Page 119 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
In the few seconds it took for everything to happen, her father had sagged to one side—and Thorne could see the hilt of the small knife protruding from his eye socket.
As the bastard’s body fell away, Thorne grabbed Kit and pulled her against him, even as he turned an incredulous stare Bull’s way.
As Thorne and Kit sank to the ground beside her father’s body, her head buried in Thorne’s chest, Bull stood frozen, breathing heavily, hand outstretched, the knife thrown true.
He’d saved them.
The lad had saved them all.
Thorne saw the moment Griffin realized that. The gruff man whirled around, grabbing his son by the lapels, and shaking him. “What in the everlovingfook, Bull?” he growled, before yanking the lad to him and crushing him against his chest. “What did I tell ye about taking a life?”
Bull’s arms snaked around his father’s middle, his face buried against Griffin’s shoulder. Still, Thorne heard the muffled words. “That it’s no’ easy.”
His father pressed his forehead against Bull’s crown and rasped, “I’m so sorry, lad.”
“Sorry?” bellowed Demon, his scarred face pulled into a remarkably unsettling grin. “Frolicking spunk-gibbons! That was a fookingremarkablethrow. The lad has talent!”
Rourke slammed his hand into Demon’s shoulder. “My brother just killed a man. Try to show some respect!”
“Respect for Blackrose?” Demon spat. “That excretable pissweasel?”
“No,” Princess Louise said in a shaking voice, as if the events had finally caught up with her. “Respect for that lad’s incredible aim and sense of timing.”
Apparently all it took was a princess feeling a bit wobbly to unite all of the ex-agents. As Rourke and Effinghell stepped forward to comfort Her Highness, Fawkes and Demon went to calm the rest of the guests.
And Thorne was able to concentrate on the woman in his arms.
“Kit,” he murmured. “Kit, my darling, I’m sorry.”
She was shaking. As with the princess, the danger and excitement had finally caught up with her. He rubbed his hand down her spine, wishing she were naked in his arms so he could truly comfort her, skin-to-skin.
“Please dinnae cry, love,” he said, beginning to rock her. “Ye’re safe. Ye’re safe, and yer father can never hurt ye again.”
“Hurtme?” she cried, pulling away suddenly.
And he realized he’d guessed wrong, yet again. Kit’s cheeks weren’t streaked with tears, butweresplotched with anger. Her pale eyes blazed as she wrapped her fingers through his lapels.
“Hurtme, you idiot?” she repeated, giving him a little shake. They were both on their knees beside the door, Blackrose’s body sprawled behind them, although Griffin and Bull were bending to lift it. “Youwere the one about to throw yourself into danger, don’t deny it! You were the one who got yourselfshotlast night, and you were going to do it again, weren’t you? After I told you specifically not to!”
Slowly, Thorne’s expression eased and his lips curled upward into a smile.
He should have known. His strong, brave Kit wasn’t crying. She wasn’t terrified.
She was angry. Athim.
Unable to help himself, he leaned forward and kissed her.
She froze, then in a burst of movement threw herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. As their lips met in frantic embrace, they overbalanced and tumbled backward. He braced himself, catching them both and rolling them so she wasn’t crushed.
Which meant the two of them—wearing matching evening wear—ended up tangled around one another on the fine wooden floor of the music room in Stroken House. With an audience. A royal audience.
“I love you,” Kit gasped, yanking herself away and clasping his cheeks in her hands, glaring down at him. “I love you, Octavius Cumming, and if youeverscare me like that again, I’ll kill you myself!”
His heart had stuttered at the firstI love you, a sort of wonder filling his chest to replace the steady beating. Now that wonder spread throughout his torso and down his limbs and up into his throat until he was grinning like an idiot.
She loved him.
Kit loved him.
