Page 50 of The Hellion is Tamed

There wasn’t a decision to be made, not really. Henry was right about that.

He was going to get his girl.

Chapter 16

Emma flicked the tattered curtain aside, the street bordering her dilapidated lodgings not much to look at. Just past midnight, the grubby lane was deserted of all but the few stumbling past after leaving the Cock and Hammer on the far west corner. Not evenonegaslamp to light their path. Reminding her where she was.

Or, rather, where shewasn’t. No hydrangeas beneath her window to cover the putrid scent rolling through Tower Hamlets.

Mayfair smelled like it looked: posh.

She’d gotten soft. Used to cocoa arriving on a silver tray every morning. Tea every afternoon, sprigs of mint bundled in an elegant posy on the saucer’s lip. Silken sheets and a counterpane so thick a hearthfire wasn’t required. Lucious gowns you could live the rest of your days in. Nights spent on a mattress that didn’t involve feathers jabbing you in the back. Lights operated with a flick of the finger and warm water shooting from a faucetinsidethe house. A duchess and duke you were, bizarrely, coming to call friends.

Andhim. Most of all, she’d miss Simon.

His wicked smile, his rare laugh. The dimple that winked at her when she was vexed, melting her ire like sun striking ice.

His temper, his fortitude, his vulnerability.

His hot breath crossing her cheek. His long body pressing hers into the mattress. His hands diving into her hair as he inched inside her. Filling her in a way she hadn’t known she needed, not only her body but also her soul. She desired each piece of him to a degree that frightened and astonished her. More than she’d expected after falling in love with him, at first sight, all those years ago, when they couldn’t even speak.

She’d given him up to protect him. A time-traveling girl from Tower Hamlets, nothing special really, but noble when it came to it. Honorable. As much as the society folk she’d been tossing with in 1882. Worthy of Simon Alexander’s love had he given it to her, when he was just an ordinary boy, too.

“He’s not coming,” Emma said, certain she wasn’t as certain as she sounded.

Whileplease comerang in her head, defying every rationale she had for coming back.

Indeed, Simon would consider this another abandonment. He would know, from one of his haunts or his mindreading brother, that she’d left his time of her own free will. Walked out of Epsom, the aroma of horseflesh clinging to her clothing, the only thing she took with her. Aside from telling Hargrave how she was going to gut him when she got the chance—anyone who’d seen her stroll past with a man dressed, not well but well enough, would’ve had no idea her heart was breaking into pieces and scattering at her feet. That she was leaving at the end of a barrel as surely as if Hargrave had the muzzle of his pistol pressed to her temple.

“He’s not coming,” she repeated, turning to face her nemesis. Sighing, she rubbed her bruised cheek, an injury sustained when Hargrave shoved her into the carriage at Epsom.

Hargrave said nothing from his sprawl in the only chair in the room, his muddy boots perched on the only table. Both rickety pieces not far from being pitched on the rubbish heap, lacking even for the Hamlets. Worthless, like everything she owned.

Somehow, her shoddy dwelling looked worse by candlelight.

As did the man who’d brought her back.

Hargrave’s eyes were red-ringed, shadowed with fatigue and focused on her in a poisonous manner that made her knees quiver. But his hand trembled when he lifted a slender cheroot to lips chapped by drink and weather, his fragility showing. He looked like he hadn’t slept since arriving in 1802 thirty hours before, which he hadn’t. Their standoff endured, neither of them trusting the other enough to so much as close a lid. He’d dragged her straight to her former residence on Milk Yard, still hers because, unbelievably, only one day had passed since Simon had taken her home.Home. Tears stung her eyes, but Emma blinked them back before the time tracing bastard could see.

At least, Hargrave hadn’t felt the need to incapacitate her. But, then, she hadn’t resisted. And any power he used took from him as well. She’d seen how his gift weakened him. Plus, she thought he enjoyed the battle. An unconscious woman presented no challenge to a man like him.

In the end, hergiftwas robbing her of everything. Just as she’d known it would.

This time, she and Hargrave were going to destroy each other. Her destiny was like a pulse of lightning, sparking charges in the air. It was undecided if there would be a winner. Maybe they wouldbothlose.

She dragged her finger over a split in the wall that kept the room chilled in summer and frigid in winter, fatigue riding hard—though she was unable to show it. “I don’t know why you’re waiting for him. He can’t get back. You torched his portal, or did you forget that crucial fact?”

“Crucial.” With a sullied chuckle, Hargrave sucked lustily on his cheroot, then blew a smoky torrent in her direction. “Listen to the swank talk. My, did they do a number on you. Guttersnipe to society sensation in four short weeks. Let me guess. Dance lessons, speech, etiquette. The Mayfair trifecta. The elegance starts to rub off like tarnish from a tea service, now, doesn’t it? Pinkie out when you hold a cup and all that. I’m there myself, torn between two worlds. Torn between three, five. Until my head whirls with it. You’re not the only time traveler, though there aren’t many. Just enough to keep me on my toes. But youarethe most rebellious, I’ll give you that.”

“You’re not going to get him. You have me, but that’s where it stops. I told you I’d stay.” She glanced around her home with an aching pinch of despair. The scuffed furniture, the bent bed frame, the sagging mattress. Her mother's patched quilt, made for her with scraps of fabric collected one long, cold winter. Candles on the upturned crate serving as a bedside table. A grand total of four, all she had funds for. “I’ll never leave Tower Hamlets, 1802, again. You have my word.”

“Yourword.” Hargrave slanted his head, his flat black gaze never leaving her. His smile grew, and she realized she was doomed. Because helikedit. The control, the cruelty. He wasn’t chasing her through time on principle alone. “Don’t be so sure about my not getting my hands on Simon Alexander. He’s had me, in some way, chasingyoufor years. Wasted a load of time on the two of you. When time is my game. Besides, I tend to get what I want, dear heart. If I know what I saw in the man’s eyes when he looked at you, he’ll find a way. Then…one touch, and he’ll tumble like a petal I’ve plucked from a dying rose. I’ve bested many a beast more terrifying than him. In many a time.”

They have people with abilities greater than yours, she wanted to tell him. Opened her mouth to issue the threat before she stopped herself. Why warn him if the League could catch him by surprise? She hadn’t been given much information as a new member, but she’d been given some. Enough. They had weapons at their disposal. The Duke of Ashcroft shot fire from his fingertips. Delaney’s intellect was far-reaching and fantastic. Victoria blocked gifts. Finn read minds. Julian touched objects and saw the past. Piper was a healer. And Simon, he had a unique talent aside from holding her heart, a deceased brethren who sheltered him, as he sheltered them.

They would protect him. From the misfortune she’d dragged him into by stepping into his world in search of the Soul Catcher, the beginning and the end of her.

When Simon had never trusted her enough to give up the gem anyway.