If He's Dangerous Read Free

impossible to hold his own against Charles’s two brutes. The few injuries he did inflict before they subdued him gave him some pleasure, however. He would have felt more except that he suspected Charles enjoyed watching the uneven match and that was why he had never fully restrained Argus.
    By the time the two men finished pounding him, Argus was hanging on to consciousness by a very thin thread. There was not a part of him that was not crying out in pain. When Charles leaned over him, Argus glared at the man even though he suspected Charles could see little of it due to Argus’s rapidly swelling eyelids.
    â€œAs I have said, this grows tiresome,” said Charles. “Very tiresome indeed.”
    â€œSo sorry to bore you,” replied Argus, not surprised to hear how slurred his words were for his mouth was bruised, bleeding, and swelling up as fast as his eyes were.
    â€œThis may end soon. We think we have found a way to get what we want.”
    Alarm swept through Argus, pushing aside the rapidly approaching dark of unconsciousness, as he feared Charles was about to use one of his family to try and break him. “I have told you that, if I had a gift, it would not be something that can be taught or given away.”
    â€œSo we begin to think, but there may be a way to steal it.” Charles straightened up and fussily tugged at the lace around his wrists. “I am uneasy about what has been proposed, but one can always be rid of a witch when her usefulness passes.” He smiled at Argus and then started out of the room. “Be sure to rest well, Sir Argus. We want you strong when next we visit.”
    Argus stared at the door as it shut behind the men, wincing at the sound of the lock turning. A witch? Despite all the strange gifts his family had been blessed with, Argus was not sure he believed in witches. The abilities his family had could be explained logically. Magic, potions, and spells often defied logic. Yet, he could not fully dismiss the possibility that such things existed. And, if they did, there just might be a way to steal his gifts from him. The thought of a man like Charles Cornick possessing his gift, going after others in his family to steal theirs, made Argus’s blood run cold.
    We. The man had said we. Argus knew he would have to consider the importance of that once he recovered from this beating enough to think clearly. If there was some conspiracy against his family, they could all be in a lot more danger than he had first thought.
    â€œLorelei, seventh child of the Duke of Sundun-moor,” he whispered as unconsciousness tightened its grip on him, “I pray you are stronger than you look. It appears more than my own fate rests in your small hands.” Even as he fell into the beckoning blackness, he slipped his hand beneath the thin mattress to touch her shawl.
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    Lorelei frowned at her father as he paused in his long dissertation concerning the Wherlockes and the Vaughns. “So they are magic?” she asked.
    â€œNo, child,” he replied and smiled at her, revealing the sweet handsomeness that had gained him three beautiful wives. “They have God-given gifts. I believe we all have a touch of them, but some people have a much stronger dose, something they can actually make use of. We have all had that faint warning of danger, that moment of unease that saved us from some accident or threat. The gifted ones can actually see that danger coming in a dream or a vision.”
    He took a breath, and, knowing he was about to launch into yet another long lecture, Lorelei quickly asked, “Can a person send his spirit out from his body?”
    â€œIs that the rumor you heard?”
    â€œAmongst others,” she murmured and hoped she looked as innocently curious as she was trying to.
    â€œI have heard something of that. A man goes into a trance and sends his spirit, his soul, out to wander the world. It is not written of as