Heart of Iron

Six

No sign of the duke or duchess anywhere.

Lena growled under her breath and retreated down the hallway. It wouldn’t do to be caught here alone. As much as she wanted to discover more about the Scandinavian treaty, she wasn’t foolish enough to start searching rooms by herself at a ball full of predators.

Noise washed over her as she returned to the entry. Keeping an eye open for a certain verwulfen she wished to avoid, she ducked into the ballroom.

Time to leave. She just had to find Adele and her mother—who was chaperoning her tonight—and plead a case of nerves. Pasting a wan smile on her face, she slipped around the edges of the ballroom, searching for them.

A full circuit took her back to the main doors. Adele was wearing white, as befitted a woman actively searching for a protector, but none of the white-gowned debutantes were her. A little tick of fear started in Lena’s chest. She wouldn’t have left the ballroom, would she? Adele knew the consequences of that as well as she did. Here, they both had an illusion of safety.

Unless…she’d left with someone on purpose. Perhaps she’d found someone willing to take her as thrall?

Lena scurried along the windows, peering out into the shadowed gardens. Adele—cunning, smart Adele—would never place such a risk to her reputation again. Not without an ironclad thrall contract in hand.

Smiling at Adele’s mother, who stood gossiping with another matron, Lena pushed through the crowd and staggered into the entry. The grandfather clock ticked slowly in the middle of the staircase, but the room was empty.

The powder room. Maybe she was there?

Pushing open the small room, she ran into the Duchess of Casavian.

The woman caught her with strong, pale hands. Years ago, her father had infected her with the craving so that when he died, his House would not fade into obscurity. Aramina should have been considered a rogue, but her House was one of the Great Houses. After numerous assassination attempts she’d somehow survived, some said she’d blackmailed her way to power, forcing the Echelon to accept her.

“I’m sorry,” Lena said. “I was looking for my friend.”

Aramina’s eyes narrowed. “You’re Barrons’s ward, aren’t you?”

And too late, Lena remembered the blood feud between her half brother and this woman. “Yes.”

“A girl like you shouldn’t be out here alone. It’s dangerous.”

“I know. I couldn’t find my friend… And I won’t go back without her.”

Consideration lit those brandy-brown eyes. Then the duchess’s ruby-tinted lips thinned. “I’ll look for her. What’s her name?”

“Adele Hamilton,” Lena said, collapsing against the wall in relief. “She’s wearing white.”

The duchess paused with her hand on the door handle. “The name is not unknown to me. Wasn’t she the girl caught with Lord Fenwick last year?”

“Not by choice,” Lena admitted, wondering whether the duchess would care.

They all knew about it, after all.

After a long stare, the duchess slipped through the door. “I’ll find her. Stay here; it should be safe.”

Lena fanned herself furiously. Of all the things to happen, she would never have imagined that the Duchess of Casavian would help her. She was notorious for her cool demeanor and frigid temper.

And her hatred of all things of the House of Caine, Leo included.

Why help the ward of her enemy?

Unless she wasn’t really going to search for Adele… Lena’s black lace fan slowed. The duchess had told her to stay here, not return to the ball, where she might be safe. It was highly unlikely a blue blood lord would stumble into the powder room, but it was also the perfect place for an ambush. Dark, secluded… Far enough away that nobody would hear her screaming over the music.

All the duchess had to do was find one of the more dangerous young bucks and whisper in his ear. Then Lena would be ruined—just another pawn lost in the game between the duchess and Leo.

She couldn’t stay here.

Bolting for the door, she slipped out into the darkened corridor. Was it her imagination, or had the gaslights been turned down? Heart thumping in her chest, she hurried toward the ballroom.

Too late, she saw shadows shifting in the corner of her eye. Someone moved from behind the statue of an angel and a large bronzed hand clapped over her mouth. No! Lena’s eyes shot wide as she was dragged back into a man’s solid chest. Then, feet kicking uselessly, he dragged her into the darkness of one of the many rooms.

***

Lena screamed against the flesh of his hand, her slippered feet kicking at his shins. Will’s predatory smile slipped. He’d meant to startle her, but the terror emanating off her roused all his dangerous instincts.

“Hush,” he whispered against her ear and she shivered. “Lena, it’s me. It’s Will.”

The tension drained out of her so absolutely he had to catch her up against him. With a sob, she turned toward him, tucking her face against his chest. Each small gasp strained her corset, and her fingers fisted in his shirt, dangerously close to the area over his heart. Will froze, his hand hovering over her hair.

What had frightened her so badly? Somehow he didn’t think it was his own actions; from the way she’d relaxed into his grip, she’d been expecting someone else. The thought raced through his mind, bringing with it a wave of red. The hair along the back of his neck rose, a growl consuming his vocal cords.

“Lena?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. Balling her other fist, she punched him in the arm. “Were you trying to frighten ten years off my life?”

He barely felt the blow. “What’s got you so scared? Who’s huntin’ you?”

Lena froze. Her other fist unclenched from his shirt and she took a step back, her skirts rustling loudly. “Nobody’s hunting me.”

Lie.

“Nobody except you.” Her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here? Are you insane? They’ll tear you apart!”

“I’ve safe passage for the night.”

“Why?” A look of concern crossed her face and she took his arm, her gloved fingers resting on his sleeve. “Don’t trust them. Don’t let them mix you up in their schemes. If there’s a way around whatever they’ve promised, they’ll find it.”

Curious words from a woman who had dreamed of living amongst the Echelon for years.

He looked at the small hand resting on his arm. And realized that they were alone, in a darkened room together.

Will’s gaze slid to the low scoop of her neckline and the full curve of her breasts. Moonlight glimmered through the curtains, casting a silvery sheen across her flesh. She was beautiful. A goddess of the night, limned by silvery light. Each curve of shadow beckoned him mysteriously, dared him to put his hands on her, to trace the dips and curves that filled out her gown. Christ. His cock hardened, straining against the fabric of his breeches. He could almost taste the warm perfume of her skin.

Taking a step back, he shook her hand off. “You owe me some answers.”

“I don’t have time. Not at the moment.”

He grabbed her wrist, stroked his thumb across the sensitive skin. “Then make it.”

She staggered into him, her other hand resting lightly against his chest. Something must have shown on his face, for she sucked in a deep breath. “Please, Will. Not now. There’s something I must take care of.”

“Course there is.”

“You don’t understand. I have to find my friend. I think she might be in trouble.”

Her scent changed. Something bitter and sharp. Fear. Will let her go, staring down into that heart-shaped face. “What kind of trouble?”

“There’s a…a game the blue blood’s play. If they get a girl alone.” She rubbed at her wrist unconsciously.

“Go on.”

“Adele would never have left willingly. She knows the consequences. Please, I have to find her. Before it’s too late.”

“You’re not goin’ alone.”

“If anyone sees me with you—”

She’d be ruined. He was half tempted for a moment. She’d never be able to return to this world with the stigma of being caught alone with a verwulfen.

But she’d made her choices. This was the world she wanted. There was nothing for her in Whitechapel; she’d said so herself.

He leaned closer, let his voice whisper over her ear. “Then they won’t see me. But I’ll be there.”

It might have been his imagination, but he thought, for a moment, that she shivered.

***

The strains of a waltz floated from the ballroom as Barrons climbed the stairs. He’d hoped to catch a chance to talk to Will before he left, but the man had vanished.

Glancing down one of the hallways as he crossed it, he saw the sweep of aubergine skirts and the beguiling hint of coppery hair vanishing into a room.

He stopped in his tracks.

Interesting.

The waltz beckoned. Laughter loomed. But somehow his feet turned down the corridor.

Slipping silently through the door, Leo found himself in a shadowed parlor. Moonlight streamed through the windows, highlighting the Duchess of Casavian’s gleaming hair. She peered through a connecting doorway, her head cocked as if listening.

“Looking for something?”

The words tore a gasp from her lips. She spun, eyes glittering coldly.

“Or is it someone?” He leaned against the closed door and crossed his arms over his chest.

“It’s none of your business, Barrons.” She glided sinuously toward him, the creamy flesh of her décolletage displayed invitingly. A ploy, of course, meant to draw men’s eyes, make them forget to watch her hands.

He’d never been that foolish. The woman was dangerous and Leo knew it. She’d like nothing better than to see him and the Duke of Caine dead, their House nothing but a memory. Still…the view was tempting.

“Get out of my way,” she commanded. Another step brought her closer, her full skirts sweeping against his ankles. As if she thought he’d obey.

“Why would I?” Leo took a step closer. Her skirts brushed his thighs, and her chin tilted up. “It’s a beautiful night and you’re a beautiful woman.” He held a hand out, gesturing to the room with a mocking smile. “And we’re all alone.”

A quick movement. He caught her wrist, moonlight flashing off the bejeweled hilt of a dagger. Their eyes met. There was no sign of her discomposure. Nothing but the quirk of her brow.

An ice princess.

Suddenly he wanted to melt her cool mask.

Spinning her back against the door, he forced her wrist—and the dagger—high. Her other hand moved in a chopping motion but he caught that too. Slammed it back against the hard wood.

Pinned.

Aramina’s breath caught. “Don’t think this makes me any less dangerous.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured. The scent of her perfume curled through his nose. Spicy cinnamon. Alluring. Almost enough to make his grip soften, his body lean into hers.

Almost.

“A knee to the balls?” he asked.

She smiled. There was no warmth in it. “A knife would be preferable.”

Leo winced. “You’re merciless, my dear.”

“I can be.” Aramina’s gaze lowered. Examined his mouth.

Leo froze. The softening of her expression drew him in, a moth to the flame. The woman was his enemy, her House and his at blood feud with each other. And yet he couldn’t deny that she fascinated him.

“I can be merciless too,” he whispered, his face lowering to hers. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She wet her lips. Turned her face away. Leo’s breath stirred the curls at her ear. His heart pounded as his lips brushed against her jaw. The sweet kick of her carotid proved she wasn’t as immune to him as she pretended. He slid his lips over it, felt the pulse through her veins. Heat flared, his cock grinding against her. Somehow his hands were on her hips.

“You should look to your House,” she whispered.

He traced the curve of her throat with his tongue, teeth grazing the vein. God, how he wanted her blood. “What do you mean by that?”

A soft laugh. Aramina’s face turned to his, her lips brushing his cheek as she whispered in his ear. “Where’s your ward, Barrons?”

Something sharp dug into his groin. The knife.

He hissed. “What have you done with her?”

“Me? Nothing.” Aramina lifted on her toes, her breasts brushing against his chest. “That,” she said, “was almost too easy.”

The blade forced him away from her. Aramina opened the door, glancing casually over her shoulder. The dagger had vanished. “I was actually trying to do the girl a good deed. I like her.” A swift smile. “And she has her uses.” Slipping through the door, she threw over her shoulder, “You’ll find her in the powder room.”

***

Lena strode down the hallway, checking room after room. The skin on her arms and neck prickled, knowing that Will watched. She couldn’t see him anywhere, yet his presence gave her the kind of confidence she’d not felt in a long time.

Easing the door to Lord Harker’s study closed, she froze. What was that? A soft cry in the dark? Taking a quiet step toward the library, she kept her head cocked.

There it came again. “No. Please.”

Adele. In the library.

Anger burned through her, white-hot. She slammed open the door. A single candle flickered, highlighting the daybed by the cold fireplace. Adele was wilted over it like a fading flower, blood dripping down the smooth column of her throat. Her bodice was soaked, the bright scarlet vivid against the white silk.

A man looked up, his lips painted red and the black of his eyes reflecting the candlelight. Benjamin Cavendish, the eldest son of Baron Rackham, and one of the younger pack.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, an insolent smile on his face. “Ah, the main course arrives.”

“Get off her.”

“I was done anyway.” His gaze slid over her sinuously. “It’s Miss Todd, isn’t it?”

Adele whimpered, her hands on her throat. Her frightened eyes met Lena’s. “Run.”

Lena’s fists clenched. The bastard thought he had her cornered. Will’s silent presence gave her strength she hadn’t realized she’d had. She snatched a poker from the fire set and faced him. “You get away from her now.”

“A feisty one. It’s much more fun when they put up a struggle.” He laughed.

Lena hefted the poker as he took a stealthy step toward her. “You’re a coward. Stalking young ladies at balls… It’s all you’re good for. You’re not a man; you’re just a little bully who’s grown up.”

Cavendish’s eyes narrowed. “You are going to regret those words.”

He made a snatch at her skirts. Lena brought the poker down with relish. Take that, you slimy little cretin. “Get your hands off me!”

The next few seconds happened too quickly for her to keep track of. One moment Cavendish was hissing at her, clutching his injured hand. The next he was slammed up against the fireplace, Will’s hand wrapped around his throat.

“Will! You’re not supposed to show yourself!”

“He put his hands on you.”

The depth of his voice sent shivers through her. Dangerous. Brutal. A voice that had no give in it, no means of reckoning with it. She had to stop him before he killed someone.

“He barely touched me. Will! Let him go.” She dropped the poker and grabbed his arm. It was useless. Her slight weight didn’t so much as shift him. “Will! If you hurt him, they’ll kill you.”

“You!” Cavendish gasped, his eyes full of malevolence. They shifted to her. “Little verwulfen slut. I’ll—”

Whatever he’d been about to say was choked off as Will’s fingers tightened.

“Look at me,” he said, the predator within him riding just under the surface. Cavendish was helpless to disobey. “You ever come near her again I’ll kill you. And it won’t be quick.” He smiled and Lena shivered. There was a wealth of viciousness in that smile. “Don’t think there’s anywhere you can hide. I can get to you, no matter how many guards you think you have. Do you understand?”

Cavendish’s fingers tore at Will’s hand. His face was rapidly turning purple, but somehow he managed to nod.

Will let him go and Cavendish staggered back, slumping against the fireplace.

“If there’s even a whisper about tonight—about Lena—I’ll come for you,” Will promised. “Now get the hell outta here before I change me mind.”

Cavendish scrambled for the door.

The ease with which Will did it… Lena felt a brief stab of jealousy. Oh, to be a man, to be strong, to be feared…

A strangled cough came from the daybed and she turned, her skirts swirling around her ankles as she ran to Adele.

“What happened?” Lena knelt, turning her friend’s face to the side to look at the damage. He’d cut her deep, using one of the elegant little blades the Echelon preferred. Some of the crueler blue bloods filed their teeth into points, but the majority used blades.

At least he’d had the presence of mind to lick the wound afterward. Whatever was in a blue blood’s saliva, it promoted swift healing.

“Here,” she murmured, tearing a strip off her petticoat. Rolling it into a pad, she tore another strip and bandaged the pad to the wound.

“Came looking for you,” Adele whispered.

“I was only going to the powder room.”

“Colchester…arrived.”

Lena’s hands stilled. Then she continued cleaning away the blood. “You still shouldn’t have come alone.”

“Saw Colchester talking to Cavendish.” Adele swallowed. “He left the room and I thought—”

“They set you up.” Damn Colchester. He’d deliberately sent one of his cronies out to ambush Adele. Her actions the other night must have drawn his ire.

“Who’s Colchester?”

Lena froze. She’d forgotten all about Will. Her skirts rustled as she turned to look at him, her mind racing. She’d seen the look on his face when he’d choked Cavendish. If she told him about the duke, then there was a chance he’d go after him.

“The Duke of Lannister,” she replied carefully. “He has some grievance against Leo.”

Adele shifted and Lena squeezed her hand in warning. Don’t say a word.

Will stared at her, his face expressionless.

Beside her, Adele cleared her throat. “Who…is this?”

“He’s Blade’s man,” she replied, turning her attention back to her wounded friend. The bandage slowed the bleeding. There was no saving the dress, however. They’d have to get her out of here without anyone seeing.

“Cavendish said he was…” Adele trailed off.

Lena had never seen her look frightened before. World-weary and cynical, yes, but not truly frightened. She looked up and then paused, realizing how it would seem to Adele. Will hovered in the shadows, but everything about him was intimidating to someone who didn’t know him. And even then…

Adele would have heard stories—blue blood stories—about verwulfen and their violent, unrestrained passions. To the Echelon, Will was dangerous and nothing more than a monster.

“Verwulfen? Yes,” she replied, helping her to sit up. She smiled at Adele and leaned closer to whisper, “Don’t be frightened by the scowl. He thinks it’s impressive. But he’s a soft-heart beneath the grim exterior.” Lena couldn’t help smiling. “Some boys were drowning a bag of kittens once and he rescued them. For months they followed him around the warren. I’m afraid it’s quite ruined his carefully cultivated reputation in my eyes. All I can see is Mother Hen and his little charges.” Her smile faded. “The only monsters here are Colchester and his little friends.”

Will’s eyes were sleepy looking. A dangerous sign. It meant he was thinking and she didn’t want that. Meeting his gaze, she tipped her chin up. “We have to get her out of here without anyone seeing. If they do, she’s ruined.”

Will shrugged out of his coat and offered it. Adele flinched but took a slow breath and let Lena drape it around her shoulders. It was deliciously warm and she breathed in, filling her nose with his scent.

Will rolled the sleeves of his shirt up and candlelight gleamed on his bronzed forearms. Not for the first time, she wondered if his skin was that same molten gold all over.

Dangerous thoughts. She looked away quickly.

“Here,” he said, trying in his own way to be polite. “I can carry you.”

Adele’s eyes widened, but she nodded and let him slip his arms around her. Will straightened, lifting Adele easily. His gaze sought Lena’s. “Where to?”

With Will at her side, negotiating the dark hallways was easy. His superior senses saved them from discovery several times over. Slipping out through the servant’s entrance and the garden, they hastened toward the Hamilton’s steam carriage.

Weak from the loss of blood, Adele settled into the carriage sleepily. Lena tucked the lap rug over her and checked her makeshift bandage, then turned to murmur to one of the waiting footmen. “Will you fetch Mrs. Hamilton?”

There was one last matter to attend to. Stepping up onto the carriage’s step, she turned to face Will reluctantly. “Thank you. For helping me with Adele.”

He stood with his back to the gaslight, his face cast in shadows. A thin gleam of amber indicated his mood. “You and I need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She turned, intending to settle inside the carriage, but he caught a fistful of her skirts.

“I ain’t goin’ away, Lena.”

A glimpse over her shoulder revealed the aggressive truth of that on his face.

“Why won’t you let it be? It’s none of your business.” It wasn’t even as though he cared. He was only doing this for Blade’s sake.

Turning around on the step brought her face to face with him. Though she’d always felt at a disadvantage with her lack of height, it was suddenly far too intimate. The heat of his large body protected her from the cool evening breeze, and her skirts pressed against his thighs. She searched his gaze for something, anything, to tell her that she was wrong. That he was here for her.

“Why?”

His gaze flickered away, thoughtful. “Found the same code on a man as stabbed Blade inna heart. Something’s stirrin’, Lena. I’m not about to let him—or the rookery—get caught up in it.” His smoldering gaze caught hers. “And I think you know more’n you’re sayin’.”

Her lips thinned. Of course. Blade. And the rookery. “Do you really think I would be involved in anything that might hurt Blade—and through him, my sister and brother?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly.

In that moment she hated him. No matter her many flaws, she would never risk Honoria or Charlie’s life. Reaching for the carriage door, she shot him one last glare. “Go home, Will. You don’t belong here, nor are you wanted. Just go home and patrol your little part of London. I won’t visit and I won’t expect to see you in the city.”

She gave his hand an icy look and he slowly released her, tension riding through his shoulders.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I know you love your brother and sister.”

“One of the few things you seem to know about me.” Sweeping her skirts inside the carriage, she went to shut the door.

Will caught it, leaning closer. The sleeves of his shirt strained over his arms. “Lena, damn it—”

“I say… Is this chap bothering you?”

With Will so close, she hadn’t realized anyone else was there. Neither had he, by the shock that shuddered through him.

Giving him one last spearing look, she glanced over his shoulder at the slightly inebriated young lord and smiled. Saved by a blue blood. How ironic. “He was just leaving. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” The young buck shot her a wink and a salute. She’d seen him before, though his name momentarily escaped her.

Will lowered his hand from the door. “I’ll leave you be. This time.”

Lena shut the door and smiled through the glass at him. With a growl, he turned and shot the young lord a look that made his face pale. Then, hands in his pockets, he stalked into the shadows, fog swirling around his ankles.

***

“So,” Adele murmured, resting her head against the carriage seat. She was still snuggled in the black coat. “Tell me about this Will.”

“Hmm?” Lena looked up from where she’d been smoothing her skirts. “What about him?”

Adele’s eyes narrowed. A hint of her old spark was starting to warm her cheeks. “He looks like he wants to eat you up, Lena. And not in a scary manner.”

“Will? He does nothing of the sort! He’s made it quite—” And then she stopped, aware of what she was about to reveal.

“Quite…?” Adele prompted. When Lena said nothing, a weary smile stretched over her face. “You do realize I’m not going to leave it there, my dear.”

Staring out the window, Lena watched the lights glittering in the windows of Lord Harker’s mansion. It wouldn’t be long before the footman would bring Adele’s mother. Then she would be safe from prying questions.

Yet…a sudden urge welled up. The need to confide in someone, even Adele. She’d been holding so much inside her for months that she felt almost fit to bursting.

“I kissed him,” she blurted. “I don’t know why. It was always just a game I played with him. A flirtation. I never meant anything by it.” Hadn’t she? Lena frowned. She couldn’t, in truth, answer that question. “It was awful. He didn’t even kiss me back. And when I stopped…” Her cheeks were burning now. “He told me that he would tolerate my childish little games for Blade’s sake, but that he would prefer it if I didn’t throw myself at him. Especially since we were living beneath one roof.” The very memory of it turned her stomach. He’d been so angry with her he was shaking. Then he’d turned and walked away without another word.

Somehow she managed a lighthearted shrug for Adele’s sake. “The next day he moved out of the warren. And I decided it was time to return to society. There was nothing left for me in Whitechapel.”

“He never kissed you back?”

“Not even slightly.”

Adele’s eyebrows drew together. “How unusual. For I would have suspected quite the opposite, my dear. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. And when Cavendish tried to grab you, I thought he was going to kill him.”

“His loyalty is to Blade. If he allowed me to come to any harm he’d have to explain it to him. And Honoria.”

“Hmm.” Adele settled back on the seat, snuggling in wearily. “I’ll stake a hundred pounds that you’re wrong.”

“And how do we prove that?” she asked tartly. “I’m not about to ask him.”

Adele’s eyes closed. A little smile played around her lips. “Because next time, I’m certain that he’ll kiss you.”

***

The door to Lord Harker’s private study slammed open.

Colchester looked up over the rim of his glass. His gaze raked Cavendish, from the rumpled collar of his coat to the seething fury in his eyes. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a large bruise forming against the other man’s throat.

“What the devil happened? Surely she didn’t put up that much of a fight?”

Cavendish shot him a filthy look and crossed to the liquor decanter. “You forgot to mention she had protection.” He splashed a liberal dash of blud-wein into a glass and drained it.

“Protection?” Colchester asked silkily. His eyes lifted again to that bruise. “What manner of protection?”

Cavendish lowered the glass and muttered, “Nothing.”

Colchester eased to his feet, tossing aside the newspaper he’d been reading. Below, the ball was still in full swing by the sound of it, yet he had little intention of joining the swirling throng. No, he had other plans.

Plans that Cavendish just might have ruined.

“I thought you were a blue blood, Cavendish. Not a puling human. I asked you to ruin the girl and you couldn’t even handle that.” He sneered, circling the other man. “Did she beat you with her reticule? Or was there more than one of them? A whole flock of debutantes to frighten you—”

An angry gleam turned Cavendish’s eyes to shadows. “I’d like to see you take on the Beast. Seems your little bitch has gone and got herself a filthy verwulfen to watch her back.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Cavendish sneered. “Probably plundering the girl right now, as we speak. Seems you’re not going to get your hands on that one after all.”

Colchester had him by the throat before he realized it. “Whitechapel’s Beast?”

Cavendish struggled to nod.

Shock sliced through him. The little bitch. Thought she could find a protector, did she? As Cavendish made a strangled sound, Colchester dropped him and stepped away, raking the glasses off the tray. Glass smashed across the floor, littering the carpets. Lena was his. But if she’d polluted herself with one of those filthy creatures then she was no longer fit to be his thrall. By God he’d make her regret this act.

Cavendish slumped against the table, watching him warily. “What are you going to do?” he asked, and Colchester realized he’d spoken out loud.

Bad enough that the rest of the Council sought to ally themselves with these creatures. Now one of them moved to steal his thrall right out from underneath his nose. That, if nothing else, made him want her even more.

He smiled. Darkly. “Let me deal with it. I’ll make her regret it.” Flicking glass off his sleeve, he turned toward the door. “I’ll make them both regret it.”