Lord Crayle's Secret World. Lara Temple

you arrange it?’

      ‘Yes. The damn fool won’t meet direct. He’s sending some lackey. Amateur. If they weren’t paying us so well...’

      ‘But they are. Where is the meeting?’

      ‘Nine at the Eagle and Crown.’

      ‘Filthy hole. You always choose filthy holes, Jurgen. I’m getting too old for this business. Idiot English. Very well, let’s get this over with. But next time I want see the man himself. I’m damned if we will take directions on the actual deed from a pawn. We need to make sure we can trust him to get us out of here once it’s done. That’s the only thing that matters.’

      ‘We’ll pass the message along tonight. Cheer up, Joachim, after this you will be able to retire.’

      ‘If this damn English weather doesn’t kill me first. Very well, I will see you there.’

      Sari held her breath as the two men started back towards the shore. Their footfalls creaked overhead and Sari closed her eyes and waited.

      When their footsteps finally receded she began to realise how foolhardy she had been. If they had found her, she would now be simply another corpse floating down the Thames with all the other refuse. Even her body might never have been found. Charlie might never have known what had happened to her. Her body started shaking convulsively, but she forced herself to move, keeping to the shadows until she reached the bridge.

      She had to tell someone what she had learned. There would be no one at the Institute at this hour, but she had to contact Anderson, or Lord Crayle, as soon as possible if they were to reach the rendezvous on time. Since she had no idea where Anderson lived, she headed towards Grosvenor Square.

      * * *

      Once there, another fact became apparent—she could hardly knock on the front door and asked to see his lordship, dressed as she was. She hurried round to the mews and stared in some dismay at the tall ivy-covered wall that protected his house. With a sigh, she grabbed a fistful of the plant and hauled herself over the wall as quickly as possible. She was definitely earning her keep tonight.

      She approached the dim light coming through a pair of long French windows which led into a sitting room. She could see no one there and after a moment’s hesitation she selected one of Deakins’s hooks and bent down to spring the lock. To her surprise it did not give in to her first attempt and she silently cursed the earl for having to make things especially difficult. He must have had these locks custom made. She took a deep breath, selected another, finer hook and tried again. It took her several long minutes to disengage the lock and, because she was annoyed and tired and the news she had to deliver was burning in her mind, Sari slipped into the room with less caution than was advisable when breaking into someone’s home.

      Without warning she was half raised off her feet and shoved back against the wall. She gave a shocked yelp and found herself staring up at the earl, whose eyes glinted with the same silvery grey as the sharp letter opener pressed to her neck.

      ‘It’s me!’ she croaked, tugging off her wool cap with one hand, whilst her other pulled at the arm which pressed her back against the wall.

      The dangerous look on his face was replaced by stark incredulity as he lowered the letter opener.

      ‘What the...?’ Words failed him for a moment. ‘Where the devil did you come from?’

      Then he saw the open windows and if anything the look on his face became even more dangerous than when he had first grabbed her. She realised suddenly that he was dressed only in a shirt, with his sleeves rolled up, and one arm was still pressing her against the wall. She knew she should remove her hand from his arm, but she didn’t. It was warm and hard under her palm; she could feel the tension in his muscles and she remembered the image of him towering over her in the salle, his shirt clinging damply to his shoulders. She shivered even as a flush of heat rose through her.

      * * *

      Michael stared at her flushed face, the tumbled hair and the patched coat she wore. He had been working in the study when he’d heard someone working the lock. The fact that the burglar had succeeded in opening the lock Deakins himself had promised him would withstand even skilled thieves had prepared him for a professional criminal. The last person on earth he had expected was her. He shoved down his shock and focused on one thing. She had broken into his home. She had better have a good excuse, even though he could not imagine any excuse good enough to placate him at the moment.

      ‘Well?’ he prompted, biting out the word as if that was all he was capable of enunciating.

      Sari wet her lower lip nervously, and decided to get straight to the point.

      ‘I followed Frey. He met Junger and they are going to meet someone at the Eagle and Crown tonight, at nine. It’s just a lackey this time, they said. They also said they would demand to meet with the man in charge before they went ahead and carried out whatever it is they are being paid for...’

      She felt some relief as she saw she had at least succeeded in distracting the earl from her transgression for the moment. He still had not released her and she tried not to think about the heat of his arm as it pressed against her chest.

      ‘What the devil were you doing following either of them? And how did you hear this? I cannot imagine them standing around in the middle of Piccadilly discussing it. Where was Morton?’

      ‘He gave Morton the slip. They were on a pier in Southwark. I climbed on the pylons underneath it. They didn’t see me.’ She felt very warm suddenly.