Scandal - COMPLETED

Chapter Twenty-Three

To my eternal irritation, McNaught proved to be right about Marcus. My twin did not arrive when I expected him to. Another hour came and went while I waited, and still, nothing. Feeling like an utter fool, I gave up on him. The past two nights had finally caught up with me, and my exhaustion could no longer be ignored. There was no way I would last trying to wait up.

I stood from my chair by the fire and went to the bedroom door. Was Haydar still at his post in my sitting room?

I tightened the ties on my heavy dressing gown and cracked the door open. No, Haydar wasn't there anymore. Instead, my gaze landed upon Adnan, the man able to mimic accents even better than I could. He was the shortest of the Janissaries, which wasn't to say that he was slight of stature. Though just my height, his shoulders were so wide he must have had to walk through narrow doorways at an angle. His skin was the darkest of the three, a deep bronze. He was also the most handsome, with glossy black hair, dark brows that arched above caramel-colored eyes, a square jaw, and full lips that seemed forever on the verge of a smile. At least when he knew he was being watched.

Now, all hint of a grin was gone, and his lips had flattened into a hard line. The eyes that looked so warm and inviting in the light of the day had lost their fire. Frost had crept into them now, reminding me of the deadly, wolfish look I had first seen on his face.

He'd pulled one of the armchairs into the far corner, and sat in the shadows there, able to see every crevice in the room around him at once. He held an open blade in one fist. As I watched, he flicked his wrist, twirled the knife over the back of his hand, caught the hilt out of the air, and then spun it the other way. If I tried a maneuver like that, I'd need a surgeon to stitch me up afterward.

"Can I help you, Your Grace?" he spoke out of the gloom.

I jumped. He hadn't betrayed his knowledge of my presence with so much as a glance in my direction.

"Taking shifts?" I asked.

He nodded.

"When will Haydar's next turn come?"

"Noon tomorrow," he said.

"I'll make sure Harriet is better prepared this time."

He cracked a smile, teeth flashing white in the darkness. "I heard she tried to brain McNaught with brassware earlier."

"Er...yes, that about sums it up."

He smothered his laughter with his free hand, all the while still turning that knife without having to watch it. It was unsettling – a reminder that no matter how jovial he sometimes appeared, this man was dangerous.

"Goodnight then," I said.

He lifted his chin in farewell, still chuckling.

What strange men the spy had saddled me with.

I locked the door behind me and paced toward my bed. Harriet lay at the foot of it in her cot, clutching a candleholder in her sleep like a babe might a stuffed animal. I paused to pull the covers up over her. She looked so peaceful in her sleep. One might never guess that she'd recently tried to brain a spy with brassware. I smiled, recalling the look on McNaught's face when he was forced to dive aside or take a candleholder to the face. Her fury at him on my behalf was spectacular, further proof that I should have dropped my walls and let her in years ago.

"I'll make up for it," I told her sleeping form. One way or another, I would.

My mattress felt like a cloud when I climbed into it. I rested my head on my pillow, closed my eyes, and knew no more.

I awoke several hours later to the sound of knocking. Harriet scrambled from her cot brandishing her weapon of choice. I was slower to rise, moving stiffly because of my injuries. The clock on the mantel told me it was just past two in the morning.