Chapter 1 #2
Despite his grunt of pain, his grasp hadn’t even relaxed, and she’d fought to free herself like a wild animal.
Just as she escaped his hold, out of the corner of her eye, Genevieve had seen the light reflecting off the blade of Scully’s knife.
It was as if he’d pulled the weapon out of thin air.
She’d tried to dart out of reach, but failed.
The moment the blade had sunk into her shoulder just above her heart, her fury had taken complete control of her senses.
Savage and fierce, rage had erupted inside her, pushing her toward a dark abyss.
Oblivious to the painful knife wound, she’d driven her fist into Scully’s nose, then hitched up her skirts to slam her knee up into his crotch.
The knife had clattered against the cobblestones as Scully had squealed like a pig being slaughtered and clutched at his crotch.
Instead of fleeing, Genevieve had been blinded to everything except an animalistic need to hit the man over and over again.
When her fist had connected violently with his face a second time, Scully had grunted with a cry of pain and stumbled backward in an unmistakable attempt to avoid her fists.
Peter had taught her how to fight when she was little, and when he’d learned she’d joined the Secret Intelligence Service, he’d insisted she practice her skills.
Peter had said her ability to fight like a man would give her an advantage, because her assailant would never expect a woman to fight like a man.
Her brother had been right. Scully had been taken totally by surprise as she’d fought back.
The rage didn’t ebb until the man was lying unconscious on the cobblestones with Genevieve standing over him, his knife in her hand.
When she’d left Scully lying in the street, she was forced to admit that she could have easily taken the man’s life.
The incident had brought into focus the reality of what being an agent for the Crown meant and what might be required of her in the future.
She might have to kill someone, whether to protect herself or someone else.
Genevieve wasn’t afraid to pull a trigger.
Peter and Theo had taught her well how not to miss her mark, but killing someone had never crossed her mind every time she had fired a pistol at Callander Abbey.
The thought made her wonder if she could have done anything to save her brother the night the Prussian took Peter’s life. Once more, the darkness of her sorrow returned. The grief crashing down on her was so powerful it made her body ache. Eyes closed, she tried to will all of it away, but failed.
What would she do without Peter’s words of wisdom to help her navigate the work she was doing for the Crown? Who would remind her to be a phoenix and rise up from the ashes of the past? No one. She had only herself to rely on now.
The grief became overwhelming once again, and she buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Genevieve didn’t know how long she’d been crying, but she was wiping the tears off her cheeks when she heard a harsh male voice outside the croft.
“Genevieve. Are you in there?”
Startled, her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the man’s voice.
What on earth was Theo doing at the croft?
She sprang to her feet as the door flew open with a strength that made her eyes widen in astonishment.
The sight of Theo Rockwood, Viscount Selbourne, standing in the doorway made her heart skip a beat before it pounded fiercely in her chest. Genevieve gritted her teeth in frustration at her reaction to him.
The man had always had that effect on her from the moment they’d first met as children.
She’d always put it down to childish infatuation.
When she and her siblings had become wards of Percy and Rhea Rockwood, the Rockwood clan had accepted them into the family without question.
When they’d first met, Theo had been equally welcoming.
Older than her, he’d been kind and had often teased her as if she were his little sister.
Theo and Peter had been best friends and closer than two brothers of the same blood might have been, the two of them had allowed her to tag along with them when she was a girl.
It was how she’d learned to climb a tree, skip a rock across water, and do a number of other activities usually restricted to boys and men.
Everything had changed as they’d grown older.
Theo’s teasing manner had vanished, and he’d become distant, almost disdainful.
Genevieve had been too afraid to ask him what she’d done to earn his icy disapproval.
But as he’d become less and less agreeable to her joining him and Peter on their treks out into the countryside surrounding the Abbey, she’d eventually stopped asking to join them.
Despite Theo’s indifferent behavior, it didn’t stop him from appearing in her dreams where he would kiss her, and she’d always wondered if his real kisses would be as delicious as they were in her dreams. She knew it was ridiculous to have such thoughts about him.
Her past made her unworthy of any man, particularly a man who would one day be an earl.
She was soiled goods. Now, his disapproval was even more evident.
“What the hell were you thinking to ride out here without telling anyone where you were going?”
“I didn’t think I needed to tell anyone,” she retorted in a defensive tone. “I haven’t been gone that long.”
“You should have told someone where you were going. As it is, the family might send out a search party if they think you’ve gone missing.”
Glaring at her, Theo slammed the door closed behind him as he entered the croft. Startled by his manner, Genevieve stared at him in amazement. Either Theo didn’t see her shock, or he ignored it. With sharp, savage tugs, he pulled his riding gloves off his hands.
He glanced around the room, then strode toward the table situated in the small area that served as a makeshift kitchen. Flinging his gloves down onto the tabletop, along with his hat and riding crop, he stood frozen with his back to her, staring down at the furniture’s rough-hewn surface.
Silence hung in the air with a weight that was almost suffocating.
Genevieve studied his stiff, rigid posture and frowned.
For years, Theo had made it clear he didn’t want to be around her.
Yet his odd behavior now was as baffling as whenever she attended a ball or other soirée where he was present.
From the night of her debut, Theo had mimicked Peter’s habit of rescuing her from unwanted suitors.
Her brother usually asked her to dance or stood by her side like a sentry at his post, ensuring she was safe from unwelcomed attention.
Theo would do the same thing, except he never danced with her.
Instead, Theo would escort her to a family member’s side, then disappear.
Every time he’d appeared at her side, she’d hoped he would pull her onto the dance floor. She’d been disappointed every time.
While Theo’s title automatically made him excellent husband material, it was his handsome face and charming personality that made him the object of so many sighs and hopeful glances among women in the Marlborough Set.
And dear God, what a feast for the eyes he was.
Just one look at him made it easy to understand the excited whispers whenever he entered a room.
A loud whoosh of air escaped Theo, and Genevieve blinked in surprise as he spun around to face her, his features dark with anger.
He was as tall as his father and possessed the same muscular build.
Dark blond hair and piercing blue eyes enhanced his strong, masculine features.
But it was his firm, sensual mouth that had always captured her attention.
Now, his lips were a straight line of disapproval.
The harsh sternness of his mouth was further emphasized by his grim expression.
Puzzled by his foul mood, as well as his arrival, she tilted her head to one side to eye him with curiosity.
Before she could ask him what was wrong, he uttered something unintelligible and pinned her beneath his intense gaze.
“Is Peter the reason you came to the croft? Did you come out here to be alone with your grief?” Something in the terse way he questioned her made Genevieve think he was asking her something entirely different. With a frown, she eyed him with confusion.
“Actually, I simply needed to get away from everyone. I wanted someplace quiet to think,” she said with a small shrug and winced at the discomfort the gesture inflicted. “Grieving for Peter was only one of the reasons I left the abbey.”
“I take that to mean you were weary of everyone inquiring as to how you were feeling?”
“Yes, they know how deeply Peter’s death is affecting me—and you.”
“And naturally, the pain you’re experiencing from your shoulder only made everyone even more concerned for you.”
“Yes,” she murmured reticently, bewildered by the repressed fury in Theo’s voice.
“I’m surprised you even considered coming to the croft, given the distance. Your shoulder must have made it a difficult, painful ride.”
Theo’s harsh tone made her jerk as she stared at him in surprise. His handsome features were dark with anger, and a hint of panic touched her. He sounded as if he knew the real reason her shoulder was painful.
“My shoulder?” Despite the anxiety rising in her, Genevieve was pleased her voice held no trace of her concern.
“Yes, I noticed how you winced every time someone bumped into you last night after supper, and again this morning during breakfast.”
“Oh, that,” she said as her panic subsided, while taking note she’d failed to realize Theo had been watching her. “Everyone’s been making such a fuss over it. It aches because I slept on it wrong.”
“Wills told me something completely different.”