by Rebecca King
“I really don’t want you going to meet Dexter.”
Florrie was so tired that she could have fallen asleep standing up, but was equally determined that she hear for herself just how deep her aunt’s treachery had gone.
“I am going, and there is nothing you can say, or do, that is going to stop me.”
“The man is dangerous,” Pie snapped, shoving his way into Florrie’s room when she tried to shut the door on her. He spun on his heel and glared at her, blocking her access to the room behind him. “He could have been the one who was driving the carriage that ran you over, do you realise that? If he is, you are going to go the tavern and meet him. Then what do you intend to do?” Pie placed his hands on his hips in a challenging stance. It was either that or he would put them around her neck.
“I am going to tell him my name and inform him that he was the wrong woman. I don’t see why I should be the one who gets shot at, run over and threatened when I haven’t done anything wrong,” Florrie bit out. The effects of the night were starting to take effect on her and she was trembling furiously but refused to show it. She wasn’t going to allow him to see any sign of weakness that he could use as an argument to try to prevent her from going to the tavern tomorrow.
“A tavern is no place for a lady,” Pie added, changing his argument when Florrie began to look increasingly belligerent.
“I am going to meet with Dexter tomorrow and that’s that. You cannot, and will not, stop me.” She sniffed at him and made to brush past him.
“I can’t protect you all the time, you -”
“I don’t expect you to protect me,” Florrie gasped. She spun on her heel toward him and struggled not to take a step back. She felt at a distinct disadvantage at having to tip her head backward to glare up at him, but she refused to allow him to see that she was cowed by his sheer dominance. “I can’t remember ever asking you to protect me. I am a grown woman and don’t need you, Tabatha, Hugo or anyone else.” She threw her head back.
Pie stared at her. He wondered if she would adopt this lioness attitude toward protecting any children she had and knew that this was an intrinsic part of who Florrie was. She was indomitable when crossed and he secretly felt rather proud of her. Whatever had happened to her throughout her life, she was a born survivor, just like he was.
“What if the man takes a weapon to you in the tavern? What do you plan to do, ask him to put it down nicely?” Pie snarled derisively. He knew he was being a bit unfair given that it would have to be a stupid criminal indeed to make such a move in a tavern packed to the rafters with people. The villager’s wouldn’t allow the man to get out of the door if he hurt her.
Florrie’s stomach flipped in alarm at the thought, but she would have to cross that bridge when she came to it. She could only hope that the man who had shot at her tonight was being honest when he said his boss had ordered him not to hurt her. Otherwise, she was putting her head right into the lion’s mouth.
“I am going, Pie, and that’s that.” She yawned and moved away only to gasp as Pie grabbed hold of her elbow and swung her around to face him. He grabbed hold of both of her elbows, desperation in his gaze as he glared down at her.
“Listen to me.”
Florrie felt her temper surge and tried to yank her elbows out of his grasp. “Let go of me,” she snapped, twisting frantically this way and that in an attempt to get him to let her go. He held on with a ruthless ease that did little other than increase her temper.
Lifting one foot, she kicked him hard on the shin. It hurt her toes but she ignored the pain, merely glared at him when he winced and scowled at her. She kicked him again for good measure.
“Stop it, damn it,” Pie snapped, trying to grab her around the waist. He had never seen any woman behave like this and was astounded at her determination to get her own way. Although he would never do anything to hurt her, he wasn’t going to stand back and allow her to put herself in harm’s way, whatever the cost to his shins. He winced as her finger nails bit cruelly into the back of his hands.
“Enough!” He shouted when one delicate foot caught him on the shin with all too much precision. He did wince this time and felt his temper snap. Grabbing her around the waist he hauled her off her feet and threw her over his shoulder. The blows she rained down on his back were harder than he expected and he stalked toward the bed with a curse. His back ached with the pummelling it was getting and he unceremoniously dumped her onto the bed.
Florrie immediately rolled over and tried to crawl off the other side only for Pie to grab her around the waist and drag her back around. Her twisting and squirming pulled him off balance and he landed onto the bed with her.
“For God sakes, will you calm down?”
“I am not going to be treated like some helpless female any longer,” Florrie spat, her eyes raining shards of fire at him. Pie felt his body respond, not only to hear nearness but to her wriggling against him. Her bosom heaved with indignation, but it was the fire in her eyes that captivated him. The pins had fallen out of her hair while she had been upside down allowing her hair to fall in silken abandon across the bed.
“I have been run over, have run up debts I knew nothing about, and shot at, all because of my greedy aunt!” She shouted.
She really was rather beautiful when angry, Pie mused. He stared down at her and wisely kept quiet. He could understand her need to vent her emotions and merely held her still while she ranted. “I have been shot at, twice, and faced my attacker. You are now not going to squirrel me away in this blasted room until the next time we get a note and you want to set me up as a target again.”
Pie took a breath to reply only to lapse into silence again when she continued to rant.
“That man has been behind everything that has happened to me. I think it is only fair and right that I should be the one to meet with him and set the record straight. Why should I be the one who goes without sleep at night, and have my life threatened? I should be given the chance to at least face my tormentor.” She began to wriggle and squirm, determined to break free so she could pace up and down. Her blood pounded in her veins. Her head swirled with argument after argument as she faced up to her fury.
Pie glanced at the tight balls of her fist and thought about the bruising on his back. While listening to her rant he carefully captured one wrist and drew it over her head before repeating the process with her other hand. Placing his legs on either side of her hips effectively held her captive so she could harm neither him, nor herself. She had yet to calm down enough to realise what he had done. He remained perfectly still and knew that there was a long way to go before her temper cooled.
“Get off me, you oaf!” Florrie snapped, realising at last that Pie had her securely pinned down. Her blood boiled even hotter and she glared at him in defiant fury.
“Florrie, you have to stay here,” Pie declared softly.
“The hell I am.” Florrie glared at him.
“You are staying,” he growled.
“You cannot tell me what to do. You are not my guardian,” Florrie argued, determined that nothing and nobody was going to stop her meeting Dexter face to face.
“I am the man who is trying to keep you alive!” Pie snapped, his own temper beginning to fray.
Florrie wriggled around enough to be able to sit upright a little until her chin was mere inches away from his chest. She had to tip her head backward to look at him but she didn’t care.
“I didn’t ask you to get yourself involved in this! I didn’t ask you to be my protector and you have no right to stop me from doing anything.” Her eyes threw fire at him.
Pie had heard enough. He let go of one of her wrists and captured the hair at the back of her head in one large fist. Drawing her upward, his lips slammed down on hers with a ruthlessness that wiped out any further argument.
At first she grabbed hold of his forearm to draw his hand away but his only response was to tip his head sideways and deepen the kiss. Florrie gasped, only for the force of hi
s kiss to propel her backward onto the bed. He followed her down without breaking the sensual onslaught. She knew she should protest at the intimate hold he had on her but, after the incident in the churchyard when he had held her so tightly while the bullets flew, she couldn’t find any reason to stop him now.
A part of her felt driven, pushed, impelled to answer his challenge. She knew that he was trying to get her to accept his dominance and follow through with his wishes, but she simply refused to allow this man to get away with it. Something dark and dangerous thrummed through her and it made her reckless. The memory of that first bullet whizzing past her head, so very close to her ear, was so strong she could have been back in the churchyard.
It could have hit her, went through her mind over and over in a relentless drone. She could be dead right now and what had she experienced in life? Nothing. What was she likely to experience throughout the long and empty years ahead? Nothing. If tonight was the only night that she was going to be able to savour simply being alive then she was going to embrace everything that happened with the same ruthless determination that Pie had.
Rather than meekly succumbing to his embrace, she grabbed hold of his shirt front and drew him closer. Instead of twisting and turning to get away, she lay beneath him and used her other hand to slide around his back and draw him down until he was lying against her.
Pie groaned at Florrie’s defiance. He had intended to kiss her until she calmed down enough so that they could talk properly. Instead, the woman had turned his desire back on him. His senses swam as she pulled him down. He couldn’t find the strength to fight her. Fire burned through him, warning his blood to molten lava. His body ached with a fierceness that he knew would take some time to subside.
Passion roared to life between them. All sense, all logic, all reason fled and was replaced with a reckless determination that had hands clawing at clothing in a desperate attempt to reveal as much flesh as possible, while lips plundered and seared with scalding sensation.
Silence settled within the room as the lovers duelled for supremacy.
The following morning, Florrie sat at the breakfast table in nervous anticipation. She didn’t want to be there; she was certain that last night’s behaviour was emblazoned across her forehead for everyone to see. She felt like a harlot, and had behaved like a wanton. Pie must be horrified at what she had done with him. She felt her cheeks flush with acute embarrassment and wondered whether she should just hide under the table and come back out when breakfast was all over, and Pie had left the house.
The stubborn woman from last night who had refused to be cowed by him had been replaced by a nervous wall flower who wished she was anywhere else. Each time someone appeared at the door, her heart began to hammer a little louder. Would Pie be angry? Or would he be disgusted with her for her recklessness?
She still couldn’t believe what had happened. Her first time should have been slow and gentle, but she couldn’t explain last night. Whatever he had created within her had burned with desperation that she had not been able to ignore. They had shared intimacies that still made her swallow nervously and this morning, having woken up beside him, she knew she had to take the coward’s way out.
Until she had thought about what had happened, and why, and what she was going to do about last night, she needed to avoid Pie. Oh, it was impossible to go back now. She was irrevocably changed forever and, if she was blatantly honest, a part of her didn’t regret what she had done for a second. She was more nervous about Pie’s reaction. She knew that he was an honourable man and seemed to have appointed himself as her unofficial protector. She had left the bed this morning purely because she didn’t want his condemnation or, to be frank, his further attentions. Her body was already sore from their intimacies last night. She was certainly not in any condition to accommodate another round of sensual wrestling with him if he tried to seduce her. Again, her cheeks flamed in embarrassment as a small voice reminded her that she hadn’t exactly taken any seducing.
“Are you alright, Florrie? You look a little flushed this morning,” Harriett declared softly, offering her the toast rack. Florrie took a piece and placed it absently on her plate before staring thoughtfully down at the butter.
“I am fine, thank you.” She cast a furtive glance at Hugo who was studying her closely. “I just didn’t sleep very well last night.
“I take it Pie caught up with you?” Hugo drawled wryly. He had heard them arguing from downstairs and had crept up to bed in the hope that they still wouldn’t be raging at each other by dawn. As it was, all had quietened down relatively quickly, although from the look of Florrie this morning, she was still struggling to come to terms with what had been said.
“I am coming with you to the tavern to meet Dexter,” Florrie declared as though she sensed his thoughts.
Hugo’s brows shot skyward and he opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by a husky growl at the door.
“The hell you are,” Pie snarled. He was not in the mood to be trifled with this morning. He hadn’t known quite what he was expecting, but waking up alone in her bed was not it. It had taken far too long to see to his ablutions and get dressed, and even longer for him to break free of his conversation with Simon on the stairs. To find her sitting in the breakfast nonchalantly munching toast as though she hadn’t a care in the world made him want to gnaw the table in fury. He had to work really hard not to curl his lip.
Florrie stared at him. Her heart sank at the anger on his face. So, they were back to the same argument. She glared defiantly at him, and tipped her chin up.
“Then I shall go alone,” she declared firmly, spreading a liberal helping of jam on her toast. She took a bite and licked her lips as the sugary sweetness exploded in her mouth.
Pie stared at her and wondered if the witch was doing it deliberately. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously when she didn’t look at him. He had to sit down when the pink tip of her tongue poked out to snatch a piece of jam from the corner of her mouth.
Feeling like a total letch, Pie shook his head, glowered at her and dropped into the seat beside her. He felt her jump and felt a snide surge of satisfaction that she wasn’t as oblivious to him as she was pretending to be.
Last night she had sealed her fate whether she liked it or not. He had sealed his fate too, damn it, and he was far from happy with the situation either, but there was little they could do to change matters now. Honour dictated that he ‘do the right thing’ by her, and she was going to allow him to whether she liked it or not.
“Try it, and I shall tie you up like Tabatha.”
Florrie snorted but pointedly didn’t bother to look at him. “You can try.”
Hugo watched the interplay and shared a look with Harriett. He had never seen Pie like this with any woman. To see the big man bristling with fury and butting heads with a woman who refused to back down really was rather funny. He glanced at Florrie with newfound respect. He was delighted that Pie had finally met his match.
“She has to go,” Hugo announced regretfully. The apologetic look he gave Pie was met with a glare. “Dexter needs to see her so that he has a description of her. If he just works for a gaming house rather than being the owner then he needs to be able to give her description to the man who owns the debt.”
“Besides,” Florrie countered, ignoring Hugo’s warning look. “I can sit in a corner of the tavern, completely out of the way. If the man is dangerous then I can leave and come back here while his attention is diverted by Hugo. If he isn’t then he can at least see me from across the inn and will know what I look like.”
She was so calm and unflappable about it that Pie wanted to shake her. He was in knots while she didn’t seem to have a care in the world. She was behaving as though nothing had happened between them last night and that annoyed the hell out of him. He knew she had been innocent, only too late when he had already taken her virginity but, by that time, it had been impossible to ignore her soft sighs and grasping hands. All control had snap
ped and he had succumbed to her demands and given her everything she wanted – twice.
To see her sitting so unconcerned at the table this morning was galling. He had wondered if she was having a fit of the vapours somewhere or crying in the conservatory. Instead he found her sitting and quietly conversing with Hugo and Harriett while munching toast in the most sensual manner he had ever seen.
Well, if that was the way she wanted things to be then he was more than happy to go along with it, he though angrily. He was glad she wasn’t going to be some simpering and clinging miss and, if she was stupid enough to want to willingly put her life on the line then that was fine by him. Snatching a piece of toast off the rack before him, he started to slather butter and jam onto it with the gusto of a butcher carving a side of beef.
Having watched him desecrate his toast, Florrie turned to Hugo as he pushed away from the table.
“I would like a quiet word with you, if I may?”
At his quiet nod she moved toward the door. She was all too aware of Pie’s now familiar presence beside her at the table, and had been able to feel the anger that positively shimmered around him. It was a relief to put some distance between them and she moved around the table with more haste than was necessary.
“Me?” Hugo queried, glancing at Pie who had paused, his toast half way to his mouth.
“Yes, in private, if I may?” She followed Hugo into the study across the hallway.
Hugo sat in the chair beside her when she took a seat near the window. He waited while she settled her skirts. Curiosity kept him quiet. She was clearly trying to get her thoughts in order.
“I want to talk to you about something that has to remain strictly confidential,” Florrie began, trying to drag her thoughts from the still glowering Pie they had left in the breakfast room. She drew a piece of parchment out of her skirts and handed it to him. “If anything happens to me, these are the details of my uncle Silas, and my solicitor.”
Hugo frowned down at the names and addresses on the parchment and turned his gaze back to her.