"Bloody hell," Mira swore without thinking, and the young man glared at her.
"Little bitch!" he exclaimed, starting to walk toward her determinedly. "I'll fag y'good!"
Even as Mira began to back away, a dark shadow distinguished itself from the other shapes among the castle ruins, moving with such silent swiftness that at first Mira thought it was an animal. The young man's wrist was grasped and slammed against a solid thigh. The knife fell uselessly from his hand and clattered against the pavement. Mira blinked in amazement, watching as their rescuer put a hard fist to good use. His arm hooked through the air, and there was a snapping blow as a sickening, cracking sound split the air. That noise along with Rosalie's frightened shriek spurred Mira into action. She grasped Rosalie's arm and began to pull her into the phaeton, swearing in her panic as they were both impeded by their heavy cloaks and skirts. She froze at the sound of the newcomer's voice.
"It's all right."
Mira gasped as she realized who it was. No, how could it be him? She spun around and looked at him and a shudder ran down her spine. Oh God, it was him, and she wanted him even more than she had remembered wanting him before… and she would do anything, anything to be held by him again. A frantic urge took hold of her, to run to him and burst into tears, to burrow into the shelter of his arms… and yet he was looking at her as if he didn't know her; there was no recognition in his eyes.
"It's all right," he repeated quietly, walking toward them. "Is either of you hurt?" Rosalie shook her head, gasping for breath. "We're fine," Mira said, her eyes locked on his face. Searching for words, she made an attempt to speak and found that her voice was a shadowy remnant of its usual self. "How… ?" was all that she could manage, and Alec seemed to understand the multitude of questions that were invested in that single word.
"You nearly flattened my younger cousin with your phaeton as we were coming out of a tavern." His smile flashed white in the darkness as he looked at Rosalie and added, "Remarkable driving." Rosalie turned red with a mixture of embarrassment and dismay. He nodded his head respectfully to her and handed the fallen reticule to her before adding, "Knowing a little about this section of the city, I was concerned for your well-being and took the liberty of following you."
"It is a happy circumstance for us that you did." Rosalie raised a gloved hand to her cheek as if to cool its burning.
"I assume your husband does not know of your activities tonight?"
"No," Rosalie replied, not daring to look at him. "Lord Falkner, you have my word that I was not—"
"I have neither the right nor the desire to demand an explanation from you," Alec interrupted gently. "I merely wish to know if you would prefer my silence concerning what happened tonight."
"Please," Rosalie said, and blushed. "I would be very grateful."
Mira watched Alec with more than a touch of confusion. She had never seen him act this way before. Certainly he had never treated her as he did Rosalie, as if she were some fragile and ethereal creature that could not tolerate harshness or censure. He was quiet and gentlemanly, his voice reassuring, as if he sensed that he made Rosalie uneasy and was doing his utmost to put her at ease. So that is how he treats a woman whom he respects, Mira thought, irritated that he had not yet even acknowledged her presence.
"Excuse me," she said in a low voice, and the other two looked at her. "While you are talking, I will retrieve my knife."
"Wait," Rosalie said, growing even more flustered. "I'm so sorry—I was so upset that I did not think of introductions. Lord Falkner, this is Miss Germain, a close friend and guest of mine. Mireille… may 1 present Lord Alec Falkner."
"Miss Germain," Alec acknowledged, his mouth curving in a lazy smile as Mira refused to give him her hand.
"I… think we both must be quite upset," Rosalie said, making a hasty effort to cover up Mira's silent snub. "Miss Germain is very grateful for what you've done—"
"Yes," Mira could not resist saying as she detected the warm scent of brandy that clung to him, "Grateful that you were not too sodden to be of assistance to us."
Rosalie's eyes widened at the calculated rudeness of the remark. "My lord," she said uncomfortably, "what Miss Germain means is that—"
"I believe I understand what she means," Alex said dryly.
"I must look for the knife," Mira murmured, turning and walking toward the area where the prone assailant still lay unconscious.