Because of that level of intimacy between them.

As if she felt his eyes upon her, Myrtle looked up. “What?” she mouthed from over the top of Horace’s head. And then fear lit her eyes. “Are they here?” she asked, her voice still soundless but her gaze conveying all the terror contained within that question.

He shook his head. “No.” He made his lips move slowly so that assurance could penetrate.

Some of the tension seemed to leave her narrow shoulders, and Myrtle returned her attention to petting Horace.

Adjusting his hold on his pistol, Val joined the pair.

Myrtle looked up.

He raised his palms and did a pointed search of the rooms.

“I don’t know where they are,” she said, and he touched a finger to his lips, reminding her to be silent, but his attempts proved futile. “I am hoping they’ve stopped giving me chase, and that they will just get on with stealing my father’s artifacts, but—”

“Will you be quiet?” he clipped out. “They will hear you.”

“It’s impossible not to.”

That booming voice on the other side of the panel brought his and Myrtle’s and Horace’s attention flying to the door.

“Damned magpie, she is.”

Val silently cursed, even as Horace jumped up and growled at the panel standing between him and the street thieves.

He held his left palm up, and the dog immediately took that signal, going silent and lying on the floor at his feet.

Her cheeks pale, Myrtle looked at Val with stricken eyes, and his heart—which he’d only just learned hadn’t been as dead or as insulated as he’d once believed—ached at that fear she knew.

“You shouldn’t have brought him back. I sent him to safety,” she said.

And then it registered. She was speaking about Horace. She feared not for herself, but for the dog. She’d sent him out to be free from danger, while all the while she’d stayed to face down two dangerous foes, and Val didn’t know whether to shake her or kiss her.

“I said, open this damned door, and this time, if you don’t comply, I will put a bullet in that dog’s throat.”

“You won’t,” Myrtle cried. “You addlepated blunderbuss!”

“Myrtle.” Val caught her firmly but gently around her left arm, but she surged against him, shaking a fist at the door.

“Because you’ll have to put one in me first—”

“Myrtle—”

“We’ll be ’appy to do it, too. Finally get ourselves some peace and quiet this night.”

Myrtle gasped. “Why, I never—”