The Rakehell of Roth (Everleigh Sisters #2) - Amalie Howard Page 0,101

she murmured. “They’ve been at it for weeks. How’s your head?”

“I’ll live.”

“What were you thinking, you daft man?” Clarissa was chiding, tears running down her cheeks. “A few inches over and you could have died. Heavens, you infuriating fool, I’m going to murder you with my bare hands when this is all over.”

“Let me stop him from bleeding out first.” Westmore crouched down, a strip of linen in hand as he wrapped a makeshift tourniquet around Oliver’s shoulder to staunch the flow.

“That hurts,” Oliver moaned.

“Harden up.” Westmore grinned. “Trust me, the ladies will love it.”

Winter saw Clarissa’s elbow aiming for Westmore’s jaw right before he passed out.

…

Ensconced in the quiet of the carriage while the head of the Runners spoke with Winter, who had awakened and insisted he was fine, Isobel watched as Clarissa ran her fingers through Oliver’s hair for the dozenth time. He was sitting half slumped into her lap on the seat opposite, his eyes closed.

“Will he be all right?” Clarissa asked worriedly.

“Westmore has some field experience with bullet wounds, I think,” Isobel replied. “I can’t believe you elbowed him.”

“He deserved it.”

Isobel pushed a smile to her lips, attempting to lighten the air and her friend’s tense expression. “Speaking of stories, who would have thought Oliver, of all people, the dashing hero? Think of the fodder we have for Lady Darcy.”

“How can you joke at a time like this?” Clarissa cried. “Who cares about Lady Darcy? Oliver’s been shot, Roth cracked in the head, and you…don’t even get me started on the kind of danger you put yourself in with no care for your own safety. Goodness, my poor heart is a bloody wreck! It’s a miracle I haven’t collapsed from sheer anxiety.”

Isobel bit back her smile at Clarissa’s dramatics. “Good thing your brothers taught me how to defend myself. Turns out they were right—a sturdy knee to the ballocks can fell even the largest of ne’er-do-wells.”

Clarissa’s eyes widened. “You did what?”

“Fed the former earl a taste of his own jewels,” she replied with a laugh. “Thanks to Lady Darcy’s Ballock-Busting, A Handy Guide for Ladies.”

“Practical application is always excellent.” Clarissa’s lips twitched. “Good to know such advice works in the moment.”

They shared a laugh, and Isobel rolled her eyes. “Good, I say. The patriarchy needs a bit of shaking up and who better to do it than us?”

“Being Lady Darcy does have its advantages.”

Oliver shifted in his seat, his eyes flicking open. A pair of glassy blue eyes focused on Isobel and then on Clarissa. “Was I hallucinating or did I just hear you say you were Lady Darcy?”

Caught like a rabbit in a snare, Clarissa went scarlet. “You’re delirious with fever, dear.”

“Just tell him,” Isobel said. “Or he’ll keep asking questions and we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“One half of Lady Darcy,” Clarissa grudgingly said. “The other half is sitting on the seat opposite. Surprised?”

Oliver made a noise that sounded like a reluctant laugh, a rare smile curving his stern lips. “On the contrary, impressed.”

“Now I know you’ve been badly injured,” Clarissa said with a grin.

“Rabble-rousers, the two of you,” he murmured. Then he promptly closed his eyes and fell back asleep. A tear leaked from the corner of Clarissa’s eyes, her fingers feathering down Oliver’s cheek and cradling his head.

“So, it’s him then?” Isobel asked, noting the tender way she stared at him.

Clarissa gave a small nod. “We’ll probably be at each other’s throats within the week.” She let out a happy sigh. “He’s not so bad most days. Then again, I’m not so perfect, either. We make quite the pair, don’t we…the vicar and the vixen.” She giggled. “All I want to do is lead him astray and all he wants to do is keep me in line.”

“Sounds like a match to me.”

“What about you and Roth?” Clarissa asked. “The beauty awakened from her long slumber by her forever prince? I thought you looked cozy for a moment. Well, apart from all the bloodshed.” She shot her a side glance and lowered her voice. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you slinking out from that alley with whisker burns on your cheeks.”

Isobel bit her lip, her body remembering the paces Winter had put her through in a matter of minutes. He had taken her hard and fast, and she’d loved every second of it. Loved the way his body had bracketed hers, loved the way he’d felt inside of her, loved how unhinged he’d been, as though he could barely control himself. Then