him.”
“Maybe I could come along and help—”
“No, I don’t think that would be wise,” he cut him off. It was too dangerous.
Just then, Nick heard Lady Burke call her son’s name.
“Phillip!” she barked at him across the lawn. “Get back inside! Now!”
“Ah, blast it,” the boy muttered under his breath.
She was striding angrily over the lawn, headed their way. “I told you to go to your room!”
“Nice meeting you,” Phillip mumbled.
“Likewise,” Nick answered.
“You know, sir, if you did . . . like my mum, I think I’d give my blessing.”
“Thanks,” Nick replied, bemused.
Then Phillip slunk away toward his mother, who was clearly on the warpath. “How dare you disobey me? First, you are suspended, then you deliberately ignore what I said!”
Nick did not wish to hear the scolding, so, to spare the lad’s pride, he walked off down the range and went to collect his half dozen throwing knives out of the target where he’d sunk them, and out of the ground—Phillip’s work.
Good kid, he thought in amusement, though, at the moment, Phillip’s mother did not seem to think so.
He took care to stay out of earshot. He could not make out specific words, just the blur of an angry woman scolding her headstrong son.
In truth, Nick was deeply touched by his meeting with the cheery redheaded lad. Virgil’s grandson. Fancy that. He shook his head in wonder at this revelation.
He couldn’t wait to tell Beau and Trevor and the rest. This kid might not have a father, but Phillip was soon to find himself surrounded by a dozen doting, stand-in uncles who’d be glad to take an interest in his welfare. Whether his mum approved or not.
A furtive scan of the territory revealed Phillip trudging into the house. Lady Burke had stayed behind, apparently waiting to speak to Nick. Standing near the wrought-iron furniture, she folded her arms across her chest. He noticed her bristling posture, but what startled him as he approached was her cold stare. “A word with you, please.”
Did I do something wrong? he thought as he went to her, his compliments on her boy temporarily forgotten. “What’s the matter?”
Her mouth was pursed, her gaze flinty. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she clipped out, pausing only briefly, “but stay away from my son.”
Nick went motionless, taken off guard by the ice-cold rejection packed into her words.
The hurt made his mind go blank for a second. Then he dropped his gaze and understood why she had said it.
He couldn’t really blame her, considering she had just got him out of prison. He was not quite the knight in shining armor Phillip seemed to think and not at all what a good parent would probably consider a positive influence on her child. How many men had he killed, after all?
Still, he had not been braced for this particular ice pick in the heart. He looked away, filled with a breathtaking surge of shame. He turned away with a nod and managed a taut, “Of course.”
She stood there a moment longer for some reason, staring at him, but with his heart knotted up and stuck in his throat, Nick refused to look at her.
He couldn’t.
Any hope he had felt about the connection between this woman and himself dissolved like the morning mist—even though he understood. The lioness was merely protecting her young. It didn’t matter whose head she bit off in the process. Still, he’d had gunshot wounds that hurt less than this succinct condemnation.
So that was how she saw him. Not even worthy to speak to her son.
All right, then. Foolish thoughts away.
He made himself busy wiping the mud off his fine blades that her kid had thrown into the ground.
“We leave for Town in an hour,” she informed him.
“Fine.”
She hesitated a moment longer, perhaps realizing how she’d hurt him. But it did not signify. She was a pain in the arse, anyway. The wilderness waited.
He’d get her blasted game piece to the Bacchus Bazaar, then he’d be on his
“Maybe I could come along and help—”
“No, I don’t think that would be wise,” he cut him off. It was too dangerous.
Just then, Nick heard Lady Burke call her son’s name.
“Phillip!” she barked at him across the lawn. “Get back inside! Now!”
“Ah, blast it,” the boy muttered under his breath.
She was striding angrily over the lawn, headed their way. “I told you to go to your room!”
“Nice meeting you,” Phillip mumbled.
“Likewise,” Nick answered.
“You know, sir, if you did . . . like my mum, I think I’d give my blessing.”
“Thanks,” Nick replied, bemused.
Then Phillip slunk away toward his mother, who was clearly on the warpath. “How dare you disobey me? First, you are suspended, then you deliberately ignore what I said!”
Nick did not wish to hear the scolding, so, to spare the lad’s pride, he walked off down the range and went to collect his half dozen throwing knives out of the target where he’d sunk them, and out of the ground—Phillip’s work.
Good kid, he thought in amusement, though, at the moment, Phillip’s mother did not seem to think so.
He took care to stay out of earshot. He could not make out specific words, just the blur of an angry woman scolding her headstrong son.
In truth, Nick was deeply touched by his meeting with the cheery redheaded lad. Virgil’s grandson. Fancy that. He shook his head in wonder at this revelation.
He couldn’t wait to tell Beau and Trevor and the rest. This kid might not have a father, but Phillip was soon to find himself surrounded by a dozen doting, stand-in uncles who’d be glad to take an interest in his welfare. Whether his mum approved or not.
A furtive scan of the territory revealed Phillip trudging into the house. Lady Burke had stayed behind, apparently waiting to speak to Nick. Standing near the wrought-iron furniture, she folded her arms across her chest. He noticed her bristling posture, but what startled him as he approached was her cold stare. “A word with you, please.”
Did I do something wrong? he thought as he went to her, his compliments on her boy temporarily forgotten. “What’s the matter?”
Her mouth was pursed, her gaze flinty. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she clipped out, pausing only briefly, “but stay away from my son.”
Nick went motionless, taken off guard by the ice-cold rejection packed into her words.
The hurt made his mind go blank for a second. Then he dropped his gaze and understood why she had said it.
He couldn’t really blame her, considering she had just got him out of prison. He was not quite the knight in shining armor Phillip seemed to think and not at all what a good parent would probably consider a positive influence on her child. How many men had he killed, after all?
Still, he had not been braced for this particular ice pick in the heart. He looked away, filled with a breathtaking surge of shame. He turned away with a nod and managed a taut, “Of course.”
She stood there a moment longer for some reason, staring at him, but with his heart knotted up and stuck in his throat, Nick refused to look at her.
He couldn’t.
Any hope he had felt about the connection between this woman and himself dissolved like the morning mist—even though he understood. The lioness was merely protecting her young. It didn’t matter whose head she bit off in the process. Still, he’d had gunshot wounds that hurt less than this succinct condemnation.
So that was how she saw him. Not even worthy to speak to her son.
All right, then. Foolish thoughts away.
He made himself busy wiping the mud off his fine blades that her kid had thrown into the ground.
“We leave for Town in an hour,” she informed him.
“Fine.”
She hesitated a moment longer, perhaps realizing how she’d hurt him. But it did not signify. She was a pain in the arse, anyway. The wilderness waited.
He’d get her blasted game piece to the Bacchus Bazaar, then he’d be on his
Similar Books
