An unsettling thought occurred to her then. Did he ply every woman he met with such masterful pleasure? Did he make all the ladies in his acquaintance weep with the chance to have his mouth upon them once more? She wondered how many ladies were longing for him, somewhere in London, even now.
“Of course I did not,” she told him, lying.
What was one more fib? Almost everything about her was a lie. Her name. Her past. Heavens, she had been someone else for so long she had forgotten what it felt like to be herself.
His countenance turned serious. “If you didn’t miss me, mayhap I should go.”
“No.” She caught his sleeve when he would have turned away, staying his flight. “Do not go. Where have you been?”
His gaze traveled over her face, and she swore she saw hunger burning in the mysterious depths of his eyes. “Taking care of a few matters.”
Belatedly, she noticed a shadow of bruising on his jaw. She reached for it, gently pressing the tips of her fingers to the mottled skin. “What happened to you?”
His grin returned. “Is that worry I hear? For me?”
Of course it was.
But she was still uncertain where she stood with him, so she withdrew her touch. “Is it not normal to be concerned for the welfare of others? One would suppose it a necessary human trait.”
“Eh. Not every human has a good heart. In fact, most of them are deuced bad.” He shrugged, then held up his gloveless hands for her inspection, flexing his fingers to show knuckles which were bruised and split. “But you needn’t fear. The other lads had a worse time of it. I assure you of that.”
“Fisticuffs?” Her ire returned. “That is what kept you away for three days?”
“That and rats. The kind with a tail and the kind without.” His tone was smooth and calm, as if doing violence to others was a small matter.
Perhaps to him, it was.
She shivered. Rafe Sutton was a dangerous man.
“Cold?” He rubbed her upper arms as if to warm her. “Shall I stoke the fire?”
But how was it that she felt safe with him, despite everything she knew and all the warnings crowding her mind?
Because he is a good man. Because he is one of the few humans in possession of a good heart.
“Y-yes,” she said, stepping away from him as she stammered over her words.
She was awash with confusion, longing, and something stronger. Something that felt a whole lot like…
Love.
Rafe moved away from her, prowling to the other end of the chamber where the fire had indeed begun to die. She watched as he built the flames with easy, methodical motions. Those hands were capable of so many deeds. Good and bad. They had touched her with gentle reverence. And they had also pummeled someone.
Someone deserving, as Lord Gregson had been?
“Rats, you said,” she reminded him, crossing the room to avoid raising her voice too loudly. “What did you mean by that?”
Rafe was kneeling by the hearth, still tending to the fire. She tried not to notice the way his trousers clung to his well-muscled thighs, or the suggestion of his bottom beneath the tail of his dark wool coat.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, so rakishly handsome, he stole her breath. “We’ve some mace coves giving us trouble at The Sinner’s Palace. One of them managed to set more than a dozen rats loose inside the kitchens. They also stole some of our best bleeding booze. It had to be answered.”
“With fists?” she asked.
He raised a brow. “Sometimes that’s the only way, a good, sound drubbing.”
His world was so very different from hers. Or, at least, from the one she had formerly inhabited, what seemed a lifetime ago.
She nodded. “I see.”