Healing Hearts by Taryn Kincaid Read Free Book Online Page A

collect.”
    With an agility that belied his beefy frame, he moved around the piece of furniture that separated them and seized her by the shoulders. He bent her backward, attempting to steal a kiss, as Emma strained, horrified, to avoid his grasp.
    “Get your damned hands off her.”
    The thump of Adam’s walking stick drew Farraday’s attention. Emma froze when she saw Adam standing at the foot of the stairs, her face a white mask of horrified shame.
    “Who the bloody hell are you?” the other man demanded.
    “Riverton.”
    Farraday blanched and released his grip on Emma, but quickly recovered. He offered Adam a distrustful shrug. “This doesn’t concern you, my lord.”
    “Reckon it does.” Adam enunciated each word as crisply as if he were biting the end paper from a musket cartridge before loading the gun. “Since Miss Whiteside is my betrothed.”
    He turned toward her and held out his arm. “Emma.”
    Emma stared from one man to the other as if a bolt of lightning had riveted her to her place behind the large piece of furniture. Revulsion filled her eyes when she looked at Farraday—shame when she gazed upon Adam.
    Damn it to bloody blue blazes, he thought. The hell with her stiff-backed pride. He would have leapt to her side and knocked the other man senseless if he could. But he’d left his agility in a Spanish ditch.
    “To me, Emma,” Adam repeated, his voice calm but forceful.
    Emma flew across the sitting room toward him. He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. A cold shudder ran through her. He hugged her closer until her trembling stopped.
    “I will never let anything happen to you, poppet,” he murmured into her fragrant hair. “Never.”
    “Touching,” Farraday snorted. “And sudden. Your betrothal must have slipped the wench’s mind when she agreed to become my whore.”

Chapter Four
    Adam stiffened, his dark brows veering downward as his lips tightened into a thin, hard line. Emma glanced up at him, and immediately wished the earth would yawn beneath her feet so she would never again see the fierce, dark expression that crossed the viscount’s face.
    The arm slung so possessively across her shoulders tensed, pressing down upon her like an iron bar.
    “I—I didn’t agree.” Her voice sounded feeble and dispirited, even to her own ears.
    “No?” Farraday scoffed. “Have you found another way to save yer home and pay off yer father’s debt?” His gaze rudely traveled Adam’s length, his eyes narrowing. “Mayhap you have.”
    Farraday widened his stance and slouched against a rosewood side table. He leered at Emma and offered the viscount a mocking look. “She agree to spread ’er legs for you, then, guv?”
    Emma gasped, mortified by the man’s crude words and even more shocked at the blinding speed with which Adam suddenly released her. Despite his uneven gait, he crossed the room in seconds.
    The viscount’s fist shot out, cracking Farraday’s jaw with a bone-crunching thud that knocked the other man off his feet and sent him crashing to the floor. Blood spurted from Farraday’s nose and split lip.
    No one had ever before defended her honor. Not even Michael.
    Emma hastened to Adam’s side and touched his sleeve in a gesture of gratitude. “Thank you, my lord.”
    Beneath the fine linen, his hard muscles leaped. Harsh anger still vibrated through him. “It’s not your thanks I want, Emma.”
    What did he want from her? The same thing as Farraday? Or something more? A whirlwind of emotions swept through her, throwing her into a state of bewilderment. Not sure where to look, her gaze moved to the side table under which Farraday now thrashed. With a pang, she recalled the delicate Spode tea service that once had rested upon its marquetry top. Now, only the lace doily she’d tatted to hide the nakedness remained.
    “Emma, I believe something in the kitchens requires your attention,” Adam said, as he stood over Farraday.
    He didn’t look at her. He