Dancing With Danger (Goode Girls #3) - Kerrigan Byrne Page 0,57
merely gorgeous but adventurous. Stimulating. Magnificent.
He was used to making a stir wherever he went, but if she were ever to throw off the mantle of civility thrust upon her by her family, by society, her rank...
She’d eclipse him with a brilliance to shame the sun.
He’d never wanted anything more than to witness such a thing.
Sweet Christ, they’d never even taken off their masks.
And now she’d be moving around the earth with those flimsy garters holding up her sheer stockings and no drawers.
The very idea was enough to make him ready to have her again.
Mayhem erupted beneath them. Cries and whistles screeched over the sounds of doors splintering open and the clatter of wagons thundering up the drive.
“What the bloody devil?” He raced to the door and opened it, glancing down the hall to see if the ruckus had reached their deserted corner of the manse.
A few footsteps thundered down the narrow stairs, but only the skirts of frightened maids appeared before they dashed by.
“Oh, dear.”
Closing the door, he turned to the woman who’d uttered the words, with slow, deliberate movements.
She offered him a smile of chagrin. “That...sounds like Morley and his men.”
Raphael hurled a few choice French curses into the night, and she held her hands up as if to block them from landing on her.
“Before you get angry with me, I wasn’t the one who summoned the police. That was Felicity. She did it without my consent and, believe you me, no one was more cross about that than I. But in the end, it’s a good thing because—”
“Felicity?” He advanced toward her, his heart thundering in his ears. “Tell me she’s not downstairs in that.”
Mercy shook her head. “As soon as we realized what you were about—and how many dangerous men were here—I sent her to meet Morley. He’d surely have made certain she was safe.”
“Good.” He seized her, planted a quick, hard kiss to her bruised lips. “I’ll clear you a path to him, but you must stay here.”
“And you must be joking.” She wrenched away from him and strode toward the door. “I’m not hiding up here when the Duchesse is caught up in the bedlam.”
He caught her elbow. “Any number of those men are not above taking hostages to escape the police. There are innocent people threaded throughout a labyrinth of warring factions. And, as you said, most of them are out for my blood. How am I supposed to concentrate on the task at hand if you’re in danger?”
“I’m not harmless, I’ll have you know.” Her jaw thrust forward as she reached into her sleeve and produced an impressive-looking knife. “Do you really think I’d trust a suicidal gangster to set things to right? Not bloody likely, I’ll take my chances down there, thank you.”
“But—”
She gave her golden curls a saucy toss. “No one knows of our...connection. So if someone comes for your throat, I’ll simply step aside and let them have at you, and it’d be what you deserve.”
As she flounced away, one knee-weakening truth became unerringly obvious.
He was in trouble.
No.
He...was in love.
To him, the emotion hadn’t been definable. He’d never truly stopped to ponder it. Just accepted that he felt something like it for his brother. Had done so once for his mother.
Not that his emotions for Mercy were anything filial. Indeed, he hated to admit they might be stronger even in so short a time.
He’d known he’d loved Gabriel because his brother meant more than himself. Because he’d die for him. Kill for him. His loyalty was absolute and unquestioned.
But for Mercy?
He’d burn the entire world to the ground if she asked him. He’d accomplish any Herculean task. Sail to the ends of the world to fetch a trinket she liked.
He not only loved her enough to stay if it were possible.
He loved her enough to let her go if it meant keeping her safe.
The realization galvanized him forward as she wrenched the door open and plunged into the hall.
He hovered behind her like the very wrath of God, brandishing his own sharp dagger as they spiraled back down the stairs. Raphael searched for another way out, but the only entrance and exit to this specific tower dumped them right toward the main hall of the keep.
Damn these old fortresses.
He lunged around her as they struggled through the short corridor toward the great hall, gathering her free hand in his. “You’ll stay glued to me, Mercy, or so help me God!”
To his surprise and utter relief, she nodded in compliance.
Keeping