Chapter 11

"Richard." Rebecca called, and called again, but he was already at the upper landing, striding through the hall to his room.

I will not rush up after him.

Rebecca headed to her own room, angry and ready to throw something in frustration. The man needs a good thrashing for forgetting directions. She paced about the room in front of the bed, discarding her cloak, hat, and gloves. The pacing didn't help her damaged nerves or indignation.

I needed air. No, I can't leave the house. Angry words flew through her mind at an imaginary Richard, who looked back at her in full mutiny.

She returned the look. "Do you not understand at all the danger you are in?"

Her imaginary Richard continued to look back at her, mulish.

"No, you don't. And it is high time you did."

Rebecca swept out of the room and up the stairs in an angry tear. She knocked on Richard's door and swept through it past him as soon as it opened. "Richard, you are not taking your situation or my efforts toward your safety seriously."

She stepped toe to toe to him, had to look up. Dealing with taller men was so commonplace, the usual phycological height advantage had long since been lost on her. "You cannot flout our security precautions. We have set up your security and strengthened it to keep you alive to do your work for the Queen. If you intend to finish that work, you will remember what we have told you and act accordingly. That means allowing me to precede you. You could have been shot trying to jump from the carriage ahead of me."

Richard looked down at the angry woman, blustering at him, which sent his anger boiling over. He had discarded his coat and was standing before her in undress, his waistcoat and cravat gone, and shirt collar unbuttoned. He had been blasting himself, so didn't need her to rub his nose in his mistake, harping at him like an angry nanny.

Richard folded his arms over his chest. "Save that governess's tone for another, Miss Fogg. I do understand the situation, so do not presume I am some schoolboy to be flayed with that sharp tongue of yours."

Rebecca's eyes flared, literally sputtering mad. "How–how dare you…"

Before she could gain back the use of her voice, Richard caught her at the shoulders.

"I dare plenty," he said, holding her in front of him. "Now, dear lady, understand your position. A lifetime of training in dealing with the fair sex does not disappear in a day. Taking on a man's work should have taught you to make allowances for that. Remind yourself, madam, of something else you should have been taught long ago. A miss, even when taking on a man's career, does not forget that she is a female and does not issue a man orders. Nor does she walk into a man's bedroom; not without courting the consequences. You are a very desirable woman, Rebecca Fogg, and I am no saint. Remind yourself that I am a widower, fully out of morning and likely to be looking for another wife. You are not too young for consideration."

The way Rebecca's eyes widened annoyed him. She can't be that oblivious. Just to inform her of the way things were…

"Be advised, Rebecca Fogg. I like blue-eyed spitfires. Always have, and I have taken an unprofessional and decidedly un-paternal interest in you." To prove it, Richard bent down without a single thought to the consequences or poor timing.

He kissed her.

It wasn't a gentle or careful first kiss. Richard took possession of her lips, ignored her stiff reception, and forced his way past her teeth.

Pain suddenly hit the mush the passed for his brain. He pulled back in shock, realizing that she had bitten his tongue. While off balance, another sharper pain registered as Rebecca Fogg's knee connected with a stiffened part of his anatomy that didn't handle jarring well.

Richard plummeted, hit the floor in a squat, falling back, hitting his head on the dresser behind him. He didn't fully let go of Rebecca in the doing. His greater weight dragged her after him. The crack to the skull, and her weight adding to the force, had him blinded by exploding stars. He couldn't move, think, or even breathe for the pain.

Rebecca landed on top of Richard on the floor. Her skirts blanketed them both in heavy layers of silk and linen. She saw how his face contorted; eyes shut tight as his hands rushed to hold his head. She scrambled off him to her knees, allowing his legs to fold upward, protecting the second part of the damage she had done.

"Oh, God! I didn't mean that to happen!"

Richard rolled to the right in the floor, both hands keeping his head from coming apart. In the background, he heard Rebecca's repeated apologies and angry accusations. Dimly, he felt her hands on his shoulders. As the pain subsided, he pulled up to a sitting position and opened his eyes. She was still there; babbling on, offering to find an icepack. The ice sounded like a good idea, but he was still having trouble finding the use of his swollen tongue.

Did I bite it in the fall?

Would she please stop babbling?

No, I didn't. She did. She bit me before the fall, when I stupidly forced myself on her. I've just accosted a Crown agent, trained in self-defense and protection of others.

Damn fool!

On the other side of things, Rebecca was still angry about the way he had lashed out at her. "You are so exasperating, and–Lord–I… Well, that was your fault."

Saying that, mortification for hurting him rose again. "You attacked me, with a kiss, of all things. Training took over. I'm sorry. I just acted like I'm supposed to."

Should I get a doctor? Will I have to say I was the one who hurt him?

Lord, help me. He's going to order me out of his house when he can speak again. Sir Boniface is going to be livid. Somewhere in that, her mind jumped tracks.

Did Richard mean what he said… about… interest in me? Oh, now he is going to think I'm a madwoman.

Oh, dear Richard.

Rebecca gently removed his hands from his head. She whispered reassurances to him, checked for bleeding. She found a sizable tender lump, but no blood. Profound relief filled her at the minor injury.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Well, I did, but I… I…"

Rebecca scooted closer, sitting on the floor with her hands on either side of his face.

It is such a dear handsome face… looking at me with that shocked hurt little boy look, as if I just pushed out of a tree.

She calculated the cost and plunged in to undo the damage. Whatever came next, she wanted this man, and didn't want him angry with her.

She leaned forward and kissed him back, just brushing his lips in chaste atonement.

Richard received her kiss with heavy reservations, afraid to return it for fear of what might happen. She kissed him a second time. This kiss wasn't quite as butterfly light. He accepted it less guardedly, bringing his arms up to caress hers. When she didn't pull back or stop kissing him, he guided her closer until she was in his arms.

The embrace felt like she belonged there. For the next eternity, they gave in to the hidden emotions that had burst out in anger. They spiraled heavenward in sweet acceptance.