Will shot a look down the hall, his booted heels muffled on the Turkish runner. He could sense Lena in the house somewhere, but not nearby. Which suited him perfectly for the moment. Slipping inside the study, he closed the door behind him. Morning light spilled through the windows. An ungodly hour of the morning, in fact. He’d barely slept, his mind replaying every scene from the night before. As soon as he grew close to the edge of sleep, the memory of Lena’s fear scent would sweep through him and his eyes would jerk open again. He needed to know more. Especially about the one name that frightened her. Barrons looked up from his desk, his dark eyes widening slightly. “Will.” He leaned back in his chair, his progress marked by the shifting of well-oiled leather. Dressed in a black velvet coat, the only sign of color was the spill of white lace at his wrists and throat. A little ruby pin winked against the lace. “You do realize the price on your head isn’t lifted until you sign the prince consort’s document?”
