In the House of Secrets

Chapter Eighteen | Beckett and Aurora

Penelope sucked in a breath, and they ceased their dance.

"From you?" she repeated.

Beckett released her hand, lifting his own to cup her face. Penelope tensed slightly when he stroked her cheek, but it did not seem to be in fear. It felt as though there was a hum beneath her skin.

He nodded, worried about saying more. He should not have said anything at all. Penelope breathed deeply, and he longed to capture at least one of her breaths. He'd felt the attraction from the very beginning, but he'd be damned if it wasn't getting worse. A goddamn curse on his body.

"I do not understand why I should require protection from you," she said finally.

"Don't you?"

He found that hard to believe. They both knew how close he was that night to shredding off her clothes before Griffin's arrival interrupted them.

The thought of Griffin now should have convinced Beckett to release her, but his fingers pushed back into her hair instead, gripping the base of her neck.

"No," she said softly, eyes dancing now that their feet had stopped. "Would you hurt me?"

God, no. Never. Not intentionally, anyway.

"Of course not."

"I see." Penelope's eyes continued to traverse his face, examining. Searching. "Then I think you underestimate me, Colonel."

Beckett was beginning to think the same thing.

"Perhaps I do," he admitted.

Her brows raised in surprise at his honesty. And then she leaned into him even further, letting her weight rest against Beckett's. When she spoke, her voice dropped seductively.

"Then I do not understand the concern."

At the moment, with Penelope so close and feeling so wonderful in his arms, Beckett was also finding it hard to understand the concern. But then his eyes roamed over her, and the little similarities there reminded him. The likeness to his best friend.

"Your brother," he muttered, sounding wholly unconvincing.

"Ah, Griffin." Penelope's eyes shifted away from him. "He is rather protective, yes. You have that in common with him. Only your motives are entirely different, of course."

Beckett raised a brow, and Penelope took note.

"You are simply determined to do a job, are you not?"

He dropped his hand from her hair, though his other stayed firmly on her waist. He did not like her oversimplification of the situation or her implication that he did not truly give a damn about her well-being.

Beckett might be practical and tied to his duty, but he was not uncaring.

It was likely better, though, that Penelope thought ill of him. Maybe then she would stop flirting with his ability to restrain himself whenever she was near. So he did not correct her.

"You are close with him?" he asked instead.

"Griffin taught me what it was like to have a family in ways that my parents could not," she said, her voice quiet. "It is why I wish to have the ball before he departs."

Her sentiment was sweet, but Beckett could not help but point out the obvious. He sighed as he released her—because he simply could not talk about Griffin whilst groping his sister—and took several steps back.

"Griffin does not care for balls."

Penelope worried her lip for a moment. "No, perhaps he does not. But that is because of how he was treated when we were growing up. He was never invited to balls, and my father never included him in any of their affairs. He deserves to be included for once."