Heartbreak and Honor Read Free Page B

also to assuage Sethwick’s rage and reap vengeance on the Blackhalls for stealing his friend’s sister away. Insult Sethwick and you insulted Harcourt. Plus, the barbarians had designs on Lydia. Their interest in his cousin bore further investigation. Why the Blackhalls had held the gypsy lass prisoner, he hadn’t the faintest notion.
    The three forms, huddling in the dimness, stared at him.
    What color were Tasara’s eyes, anyway?
    By God, why did he care?
    Still probing his swollen eye, he sighed. “That was abominable and unpardonable of me, and I must beg your forgiveness, Miss Faas. Please, let me assure you I’m not in the habit of imposing myself on women.”
    “Hmph.” She jutted her dainty chin up a degree, and Lala, thumb firmly planted in her mouth, rested her head against her sister’s shoulder. “Handsome is as handsome does.”
    He couldn’t see Tasara’s eyes clearly, but Lucan didn’t doubt they skewered him. Better not turn his back or he might find her dagger buried to the hilt somewhere on his person.

Chapter 3
    “Tasara, wee ones.”
    Upon hearing Balcomb Faas, Lucan stepped into the hallway.
    The gypsy rushed along the passageway.
    A group of sweaty, rumpled travellers and Highlanders followed in his wake, including McTavish, better known as Viscount Sethwick in England. Several men sported split lips, cuts, and bruises, as well as bloodied and torn clothing.
    “My children be there, Yer Grace? Be they safe and well?”
    A wicked abrasion marred Balcomb’s cheek, and he limped in his haste to reach the chamber. A crimson-streaked slice along his thigh revealed the cause of his uneven gait. The diminutive man had fought with the fury of a dachshund downing a badger.
    “ Dat, Dat .”
    A joy-filled smile stretched across the traveller’s thin, haggard face when Lala bolted on her short, chubby legs from the chamber. He knelt and then gathered his daughter against his chest.
    Not far behind her, György threw himself into Balcomb’s embrace. “ Dat , I’ve missed ye.” The boy whispered into his father’s shoulder, his scrawny arms encircling the gypsy’s neck.
    Tasara edged by Lucan, her eyes downcast, yet proud defiance in the set of her shoulders and angle of her head. Bedraggled and exhausted, her colorful clothing hung loosely on her slender frame.
    Had the Blackhalls intended to starve them, for God’s sake?
    Still, his first view of her in full light stole his breath.
    Her ebony hair hung in waves past her narrow waist. A pert, upturned nose graced her heart-shaped face. Fine brows swooped into arches above her eyes, the color undecipherable as she kept her lashes lowered. Twin cherry spots glowed upon her ivory cheeks.
    Several bruises—some vivid in their newness and others older and fading—marred the slender column of her throat and below her elbows. Her lower lip, split and swollen, revealed she’d been struck recently.
    Gutless bastards.
    Tasara possessed an unusually delicate countenance and bone structure, especially for a Highlander. The hearty Scots generally bore strong familial and clan features and claimed a sturdy stockiness she lacked. Come to think of it, elements of her speech rang with unexpected refinement too.
    Perhaps her parents were educated.
    “The Blackhalls?” Lucan canted his head toward the noises filtering upstairs and exchanged a significant look with Sethwick.
    Sethwick’s gaze rested on each of the Faas children in turn before meeting Balcomb’s closed expression. “Dealt with.”
    His curt answer revealed what he wouldn’t in front of the little ones. The carnage Lucan witnessed before sprinting upstairs wouldn’t soon be forgotten. Hopefully, the worst of the gore would be cleared away before they descended.
    Sethwick’s attention fell on Lucan’s eye, and his lips quirked into a half-smile. “Harcourt, your pretty face is going to sport a dandy blackened eye.” Several men chuckled, and Sethwick slapped Lucan’s shoulder.