The Scoundrel in Her Bed (Sins for All Seasons #3)(11)

Throwing back her head, Sophie neighed, and Lavinia couldn’t help but believe the horse understood every word she’d spoken and was expressing how much she’d miss her mistress. Then the mare scampered away.

With happiness and relief spiraling through her, Lavinia turned to Finn. “Thank you for sparing her.”

Then without thought or reasoning, in her gladness, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.





Chapter 3




1871



Finn remembered their first kiss as though it had been delivered only minutes before instead of years. It had been as brief as the blink of an eye, and yet he’d felt as though his lips had been branded by hers. He’d been no stranger to kisses, preferring those that went on for ages, slow and sensual, a feast rather than a nibble. Still, the quick brush of her mouth over his had rocked him back on his heels, just as her quick jab to his jaw had done moments earlier.

Apparently, she was no happier to see him than he was to see her. Not that he was going to let on how much it hurt or angered him to be in her presence after all this time.

With that blade positioned perfectly between two ribs, he stood as still as death. There was only meat to be pierced and it would give way easily without bone to provide a barrier to its destination. The steel was vibrating ever so slightly, and he could see the barest of trembling in her hand, wanted to dare her to finish what she’d begun eight years earlier, the complete and utter rending of his heart.

Their breathing was shallow, fraught with tension, as they each took a measure of the other.

He hadn’t planned to make his presence known, but neither had he been in a mood to see blood spilled or to wait to intervene until the situation escalated into an altercation that would have required a bit more effort to subdue. Although he’d been tempted to hold off, to see how well she might have defended herself in the face of three opponents. But he’d spoken true. He hadn’t liked the odds.

Although she had some power now to her punch that she hadn’t when she was younger and had smacked him the day he’d arrived to take away her horse. He wondered who’d taught her to fight—and knew a surge of unwarranted jealousy at the prospect of some faceless man folding his hand over hers and demonstrating how to make a proper fist that was less likely to result in any broken bones.

He wondered if the same person had taught her to wield the rapier. He’d been impressed with her skill and the confident way in which she’d handled the weapon, although being impressed annoyed him as much as the memory of their first kiss. He wasn’t going to race through his memories until he remembered their last kiss, the one he’d thought truly made her his—until he’d realized too late that it was a lie, like everything that had passed between them.

“Have you been following me?” she asked, not even attempting to disguise the bitterness in her tone.

He had been, not that he was going to directly admit that to her. He’d learned only six weeks earlier that she was in the area, and it hadn’t taken long to find her once he knew to look. Since then, for reasons he’d been unable to explain to himself, he’d been keeping a close watch on her, unaccountably curious regarding her reasons for being in this area of London. If he were honest with himself, he also had an unwarranted desire to ensure no harm came to her. Damn his instincts to protect that had landed him in trouble more than once. “There’s a bounty on your head.”

“Yes, I’ve seen the notices posted by someone my brother hired to return me home. Is it your intention to collect on it?”

“Five hundred quid is a lot of blunt.”

“I shall fight you tooth and nail the entire way.”

He ignored the need to take possession of that mouth that spoke with such determination and authority, making it impossible to doubt the words. There was a fierceness to this woman that hadn’t existed in the younger version. Oh, she’d had a temper and had smacked him a time or two, but he suspected she’d now use that blade on him without regret. Strange how she was acting the injured party when she was the one who had tossed him aside. Finn’s Folly, his brothers had called her. She’d lived up to the moniker with a betrayal the depths of which he’d have never believed of her.

“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do about you. What are you doing here, Lady Lavinia?” He’d intended to keep his voice neutral and yet he’d been unable to prevent his last two words from being filled with the disgust he harbored toward her.

Her answer was a digging of the tip of the rapier more pointedly into him. He felt a prick, thought she might have actually drawn blood. Not that he let his surprise show on his face. He moved not a single muscle, at least not visibly, although every part of him tensed, ready to spring into action if need be.

“Stay clear of me,” she ordered.

“Or you’ll what?”

Another hard press. This time she definitely broke skin.

“Go ahead,” he dared. “Run me through.”

“Don’t think I’m not tempted.”

In one swift fluid movement, he brought his arm up, knocked the rapier aside, closed his hand around her wrist, and snagged the other when she brought it forward in defense. He shoved both her arms behind her back, manacled her wrists together with one strong hand, grabbed her shoulder with the other, and jerked her forward until her breasts were pressed to his chest, her head bowing back as far as she could take it.