Page 153 of Their Master

“I worried aboutyou,Moira—not just our child.” Smith bent his head and claimed her mouth.

She groaned and melted against him.

Smith felt like a man who’d been deprived of a life-sustaining substance and suddenly had access to it again; he wanted to gorge on her.

But Clayton’s rat’s nest was hardly the place for a much-anticipated reunion, so he forced himself to pull away.

Moira stared up at him, her eyes huge. “I’m so sorry for what I did. I didn’t—”

“I know you are.” He pulled a rueful face. “And I apologize for being such a grudge-bearing arse. I know the pressure Blois and your mother exerted on you and your siblings. I knew how it was for Sandrine. I should have been kinder.”

Smith took a deep breath and did what he should have done months ago: he told the truth. “I was so hurt that I lashed out. I was also too stupid to realize the only reason you could cause me such pain is because I’d come to care for you.” He hesitated. “Because I love you.”

She caught her lower lip with her teeth, tears welling in her eyes.

“I hope I haven’t killed your feelings with all my—”

“I love you, Smith! I love you so very, very much.” She threw her arms around him and Smith buried his face in her hair, closed his eyes, and gave a silentthank youto the powers that be.

When he reluctantly pulled away, he saw that she was biting her lower lip, her brow furrowed.

“What is it, darling?”

“It’s just—well, you know that Luke and I—”

“I know.”

“And does that make you angry?”

Smith’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “I was angry at first. No,” he corrected, “I was furious. And also jealous, which I didn’t care for. Atall.” He framed her face with both hands. “But the more I thought about it and the more Ilivedwith it, the more I realized it made sense that the two people who’d somehow stolen my heart—for lack of a better word—were together. I hope I’ve not burnt my bridges with the two of you.”

She nuzzled her cheek against him and grinned. “I’m sure we will conceive of a way for you to make it up to us.”

Smith laughed and pulled her into his arms. “I look forward to it with all my heart, love.”

∞∞∞

“You’re sure about this?” Selkirk asked Smith, eyeing Clayton’s shivering, sniveling form with open loathing. “I’d heard you weren’t the sort of man who left loose ends. Ever.”

Smith thought about Charles—whom he’d just sent off in his carriage rather than a sack filled with rocks in the Thames—and shrugged. “I’m trying to mend my ways and be more merciful.”

Selkirk snorted, which Smith deserved.

“Besides,” Smith said. “It would be too easy to kill him.” He gave the eighth, and last, man on his ancient list one last look before closing the door to the hovel and leaving Clayton to his own misery.

The earl looked doubtful but shrugged. “Whatever you say. I have what I came for” he lifted an envelope—“so I don’t care what you do with him.”

As they walked back to the carriage Smith said, “He’s poor, friendless, and he’s lost the only way he has of making money. His life won’t be worth living from now on.”

“True,” the earl agreed. “But he’s still a snake. And he hates you.”

“I suspect he’ll soon be a snake without a head.”

Selkirk’s eyebrows raised.

“He owes some rather nasty people large amounts of money.” Smith smirked. “I might have sent word to some of Clayton’s creditors about where he could be found.”

The earl barked a laugh, a genuinely amused expression on his austere face. “Remind me never to rely on yourmercyfor any reason.”

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