Noble Scoundrel - Amy Sandas Page 0,8

uncertain if she could trust anything he said, she stood stiffly in place. “Right now?”

Casting a glance over his shoulder, he noted casually, “Unless you’d prefer to wait for a formal invitation to be sent round to Mayfair.”

She rushed around the desk, safely tucking the pistols into the deep pockets of her cloak. She reached Hale just as he used his boot to shove the unconscious Mr. Boothe’s leg out of the way to open the door. Katherine looked down at the poor man who did no more than groan softly in response. “Are you going to just leave him there?”

Hale tossed a dismissive glance at the former Runner. “He’ll be fine.”

“On the floor?”

A sardonic expression flashed across hard features. “He forced his way onto my property to attack me without provocation.”

“He was working on my behalf.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m aware.”

“He was simply trying to protect me.”

“Then he shouldn’t have brought you to me.”

Something in his words, or maybe it was how he’d said them—all coarse and threatening—struck an odd and sensitive chord inside her. Any remaining argument faded from her lips as the deep, dark stirring he’d inspired inside her returned in full force.

When she didn’t reply and didn’t move, he glanced out the door and down the steps, then back to her.

Then with a half sigh, half growl, he rolled his shoulders and crouched down to take ahold of Mr. Boothe. The unconscious man was hefted onto one broad shoulder as Hale stood to full height. His intense gaze flashed with ire, but he carried the man across the room and dropped him unceremoniously onto the worn sofa.

Hale didn’t acknowledge Katherine again as he headed back out the door, scooped up his coat, and continued down the stairs.

Lifting her skirts, Katherine followed with held breath, muttering a silent prayer that, after weeks of searching and worrying, she was finally going to be reunited with Frederick.

Was she insane to trust the former bare-knuckle boxer currently leading her into the night?

Absolutely.

But she had no choice...no other avenues to explore.

Despite his gruff demeanor and the fact that she still had no idea how Frederick came to be in his keeping, a sharp instinct inside her urged her to go with him.

Chapter Four

The entire ride to the house in the opulent carriage Lady Katherine had waiting around the corner from Hale’s office was a study in discomfort.

Mason wasn’t accustomed to women of the nobility, though he’d been around a couple of them lately more than ever before. And this one possessed a quiet intensity that unsettled him. He’d expected a lady of her ilk to be arrogant and condescending, but he hadn’t expected her daring manner or the hint of cynicism that occasionally crept into her tone.

“Wait here,” he stated curtly when they entered the house, sending her a hard look he hoped would keep her in place. The effect was likely ruined when his gaze swept over her cloaked form with the hope of catching a glimpse of her figure.

Mason was an unabashedly carnal sort of man. He enjoyed fornication and all that came along with the act—the physical nature of it, the sounds, smells, heat, and mindlessness. But he wasn’t some randy idiot who couldn’t control himself.

Still...as he recalled those brief moments when she’d been confined in the circle of his arms—how her lithe, female body had tensed with bold defiance—heat roared through him.

The glitter of her steady, challenging gaze within such refined and elegant features tripped a previously undiscovered sexual trigger. That and how she managed to maintain an effective tone of command despite being at an obvious physical disadvantage. The woman simply refused to acknowledge when she was beaten.

And it seemed he enjoyed a little haughty disdain in a woman. Who knew?

Flicking his attention back up to her face, he noted her narrowed expression. Lady Katherine didn’t appear to appreciate his perusal any more than she’d liked being physically bested. Imagine what she would have done if he’d nipped the soft skin of her throat with his teeth like he’d been tempted to do while her hands had been secured behind her back.

Knee him in the groin, most likely.

With a low chuckle, he turned and left her in the entryway, where the garish décor couldn’t be disguised even by the lowered lamplight as he took the stairs two at a time to the upper levels of the townhouse.

The third floor was quiet, which wasn’t unusual. Mason had already learned that Freddie wasn’t a roughhousing, rambunctious type of child.