Part 24 (1/2)

”if you and Dougalever give Fiona another piece of advice like yesterday's, I will rip your tongues out and feed them to my hunting dogs.”

Gregor's irritation faded. ”Fiona didn't do anything foolish, did she?”

”You might want to ask your sister what she was doing at Lady Chester's last night.”

Gregor stiffened. ”She wentwhere ?”

”With Alan Campbell, who took great delight in giving her champagne and rum punch.”

”That bast-”

”I took care of him,” Jack said shortly.

”And Fiona?”

”I had to toss her over my shoulder, but I managed to get her home.”

Good G.o.d. Gregor didn't know what to say.

A sharp clip on the staircase told him his sister was approaching. He looked at Kincaid, whose face was

grim, the deep lines beside his mouth and eyes telling their own tale.

A flash of guilt went through Gregor. Since the beginning of this debacle, he'd been angry. Angry with the Kincaids for Callum's death. Then angry with Fiona for sacrificing herself as if she alone could solve their problems. Angry with Jack for not treating Fiona as he should have. But mainly, Gregor had been angry with himself. He should have been with Callum that night. Should have seen Fiona's plan and stopped it. Should have found a way to set her marriage with Kincaid aside.

And he hadn't done any of it. He'd been a selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d, unable to put the needs of others ahead of his own impulsive emotions. And now, because of that and his misdirected sense of humor, his sister had ended up in a gaming h.e.l.l where G.o.d knew what could have happened to her.

”Thank you for watching over my sister, Jack.”

Jack's gaze swung up to meet his. ”She's my wife, Gregor. I may not be happy about that, but Iwill take care of her.”

”I shouldn't have suggested she cross you. I never thought she'd do something unsafe and-”

Jack threw up a hand. ”Just don't be so flippant the next time Fiona asks for advice. She's worth more than that.”

Fiona's footsteps could be heard on the steps behind Gregor, and he asked Jack, ”Would you care to ride with us this afternoon?”

Jack raised his brows. He'd never thought he'd receive an invitation from one of Fiona's brothers. It was a pity to have to reject it. ”I'm sorry, but I have a meeting with my man of business. Perhaps tomorrow?”

Gregor nodded, his expression harried. ”Very well. I'll see what's to be done with the la.s.s. Perhaps I can talk some sense into her.”

”Don't bother. I've already tried, and-”

But Gregor had already left. Even now, his deep voice could be heard booming through the foyer as he welcomed Fiona.

Jack strained to hear her soft reply, but her voice was lost when the front door opened and a strong wind whistled in. In a moment, the wind and the voices disappeared as Fiona left for her morning ride.

It had been a long night, and he'd thought he wanted nothing more than the peace of his own library. But now the silence was screamingly loud.

Jack rose to stir the fire, his gaze drawn to the window. The wind whipped wildly, large clouds rolled by, trees bent and swayed. He found himself standing at the window, looking down as Fiona and Gregor joined Dougal.

She was dressed in the green riding habit that hugged every curve, her hair pinned up beneath her hat, tendrils whipping with the wind. Her face was tilted up as she listened to something Gregor said, her eyes intent on his face, her lips slightly parted.

Jack rubbed a dull ache in his chest. Last night had been horrid. Fiona had refused to speak to him after he'd carried her out of the gaming h.e.l.l, refused to sleep with him when they'd arrived at the house, and, this morning, refused to listen to his attempts to explain his behavior.

She was wrong, d.a.m.n it! She should not have been at a gaming h.e.l.l. Period.

Before long, the two of them had engaged in a witless battle that had culminated in a slammed door and terse good-byes.

Jack leaned against the window frame and watched as Gregor helped Fiona onto her mount, a neatish bay named Ophelia. She was the perfect lady's horse. She was a mite restive if left too long in the stables, but after a brief ride, she calmed and offered a sweet gait.

The horse was full of s.p.u.n.k today, prancing so that the groom had to hold the bridle for Fiona to mount safely.

Jack frowned at the man. What was that groomsman's name? He didn't look familiar; Jack would have to ask Devonsgate about that.

Fiona placed her boot in the stirrup, slid into the saddle, then hooked her knee over the pommel. After she was seated, Gregor turned to his own horse. The groom handed Fiona the reins and stepped back to adjust a strap.

Whether it was the large cart rumbling by or Fiona's skirts blowing in the wind, something startled Ophelia. The horse s.h.i.+ed nervously, tossed its head violently, then suddenly reared. Jack watched in horror as Fiona clung to the horse's neck, her hat and whip falling to the ground as she scrambled to hang on. The horse pawed the air, then came down hard.

Jack gripped the window frame, his breath frozen, as Ophelia wheeled and ran madly down the road, Fiona clinging to the horse's mane.

Jack rushed through the foyer and outside. Gregor spurred his horse after Fiona. Jack grabbed Dougal's leg and yanked him to the ground. Jack swung up onto the huge black horse, slammed his boots into the stirrups, and galloped off, leaning low on the horse.

Hehad to catch her, had to save her. Life without Fiona would have no meaning, no flavor. He couldn't accept it. Not now. Not ever.

Leaning close to the horse's neck, Jack began to pray.

Fiona hung on to the horse's mane for dear life as the mare ran madly through the streets of London, dodging carriages and sending other horses bucking in its path.

Fiona was jolted savagely back and forth. If she loosened her grip the slightest bit, she'd go flying and land on her head. If she continued to hang on, her neck would break from the violent jolting. Every time she went up, she came cras.h.i.+ng back down. Her bottom was already bruised and sore, and her neck already pained her.

Suddenly, something snapped, and the saddle slid a bit to one side.

With a pop, the saddle let go and Fiona flew into the air.

The moment slowed, stretched, almost stopped. She was flying up and up. Any moment now, she would