between two larger buildings with as much outside appeal as abandoned rookeries. The exterior was in marginally better condition than the rest on the street, but not by much.

Aria had been held here?

The thought rolled his stomach. Then he remembered that the room she’d been held in had been made to look like hers. How did that fit?

And suddenly, Adam understood.

Wade had taken everything from her, even the safety of her own home.

This was about that room. Aria was here.

The carriage was still slowing to a halt, but he couldn’t wait. He jumped from his seat, grabbed the handle to the door.

“Merewood, what in bloody hell are you doing?”

He ignored Gideon and leaped out of the carriage. With a hard landing that streaked pain up his legs, he managed to stay on both feet and moved toward the house.

Up the stairs. The door was locked, no surprise, and though he rammed his weight against the frame, it didn’t budge.

There had to be a way in. Aria had gotten in somehow. He’d find it.

It only took minutes of searching the exterior before he found a window that had been broken. Shards of glass stuck in the window jam, with small drops of blood smeared along them.

The sight of her blood chilled his.

It had happened when she broke into the house, he told himself, pressing a hand against his chest.

Not because someone else had harmed her.

In that moment, it struck him what this house must have meant to her. It was a harsh slap of reality, how much she had been through before he’d even met her. When he’d found her that first night in Ravensdale’s home, she had already lost so much.

And along the way, she’d been stripped of everything else.

How had he not seen that?

And he’d told her father he would bring her home, as if fresh country air and a simpler life was enough to restore what she had lost. But by god, he wanted to hope it would be. He wanted to help her—only this time, to help her heal.

He pulled in a jag of air, grabbed the window frame. Ignored the flash of pain when the glass pricked his skin as he hauled himself over the windowsill.

Once inside, he brushed at the rip in his breeches. Glass snapped and broke under his feet. “Aria?”

The room held the misty air of neglect. It was amazing what a few weeks of abandonment could do to a house. Dusty furniture stood sentry amid stripes of shadow and filtered light. Artwork hung on the walls, forgotten. Shattered glass and ceramic littered the floor. The room held a mystery, like a breath of air sucked in, but not extinguished.

But she wasn’t there.

Letting instinct guide him, he moved toward the stairs. Up, two at a time. Into the corridor. Surrounded by darkened shadows, one door opened to a dim stream of filtered light.

He moved to the doorway.

And there she was.

She was crouched in front of the fireplace. Flickers of light highlighted her shoulders, deepened the shadows that surrounded her. But still, he could see the colors of the room, the patterns, the feeling... Wade had taken a safe haven and turned it into something ugly.

He stepped inside what he imagined was her personal hell.

“Aria.”

Her head snapped around, her lips parting as she saw him. “Adam.”

Beyond her, he could see the pile of material in front of her, waiting to be fed into the fire.

“What do you have there?” He took a cautious step forward, never letting go of her gaze.

Her chin inched forward. “I didn’t...I thought this would be easier,” she murmured. “And I would have been home hours ago.”

“What would be easier?” He kept his voice lightly interested. Fragile. Gideon had said she was fragile.

Her hands were fisted around the fabric, and as Adam took another small, slow step, he saw that what she held led to the pile that was dangerously close to the flames that licked blue and hot.

“Burning this.” She turned toward the fire, threw another handful of fabric into it. “You don’t need to be here.”

“Your father is worried.”

“And he sent you?”

It pricked his heart a bit, the tone of surprise, as though he was inconsequential. “He is here, as well. Emily too.”

At that, her head snapped up and panic rippled across her features. “They have to leave. It’s not safe. He’ll...” Her words faded and she focused as if seeing him for the first time. “Patrick.”

“Wade is dead.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “I get confused sometimes. It’s as if the days jump back and forth. And my dreams—they are so real. I see him so clearly. I heard his words, his voice. So when I wake up, I feel—” Her mouth clamped shut, and she shook her head. “Why are you here?”

“To find you.” He took a few steps until he stood in the entry, near enough to touch her.

“I have done naught but bring misery to you. I almost got you killed. I ruined your life. You should hate me.” She looked up, equal measures of misery and uncertainty in the dark depths of her eyes. “Why don’t you hate me?”

The emotion that burgeoned inside of him was anything but hate. The need to protect her from—what, exactly? Her nightmares? Herself? It flooded through him like a wave, destroying any anger, uncertainty.

“I don’t know why,” he told her honestly. One more step, and he was within arm’s reach of her. He crouched down until they were at eye level. “I do know that none of this is your fault.”

“Not my fault?” She stood abruptly and stalked a few feet away, pointing at the rug on the floor. Pointing to the dark round stain in the center of it. “This man died because of me. He was a doctor, with a wife and a family.” Anger emanated from her shaking limbs. “Patrick killed him, because I begged him for his help. He laid here on the floor, bleeding in my arms. Because of my actions, he died.”

“You aren’t responsible for—”

“Yes! I am.” Her tone was fierce, anguished. “I set this in motion. Everything Patrick did, he did because of me. He killed that doctor. He tried to have you killed because my actions forced our betrothal. He
told
me you were dead. My father was almost killed because he refused to give Patrick my hand. And—” Her voice caught. “John. I made choices. I should have been firm with Patrick from the beginning. I knew I would not marry him. But I was lonely.”

“And because you didn’t say no immediately, you’re responsible for the people he hurt? That’s ludicrous.”

“That doctor did nothing! John did nothing. I am the one who plunged into your world, against Emily’s advice. Against John’s orders to leave things alone. Good heavens,
you
even warned me away and I didn’t listen.”

“Wade was more than a spurned suitor, Aria. He was head of an underground organization that does atrocious things. He was a criminal, a murderer and far worse, long before he met you. He had a greater agenda than a romantic obsession. The things he did were of his own doing.”

“No!” She turned in a tight circle, pointed at the walls. “Look at this room, Adam. Really look at it. Patrick created this place for me. He did this because of me. All of it was because of his obsession with
me
.”

“Are you so self-absorbed then?” Adam shot back.

She drew her head back as if he’d physically punched her. “What?”

“The world revolves around Aria—therefore it must all be your fault?” He stalked toward her. “You are not the sun, Miss Whitney. No matter how you have convinced yourself of how special you are because of it, you were an instrument of Patrick’s obsession. You were not the focus.”

Her mouth fell open. “How dare you.”

“How dare I, what? Tell you what you need to hear?” His own anger surged to the surface, surprising him. He hadn’t known it was still so fresh, so raw. “Everyone in this world makes their own decisions. I have learned that the hard way. As much as I wanted to take responsibility for the actions of my sisters, for whom they fell in love with, I cannot. And you made your choices, some spectacularly bad ones with no regard to anyone else’s needs or wants. I shall grant you that.”

“Why, thank you for such generosity.” Her tone was pure ice.

“But that is all you can claim ownership to. You cannot claim my choices. You cannot claim Wade’s. Your father’s. Anyone else’s. If there’s something I have learned in the last year, it’s that we cannot—we do not control anyone but ourselves. To think that you are the sole person holding the strings makes the rest of the world nothing but puppets. And goddamn it, I am no one’s puppet. Certainly not yours.”

His last words clipped off as if snipped by a pair of sheers, and Adam unfurled his fists. What the hell was he doing?

Gideon had said his daughter was fragile, unfocused and vulnerable and now he’d unleashed his temper on her? But damn it, he would not let her take over. He would not let her present her guilt as the guiding reason for his love.

She would know that loving her was
his
choice.

“Are you quite finished?” At her silky, dangerous tone, Adam tilted his head up, met her gaze sideways. And in that moment, he saw the bewitching woman she had been the night he met her. Her eyes were glittering black jewels set in a face that seethed with unspoken anger. Her arms were crossed over her chest.

Fragile? This woman was glorious.

“No, I am not.” The words had barely left his mouth before he took the final step between them, reached out to grab her shoulders. Pulled her to him.

Before she could say a word, he brought his face down to hers. Felt the warmth of her breath as her lips parted before he took them. He dropped his hands from her shoulders, flattened them against her sides, and followed the curve of her waist. Once his hands were on the full of her back, he crushed her against him.

“Adam—” She attempted to speak as his mouth opened, captured hers again. His lips trapped her upper lip, sucked on it, reveled in the citrusy taste of her. Her hands pushed against his chest, and he stilled.

“This moment,” he whispered against her lips. “This is about us. No one else. This is what I want, from you, with you. It has nothing to do with anything that came before right now.” He touched his lips to hers gently, but held her firm against him. “If you want me to go, push me away, and that will be it. But I love you, Aria. I want you to know that. I can wait. I can be patient, as long as you know it’s you I love. Every infuriating inch of you.”

“Even the self-absorbed ones?” she shot back, leaning her head back slightly so she could look in his eyes. But she did not push against him. Her hands lay still against his chest.

“Even those.” He pressed another gentle kiss on her, this time on the corner of her lips. When a few seconds passed and she didn’t move, he lowered his lips to her cheek. The sensitive spot below her ear.

And felt her body stiffen like a board. Her hands tensed, and she shoved against him. “Stop!”

The rejection dropped with the destruction of a jagged-edged stone right to his core. But he dropped his arms. Stepped back. “As you wish.”

“No, you don’t understand.” She put a hand up to stop him from leaving. “This isn’t about...it isn’t you, Adam.”

He turned to the door. “Your father is here, you are safe. He will—”

“I don’t want you to go.”

His hand was on the door handle, and he wrapped his fingers around the bulb tightly. “I am trying to respect your wishes, but damn it, I need to know what you want from me. I am not a toy you can play with, Aria.”

She turned away, her head down. When her body folded into itself, Adam took a step toward her—and then she was at one of the bedroom walls, reaching up to peel a long strip of wallpaper off the already tattered wall. “I want to destroy this room. This house. His voice in my head.” The wallpaper falling limp from her hand, she faced him. “I came here to face him. To face what he did to me. And then I saw your face—and it made me happy. And that hurts as much as the rest.”

“Why?” The spurt of joy in his chest was short-lived.

“Because of what he did.” Her voice caught on the last word, and the raw emotion threw Adam into an uneasy panic.

“I already told you, you aren’t—”

“He ruined me, Adam.”