The Coach and Horses was on the way home and although she wanted to believe the best of Flavian, as she walked by the pub and heard the commotion going on within, her heart sank. There were very few times that the pub got that rowdy. There was either a fight or a high stakes match taking place. Knowing her brother’s weakness for cards as well as everything else, she feared that Flavian had already returned to his usual vices. She might have saved her breath this morning because it never seemed to do any good.
Anger energizing her, Fleur stomped toward the establishment and pushed open the door.
At first, she wasn’t able to see anything. The crowd was on their feet making it impossible to see what was going on. But it was obviously something of import, for another round of cheers went about the pub and money was being exchanged among the assemblage. It made her furious because she was more convinced than ever that Flavian was at the heart of this debacle.
When she managed to catch a glimpse of the innkeeper through the crowd, the despondency she saw on his face confirmed what she had prayed not to be true.
Pushing her way forward, through the throng of eager onlookers, she stopped when she saw her brother lay down a hand of cards that many would think was a good hand when playing Three Card Brag. But when her mind whirled with what he might have been using for blunt—and how much—she placed a hand on her stomach.
“It’s your play, Mr. Porter.”
The smug sound of Flavian’s voice didn’t bother her nearly as much as the identity of his opponent. With the hat pulled down low and a slow swirl of smoke coming from the cheroot between his fingers, Fleur recognized him as the same man who had been at the duel that morning. She didn’t know who he was and neither did she care. She just knew she had to get her ignorant brother away from him before he did any more damage.
She started to move forward once more, but the collective gasp that went around the crowd as Mr. Porter laid down his cards did not sound positive for Flavian—or her. “A running flush is very good, Mr. Davies, but I regret that a prial trumps your hand.”
A puff of smoke emphasized his words and accentuated the look of shock on her brother’s face. She knew right then that he had done something unthinkable. Something possibly unforgiveable.
She pushed a random stranger out of her way and stood over Flavian. She saw the empty tankards lined up along the opposite edge of the table and realized that it was worse than she’d imagined because he was in his cups. That was when he made the most dreadful errors in judgment that she generally had to pay for.
She reached down and grabbed his jacket and yanked hard. He stumbled out of his seat but managed to retain his footing as she hissed, “We’re going home.Now.”
Flavian appeared to still be in shock over his loss, and she would learn what she would have to atone for later. Right now, she just wanted out of this miserable place. Shoving him toward the door, she made it a handful of steps before a deep voice behind her asked evenly, “I didn’t realize there was a Mrs. Davies.”
Fleur didn’t bother to turn around and look at the man. She knew it was the one who had challenged her brother and she hated him for it. “I’m his sister, sir. And I would kindly ask you to leave us alone before you do any more damage.”
Without saying anything else, she managed to get Flavian outside before the man spoke up again, having followed them out the door. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Miss Davies.”
Again, Fleur’s stomach twisted into a knot of fear. She didn’t lessen her pace as she gritted her teeth and tossed over her shoulder. “You took advantage of my brother. That is hardly the act of a gentleman.”
“I never said I was one.”
Her breath started to come in short pants. Either from anger or panic, she wasn’t yet sure why as of yet. “Whatever it is we can discuss at another time, when my brother has had time to sober from all the drink you plied him with.”
“I hope you aren’t trying to infer that I did anything without Mr. Davies consent. I can assure you it was a fair game and there were plenty of witnesses to attest to that fact.”
Fleur was starting to lose patience but since they were nearly at the cottage, she kept her silence until she was able to open the door. “I will be inside in a moment,” she snapped at Flavian, who walked over the threshold with the same sort of blank look on his face. She slammed the door behind him and finally turned to face her adversary.
The breath abruptly left her lungs.
This man wasn’t just a nuisance. He was the blackguard of all blackguards, the devil’s right hand. Beneath the cap that he wore low over his forehead were a pair of intense silver eyes that penetrated her without a single touch. He intruded upon her very soul without trying because he was a man born with hell running through his veins. Never before had she met a man like him, and she could only pray that she never did again.
However, since she needed to stay strong against him, she crossed her arms and squared off with him as an equal. But if he challenged her to a duel, something told her she wouldn’t win that fight. “What does he owe you?”
He had tossed aside his cheroot somewhere along the way, but his height and the strong line of his jaw and cheekbones were enough to cause her heart to jump into her throat with awareness of this virile figure standing before her in the waning light of day. He might have been handsome except for the fact he was a demon in the guise of a simple human. She dreaded to think what sort of menacing man he might be in the darkness.
“More than you can hope to ever pay,” he returned, his words dripping with a mix of sarcasm and satisfaction, as if he enjoyed having people at his mercy. She had no doubt it was true and she didn’t relish being his next conquest.
She closed her eyes momentarily and exhaled a heavy breath. “Whatever it is, I will make it right.”
His gaze flicked up and down, and then his lips stretched into what could only be considered a smile, although it was without any sort of warmth or affection. It was calculating, like he was working out a solution in his mind that would only benefit him. “It is not your debt to pay.”
“Perhaps not,” she concurred. “But I have taken care of my brother for more than five years. He is all the family I have and I won’t let anyone take him from me.” She dared to step closer to him. “Name your price, Mr. Porter.”
* * *
Drake wasn’t surprisedby anyone. Ever. For someone who had grown up in the least welcome circumstances, who had fought and clawed his way to the surface or face death, he had learned a lot about people and what they were willing to withstand for survival.
He had yet to find anyone that knew what that feeling was like but he felt a slight connection to Miss Davies. He’d had no idea that Flavian had a sister but he was more intrigued that he would admit. “How old are you?”
