Chapter 2
Hiro groaned in surrender, sinking into Mandy’s kiss in a way he absolutely shouldn’t. Her tongue teased his lips and of course he opened his, inviting her in, despite where they were—despite what they were.
A part of his mind was yelling at him, telling him he was foolish to lose awareness of his surroundings. Anyone could see them here, standing on a street corner in front of one of Edinburgh’s largest churches…
He’d ruin Lady Amanda’s reputation, lose her brother’s trust.
But a considerably larger part of him had grabbed his attention by the bollocks and was stroking him in the most delicious manner. Just as her tongue was.
Because, God forgive him, Hiro was lost.
Lost to her touch, lost to her soul. He was hers, in the most divine way, and no amount of self-preservation could prevent that.
Another groan escaped his lips, and he wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her closer. The bag with young Lord Benedict’s train set dangled from his elbow as she threw her arms around Hiro’s neck, pulling him closer.
Closer.
Christ, here on the street, anyone could see them.
He was going to ruin her, wasn’t he?
Three years.
Three fooking years.
He’d been so careful, at first. When Alistair had given him permission to chase his sister across the globe, to protect her, Hiro had reveled at the trust his friend and employer had shown.
And the first time Amanda had climbed into his bed, Hiro had almost died from shame.
And pleasure.
Because it no longer mattered that he was betraying the Duke of Effinghell’s trust. It no longer mattered that he was ruining Lady Amanda Kincaid’s chances at a future with a worthy husband.
Hiro was lost.
This time his groan was one of helplessness, one of sorrow. Because he wanted her—Christ, he always wanted her—but he couldn’t, wouldn’t be the cause of her humiliation.
He’d been so careful these years.
Careful to stay in countries where she wouldn’t be known or where she could use a false name. Countries where he could pretend to be someone besides her brother’s butler and her bodyguard.
Careful not to lose his heart to her.
Too late. How well had that gone?
And here, on the street in front of St. John’s in Edinburgh, a mere fortnight before Christmas…he was going to risk it all.
With a gasp, Hiro managed to pull away.
When Mandy’s lips followed, he had to squeeze his eyes shut to hide the unhidden need in her gaze. A need which matched his own.
“Mandy…” he rasped, then swallowed. “My lady.” He forced his eyes open just in time to see the hurt in hers. “We should not—”
“Oh, to hell with shoulds!” she snapped, and there was the fierce soul he loved.
Hiro wasn’t completely surprised when she stepped back and wrapped one hand through his lapel, tugging him behind as she turned to stamp toward St. Cuthbert’s Kirkyard.
There was nothing he could do—even if he wanted to resist her, which he didn’t—as she pulled him among the stately, ancient gravestones.
Christ, this woman…!
Hiro’s father had been a wealthy merchant, his mother an educated and talented musician. They’d raised him and his sisters in a way which many native Englishmen would envy; Hiro had gone to school among the sons of the wealthy middle class.
He’d been young when he met the wounded Duke of Effinghell.
Of course, the lad had been barely clinging to life then, injured in the accident which had taken his father and made him the duke.
Alistair had been ready to give up as well—pale, weak, unable to walk…
Until his mother, the grieving dowager, had seen potential in what Hiro could teach him.
Hiro became the young duke’s companion, and later, friend. He’d taught Alistair how to fight—not just against the doctors who told the lad he might not walk again, but against the injustices of the world.
The Duke of Effinghell had learned to walk, then run, then climb, then punch. When he’d grown to a man, he’d learned to fight, not just against, but for as well. He was now a fierce proponent of reform, and Hiro was proud of the man his friend had become.
Which is why he couldn’t betray Alistair’s trust by pushing the man’s younger sister up against one of these ancient stones and plundering her mouth again.
No matter how much he might want to.
“Mandy, slow down,” he cautioned, the first time she tripped over an exposed footstone.
She ignored him, because of course she did.
She wouldn’t be his Mandy if she didn’t fling herself headlong into adventure.
So the second time she tripped, he was there to grab her around her waist, swing her up and back, away from the danger of evil lurking roots, or whatever the hell that had been.
She slammed into his chest, knocking the breath out of them both, and he found himself smiling ruefully down at her.
Christ, she was lovely, wasn’t she? With those bright eyes, sparkling with mirth and mischief, her warm chestnut hair escaping her coiffure and floating about her cheeks. The winter air agreed with her.
“Are we going home to Effinghell for Christmas?”
It wasn’t until she blinked that he realized he’d murmured the question out loud.
“Home?” Amanda repeated in what sounded like surprise. “Is Effinghell home?”
Suddenly things weren’t quite so easy and Hiro felt himself stiffening. “Is it?”
She’d been raised as the daughter of one duke, the sister of another, but most of her time had been spent in London, not the sprawling highland estate.
“I suppose…” Amanda cocked her head, peering up at him, but perhaps not really seeing him, in that adorable way of hers. “Alistair and Olivia are there for the holidays. Mother is with them, and her last letter said Amelia and Kipling will be joining them before visiting his estate.”
“So your family is at Effinghell,” he prompted, hoping she’d see his point.
She shrugged, gaze focusing on him once more. “Your family is in York. We could go there instead.”
What? “My lady, your family is far more important—”
“Bosh,” she scoffed, straightening, but not pulling away. “Your home is in York, and you have a right to visit them for the holidays.”
Perhaps. If my home wasn’t wherever you are.
He didn’t say the words, because a) they sounded far too ridiculous to actually speak when she had teased him enough already, and b) he couldn’t afford to hint at his true feelings.
Let her think this—this—whatever they shared was simply pleasure. Lust. He was along to protect her and slake her passions, whenever she needed him. He would be there for her, no matter how she needed him.
Always.
Which was convenient, because it turned out she needed him right there, right then.
Only not in the way he’d been considering.
“Well, well, ain’t this a cozy scene. Lovers among the dead, eh Hamish?”
Hiro dropped Amanda and spun around, using one arm to hold her behind him as the two men—bundled up against the cold in dirty coats and overgrown beards—sauntered toward them. One carried a cudgel, and the other was unarmed.
Or rather, he would’ve been unarmed, if not for the two huge, incredibly muscular arms attached to his shoulders. It would be rather difficult to disarm him, not without an ax.
When the man laughed and smacked one fist into the other palm, Hiro decided those two arms were likely the only arming this giant had ever needed.
“What do you want?” he barked sharply, still holding Amanda behind him. He didn’t really care what the bastards wanted, he just wanted them focused on him.
He had to keep her safe.
“Well, that should be obvious, milaird,” the be-cudgeled man drawled. “We want yer money. Or yer life. Or both. Right, Hamish?”
At least they were speaking to Hiro and hadn’t seemed to notice Amanda. He would fight better if he didn’t have to worry about keeping her out of trouble as well.
That was when Amanda, damn her, drew their attention.
“You know, my family has a cockatoo named Hamish. He has rather a naughty vocabulary. It is why my sister was determined to raise her own parrot from the egg, to teach him better…but she got a pair of chickens instead. They are nice chickens,” she mused. “Just a little less eloquent.”
Hiro’s eyes fluttered shut in dread for only a moment, as the giant rumbled, “Chickens? I like to eat chickens.”
“Well, there you are,” Amanda chirped brightly. “You already have a better vocabulary than my Hamish. He says things like Show us yer knickers and Fooking magnificent!”
In that moment, Hiro changed his mind about Amanda’s interference. Both bandits were staring at her in such shock and surprise—likely at hearing such language from a refined lady—that Hiro could use their distraction to his advantage.
He struck hard and fast, the way his old master had taught him. The side of his hand chopped hard against the arm of the smaller man, causing him to drop the cudgel, and when his opponent bent forward grasping for it, Hiro slammed his fist into the man’s neck.
It took that long for the giant to notice something was amiss.
Well-armed, but not particularly well-brained.
As he slowly turned, Hiro launched himself at him, slamming into the large man’s stomach and throwing him backward.
The giant stumbled but Hiro had always been light on his feet.
He planted one of those feet and, as his opponent straightened, launched a flurry of kicks at his face and throat.
The man grabbed for his foot and surely got lucky. A pair of massive hands closed around Hiro’s ankle, but this wasn’t entirely unexpected. By using his opponent’s strength as an anchor, Hiro planted his other foot on the man’s thick thigh, shifted, and swung up and around.
In a move which would’ve made his old master proud, Hiro ended up perched atop the giant’s shoulders, both legs locked around the man’s neck. All he had to do was provide pressure while his opponent fruitlessly punched at his thighs and calves.
Hiro winced, tightening his hold, as the giant slowly ran out of air. When he did and fell forward to his knees, Hiro merely had to ride the bastard down.
Untangling himself, he stood and offered his hand to Amanda, who was peering down at the choking smaller man. “My lady?”
“Do you think we ought to call for some help?” she asked in a tone of polite curiosity, placing her hand in his. “They’re in an awful mess. Most untidy.”
He hid his grin as he shuffled her away from the scene, one arm around her waist, the bag with her nephew’s train set still unharmed on his arm. “Help, help,” he deadpanned, gaze darting among the graves, always alert for more danger. “Help.”
Amanda giggled, the sound a balm to his spirit whenever he had to dole out violence. “Yes, I suppose that was sufficient. If he chokes on his own bile, it is likely what he deserves. You are welcome, by the way.”
By now they were back out on the street, and Hiro was hustling her back toward St. John’s and Princes Street and the safety of a crowd. “Welcome for what?”
“For distracting those men so you could do your hi-yah techniques.” She mimed a chop to the head. At least, that’s what he thought she was doing.
Smiling openly now, Hiro turned her onto the more populated street, filled with Edinburgh’s elite, and moved his hold to something less intimate. “Yes, thank you.”
“We make a good team, Hiro,” she sighed, slipping her arm through his as if nothing amiss had happened. “And, in case I forgot to mention it…thank you for saving me. Again.”
Hiro glanced down at her, smile faltering. Always, love. “You are welcome, my lady. I’ll always be there when you need me.”
Always.