Page 94 of Their Master

Smith turned to her without veiling his thoughts, allowing her to see the person he kept locked inside.

She recoiled and backed away, her lips parted, eyes wide with fear.

Smith nodded at Malcolm and Edward. “Take the others outside and wait for me.”

“Smith?” Moira said, taking a step toward him, her hand out, her voice shaking. “Please. I know he was behaving brutally, but he wouldn’t have killed you. Can you not—”

It was Blois who laughed, a surprising show of spirit. “You think to plead with the devil?”

Edward laid a hand on Moira’s shoulder.

“Go with him, Moira.”

Smith vaguely regretted that Moira had to be here for this, but he had lost the ability to think of anything or anyone except the man across from him

And Blois only had eyes forhim.

They were, he realized, more intimate than lovers in some ways, their hatred binding them so tightly it was difficult to think of anything else with Blois so near.

He felt a light touch on his shoulder. “Please… Maximus.”

Smith startled at the sound of the name, which he’d not heard in decades, and whipped around. “Go,” he hissed.

Whatever Moira saw—not the Smith she knew—made her jerk her hand away.

This time when Edward led her away, she went without protesting.

The door closed behind them and Smith turned to Blois and smiled. “Alone at last.”

Chapter 22

Moira felt as if she were trapped with people who couldn’t understand the language she was speaking.

She clutched Edward Fanshawe’s arm when he closed the door. “Don’t let him do this—that is my father in there. He might not be much of a father, but he is the only one I have.”

Edward gave her a stony look and led her away from the door without speaking.

Moira turned to her sister—kind, loving, sweet Sandrine—and flinched at her cold expression.

“Sandrine—surely you—”

“What?” Sandrine demanded when she saw Moira’s stunned look. “He deserves whatever Smith does to him—he deserves far, far worse. And ourmothergot better than she deserved. She should be in there with him, taking her own bullet. Not to mention Etienne, the heartless sycophant.”

Moira’s jaw sagged.

Sandrine grabbed Moira’s upper arms and shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth.“Don’t spare Blois even one more thought, Honorine. You have already given him—both of them—far too much of yourself and your life.”

“But Sandrine—”

“Don’t you understand what they have done to you—to all of us? They made uswhores, Honorine. What kind of parent does that? And what about Robert? Marie turned him into the sort of man who bought and sold little girls! Just think of all the lives they have ruined.”

Moira felt as if she were in a dream. Could they really be standing there arguing while one man cold bloodedly killed another only a few feet away?

As if to answer her question, the crack of a pistol came from inside the small stone building.

Moira jolted and looked at the faces of those around her.

Sandrine’s chin was high and she wore an expression of fierce vindication.

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