A Dangerous Collaboration (Veronica Speedwell, #4)

by Deanna Raybourn

Every time, my thoughts went to him,

I paused for a moment, as I always did when Stoker was in a state of undress, to admire the view.

prick. If he meant to wound me, he could have chosen no sharper blade than indifference.

When you hear the gong,

“She disappeared on their wedding day,” Mertensia supplied bluntly. “It’s been three years and no one has seen or heard from her since.”

Instead, whenever I closed my eyes, I saw only him.

“We have, both of us, acknowledged that our bond is unlike any we have shared with another on this earth. This friendship, this strange alchemy that knits us together, it is too fine a thing to let it be tarnished with whatever corrosion she has left behind. I think there can be nothing more between us until and unless all ghosts from the past have been exorcised.”

Stoker and I engaged in badinage, each of us certain that no one else in the world understood

I smiled. “I would never give up lepidoptery, not for any man,” I told him truthfully.

Stoker gave me a bland look. “I might have set fire to his bed. Whilst he was in it.”

They were hands that had never failed me. I looked again to the pulse beating at the base of his throat and heard its echo in my own ears.

“Clever Veronica,” I said wryly. “You thought to protect him from being hurt and instead you have mauled yourself.”

relieved to find the Whitechapel killer had not struck again.

Because its 'lord' stokers brother

put out his hand and I took it, feeling the whole world in the warmth of that clasp.

But we could hear him, gurgling and choking and screaming for help until there was nothing but silence—that terrible silence that was worse than all the begging in the world.”

He laughed and the warm honey of the sound filled me to my bones.

I saw well enough what is under those clothes, Miss Speedwell. Permit me to observe that you are wasting an opportunity there.”

Hahaa i love this

“There is no truth so terrible as the unknown,” he replied.

For a moment I was conscious only of his hands gripping me through the thin fabric of my nightdress. I could feel the warm clasp of each finger just at my collarbones, and the thumbs, pressing either side of my spine, stroking gently as he pushed me.

To be engaged in an investigation once more, sparring with Stoker, was to be more myself than at any other time. I felt a rise of excitement and a sudden ferocious joy as heated as that of any butterfly hunt.

Stoker was not nearly handsome; he was utterly delectable, not in spite of his flaws but because of them.

“You fought back,” I guessed. He grinned. “Every chance I got.

“Without telling us,” Stoker stormed. “That is the difference between working with us and using us. He has exposed you to danger without the slightest consideration for your safety.”

“You really do comprehend me.” “Yes,” he agreed. “And you are a bloody sight more challenging than Latin, believe me.” He

“Whatever the situation required. I would have traveled with you to the furthest ends of creation. I would have delivered the child. I would have married you and given the damned thing a name if you wanted.”

“Then we are agreed,” I replied. “We will never marry.” “Never. Although, no marriage does not necessarily rule out certain marital activities,” he observed.

He put his mouth to the pulse in my throat, kissing a trail from my ear to the neck of my nightdress.

If I were to admit the depth of my feelings for him, I risked the ruination of the dearest thing in the world to me—his friendship. It was a small and pale shadow of what I wanted from him, but it would have to suffice.

“I need a man,” the old woman said with a long, thoughtful look at Stoker. He stepped sharply behind me. “Save me,” he muttered into my ear.

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You are a child of the moon, poppet. That darkness never leaves you. It is your constant companion, and it always will be.

When broken places mend, they are stronger than before.”

It weren’t just her that vanished, it was the master’s child,” Daisy said,

“By the time I received the telegram, she was already missing and my child with her,” Tiberius said.

“I would not risk Veronica’s life,” Stoker said simply.

“You are the fool, Tiberius, because you still do not understand. I do not love her enough to kill for her.” He stepped to the edge of the rock. “I love her enough to die for her.”

I thought of the hours he must have spent, sitting at my bedside, putting each stitch into the velvet, slowly and methodically, marking them off like the pearls on a string of prayer beads.

“Veronica Speedwell, I meant it then and I mean it now and I shall mean it with every breath until my last. I love you.”

“So, another adventure,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his features, illuminating his face like a pagan god. “Shall we begin? Hand in hand?”

“And back to back,” I added with a grin. “The better to see our enemies.” Back to back was also how butterflies copulated, but I thought it best to save such an observation for a more intimate moment.

Hah