Page 48 of The Hellion is Tamed
He knew, deep down, in that soul-searching place that made him steal items that didn’t belong to him, that he wanted a baby with her as much as she—he’d witnessed the longing in her eyes, right there for the taking, a mad dare for a thief—wanted one with him.
It was his practice. To run.
He’d run from his name and his past. Was running from his future, stuck watching another man fondle the woman he wished to be the mother of his children. Very gentlemanly, the fondling, very proper. Nonetheless, heating Simon’s blood as he wondered what the hell he was going to do about it.
“Did you see Westminster’s filly overtake Dingham’s stud as she rounded Tattenham Corner?” Finn, breathless and half-lit, shoved Simon into the bar as he lurched into the vacant spot beside his brother. “That horse is unbelievable. Un-believe-able. History-making, this win, history. Blunt dripping out of men’s pockets like water from a sieve. The Blue Moon shall benefit from the excitement this evening, I can feel it.” Glancing over his shoulder, in the direction of Simon’s gaze, Finn snickered, brotherly mocking riding air reeking of moist earth, whiskey and horses. “Quit staring, boyo. Unless you have a ring ready to give your beloved time traveler. Of course, a violin’s better than any ring, if you ask me.”
Simon sighed and raised his hand to signal the barman.The Duke of Ashcroft couldn’t keep a bloody secret.If he had to deal with Finn’s advice, he wanted a potent dram with which to wash the counsel down. “She doesn’t know who sent it.”
Finn hiccupped behind his betting sheet, his smile running so loose and free the ladies next to him fluttered their fans and stepped closer, knowing full well the middle Alexander was in frantic and cheerful love with his wife. However, they couldn’t help themselves as Finn’s good lookswerestaggering. “Bloody hell, Si, take it from a man who botched this process himself. Royally. Our girl Emma’s a smart one; she knows who sent it.”
“I’m not marrying someone just to advance the League; bring the only traveler we have on record into the fold.” Simon pointed to a bottle of Scotch, held up two fingers, then tossed coins on the bar in payment. “Change my life just to fill pages of Julian’s chronology. Thank you, but no.”
“Ah, brother of mine,” Finn whispered against the rim of the glass Simon handed him. “How about, do it for love?”
Why not tell him? When he’d told Finn just about everything else. Or as much as he could. He gave the earbob a spin, the ruby winking in the light. “I’m not waking one morning to an empty bed, only to find my wife has scurried off to 1920 because I said something cross over dinner.”
The smile Finn unleashed was wobbly and endearing to the point that even Simon had trouble looking away. The female contingent clustered next to him tittered, the ostrich feathers in their bonnets fluttering. “Have you asked her to stay—and not a threat because of the danger if she returns? Women don’t care about danger nearly as much as their men do. Maybe, like you need to hear she won’t run, she needs to hear that you want her tostay. That you love—”
Simon knocked his shoulder against Finn’s, sending his brother stumbling into the crowd of female chicks and ending the pronouncement before it could become a legitimate part of the world. Like a flower pushing through a crack in a cobblestone, existing despite the menace.
“Why you nutty, young pup,” Finn grunted and launched himself at Simon, where they grappled and tumbled to the floor. The baroness’s earbob tumbled from his hand and bounced across the floor. Another scandal, Simon gathered, fearing Julian’s reaction but enjoying the rush of adrenaline, even if he’d never be allowed entrance to Epsom again.
Honestly, he was delighted with the idea of pummeling his brother to bits—until he heard it. Heardherover raucous conversation and clinking crystal.
Finn was the mindreader in the family, but Emma’s words—forgive me—hit his ear as clearly as if she’d kissed a breathless promise into it.
The plea punctured his soul, dread pouring in.
Shoving his brother off his chest, Simon scrambled to his knees. “Emma’s in trouble,” he snarled, then was off, muscling through the horde crowding the barroom, skidding over ale-slick planks, Finn, he knew, right on his heels.
His family was utterly dependable like that.
The balcony was bedlam, wind whipping his hair into his eyes, the sound of horse hooves striking earth a ricochet through the misty morning, straight through his chest to his heart. Jostling his way to the railing, Simon peered over the side, his pulse skipping when Emma’s guards, having given chase, looked up from the level below with bewildered expressions. He was over the balcony railing before the notion materialized that this was his plan of attack and possibly, not a good one. Landing in a crouch in a thankfully deserted spot near the staircase, without breaking a leg, he took the stairs two at a time, hitting the courtyard situated inside the stable closures at a dead run.
There were people everywhere, an explosion of color before his eyes. Murmurs, shouts, the smell of roasting meat and horseflesh. Sweat. Perfume, flowers, leather, dirt.
He’d done a wretched job protecting her, staying away because of jealousy, because of blinding trepidation. The next time he touched her, and there would be anexttime, he was never letting her go again.
Never again. And he knew what this meant.Oh, he knew.
However, when he didn’t have to face what he’d just admitted to himself immediately…where the hell was she?
They caught him there in the dusty semicircle—her guards, Finn, the Duke of Ashcroft. His brother’s cheeks were parchment, more than a race down a set of stairs would render them. The duke, too, looked stunned, his gaze soldier-alert.
Simon grabbed Finn’s coat sleeve, crushing linen in his grip. “What did you hear?”
Finn swallowed, his hand covering Simon’s. “Si…”
Simon stumbled back, brought the heels of his hands to his eyes and pressed until he saw stars. When he tried to feel her, he knew with dead certainty that Emma was no longer in 1882.
The panic edging into his lungs, tilting his world on its axis, was real.Deserved. It had taken him ten years,ten, to find a portal to travel into the past. Years of research utilizing Delaney’s library of a mind, her supernatural gift. Exploiting Piper’s ability to strengthen his own. Conversations with haunts from Emma’s time period, visits to those in the mystical underworld who’d had interaction with a woman with blazing blue eyes, there one minute, gone the next. According to his contacts, his portal, a forest in a German village ravaged by a recent fire, was gone. Hargrave’s work, if Simon had money to wager.
He had money to wager. Loads. But no Emma.
What did blunt matter when he didn’t have the girl?
He inhaled a breath of racetrack filth, collecting himself before uttering the words. “What did she say, Finn? In her mind?” Exhaling brutally, he blinked away the sting of tears in his eyes. “How can I find her again?”