“Promise me you won’t ever put yourself in danger like that again,” he said, his voice sounding harsher than he’d intended.
She blinked up at him. “You are angry with me.”
Regret for his harsh tone speared his chest. He shook his head, letting out a frustrated exhale.
“I haven’t any right to be angry,” he said.
He caught her staring at his lips as he spoke. She shouldn’t have. She most certainly should not have. Something achingly sensual and sweet tugged at his chest. It tightened every single muscle on his body.
Her eyes rose to meet his, just as he caught sight of her delicate throat muscles working as if sensing his arousal. Her lips parted, and the sudden raggedness of her breathing sounded. Desire flooded his blood.
Fifi’s eyelids dropped, half-lidded, but he still spotted their hazel flecks of golden browns and greens deepening. There was fire there, dancing like sun-drenched copper strands in her lovely hair. Her eyes returned to his lips and an unwitting groan escaped his mouth.
“Tell me I won’t scare you again if I kiss—” he started.
“Kiss me,” she finished.
Before his brain could process the fact that this was ill-advised and cease the actions of his body, he gently palmed her cheeks as his lips took hers. His hard mouth against her soft, tartly sweet lips was enthralling and exhilarating. It charged his body like nothing had ever done before; his lungs struggled to keep up with the wild pounding of his heart, and the blood rushing through his veins felt like the shock from a lightning bolt. When she sighed longingly and sank into him, he all but lost his mind. But somewhere in his dazed brain heavy footsteps registered.
CHAPTER 34
Cold steel touching his temple made Slade go deadly still. It was the unmistakable feel of the barrel of a flintlock pistol. Ice replaced the fire in his veins.
“Remove your bloody hands from my sister.” The quietness of Egan Dunbar’s voice hit Slade like a blacksmith’s hammer.
Slade stepped back from Fifi, and before he could turn, bone and flesh slammed into his jaw. The full impact of Egan’s fist had hit him years ago, many times in fact, during their training sessions. But it had never mirrored a steeled battering ram before.
“No! Egan. Please stop!” Fifi cried.
Slade staggered away from Fifi, worried for her safety, as he turned to face Egan. Another punch landed on his nose. He gasped at the ungodly pain. The unmistakable crunch of a breaking bone sounded as his vision blurred.
Slade raised his hand in a gesture of surrender. “Egan, wait …”
An unimaginable growl preceded another punch landing on his left eye. Slade’s head snapped back. The force of the blow knocked him with a painful thud onto his backside. His head rang. His whirling thoughts came into focus. He looked up.Egan’s angry red face loomed over him. His foster brother raised his hand and pointed a cocked pistol straight at Slade’s chest. The adrenaline to defend himself never surged inside Slade, nor did anger at being judged a libertine. He understood Egan’s reaction. Guilt and remorse stayed his own fists.
An outraged Fifi rushed forward and snatched the pistol from Egan’s hands. Duncan and Keith peeked out from behind Egan’s menacing stature. Wide-eyed shock showed on their rugged features. He could have even grinned at their astonished and comical looks if his damn face didn’t hurt so much.
“Egan Dunbar, have you taken leave of your senses?” Fifi’s voice was sharp.
She held the gun by its barrel and shoved it at Keith who immediately took it and pointed it down, away from anyone. Slade had learned the previous night that Keith was a new father of twins. And even though he had only one or two strands of gray hair at his temple, he appeared a cool, level-headed mature sort.
Fifi rushed to Slade’s side and assisted him up. She reached into her skirt pocket, took out a pearly white lace handkercher and pressed it to his nose before he could tell her it would just get ruined with his blood. But he ended up wincing audibly at the stinging contact.
“My apologies …” she whispered, pulling her hands away. The intensity of her pursed lips and worry in her expression touched something deep in his heart. It made the pain of his smarting jaw, left eye and nose, which now dripped blood, worth it.
Egan menacingly closed the distance between them. “This is betwixt Slade and I, Phoebe. Return to your room and prepare to leave, posthaste!”
Fifi remained where she was, her head snapping toward her brother, defiance and determination etched in her bonnyfeatures. “You’re behaving like a ruffian and a barbarian!” Her voice was loud and angry.
Slade couldn’t help the adoration and pride ballooning in his chest at her defense of him. But still, guilt and a little bit of shame at being the cause of the siblings now glaring at each other niggled him.
“Fifi …” Slade started, nudging her hand holding the half-bloodied handkercher. She turned to him, the worry on her face returning. “… do as Egan bids,” Slade said.
She frowned. He saw the uncertainty flashing across her features, but there was understanding there as well. Neither of them wanted to make an even bigger scandal than this already was. She silently nodded and flinched at the bloody handkercher in her hand. He ventured a guess it was the sight of the blood, recalling what happened to her when Ludlow was shot. She turned towards the women’s bedchamber door where Lucia was now peeking out. Lucia’s hair was up in a ridiculous mobcap, and pure wide-eyed shock was etched on her face. She grabbed Fifi’s hand, shot Slade an accusatory glance, then pulled Fifi into the chamber before shutting the door.
Slade turned to Egan. Egan’s mouth had gone slack, and his eyes wide. He was eying Slade and the closed door Fifi had disappeared through.
“Did you … take her to bed?” Egan asked. The twisting red anger and ugly snarl returning to his face.
