“Most definitely, and I would very much like to explore them.” Hannah undid the buttons to his outer garments and ran her hands up the ridges of his stomach to rest upon his chest. Her exploration was well worth Méibh’s bruising strike to her ankle.
“The fowl is attacking you, isn’t she?” Eoin asked.
“Just ignore Méibh. I certainly am.” Hannah ran her fingers back down Eoin’s abdomen toward the hem of his shirt. She wanted the garment off.
“I don’t want you hur—” Eoin began to say, but before he finished, footsteps pounded on the steps.
Hannah sprang back, nearly tripping over Méibh. The gosling immediately began to circle around, flapping her stubbywings and extending her neck. The pounding of feet grew nearer, and Hannah reached for the pistol that she carried in her pocket. Every attack had occurred either in Eoin’s home or on his property, and she didn’t trust that even literally fortified walls could keep peril out. They’d been focusing on the Purveyor being a family member, but he could be one of the servants too.
Eoin was frantically rebuttoning his shirt. Every few seconds, he cast a nervous look at the doorway.
“I would reach for a weapon rather than worrying about putting yourself to rights,” Hannah pointed out. “The servants already think I’m your mistr—”
“Eoin!”
Was that Elizabeth Quick? She wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.
“Eoin!”
Yes, that definitely was Lizzie. After her warning, Hannah was not likely to forget her voice.
“On second thought, button faster.” Hannah shoved her gun back in her pocket. Although her hair wasn’t mussed, she nervously reached up to pat it.
Eoin had just finished securing the last fastening when his mother and his sister burst into the room like two avenging Amazons. Even attired in serviceable dresses instead of their Holland trousers, the two looked formidable. The extra fabric might obscure their toned muscles, but no amount of flounce could ever diminish their innate physicality.
His sister raced across the room and caught him in a fierce embrace. It was probably good that Eoin had exercised as much as he had or Lizzie might have snapped him in two. Méibh pecked furiously at her skirts, but the prizefighter ignored the feathered assault.
Eoin’s mother hung back, her hands opening and closing. She clearly wanted to hug her son, but obviously thought she’d lost the right.
“Go ahead,” Hannah told her quietly. “He wants to be held by you.”
Championess Quick didn’t need additional encouragement. She shot across the room with a fleetness that had made her a formidable opponent in the ring. In one giant swoop, she gathered both her children into her arms. Méibh went wild, but no one paid her any regard.
“We heard about the bear!” Lizzie said. “Why didn’t you mention it in your missive to meet you here?”
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Eoin said, which earned him a light bop on his shoulder from his sister—at least Hannah assumed the bop was light. With Lizzie, one couldn’t be sure. Eoin showed no reaction to it, though.
“That is a silly reason,” Lizzie informed him. “We’ve fretted over each other for nearly twenty years because we didn’t know what the other was enduring. Keeping secrets won’t stop the worrying.”
“You are unharmed?” Championess Quick asked, pulling back from her children to run her gaze over Eoin.
“Yes,” Eoin said. “Méibh, the fowl currently at my feet, distracted the beast long enough for Miss Wick and I to reach shelter.”
Both women glanced down at the gosling, who was currently stuck in Lizzie’s petticoats. Lizzie lifted her outer skirt, and Méibh popped free—a ball of frustrated rage.
“She does appear to be a scrappy warrior.” Lizzie peered down at Méibh as the little bird tried to charge her again.
“My kind of fighter.” Championess Quick chuckled, and Hannah caught a glimpse of the real woman beneath thereserved façade. Each one of her layers was so much like her son’s.
“How did you hear about the bear?” Eoin asked. “Do you know Dr. Matthew Talbot?”
“There’s talk of it all over London!” Lizzie said. “It’s not every day that a duke is nearly eaten by a wild beast in Mayfair.”
“I wouldn’t say nearly eat—” Eoin started to say.
“They say that you wrestled with it.” Lizzie poked her brother in the ribs. “Which, if that is the case, we need to get you into the ring with that kind of talent.”
“There was no wrestling,” Eoin said quickly. “Only running.”
