“Take me to him,” he said, and the words sounded more plea than demand.
When she nodded and headed for the door, he thought for a moment that she would toss him out. But then she opened it and stepped into the hallway beyond, turning back, silhouetted by the dim corridor, her face awash in color from the stained glass. “Come,” she whispered.
He followed, realizing that he would follow her anywhere.
She led him through a maze of corridors, curving and turning in ways that made him feel as though they had doubled back more than once, finally reaching a massive painting, a dark oil featuring a man stripped of his clothes and belongings, lying dead at the feet of two glorious women as his killer crept from the frame. He looked to Georgiana.
“Charming,” he said, referencing the gruesome, stunning piece.
She offered a small smile. “Themis and Nemesis.”
“Justice and Vengeance.”
“Two halves of a coin.”
The words were an echo from moments earlier, her description of her relationship with Chase, and they stung. He looked carefully at the divine figures in the painting, one holding a candle, presumably to light the way to justice, the other holding a sword to exact vengeance on the thief. “Which are you?”
She smiled at the painting – the expression small and filled with something he could not quite understand – and placed her hand at the frame of the painting. “I cannot be both?”
She punctuated the question with a tug on the enormous artwork, which swung out on a hinge, revealing a great, yawning blackness. He bit back his surprise. He’d always imagined that there were secret passageways throughout The Fallen Angel – it was the only way to explain the ease with which the founders appeared and disappeared – but this was the first evidence he’d seen of them.
She waved him inside, and he did not hesitate, his heart and mind racing with the knowledge that he was closer to Chase than he’d ever been. With the knowledge that she trusted him enough to bring him to the owner of the casino.
With the knowledge that that trust was not easily given.
She stepped in with him and closed the portal behind her, and they were cloaked in darkness, a hairsbreadth from touching. He could have moved back, pressed himself against one of the walls and allowed her space, but he didn’t wish to. He wished to revel in the heat of her. The smell of her. The temptation of her.
He would give anything to touch her.
Her breathing was shallow and quick, as though she could hear his thoughts. As though she was thinking the same ones.
She seemed to hover there in the darkness for a long moment before she turned away, the fabric of her breeches rustling, sending his thoughts to the place where the wool rubbed, where her long, beautiful legs met. He could not stop himself, reaching out his hand, capturing her arm, letting his touch slide to her fingers, interlacing them with his own.
“You risk a great deal by bringing me here.”
Her fingers twitched in his grasp, and he wondered what they would feel like on him. The time in his swimming pool had been so fleeting, and her touch had been like a breath, there, then gone.
Gone because he’d pushed her away.
Gone because she belonged to another.
To the man he was about to meet.
He released her. “Lead on.”
She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she might speak, might tell him something in the darkness that she could not find words for in the light. But she was stronger than any woman he’d ever known… and her secrets were well-guarded.
She led him down the corridor, and he counted four doors before she paused in the dim glow of a candle near a dozen yards away, the shadows of the flickering flame playing across her face, hiding her truths from him. She reached for the silver chain that hung heavy beneath the linen shirt she wore tucked into those sinful breeches, and he watched as she extracted the pendant that lived there between her breasts, warm from her skin.
She threw a catch on the locket and extracted a key and set it in the lock, revealing her unrestricted access to these rooms. To the man inside them.
Jealousy flared, hot and angry.
She swore she did not belong to Chase and here she was, unlocking his rooms. Providing entry to them.
What else had she unlocked? Where else did she have entry?
The door unlocked, she replaced the key, her hand settling on the handle. Duncan could not bear the idea that she would bring him here, to this place. To this man. He reached to stop her from turning it, loving the softness of her skin as she stilled beneath his touch.
“Georgiana,” he whispered, and she looked up at him, those amber eyes slaying him with their attention.
He didn’t want her here. Not for this. He wanted her far from here. He wanted her safe and secure, somewhere across London. In his town house.
Forever.
Christ. The word came from nowhere and lingered, wrapping him in promises that could not be kept. In thoughts he was too intelligent to entertain. Even if he could give her everything for which she asked, his past was too dark and his future too threatened to give her everything she deserved.
So he did what he could, offering her freedom in this moment. “You don’t have to come with me.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“Let me face him on my own. He needn’t know you led me here.”
She exhaled, and the breath was heavy with emotion. “Duncan —”
“No. I can face him. Whoever he is. Whatever he is.”
She smiled at that. “Whatever?”
“He’s such a legend, I would not be surprised to discover that he is something beyond human.” He paused. “I would not be surprised to find the Oracles themselves behind this door.”