he hadn’t even looked at her.
Rhys was the target. Were they trying to get to her by hurting him? Did the man who’d written her think they were lovers or was there something else afoot?
She watched as Rhys easily dispatched the man who’d initially attacked him. Then, spinning impossibly fast, he kicked the man behind him hard enough to knock him to the ground. His movements were graceful, like a dancer.
Why was that so familiar? The answer hit her like a punch. Rhys knew she’d hidden in the alley, because he’d been here. He was the man who’d saved her. She’d been kissing Rhys all along.
Anger coursed through her. How dare he deceive her like that? He’d kissed her that night without any reservation and she’d let him repeat it every night since. What a naïve idiot she’d been.
He could find his way out of this mess well enough. She started to walk to the hack when one of the attackers pulled out a knife. The man rushed forward, aiming at Rhys’s back.
“Nooooooo,” she screamed, startling the man and making him falter. “Rhys!” Rhys turned toward her and saw the man in time to block the arc of his knife arm.
Amanda held her breath while they grappled, her anger forgotten.
The two men fought so closely she couldn’t tell what was happening. It looked as though the assailant had made contact on his second attempt to stab Rhys, but Rhys showed no sign of being injured. He kept fighting as hard as ever.
She contemplated using the pistol she’d stuffed in the pocket of her cloak, but she feared she’d hit Rhys by mistake.
Finally, Rhys landed a kick that knocked the man down. The assailant’s head made a sickening crunch as it hit the stones. He didn’t move again.
“Do we leave them?” The question came from one of Rhys’s allies.
Rhys nodded. “Get out of here. I’ll contact you tomorrow.” He grabbed Amanda’s arm. “Carriage. Now.” His breathing was ragged, and he wove unsteadily. Had he been hurt after all?
Rhys offered her no help so Amanda scrambled into the carriage on her own. He spoke to the driver, but she couldn’t understand his words from inside the vehicle. After a
few moments, he pulled himself up and fell heavily into the seat across from her. He tilted his head back against the seat and didn’t move.
As she studied him, her anger returned. He’d lied to her, kissed her, made her want him desperately. Now he was ignoring her when her warning might well have saved his life.
She intended to tell him exactly what she thought of his deceit. But as they passed a well-lit street, a gasp came out instead. Rhys had discarded his jacket near the end of the fight, and the light revealed a dark stain on his shirt. She fought for breath.
He had been stabbed after all, yet he’d ignored the injury and continued to fight.
What kind of life had he led that he could do such a thing? For the second time that week she wondered who he really was.
“You’re hurt.” She cursed the quaver in her voice.
He didn’t move or open his eyes. “It’s nothing.”
“You’ve bled all over your shirt.”
“I’ll have someone see to it after you’ve been sent home.”
“Aren’t you taking me home now?”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “No. We will go to my home first.” She started to protest, but he cut her off. “We’ll use the back entrance. No one will see us.”
“Why?”
“I’m not in any condition to help you climb to your balcony.”
“I don’t need any help.”
He glared at her. “I will not discuss this further.” The carriage came to a stop. Rhys pushed himself up, a grimace on his face. Amanda offered to help him, but he refused her hand and leapt from the carriage without a sound.
When they reached the servants’ entrance, his valet opened the door before Rhys had a chance to knock. His face drew up when he saw Rhys, but he said nothing. He ushered them to the library. “May I bring you something to drink or perhaps some medical
Rhys was the target. Were they trying to get to her by hurting him? Did the man who’d written her think they were lovers or was there something else afoot?
She watched as Rhys easily dispatched the man who’d initially attacked him. Then, spinning impossibly fast, he kicked the man behind him hard enough to knock him to the ground. His movements were graceful, like a dancer.
Why was that so familiar? The answer hit her like a punch. Rhys knew she’d hidden in the alley, because he’d been here. He was the man who’d saved her. She’d been kissing Rhys all along.
Anger coursed through her. How dare he deceive her like that? He’d kissed her that night without any reservation and she’d let him repeat it every night since. What a naïve idiot she’d been.
He could find his way out of this mess well enough. She started to walk to the hack when one of the attackers pulled out a knife. The man rushed forward, aiming at Rhys’s back.
“Nooooooo,” she screamed, startling the man and making him falter. “Rhys!” Rhys turned toward her and saw the man in time to block the arc of his knife arm.
Amanda held her breath while they grappled, her anger forgotten.
The two men fought so closely she couldn’t tell what was happening. It looked as though the assailant had made contact on his second attempt to stab Rhys, but Rhys showed no sign of being injured. He kept fighting as hard as ever.
She contemplated using the pistol she’d stuffed in the pocket of her cloak, but she feared she’d hit Rhys by mistake.
Finally, Rhys landed a kick that knocked the man down. The assailant’s head made a sickening crunch as it hit the stones. He didn’t move again.
“Do we leave them?” The question came from one of Rhys’s allies.
Rhys nodded. “Get out of here. I’ll contact you tomorrow.” He grabbed Amanda’s arm. “Carriage. Now.” His breathing was ragged, and he wove unsteadily. Had he been hurt after all?
Rhys offered her no help so Amanda scrambled into the carriage on her own. He spoke to the driver, but she couldn’t understand his words from inside the vehicle. After a
few moments, he pulled himself up and fell heavily into the seat across from her. He tilted his head back against the seat and didn’t move.
As she studied him, her anger returned. He’d lied to her, kissed her, made her want him desperately. Now he was ignoring her when her warning might well have saved his life.
She intended to tell him exactly what she thought of his deceit. But as they passed a well-lit street, a gasp came out instead. Rhys had discarded his jacket near the end of the fight, and the light revealed a dark stain on his shirt. She fought for breath.
He had been stabbed after all, yet he’d ignored the injury and continued to fight.
What kind of life had he led that he could do such a thing? For the second time that week she wondered who he really was.
“You’re hurt.” She cursed the quaver in her voice.
He didn’t move or open his eyes. “It’s nothing.”
“You’ve bled all over your shirt.”
“I’ll have someone see to it after you’ve been sent home.”
“Aren’t you taking me home now?”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “No. We will go to my home first.” She started to protest, but he cut her off. “We’ll use the back entrance. No one will see us.”
“Why?”
“I’m not in any condition to help you climb to your balcony.”
“I don’t need any help.”
He glared at her. “I will not discuss this further.” The carriage came to a stop. Rhys pushed himself up, a grimace on his face. Amanda offered to help him, but he refused her hand and leapt from the carriage without a sound.
When they reached the servants’ entrance, his valet opened the door before Rhys had a chance to knock. His face drew up when he saw Rhys, but he said nothing. He ushered them to the library. “May I bring you something to drink or perhaps some medical
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