Page 62 of Courting Trouble
“I do not disagree. Consider it a payment, Doctor Titus Conleith, for a surgery you will perform in the future. Buy the best instruments. Attend the most important lectures and instructional theaters on the reconstruction of bones and skin. And pray that your skills are what they are reputed to be when next we darken your doorstep.”
Before Titus could ask more, the man clicked his boots and bowed. “We’ll be in touch.” Curiously, he paused to pluck his handkerchief from Felicity’s lax fingers, and smirked over at Mercy’s dumbstruck expression. “Surelythatfulfills the requisites for a grand gesture.”
She merely gawked at him, slack-jawed, and uncharacteristically speechless.
Instead of waiting for an answer, he turned to the silent figure in the corner, and they strode into the darkness.
After a pregnant moment, Dorian gathered himself and strode toward the door. “I’m going after them.”
“Don’t.” Morley held him back.
“But, Titus can’t serve as surgeon totwogangsters. It just isn’t done.”
Morley eyed him with a hound-like petulance. “I thought you were legitimate.”
“I am… mostly.” Dorian sucked his teeth. “Even so, that upstart bastard irks me.”
“Only because he reminds you of yourself not so long ago before yousupposedlyreformed.”
Titus could do nothing but stare at Nora as their banter faded into the background.
She loved him. She’d just said so. She did all this… for him.
For his forgiveness. For a chance.
A latent growl worked its way from deep in his chest and burst forth as he dropped his weapon and bag, lunged for her, and swept her into his arms.
“Titus,” she gasped, flailing for a moment before locking her arms around his neck to secure herself as he marched toward Blackwell’s carriage. “What the devil are you doing?”
“Something I should have done ages ago,” he gritted out.
Felicity rushed after them, but Morley seized her elbow and redirected her. “We’ll take another coach,” he said, exchanging a knowing look with Blackwell.
Titus nodded at the driver, who jumped down and opened the door so he could unceremoniously plunk Nora down on the luxurious seat and follow her inside.
The Long Road
Nora did her best to head off a lecture. “You don’t have to condescend to me about the foolishness of this endeavor, but I couldn’t have known our hired security would go running at the first sight of trouble,” she began as Titus tucked his long legs into the coach and shut them in together, creating a tight oasis of luxurious cobalt.
“Are you hurt?” he asked in a carefully bland and measured voice.
The question warmed her. “I’m all right. They never touched me.”
“Good.” Instead of uncoiling at her answer, his jaw locked together as if to keep from roaring. “Now what inGod’sname do you think you were trying to—”
She put up a staying hand. “I know you’re angry—”
“You can’tbeginto imagine what I’m feeling right now.” He broke off, a muscle working furiously just below his temple as he simply stared at her, his eyes glinting with an emotion she was truly incapable of defining.
Nevertheless, Nora absorbed his features with all the appreciation of a prisoner glimpsing the light of day for the first time in years. His golden eyes were haunted by shades, and deeper grooves sprouted from their edges. Ashen skin stretched more tightly over his dramatic cheekbones, and a few days’ growth of beard widened his jaw from masculine to dangerous. His clothes were rumpled and he smelled of whiskey.
He looked truly awful.
He was the most beautiful man alive.
And he’d come for her. It was all she could do not to grin in the face of his temper. To beam with a light she was afraid could not last.
“What did they mean?” he rumbled in a voice edged with lethal calm. “Mercy said you saved me… again.”
