The heat of his mouth was a shock. She held the baby between their bodies and she’d meant only a quick, careless kiss, but somehow nothing was careless with this man.
He opened his mouth and took control of the kiss, bending over her, surrounding her and Mary in a circle of protection. He tasted of the wine they’d drunk at the opera—so long ago it seemed now—and the memory made her want to weep.
She broke away, intending to lay Mary down, to seek his arms with nothing between them, to find out what it was like to kiss him as a woman kisses a man.
But an arm wrapped around Michael’s throat and yanked him backward.
Silence opened her mouth to scream and a hand was clamped over her face.
“Hush,” Winter whispered close to her ear. “Don’t be frightened. We’re here to take you away from him.”
She stood still, her eyes wide over her brother’s hand. No! They couldn’t separate her from Michael now. She watched as Asa took the long knife from Michael’s sleeve. Michael stood unnaturally calm.
He met her panicked gaze. “Don’t let it worry ye, love. They’ll not hurt me.”
Beside her, Winter made the strangest sound—almost a growl.
Behind them, an aristocratic voice drawled from the bedroom door, “Oh, don’t be too confident of that, O’Connor. Not if you’ve harmed my sister-in-law.”
She turned her head within Winter’s grasp and saw Temperance’s new husband, Lord Caire. He was an intimidating man even under the best of circumstances—Lord Caire’s hair was stark white, long and clubbed back, and he nearly always wore black in dramatic contrast. Tonight, though, his face was as grim as Silence had ever seen it, and her chest tightened in sudden fear.
She pulled Winter’s hand, unresisting, from her lips. “Please. Don’t harm him. He hasn’t offered me any disservice.”
“Oh, no?” Asa asked darkly. “Then what do you call the embrace we witnessed when we entered?”
Beside him, Concord scowled at Michael.
Silence could feel her face warming, but she tilted her chin up. “None of your business.”
“Silence—” Concord began in a heated tone.
Lord Caire coughed into his hand, interrupting him. “But you see my dear, it is, actually, our business—your well-being, both physically and spiritually. We’ve come to take you and Mary Darling away.”
Only a few days ago she would’ve welcomed their interference. Now things were entirely different. She was different. She simply couldn’t betray Michael. He’d been attacked and his palace invaded. He needed her.
Michael saw the torment on her face. “Go with them, love. ’Tis for the best. Me palace isn’t safe anymore. I cannot protect ye by m’self.”
Her eyes widened at the admission. He was backing down, conceding the field—for her. What must it have cost his pride to admit that he couldn’t protect her in his own house? Tears suddenly pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them away fiercely. She wanted to keep his face in her sight as long as she could.
Lord Caire turned and gave Michael a considering look. Michael met his eyes and some male communication seemed to pass between them.
Her brother-in-law nodded. “Thank you, O’Connor.”
Michael returned the nod, but oddly it was Winter he spoke to. “Ye’ll need to guard her and the babe night and day. The Vicar o’ Whitechapel is me enemy and he’ll think either o’ them a fine prize.”
Silence looked up at Winter. It was obvious that he had no love for Michael, but he gave one jerky nod. “Understood.”
Michael was suddenly in front of her, having apparently moved so swiftly he’d taken Asa unawares. He took her face in his palms. “Remember me.” And then his mouth was on hers, hard and hot and open, his tongue thrusting into her mouth despite her brothers’ presence.
There was a growl and he was torn from her. Silence was hustled into the hall. She held Mary Darling close as Asa, Winter, Concord, and Lord Caire formed a phalanx about them and escorted her from Michael’s grand palace. They met no resistance, whether because Michael’s men were busy elsewhere or because he’d called them off, she didn’t know.
Abruptly a door opened and she was once again out in the chill night air. She glanced over her shoulder at the palace’s shabby outlines, and then she was helped gently but urgently into a waiting carriage.
The door slammed, a man called something, and the carriage jerked forward.
“Silence,” Temperance said, and Silence made out the dear face of her sister in the seat opposite.
For the second time in her life Silence burst into tears as her sister bore her away from Mickey O’Connor’s fortress.
Chapter Twelve
Clever John put on his armor and went to the top of his mountain and called, “Tamara!”
At once the rainbow bird swooped down from the clouds and circled his head before alighting and turning into the girl Tamara.
She clapped happily at the sight of Clever John. “How have you been, my friend?” she asked. “Do you like your kingdom? Have you swum the sparkling lake?”
But Clever John merely frowned to the west where his neighbor was even now marching toward his castle. “I wish for an invincible army.”
Tamara threw up her arms. “As you wish!”…
—from Clever John
“I have a traitor,” Mick said quietly just after midnight. He watched Harry to see how the other man would react to the news. He was almost certain that the traitor was not Harry, but then until the events of tonight he would’ve said that none of his men would betray him.
That was patently not true.
And what was more, he’d had to let Silence’s brothers bear her away because the palace wasn’t safe for her or the babe now. Conceding to anyone was not something Mick was used to doing. If any man had told him a month ago that he’d let four men walk out of the palace with something—someone—he considered his, Mick would’ve laughed in his face. But that was before Silence and the babe had come to be important to him. More important than even his self-esteem and his reputation. If that made him a weaker man, well, then so be it.
Harry’s ugly face creased as he frowned. He looked troubled at the announcement of a traitor, but tellingly, not surprised.
“Ye figure ’twas a traitor let in the Vicar’s men?” Harry asked.
Mick nodded and leaned back in his chair. They were in his planning room—the safest place in the palace for a discussion such as this. The room lay against one of the outer walls, with thick interior walls on either side. The passage outside was the only entry point and Mick’s desk lay across the room and out of earshot of anyone listening at the door.