London Calling Read Online Free PDF

this was all over she might be frightened‌—‌might think that the sensible choice would be to leave, just as James said. But for now she was too angry. “If you are going to say that those men in the warehouse are dangerous, please do not bother. I can see that well enough for myself. And if they were to find out that you are not who you pretend, they would kill you, without a moment’s thought. What would happen then, James? Did you even think of that? I would not have stopped you from taking this assignment, playing this part. But you did not even give me the chance! Nor even”‌—‌Susanna’s throat ached with the effort of holding her voice steady‌—‌“nor even the chance to tell you goodbye. Did you even stop to consider how I might feel if you were killed?”
    She saw James’s hands twitch, as though he were fighting the urge to clench his fingers. He let out a slow breath and said, “I did not want you to be—”
    “Afraid for you?” Susanna snapped. Despite herself, her voice shook. “It’s too late for that! I’ll never be able to trust you again, James. Every time you leave me, I’ll be afraid that you’ve done it again‌—‌placed yourself in danger without telling me. What kind of basis is that for a marriage?”
    She thought a quick flash of pain crossed James’s face, tightened the edges of his mouth. But then he let her go, his arms falling back to his sides. He stepped back, away from her, and said in the same even tone, “You are right. It is no basis at all. I’m sorry, Susanna. You would unquestionably be better off without me.”
    “What?” Susanna felt her breath go out, almost as from a physical blow. She had at times wondered whether James regretted their engagement. But it was only now, hearing the words from his mouth, that she realized she had never in her heart expected the fear to be proven right.
    But then she saw James’s hands. The rest of his body was taut and very still. But, just visible in the gloom of the alley, his hands shook.
    Susanna took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and looked up into James’s face. “You wish me to end our engagement?” She reached up and lightly touched his cheek. “Is that truly what you want?”
    She heard James draw a ragged breath, and he said, on an unsteady whisper, “What I want—”
    Slowly, he reached to touch her face as she had his, his fingers trailing lightly, gently, from her cheekbone to her jaw, and lower, to her throat and collarbone.
    Susanna shivered. It was still so dark that she could scarcely read his expression. But she thought he looked down at her as though he were trying to memorize the sight, preserve this moment in his mind.
    He shook his head and she felt another fine tremor run through the hand that rested once again against her cheek. “God, what I want—”
    From within the warehouse, a man’s voice‌—‌Philippe’s, she assumed‌—‌called out, “De Castres‌—‌what’s taking you so long? Have you found a whore out there or what?”
    Susanna heard a few raucous laughs from the other men at that, muffled by the warehouse wall.
    James jerked his hand back, but his reply was nonchalant, spoken in perfectly accented French. “I should be so lucky. Just a drunk, as we thought.”
    Then he lowered his voice again and looked back at Susanna. “I must go. I can’t even risk seeing you back to your carriage. Go quickly. And”‌—‌she thought a faint edge of a humorless smile curved his mouth‌—‌“though I know it’s entirely contrary to your nature, please try to stay safe.”
    Susanna moved towards him. “James—”
    But he was already walking swiftly towards the warehouse door from which he’d emerged. “I have to go.” He paused, just for a moment and looked back at her. “I’m sorry. I . . . ‌I have to go.”
     
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    Susanna had always thought the term ‘waking trance’ a product of some novelist’s overactive imagination.