Page 34 of Sweet Hellion

“Have you seen Lord Munro?”

“Earlier,” she said.

“If you see him, do no’ tell him I am here.”

“Oh, no, sir. I do not like Lord Munro. I know I shouldn’t say it, but there is something not right with him.”

“You are right there, lass. If you see her, please find me and tell me.”

“I will try.” She moved on.

Again, Rhys scanned the crowded room. Emma was so small, he could easily miss her amongst the taller men. Find Munro and he would find her.

“Lord Northwood?” a woman called. “Rhys Macleod?”

Damnation. He’d been recognized. He sidestepped a plump woman walking with a man and hurried around the dance floor.

“Rhys?” the woman called again, and he angled down a nearby hallway.

A woman’s cry from a room deeper down the corridor caught his attention. He hurried forward. Which room had the sound come from? He tried the first door on the right, but the room was dark and empty. The same with the next and the next door on the left. The fourth door was lit by a single fat beeswax candle on the desk. Munro struggled with Emma against the wall to the right of the cold hearth.

“Rhys,” she cried.

Munro looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened. He released Emma and faced Rhys as Rhys reached them. Rhys rammed a fist into Munro’s nose. Munro reeled backwards. Emma leapt aside in the instant before Munro crashed into the wall, then toppled to the floor.

Munro swore. “I will see you hanged.” Clutching his bleeding nose, he struggled to his feet.

“You will not live long enough to see me hanged.”

Rhys seized his lapel and drove his fist into Munro’s belly. The man doubled over and fell to the carpet wheezing. Rhys reached for him. A hand clamped down on his shoulder and spun him around. Rhys drew back his fist, then froze at sight of Stirling.

“I see you found him,” Stirling said.

“Rhys saved me,” Emma said.

Others crowded into the room

“What’s this?” a commanding voice sliced through the air.

The major general stepped through the crowd, his keen eyes locked on Rhys.

“Madness,” Lord Munro choked. “My honor has been slighted by—”

“You have no honor,” Emma cut in. “I have a letter from my brother.”

Rhys tensed. A letter from Tory?

“He is witness that it was Lord Munro who deserted his men on the field, not Rhys Macleod,” she said.

Munro’s mouth flopped open like a fish.

“Who is your brother?” the major general demanded.

“Lieutenant Bamfield,” Stirling said. “He is en route here now from Portugal, John.”

“What have you to do with this, Stirling?” the major general asked.

“Perhaps we should speak in private.” Stirling nodded at the crowd behind the major general.