"They must have crawled through the window," he murmured.

She crossed to join him. "Yes, it was open when I stepped into the room." There was a startled pause. "They have disappeared."

Realizing that she had expected to discover two broken bodies in her garden, he gave a negligent shrug.

"Yes, the drop is not far."

"Still-"

"At least they are gone," he firmly interrupted, reaching out to grasp her shoulders and turn her to meet his rea.s.suring gaze.

"Yes." A sudden shudder raced through her body. "But why were they here?"

He softly stroked the tense muscles of her shoulders, wishing he could a.s.sure her that she need never fear again.

"Desperate thieves, no doubt."

She gave a slow shake of her head, her brow pleated in unease. "They spoke of a necklace.

My necklace."

Lucien sternly kept his expression unreadable. He had hoped that she had not overheard the rasping words of the intruders. It would be difficult enough for her to forget the terror of having her home invaded without worry they might return for the Medallion about her neck.

"Perhaps they noted the amulet when you entered the room and presumed it worth stealing."

"I suppose." Her expression remained filled with doubt. "It is still very odd."

Stepping closer, Lucien carefully encircled her in his arms, hoping to surround her with his strength.

"Let us not dwell upon it, my dove. They are gone and I do not believe that they will soon return."

There was a short pause before she slowly lifted her head to regard him with a somber expression.

"I am relieved you were here."

Lucien stilled, caught off guard by her soft words. Then slowly he smiled deep into her darkened eyes.

"So am I," he whispered gently, wanting nothing more than to ease the fear that lingered within her. This maiden should know only joy, he told himself fiercely. And he would do whatever in his power to see it done. "You see, for a frippery fellow, I do have my uses upon occasion."

To his great relief, a measure of her tension eased and her lips even twitched with reluctant humor.

"Upon occasion, I suppose," she conceded.

He lifted his brow with a wicked glint smoldering in his eyes. "I have numerous other uses beyond rescuing damsels in distress, if you would only allow me to demonstrate."

Despite her best attempts, she could not entirely prevent the faint hint of color that touched her cheeks.

"I believe you have demonstrated quite enough for one evening."

"Ah, but that was only a taste."

"Really, Mr. Valin," she protested in breathy tones.

His hand lifted to lightly stroke the soft skin of her countenance. "I believe you called me Lucien earlier. Such formality is surely unnecessary between friends."

He heard her catch her breath as she abruptly spun away, as if to hide her expression from his searching gaze.

"I think it best if we-" Without warning her words came to a halt and she took a step toward the bed. "What is that?"

Lucien frowned as she reached out to pluck a sc.r.a.p of paper from the heavy quilt. "I haven't the least notion."

Holding the paper in fingers that visibly trembled, Jocelyn moved toward the window, where the moonlight offered a silver glow.

"Miss Kingly," she read aloud. "They are dying. Will you save them? It is in your hands."

Five.

Jocelyn was uncertain how she discovered herself flat against the wall with Lucien standing directly before her and his hands planted on each side of her head.

One moment she had been slipping on her shawl, preparing to leave for her nightly visit to the streets, and the next she had been swiftly maneuvered toward the wall by an angry gentleman who was currently regarding her with smoldering golden eyes.

"No, Jocelyn," he gritted out between clenched teeth.

With an effort Jocelyn gathered her composure. After a restless night, followed by a long day brooding upon the two thieves who had so rudely intruded into her home, she had been determined to shake off the lingering unease.

Certainly she had been unnerved by the strange thieves. And even more so by the mysterious note they had left behind. But she could accomplish nothing by cowering in her house and fearing every small noise.

She had already learned her lesson in attempting to hide from life. After her scandal, she had done her best to disappear. For weeks she had remained in Surrey, rarely leaving her chambers except when she was certain she would be alone. She had wanted only to flee the pain and embarra.s.sment somehow.

But as the long, dark days had pa.s.sed, she slowly realized that she was being ridiculous.

Surely she possessed more courage and worth than to dwindle to an old, bitter spinster with nothing but regret to fill her memories?

Perhaps the future that she had thought would be hers was gone, but that did not mean she could not find a purpose to her days.

She would face the world bravely. She would help others. Her life would be filled with more than shame and fear.

So, ignoring the temptation to remain comfortably at home and forgetting the danger that lurked just outside the door, Jocelyn had finished her dinner and collected her shawl from the foyer. She had not expected Lucien to appear just as she was stepping toward the door, or that he would so neatly trap her.

"I am going, Mr. Valin," she warned, attempting to ignore the proximity of his large form.

Not an easy task when she felt cloaked in his fragrant heat. Or when the astonishingly beautiful countenance was so close that her fingers itched to reach up and test the smooth bronze of his skin. "And there is nothing you can do to halt me."

"Are you so certain?" A dangerous glint entered the golden eyes. "I could lock you in your chambers until you regain your senses. Or better yet..." His gaze deliberately lowered toward her mouth. "In my chambers."

Jocelyn struggled to breathe. She had promised herself she would not react to this man's obvious appeal. Heavens above, she had sworn to forbid him even near. Unfortunately, while her mind might readily acknowledge the danger sizzling in the air, her body was not nearly so wise.

"Mr. Valin."

"Lucien," he firmly corrected her. "Or Luce, if you prefer."

"Mr. Valin," she repeated, only to discover her courage faltering as he slowly began to lower his head. "Oh, very well. . . Lucien," she hurriedly amended, not willing to risk another of those disturbing kisses. The very fact that she was finding it difficult not to lean toward that male form warned her that prudence was preferable to pride. "I must discover if any of the women were harmed."

"I can discover any information you might desire."

"No."

"Why?" The elegant features hardened with impatience. "Why are you being so stubborn?"

Her eyes darkened with an unconscious vulnerability. "Because I learned long ago that I cannot hide from unpleasantness. To cower in fear behind closed doors is no life. I would rather confront my fears, and even danger, face-to-face." She reached out to place her hand upon his arm. "Lucien, I will not live in a prison of my own making."

An oddly arrested expression settled upon his countenance. Almost as if her words had reached deep within him. Then he offered her a wry smile.

"I cannot help but desire to protect you, Jocelyn. It is simply in my nature."

Her fingers tightened upon his arm. Surprisingly she discovered that she was far from offended by his confession. Instead, a warm glow threatened to fill her heart.

"Yes, I know," she said softly.

His lips twisted. "You are determined upon this?"

"Yes."

"You will not leave my side?"

Her brows lifted at his commanding tone. Now he was going too far.

"I have been caring for myself a long time, sir. I no longer depend upon others when I am perfectly capable of seeing to my own needs. It is, in fact, how I prefer my life."

Without warning, his hand shifted to cup her chin in a gentle grasp. "Stubborn."

She grimly ignored the flare of pleasure that tingled through her. It would be all too easy to become addicted to his touch.

"Strong-willed," she corrected him.

His soft chuckle filled the foyer. "Is there a difference?"

"Of course."

"If you say," he murmured, his fingers slowly moving to trace the firm line of her jaw.

The danger in the air shimmered with a sudden heat. "I... we should be on our way," she whispered.

His eyes swept over her flushed countenance, lingering for a tantalizing moment upon her unsteady lips.

"You are always eager to be hurrying away when things become interesting."

Interesting?

Perilously insane, more likely.

"Interesting for you, perhaps," she forced herself to retort.

"I think for the both of us if you would just lower your guard."

"My guard is staying precisely where it is," she warned in what she hoped were firm tones.

"You might as well resign yourself to that fact."

He gave a shake of his head, the golden hair that framed his lean countenance shimmering in the candlelight.

"Never," he swore softly. "I will wait all eternity if need be."

"An eternity?"

"Yes." Her breath once again became elusive. "You are being absurd. Let us go."

His fingers searched along the curve of her neck, slowly testing the softness of her skin.

"You cannot run from me forever, Jocelyn," he warned in husky tones.

It took far more effort than she cared to admit to abruptly thrust away from the wall and step from his tempting nearness. She felt bewitched, and not at all herself.

In an effort to disguise her odd trembling, Jocelyn made a great show of smoothing her plain gray gown and ensuring her expression was calm.

"I can run an eternity if need be," she retorted in thankfully steady tones.

He smiled ruefully at her swift retreat, although a shimmer of determination remained in the golden eyes.

"Ah, no, that I will not allow," he warned as he moved to place her hand upon his arm and escorted her out the door and down the steps to the darkened street. "Where shall we go first?"

"To the warehouse," she said, having made her decision earlier in the day. "I wish to ensure the children are safe."

Lucien gave an understanding nod before stepping forward and at last hailing a pa.s.sing hack.

They rode in silence as they made their way the handful of blocks to the derelict warehouse.

Jocelyn was soon lost in her concern for the children and women who were forced to sell themselves upon the streets. They were unfortunately vulnerable and all too often the victims of violence. A violence they possessed few means to oppose. Her distraction, however, was ruthlessly pierced as they moved closer and closer to the warehouse. A shiver raced through her as she felt an odd p.r.i.c.kle of evil crawl over her skin.

It was ridiculous, she attempted to tell herself. One could not feel evil. And yet, her fingers instinctively reached up to touch the amulet around her neck, as if it were offering her a warning she should not ignore.