Page 51 of Winter's Waltz
“And it’s a brother’s love I ’ave for you.” His grip on her hand tightened, and so did his jaw. “I want to protect you. Lords don’t marry rookery rats like us.”
Ladies had, she thought. Her brothers Dom and Devil had married Max’s sisters, Lady Adele and Lady Evangeline. But it was true they weren’t the duke’s heirs. They were females; the line did not carry on with them.
She tugged her hand from Peter’s grasp. “I ain’t marrying anyone, least of all Sundenbury. I’m helping him, and he’s helping me. That is all. Tit for tat.”
Even as she made the claim, she recognized the lie in it herself. Things between them may have begun in that vein. But much had changed. She had never expected to desire him the way she did, with a desperation that was frightening as hell.
The door to her office opened, and the subject of their heated exchange sauntered over the threshold. Curse him if he didn’t look ridiculously handsome for a man who had also been awake all hours of the night, attempting to help her restore order to Lady Fortune. Thanks to Max, Arthur had been discovered, locked in the larder, which had been blessedly untouched by the fire.
And Arthur was at his side now, happily trotting as if he hadn’t a care in the world and as if the man whose side he attended were his true master.
Furred traitor.
“Forgive me,” Max said, slowing his pace when his gaze took in the scene unfolding between Gen and Peter. “I did not intend to intrude.”
No doubt he felt the tenseness in the air, hovering between Gen and Peter.
“And yet, ’ere you be,” Peter snarled unkindly, “intruding just the same.”
Arthur growled at Peter, taking Gen by surprise. He had always been quite friendly with the gentle giant.
“Arthur would like me to inform you he finds you terribly rude,” Max said. “Hence the growl.”
Peter took a step toward Max that Gen could only classify as menacing. He looked as if he wanted to trounce the marquess. She was sure Max could defend himself, but Arthur’s subsequent bark and placement of himself between the marquess and Peter had her moving forward, slipping between the two men.
“Peter was just leaving. Weren’t you, Peter?”
He glared. “I wasn’t.”
“Peter,” she began, her tone one of warning, for she had not much patience left this morning.
“Look at that note,” Peter interrupted, pointing toward the scrap which had been left. “Tell me you don’t ’ave someone bearing down on you, someone you cheated, someone you owe. Everyone knows the Marquess of Sundenbury can’t win a game to save ’is bleedin’ life.”
“I am aware of the note,” Max said calmly. “I saw it last night, if you will recall. I remain just as perplexed by it now as I was then. I have not incurred a ha’penny of debt since my arrival here.”
Peter snorted. “Cull’s like you lie as soon as you open your mouth. Bad enough you’re trying to make Gen into your ladybird. Now you’re bringing your problems to ’er door as well.”
Bloody hell.
Gen reacted before she could fully think, her fist connecting with Peter’s shoulder. He was unsurprisingly solid for a man of his bulk. And damn it if the blow didn’t make pain radiate from her knuckles, up her wrist.
“Enough!” she bit out. “Peter, if you don’t get out of my office, you’ll be hunting for a new job.”
He jolted, as if she had slapped him. Somehow, her threat had more effect upon him than the physical blow she had dealt.
“Fine then, if that’s what you want.” He rubbed his shoulder where she had punched him, his face inscrutable. “I’ll go. But I’ll be protecting you from the marquess ’owever I must.”
With a final, pointed glare in Max’s direction, Peter stalked from the room, slamming the door at his back. Arthur whined his displeasure. Gen stared at the closed portal, wondering what the hell had just happened.
“If I didn’t know better, I would think I just walked in upon a lover’s quarrel,” Max said into the silence.
She turned to him, noting the dark circles beneath his eyes, the evidence he was as deprived of slumber as she. “Peter is like a brother to me.”
Max raised a brow. “Mayhap someone ought to tell Peter that.”
She just had. The marquess was deuced observant.
“Never thought I needed to tell him before,” she admitted.
