Page 29 of Winter's Waltz
Belatedly, he realized the Winters were all discussing the possibilities of which of their enemies would have dared to be so brazen. The Winters and Suttons had been coexisting beneath a tentative truce. Dom Winter did not believe Jasper Sutton, who was the head of the Sutton family, would dare to break that pax. Too much was at stake.
“One of Paul Wilmore’s men,” Devil suggested. “Setting a blaze to decimate a competitor is just the sort of thing Wilmore would have done. The bastard may be dead, but his men aren’t. His brother has been chirping to everyone who’ll listen about trying to get his revenge.”
Miss Winter nodded. “Aye. Stands to reason it could be one of the Wilmore crew, mayhap the brother. They’re the sorts of dirty scoundrels who would do it. But I ain’t a competitor. No one else has a hell for ladies. I don’t understand.”
The Winter brothers exchanged glances, and Max knew what they were thinking. Also, what they did not know how to tell their bold, intelligent, fearless sister.
“It is possible that is the reason for the fire being set,” he told her gently. “Someone may take exception to the idea of a club that is exclusively for ladies.”
Her head jerked toward him, and he could not help but to take note of the state of her lips, swollen from his kisses. A searing sense of accomplishment burned through him. Along with the desire to do it again. And again.
Soon.
“The hell they would,” she said, scowling at him as if he had been the origin of the hatred and the fire and the small-mindedness instead of some nameless, faceless enemy.
Dom Winter raised a brow, sending him a look.
Yes, well. He had rather volunteered himself, had he not?
He cleared his throat. “I am afraid someone would be motivated for such a witless reason, Miss Winter. Or perhaps by a merging of the two—an enemy seeking revenge who is outraged that you are opening a gaming hell for ladies only.”
“I will speak with Sutton myself,” Dom offered. “I will make certain this is not the work of any of his men. For now, we have brought with us some men who will patrol your perimeter to keep something like this from happening again. We have men to restore the kitchens—”
“No,” Miss Winter interrupted, firm. “I will speak with Sutton, and I’ll hire my own men to restore the kitchens. I’ll accept your patrol until I can hire my own.”
Max was not surprised. Miss Genevieve Winter had shown herself to be spectacularly independent.
Her brothers, however, were equally determined to protect her.
“Gen, we are family. Family helps family,” Dom Winter said.
“We are and we do,” she acknowledged. “But Lady Fortune is something I want to do myself. We’ve had this talk before.”
“Aye,” Devil interrupted, looking ominous. “That was before someone attempted to burn down your hell, Gen. You could have been killed.”
A small shiver ran through her willowy form, so subtle Max was sure her brothers likely did not see it. But he was near enough, and aware enough of her every move, to take note. What had happened last night had shaken this ordinarily indefatigable woman. Yet she was determined to meet the challenges facing her alone.
Max stepped forward, standing at her side. It was a place that felt natural, right to his marrow. “I am happy to offer my aid to Miss Winter in any capacity.”
Dom and Devil stared. Blade Winter looked skeptical. Demon winced. Gavin looked as if he still wanted to plant Max a facer.
“You, Sundenbury?” Dom asked.
He was aware of Miss Winter’s regard. Max cocked his head to the side, and their stares clashed and held. He was not certain what he read in her expression. She remained an enigma to him. However, he swore he saw a hint of something like appreciation.
“Me,” he said softly, but he was still not looking at Dom Winter when he said the word.
He was captured by Miss Winter’s bright eyes, her soot-streaked beauty. There was a smudge of dirt on the tip of her nose that he longed to wipe clean with his forgotten handkerchief. But not whilst they had an audience of bloodthirsty Winter brothers, he reminded himself.
She nodded. “Thank you, Sundenbury.”
No Dunderhead or Blunderbury? His elation was instant and likely foolish. The truth was, he had never worked this hard to woo any woman in his life. He was the heir to a duke. He had been told he was reasonably handsome, and he possessed a looking glass that suggested he was not terrible to gaze upon. True, he did have a reputation as something of a wastrel, and not without cause, but he had never lacked for female companionship.
Suddenly, however, it was not any female companionship he wanted. It was only this one’s companionship. And more. Far more.
A foreign emotion swelled in his chest as he nodded. “My pleasure, Miss Winter.”
“Someone set fire to your hell, and you are going to rely on Sundenbury but refuse our offer of help?” Gavin demanded, sounding indignant.
Max had to bite his lip to keep from grinning.
“Aye.” Miss Winter nodded. “That’s the way of it.”
He was going to have to kiss Genevieve Winter more often.
