Page 35 of The Hellion is Tamed

She’d survived leaving Simon before. To protect him, she could survive leaving now.

Love rained down upon her like the watery London mist, ghostly and unreachable but bolstering her resolve.

Bowing her head, she closed her eyes and waited for time to catch her.

Chapter 11

His gorgeous time traveler was going to be the death of him.

Dazed, Simon braced his fist on the terrace’s cool marble, his head pounding, the Soul Catcher throbbing like a wound from his waistcoat pocket. Yanking the gem loose, he folded his fingers around it, the flood of conflicting forces—strength and calm—expected, as he well knew the stone’s power. A dense fog had rolled in off the river, delivering a vaporous, stinging drizzle to his cheeks as he lifted his head and gazed into the distance.

Across the veranda, only Emma’s indigo eyes were visible in the cloaked mist. When she closed them, extinguishing hope, and bowed her head, accepting a return to a time that would be the death of her, crimson crowded Simon’s vision. She’d never had anyone to protect her—and she wasn’t sure how to fight. How totrust. He recognized that defeating inclination more than she’d have believed possible after seeing him with his brothers. He’d fought against trusting anyone until Finn broke through the wall he’d built around himself.

Allegiance, when one had been mistreated, wasn’t easily given or gained.

As Hargrave reached for Emma, Simon snarled and stumbled to his feet, his mind dizzy with terror.

“You’re our protector, but for once, let us helpyou,” Henry said from behind him, frigid air flowing past as the haunt elbowed him aside and crossed the distance to Emma in a thrice.

Simon watched in astonishment as Henry snatched Hargrave by the collar of his cloak and tossed him over the balustrade as if he weighed less than a babe. Then he turned, gave Emma a shove in Simon’s direction and issued this advice, “Go to another time, a week in the future and hide out for a bit. I can’t do more to interfere, and he won’t stop, this man, in his search for you. But maybe you can throw him off his conniving route while you devise a strategy. You and them brothers of yours can surely come up with something.”

It was an odd time to have a piece of the puzzle of his life fall into place.

His haunts had been guarding him all along. And he had been harboring them.

Jolting himself from his stupor, Simon grabbed Emma’s wrist and dragged her against his side. His hands trembled, fed by emotions he wanted to reject, feelings he wanted to deny. “You thought to give in, giveup?” he whispered, fury a fever in his blood.

Emma’s gaze kindled, her lips falling open. With an oath he was unsurprised she knew, she yanked her arm from his grasp.

“Go,” Henry shouted as Hargrave extricated himself from a hydrangea bush and staggered to his feet, head in his hands as if he wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in the duke’s shrubs. “There’ll be time for quarreling later, as it seems it’s all you two do.”

Emma held out her hand, one that quivered almost as much as his. “Give me the swish stone.”

The drizzle had spiraled into a downpour. Rain clung to Emma’s eyelashes, misted her creamy skin like dew on a petal, molding silk to the gentle curves of her body. A drop highlighted the freckled birthmark on her cheek he wanted to press his lips to. She wasn’t beautiful, not enough to compensate for his blind attraction. His undeniable desire to memorize every facet until, if he had Julian’s skill, he could sketch the art of her on a canvas.

No, she wasn’t beautiful.

But she was stunning, courageous, unforgettable…

And he wanted her with a mindless intensity that shook him to his core.

I wasn’t expecting this,he concluded,but you’re mine, nonetheless. Now I only have to figure out what to do about it.

Decision made, Simon shoved the Soul Catcher into her hand. Took her arm as Hargrave bounded up the veranda steps, advancing on them.

“Take us from here, then,” he said, hoping like hell she didn’t hear the way his voice caught on the wordus.

* * *

Emma awoke, wrapped in him.

Her head pillowed on his shoulder, tucked into an intimate nook on his long body. His breathing steady, measured exhaustion. They lay in hushed familiarity in a natty chamber in the Blue Moon that Simon had described well enough for her to transport them there. A week into the future, maybe two, she’d guess, not so far as to cause undue angst within his family. When they’d landed, she’d struggled to lead him to the bed before he’d collapsed, fully clothed, boots and all.

Time travel, to those unaccustomed, was a ghastly physical strain.

She’d settled next to him because she’d feared leaving him in such a weakened state.

Then fallen asleep herself, only to wake in his arms.