“I DON’T LIKE this, Adrian,” Lucy said the next evening as she watched her husband from across the table. “Is there another way?”

“No, there isn’t. Where else would she be but there, at the damned club? It had been his intent all the time, to take Elizabeth—to steal the artifacts for himself while I was out of London.”

“Alynwick is many things, but he’s not a kidnapper or a thief.”

“He’s in league with Orpheus. We found the evidence at his house, letters with the seal of Orpheus. Outlines of plans. Mentions of a fourth Templar. He was in league with Orpheus all this time. He knew our every move, and he betrayed us,” he growled. “Black and I will deal with him in a way that is fitting to his betrayal to us and my sister. I entrusted him with Lizzy, and the bastard lied to me.”

“I still cannot believe it.”

“I’ve shown you the proof. You’ve read it, their correspondence. Orpheus is the descendant of the fourth Templar the legend speaks of. It’s been Alynwick all this time.”

“I realize that the information looks that way but, Adrian, think. You’ve known him forever. He wouldn’t hurt Elizabeth, and he would not betray you or Black. This is much too tidy, don’t you think?”

“I can’t think! Not while Lizzy is out there alone, unable to see or help herself. Damn it, Lucy, I can’t form a single intelligent thought.”

“I understand. I feel the same way, thinking of you entering that club with nothing but a gun. He killed Ana, and Thomas, too. He won’t stop till he kills you.”

“I won’t let him.”

“How will you prevent it? Please,” she begged. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Your passions are ruling your head. You need more time to rationalize it all.”

Adrian glanced up at his wife. On the eve of one’s potential death, it seemed most fitting to be sitting across the table from one who was your very life.

He had thought quite a bit about that today, the possibility that he might be returning home in the morning in a casket. It was a strange sensation, to feel your impending death while staving it off by gazing into the eyes of the woman who made you want to keep breathing.

“You know I must do this. Lizzy’s life depends upon us finding her—tonight.”

“I’m so afraid,” she whispered. “I don’t want to lose you.”

It was strange, he had never worried about death before, but tonight he was consumed with it. He’d even sent for his solicitor this afternoon to amend his will to ensure that Lucy would be properly cared for. Orpheus was a bastard, and he knew the man wouldn’t fight fair. Both his and Black’s lives would be in danger.

“I will see you at breakfast, my love. You’ll see…all will turn out well.”

Such an innocent statement, one that had a profound effect on him. He couldn’t imagine it, not being able to see her again, not staring at her over tea and toast, and the morning paper. Not sharing a tray in their room after a night of lovemaking.

By God, he could stand this thinking no more. Standing, he tossed his napkin onto the table and walked to her end. Without a word, he took her hand and helped her up, put his arm through hers and steered her out of the room.

“Adrian, don’t go. Please?” she said. “Not yet.”

Opening his study door he ushered her through, closed the door, locked it and shoved her against it. “Forgive me,” he said, his mouth descending to her throat. “I can’t be soft. I have to have you now. Tonight, before it’s… Well, before it’s too late and I must go.”

He was frantic with his need for her, his hands searching over her gown, the bodice, inching the hem up her thighs.

“Adrian—please,” she whispered, her voice breaking down into tears.

“No words,” he moaned into her mouth as his hand cupped and squeezed her thigh, then her bottom. “Let our bodies say what needs to be said. Actions speak louder than words.”

She accepted him, kissing him as frantically as he kissed her. He needed her, to be inside her, possibly for the last time. He wanted to give her something of him to remember in the long nights without him. He wanted to spill deep inside her and give her his soul—his child. She might already be pregnant and he might not ever see him or her. Which only fueled his need and fear.

“Yes,” she moaned as he lifted and wrapped her legs around his waist. He had nearly taken her like this the first time, and there was beauty in it, symmetry. That night had catapulted them into a discovery of one another. It had been the beginning, and this moment would be a new one.

“Lucy,” he growled as he struggled with the fastening of her gown, the chemise, and thank God, she had forgone the corset. It felt like forever before she was bared to him, her tiny breasts teasing him.

“Perfect mouthful,” he murmured before capturing her breast while his hand cupped her bottom, holding her. He suckled and licked and she cried out, her fingers raking hard through his hair. He had already freed himself, and he slid hard and fast inside her, stretching her, and she cried out, clutched him and rocked against him, encouraging him with her kisses that were all over, that were raw and uncoordinated. It was messy and loud, and frantic, and it was better than anything they had shared.

The way he slammed inside her taking her against the door spoke of his need, his wildness, the way she accepted him, encouraged him for more, told him what he needed to know, that she was his. She had always been his.

“Adrian, now,” she begged, and he obeyed her, only to collapse against her. They sank to the floor, still holding each other, panting and whispering, caressing and kissing each other with soft, loving mouths.

“I’ll come back to you,” he whispered, not meaning to say it out loud. “And I will ravish you over breakfast, and I will never leave you alone another night of my life.”