“That’s not remotely funny.”
“Agreed,” Saint remarked flatly.
“If I can’t find humor in tonight,” Drake returned as flatly, “heads will start to roll.”
Humor, then. Better than having the deaths of two earls on Fury hands.
Violet pressed a hand to her throat, oddly fascinated as Drake stalked to the cell. He reached into his boot, withdrew a key, and swiftly unlocked the door, tossing Percival inside with little ceremony.
“Evangeline!” her brother finally shook off his fright and cried. “Tell these bastard sons to let me go!”
“I told you before,” she crossed her arms, “my name is Violet. And why would I let them let you go?”
“V-Violet! The wretched creature broke my wrists!” Reginald exclaimed. “I will become a cripple if I don’t get treatment!”
Her gaze dropped to his hands again.Oh.Drake did seem to have a thing for hands.
“I did,” Drake said bluntly, swinging the door shut and turning the key with a decisive click. “And I’d do it all again.”
“Violet!” her brother roared.
Serves you right.Violet squared her shoulders. “If I were strong enough, I’d break them myself.”
Fingers laced with hers.
She glanced up at Drake, his eyes blazing with unmistakable pride. Those dark pools dropped to her lips.
Violet wanted to laugh. “No.”
The stubborn man scowled.
“Your brother is here,” she said.
“My brothers were in the tap room, too.”
Saint sighed. “Leaving.”
Drake grinned. “See, he’s leaving.”
“Mybrother is still here.”
His scowl deepened. “Quite right.” He caught a strand of wet hair between his fingers. “What do you want to do with him?”
“Me?” she murmured, lowering her gaze, shifting her glance to her brother before meeting Drake’s eyes again. She couldn’t even say she’d imagined this moment forever. She hadn’t. She’d merely wished... to be done. Be free from the man. Allthose years of being governed, corrected, and punished, all she’d wanted was for her brother to accept her as she was. Love her. Apologize to her.
This man in the cell . . .
They might share her blood, but he was not her brother. Her heart might sting with pity, but not enough to forget.
“I wish I could say I want nothing,” Violet said slowly, before turning to meet her brother’s horrified look. She pointed the wooden dagger at him. “But I want him to think thrice before even imagining subjecting his authority over anyone else.”
“Have something in mind, love?”
“Violet,” Reginald sobbed. “Please.”
“How many times have you confined me to my room? Stationed guards at my door so I could not even slip out to the kitchen to eat? How many times have you made me beg for mercy, copy ridiculous etiquette books? How many times have you made me believe I possess no more worth than the dirt beneath your shoes? Shall I return the favor now?”
“If you don’t do it, love,” Drake growled, “I will.”
