Page 93 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

Chapter Twenty-Two

When Keir tucked Sybil against his chest, she punched him so hard in the ear that it rang painfully, and then hissed at him when she finally recognized him. “You will blow my cover.” She blinked at the hunting rifle tucked under his arm. “That was you?” She shook her head and smacked his chest. “Put me down before someone sees.”

He hadn’t even realized he had hauled her clear off the ground. He only wanted her safe. He set her down. Reluctantly. Every instinct insisted he toss her over his shoulder and run for safety.

They had spoken her name inside that room. Unacceptable. While she had been inside not three feet away, a dead man at her feet.

He began to sweat despite the frigid bite of the wind.

He would have shot into the room earlier, but there was no clear vantage point, no way to know for sure that he would not accidentally hit Sybil in the uncertainty after the man had choked on his own blood. These men were clearly unpredictable.

“Keir?”

“Can we get away from the apartments full of men who want to hurt you? I might start sweating blood soon.”

“I’d forgotten how dramatic you are.” She said it lightly, but her teeth were chattering.

“Sybil.”

“I don’t know a Sybil. I am Lord Algernon Singleton.”

“Algernon,” he echoed, fighting a smile. She could always do this to him, tie him up in tangles and still make him want to smile. Particularly as he knew it would help her more than the kind of raging he desperately wanted to give in to. “That’s a terrible name.”

“My mother gave it to me!” She exclaimed with false offense.

“I’ve met your mother. She has much better taste than that.”

Sybil muttered something under her breath, but at least she was moving away from the dangerous apartment. He would shoot them all if he had to, but it seemed a bit messy. And Sybil might object. But only because she might want to do the shooting herself.

“Can you walk faster?” he asked.

“Not without drawing attention to myself.”

He swore. “I have a carriage at the end of the walk.” Luckily, it was not far at all.

And yet still too far.

Of course.

Because nothing was simple with Sybil.

And he loved that about her. He was going to have to learn several more forms of combat just to keep up.

He was almost cheerful about it until there was the sound of a footstep. Just a scuff.

He shoved Sybil toward the carriage, using his wide back to block anyone who might have her in their sights. He had no idea if those men suspected her or if they were all running blind after the shot he fired.

He just knew he had not fired the second shot. The one that clipped the walkway behind them in a spray of cobbles and ice.

“Time to go,” he said, and all but tossed Sybil into the carriage. He swung the rifle back up.

“Don’t shoot Peony!” Sybil hung out of the doorway. “She’s on the rooftop to your left.”

He glanced up to see the other woman running along the roofline, slipping once, regaining her footing, and sliding down a drainpipe. She landed like an acrobat from Astley’s Amphitheatre.

These women really were terrifying.

“Get in,” he ordered Peony, all but tossing her inside as well. She yelped, landing on Sybil. He shut the door and banged the roof. His coachman, Arthur, having already experienced the chaos that was Sybil, pulled into traffic as quickly as he could.