Page 4 of Sweet Hellion

Rhys rolled his weight onto an elbow, but held her trapped with a precautionary leg. “Who are you?”

“You killed my brother,” she spat.

Rhys blinked. “Pardon?”

“You deserve to die.” Silent tears spilled from her eyes. She shoved him onto his back and scrambled to her feet. “You deserve to rot in hell.”

He started. Had God sent an ange vengeur to punish him? Only an avenging angel would look at him with such accusing eyes. It was a shame he hadn’t let her shoot him.

He gained his feet in one smooth motion. “If you want to kill a man, dinnae get close enough for him to take your weapon.”

Her brow furrowed. Something about her tugged at memory. He wasn’t one to forget a face, and who could forget the beauty of the woman who stood before him? She’d lost her hat, and flaming red hair fell in a tangle of waves down her back.

“Have we met?” he asked, before realizing how stupid he sounded.

Her eyes bore into him. “You killed my brother.”

While he’d killed men, he certainly hadn’t harmed his own countrymen. “Your brother is?”

“Tory,” she whispered. “Tory Bamfield.”

Rhys stared.

Bloody hell.

Emma Bamfield.