The Lady Hellion by Joanna Shupe Page B

quite determined when you want something. Do you let anything stop you once you’ve decided on a course?”
    “No, not if I can help it. And admit it, you are surly merely because you did not foresee my brilliant plan.”
    “Brilliant plan?” he scoffed. “A rock in your boot?”
    “It worked, did it not?”
    An annoyed huff served as his answer.
    Sophie laughed as she started for her abandoned cloak. Time to return home before her absence was noted. She was also having trouble concentrating with Quint in such a sweaty and disheveled state. The opening on his shirt had widened, showing a patch of chest lightly covered in dark, springy hair, now damp from exertion. It was deliciously improper and intimate, and every part of her tingled at the sight.
    He’d almost kissed her. For a moment, with his arm around her, she’d felt something powerful between the two of them. And it scared her how much she’d wanted it.
    She picked up her cloak, turned to him, and cleared her throat. “Quint, I wanted to apologize for the other evening, with the pistols. I should not have fired without warning, or at least asking first.”
    He grimaced. “I overreacted, and for that I beg your pardon. I haven’t heard a pistol fired since that night and it . . .” He trailed off.
    “It what?”
    “Nothing. Got a bit rattled, is all.”
    She’d seen him through the door. Rattled? He’d been nearly apoplectic. “You did a very brave thing that night,” she said, “trying to stop Maggie’s attacker.”
    “It was stupid of me. I didn’t think it through. If I had, I would have grabbed a weapon, at least.”
    “You couldn’t have known—”
    Quint held up a hand, cocked his head. When he did not speak, Sophie asked, “What is it?”
    He turned to her, intensely serious. Heavens, those beautiful, full lips. She could not help but stare. “Did you hear that?” he asked, quietly.
    “No. What should I have heard?”
    He frowned. “I heard glass breaking. A window, perhaps.” He beckoned her with his hand. “Come. I need to see what’s happened.”
    She held up her palms, as if to ward him off. “What if someone sees me? I believe it prudent that I remain here.”
    He sighed. “First, I know you shall scamper away the second my back is turned, and since there may well be a threat on the property, I should like to keep an eye on you. Second, if there is a threat, it is best you are with me instead of here by yourself.”
    “Nonsense. More than likely it’s a mouse.”
    “I do not have mice, at least not ones large enough to break glass.” He lifted his foil and removed the cap covering the tip for safety. “And you are being illogical, Sophie. Do as I say now, or we waste precious time in an argument I will undoubtedly win regardless.”
    She’d seen Quint in a debate and he was very, very good. And they both knew it was not a mouse. Reluctantly, she lifted the other weapon. Quint was already to the door, so she had to hurry to catch up. He stopped abruptly and she nearly slammed into his back. “Quiet,” he said over his shoulder.
    He crept into the hall and Sophie followed, staying close. Silence echoed throughout the house, and the carpet muffled their footsteps as they traveled toward the stairs. Quint’s home tended toward the austere, she’d noticed. The furnishings and carpets were all in excellent condition, but the space held no life. There were no flowers to brighten it up. No family portraits or other artwork she’d seen, and his study seemed the only room he actually used. Heavy covers concealed the furniture, as if the lodgings were temporary and he planned to move at any moment.
    At the bottom of the stairs, he paused to listen. She waited on the first step, feeling ridiculous. The odds that a person had gained entry to his house—
    A floorboard creaked somewhere near the back of the house, and Sophie held her breath. Perhaps one of the servants was not abed yet. Foil raised, Quint started in the