“Come, now,Duke,” Francis spat. “My siblings will not have perished for nothing.”
Maria recalled that Francis and Miles’ sister, Jean Sinclair, had perished fifteen years prior, but she did not know the nature of it.
The man continued to shout. “Come out and face—oof!”
Someone grunted, and the sound of boots scraping along cobblestone came from ahead of her. Maria gripped her dagger in one hand, and darted toward the sound of the scuffle. Breathing fast, she attempted to join the fray.
Out of the murk, she spotted the two men grappling for control of a pistol clutched tightly in Francis’ hand, before the fog concealed them once more.
Maria’s stomach sank, and she could feel the blood draining from her face. But she swiftly pushed through her fear and dashed toward the men, her dagger at the ready.
“I have you now!” Francis crowed in triumph, waving his pistol in the air as he disentangled himself from a slowly retreating Jasper.
Maria shifted her grip on the dagger and lunged, lifting her arm high. Francis’ gaze darted to her, his eyes widening as he swung his weapon toward her. All at once, they collided. Her dagger-wielding arm was knocked off course by the blow, and it sliced into his upper arm.
Francis roared and reflexively pulled the trigger.
Crack!
Maria’s ears rang, rendering them momentarily useless. Francis screamed something in her face, spun, and ran away into the fog, clutching his arm with one hand. But Maria could think only of Jasper.
She turned, her nose filled with the acrid scent of gunpowder and her ears ringing, and scanned the haze. Returning her dagger to the sheath hidden in her boot, she took a hesitant step.
“Jasper?” she said, a hint of panic in her trembling voice.
The high-pitched ringing was her only response.
Where had the ball gone? Had Jasper been hit? Where was he?
She rushed forward until she reached a wall. Her pulse sped faster.
“Jasper? Where are you?”
Dragging her fingertips along the stone surface, she walked on, scanning the fog and the ground for any sign of him.
“I can’t hear you, Jasper,” she whispered. “Where are you?”
A scream was wrenched from her lungs as a dark form reached for her. She put out a hand, bracing for attack—and lamenting the fact that she already sheathed her dagger. But then she saw his face.
“Jasper,” she breathed.
He pulled her into an embrace, and she went willingly. His body was large, broad, warm, and wonderfully alive.
“You weren’t harmed, were you?” She pulled back and traced her hands over his chest, arms, and shoulders.
“No.” The word was only barely audible over the noise in her ears, but she felt the rumble against her palms, and the immediate relief that swept through her made her knees weak.
The danger has passed. The fearful tension that she’d held in her shoulders gave way, and she released a weary sigh. Francis would unquestionably make another attempt on their lives, but for the moment, they were safe.
“When I…” Jasper started, and then swallowed, his gaze pained. “When I saw you nearing Francis, I feared…” He grimaced in pain and slid his hands around her waist. “Christ, Maria.”
His lips crashed down upon hers.
CHAPTER9
Maria’s eager kisses were like liniment to Jasper’s soul. Damn, but he’d been frightened for her. He could have wept with relief when he’d heard her voice after the pistol had been fired.
Her tongue delved deeper into his mouth, sending sparks of heat directly into his rapidly-stiffening cock, and his arms tightened reflexively around her waist. He needed to touch her everywhere, over her back and down to her hips, andbloody hell, her arse in those breeches!
