Storm of Bells

26. Greymail

Before I could do so much as blink, my back slammed into a cold stone wall, and an arm pressed against my throat, holding me in place. Coughing, I blinked up into the aquiline face of Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh. Time hadn't been kind to him since last we met. In fact, the considerate lady with the hourglass seemed to have given him a good kick in the derrière. There were new lines in his face that accentuated the aristocratic arrogance etched into every inch of his visage, and, for the first time since I'd known him, I spotted a few gray hairs in his blonde lion's mane. A small part of me took savage satisfaction in that. The bigger part of me, however, was concerned with the hard arm digging into my throat—and with what he'd just said.

So nice to see you again, Miss Linton—or should I say Mister Linton?

He knew.

He knew everything about me.

Well...

Maybe not 'everything'. If he'd known everything, he would have made sure to grab hold of my feet as well as my arms.

My foot rose and, with full force, smashed down onto his elegant, soft, black-leather town shoes.

'Aar! You b—'

And then he said a word I would have added to my collection of insults if it weren't exclusively applicable to ladies.

'Now, now, then, Lord Dalgliesh,' I said, slipping underneath his arm just as I slipped my hand into the pocket that held my revolver. 'Manners!'

Suddenly, two more figures appeared out of the shadows at Dalgliesh's side. They were dressed in plain farm hand's clothing, but from the way they held themselves, I doubted very much they'd spent much time working in agriculture. Besides, not many farm hands had brand-new military-grade rifles strapped to their backs. Rifles for which they were just now reaching.

'I wouldn't, if I were you, boys,' I told them, holding up a warning finger. They hesitated, their gazes travelling from my revolver's muzzle to their employer and back.

Lord Dalgliesh's jaw moved for a moment—then he jerked his head sideways. 'I told you to keep your hands off your guns, fools! That's not the way to deal with her.'

'So...' I cocked my head. 'You've learned a lesson since we last met.'

'You could say that.' Sharp, steel-blue eyes bored into me. 'I've learned how to deal with you. The two of you?' He gestured at his henchmen. 'Leave! Mr Linton and I have some private business to discuss.'

'Mister?' One of the goons was stupid enough to glance around in confusion. 'But I don't see any Mist—'

'Leave!'

Lord Dalgliesh's command cut through the air like a whip. Paling, the two henchmen scuttled away into the shadows. I was left next to the house of God, alone with a man who thought he was one. For the first time, a slight shiver of fear went down my spine.

'So.' Pushing away my trepidation, I met his gaze head-on. 'You know.'

'I do.' He smiled in a way that gave the words additional meaning. A meaning that I didn't like whatsoever.

My eyes narrowed. 'Why are you here?'

'I'm so glad you asked, Mr. Linton.' His smile broadening, he started to circle me. Quickly, I moved into the corner between the wall and one of the buttresses. That, unfortunately, only provided him with an opportunity to corner me in. His eyes sparkled. 'I have a proposition for you, Mister Linton.'

'No.'

He lifted an eyebrow. 'You haven't even heard what I want to propose.'

'Exactly. It's the you proposing it part that stinks. I don't want to listen to a word you have to say.'