Splinters of daylight seeped through the shutters, dusting Louisa’s bare skin with an ethereal glow. Knight swallowed and ran his gaze over her. A bruise stained her cheek and several scratches were visible. If he’d only reached her sooner, she would never have suffered so.

He lifted a hand and let it hover over her shoulder. The heat of her body seeped through the gap, beckoning to him. There was nothing he wanted more than to wake her with kisses and take her again. But reason fled him when he was lost in her. He could not let it happen again. He’d already spilled in her once and if she caught, he would be honor bound to marry her. That was something neither of them wanted—even if she did not realize it yet. He was hardly suited to the role of husband let alone father.

Knight gave in, briefly. He lowered the hand and stroked the bare skin of her shoulder. She began to rouse, her lids fluttered as she rolled onto her back. Standing swiftly, he sought out his breeches and tugged them on. The cut on his back sent a swift spear of pain through him, and he winced. Apparently brawling last night had done damage again, and he suspected he’d re-opened the wound.

Louisa stretched and peered blearily up at him. “What time is it?”

He struggled to answer for a moment. With her hair tousled around her shoulders, the sheets caressing her naked body, and her lips rosy and swollen, she was temptation in itself.

“Knight?” she prompted.

“Right. Yes.” He twisted and fished his pocket watch from his jacket, flipping it open and grimacing. “Nearly midday.”

“I cannot recall the last time I slept so late.” She gave a small smile.

“We had better make haste if we are to speak to Mrs. Stanton.”

She nodded, opened her mouth then closed it again.

“Louisa, I—”

Her lips curved. “You know, you rarely use my name.”

No. It was too dangerous. Her name on his lips made him feel weak. Hell, she made him feel weak.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice low while he silently cursed himself for his cowardice. All he needed to do was remind her of who he was—what he was. She had an inn and a life to return home to and had no need of a man like him.

“A little sore.” She chewed on her bottom lip before lifting her gaze to his. “Knight...”

“We cannot let that happen again,” he said swiftly. If he waited any longer, he was going to wind up bedding her again and getting lost in her sweet kisses and even sweeter body.

Something flickered in her gaze, and she drew up her knees, wrapping her arms about the sheets covering them. She nodded slowly. “I know.”

He released a long exhale. She agreed. That was what he wanted.

Why then did it stab at his gut to know she thought it a mistake too?

“I am a smuggler, Louisa.” Her name slipped from his lips, and he regretted it. It tasted too good on his tongue, made him want to climb back under the sheets with her and say it over and over, letting the words caress her skin. “My life is dangerous...and complicated. I know you do not need such a person in your life.”

She lifted her gaze to his. “I understand, Knight. You need not defend yourself.” She reached out to him, and he found himself closing the distance between them and placing his hand in hers. When she curled her fingers around his large hand, he had to drag his gaze away from the sight. “I do not regret last night, but you are right—we cannot let that happen again.”

He forced himself to swallow the knot in his throat. “Good.” The word came out strained.

“Besides, you are not only a smuggler, you are a viscount.”

“Most women would think that an advantage.”

“I am not most women, and a simple innkeeper cannot marry...that is...” Louisa clamped her mouth shut.

He nodded and blew out a breath thick with frustration. This was the response he needed. If they both vowed that they would not repeat this, there would be no temptation. He should not be frustrated, but he damn well was. He eased his hand from her grip then scooped up his shirt and wrenched it over his head, thrusting his arms violently into the sleeves and pulling it down. Aware of her gaze on him, he purposely avoided looking at her while he shoved his feet into boots and left the laces undone.

“I shall fetch some food while you ready yourself,” he told her. “Then we can go to Abigail’s lodgings.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“You have nothing to thank me for.”

“You saved me last night. And have delayed your plans for several days. Not to mention...” She gave a strained smile. “Well, you comforted me when I needed it most.”

Uncertain how to respond, he simply gave a curt nod and left the room. He could have requested food for them and been served fairly rapidly. Despite the time of day, the taproom was not even half-full. He imagined a lot of the guests had travelled on and new ones would not arrive until the evening. However, he waited to order food until he had drained an ale. The cold liquid flowed through him, and he closed his eyes to savor it. If he had nothing better to do, he would be tempted to indulge in several more in an attempt to silence his own rambling thoughts, but Louisa was waiting on him.

With any luck, they would persuade Abigail to return to Cornwall with Louisa and identify Hugh as her husband. Once that was done, he would leave for Northumberland immediately and settle this damned estate business. By the time he returned, their nights together would be forgotten and he could go back to the stasis that was him watching her from afar.

And his gritty life as a smuggler, ducking the excise men and using his brawn and jagged looks to intimidate any who thought to cross them.

Knight returned to the room to find Louisa dressed with her hair tied up in a ribbon. He offered her a plate of fish and sliced meat, and he eased himself down onto the chair in the corner while she remained on the bed. They ate in silence, and he could not claim to have tasted one morsel of it. Temptation kept pulling its tantalizing lasso, drawing his gaze to her. Fingers tight around his fork, he eyed the bruise on her cheek. Anger ran its hot, spikey fingers through him until he let his gaze fall on her lips or her neck, even the wispy curls surrounding her face. Then he was transported back to last night. He could not fail to recall every soft moment, every whispered word. He’d never made love to a woman before—not truly.

As much as he tried to fight this, there was no denying this was not some primitive attraction. Though that only meant he had to fight harder. He would not hurt Louisa for all the world.

He finished his food and took Louisa’s empty plate to stack them on the side table. “We should head to Mrs. Stanton’s.”

Nodding, she stood and straightened her skirts. “The sooner we prove this man is not who he says he is, the better.”

“Then what shall you do with him?”

She stilled, a hand halfway to smoothing her hair back. A crinkle appeared between her brows. “I had not thought that through really. I would have said simply send him away but after last night...”

“If he put his friends up to that, he deserves to see justice,” Knight said, grimly.

“But Abigail...”

He lifted a shoulder. Abigail needed someone better than that man in her life, but he knew it was not as easy as that. His mother might have left his father years ago if she was not utterly dependent on him. He might have mourned her death after Julianna was born, but he’d been relieved she’d been able to escape him in a way—and somehow it had guilted his father into behaving in a relatively decent manner with Julianna.

“Let us persuade her she must reveal him for who he is first,” he suggested. “Then we can worry what to do about him.”

The carriage awaited them at the front of the tavern, causing a few angry shouts and curses as it blocked one side of the road. The driver waved the irate people on with a dismissive hand while one of the footmen opened the door. Knight would look forward to being rid of this carriage too. He had every intention of sending Louisa and Abigail back in it. They would arrive home safely and with haste. As much as he wanted to get this business with the family estate settled, he would take the delays that would come with travelling with mail coaches and shared transport so long as Louisa was safe.

He would not miss the pomp that came with a private carriage either. He didn’t know how Red did it all the time.

Louisa tapped her fingers against the window ledge. He rested his hands on his thighs and bunched his muscles to avoid the temptation to lean over and curl a hand over her fingers. She hadn’t said much about the men who tried to hurt her, and knowing Louisa, she would dismiss any comforting words he could manage. He still felt he had to try, however.

Knight unfurled a hand and lifted it, flattening it hesitantly on her shoulder. Clearly lost  in thought, she jumped, and he withdrew his hand quickly.

“Forgive me.”

She shook her head. “No, sorry. I was just thinking...”

“I only wanted to say...that is...you were brave indeed last night.”

Her lips curved. “Thank you, Knight.”

“You’re, um, welcome.” He snapped his attention to outside. Curses. What a damned fool he must sound. He should never try to comfort a woman ever again.

The busy roads ensured their journey lasted for more uncomfortable minutes than he wanted, but he noted Louisa’s fidgeting had ceased and the concerned expression puckering her brow relaxed.

The driver pulled the carriage to a halt where they’d stopped previously, and they made their way through the tight alleys, Knight leading the way with ease now they knew where they were going. He paused when the house came into sight, and Louisa stumbled into him.

“What...” Her words died as she peered around him.

The door to Mrs. Stanton’s house was open, hanging from its hinges. Wood splinters revealed exactly how it was forced open and the boot print marring the flecked paint was sizeable.

“Oh no.” A hand to her mouth, Louisa shook her head slowly. “Oh no,” she repeated.

Knight inhaled slowly. Apparently Louisa had not been the only one attacked last night.