Healing Hearts by Taryn Kincaid Read Free Book Online Page B

trained his focus, sharp and single-minded as a hound’s, on the sprawling man he had felled as easily as he might have brushed a bit of lint from his lapel.
    “Now, Emma,” he instructed when she hesitated.
    “Riverton—”
    “Adam,” he corrected, his voice toneless this time, as if his response was involuntary and automatic.
    “Adam.”
    Would this be the last time she would ever say his name, she wondered? How briefly they’d been in accord. Just those few precious moments during the journey back from the cliffs, when he’d leaned against her and she’d allowed him to nuzzle and fondle her, allowed his wayward hands and lips to roam over her body. As if she were a slattern.
    She’d tried hard to avoid such a fate. But so little was available to a woman fallen on hard times. She’d nearly lost herself in the warmth of the viscount’s seductive embrace, as a parade of mistresses likely had done. His potent, blazing kisses, the temptation he offered, had seemed so right at the time. But now, after Farraday’s crude assertions, Riverton almost certainly thought her a whore. Her sudden sense of loss seemed too bitter to bear.
    As if Adam guessed the bleak alley down which her dark thoughts were leading her, he turned toward her. His eyes warmed as he met her gaze, his deep voice softening when he addressed her.
    “Nothing’s changed between us, poppet. Go now. I’ll return to you shortly.”
    Undoubtedly, Riverton assumed she’d obey him without question, because he instantly turned his attention back to the limp man on the floor. Emma admitted to herself she was at least partially relieved to have the viscount take the matter in hand, even if only to administer a sound thrashing to the bounder.
    But she bristled nonetheless. This was her fight. She couldn’t allow Riverton to march into battle for her. Capable and competent as he had proved himself to be, she did not want to involve him in the turmoil of her private hell.
    “My lord—”
    “Leave me, Emma. I shan’t tell you again.”
    Adam toed the wretched Farraday with the tip of his boot and then poked him in the side with the blackthorn staff. “Up, Farraday. We’re taking this outside.”
    As the hulking bear of a man grasped his bleeding nose, stumbling to his feet and out the door, Adam rolled up his sleeves. But deliberately set aside his walking stick.
    ***
    Emma paced from the kitchen to the pantry and back again, becoming more anxious with every second that passed. Was Adam all right? Why didn’t he return? He’d passed out from pain earlier in the day. Had he had enough time to rest? How could he possibly be in any condition to fight the other man?
    With Mrs. Billings and Jemmy off to the village, Emma was the only one able to assist him. She snatched a butcher knife off the counter and secreted it within the folds of her skirt. Then she marched back to the empty parlor. She had to help Adam.
    No raised voices came from outside. She paced before the cold hearth, shuddering as she relived the devastating blow that had brought Farraday to his knees.
    Adam had never learned to administer such a powerful clout while sparring with his noble peers at Gentleman John Jackson’s pugilist academy. No. He’d learned such life or death fisticuffs in hand-to-hand combat on the Peninsula. Once again, Emma considered the toll his military experience had taken on him. As bad as his painful leg and uneven gait were, she doubted they held a candle to the scars he guarded inside.
    Worry for him consumed her. He’d taken Farraday unaware with that astonishing shot to the jaw. But now Farraday would be ready for him.
    “I must do something. This is not his fight.”
    “’Course it is, poppet,” Adam said from the doorway, making her jump.
    She’d been so lost in thought she had not realized she’d muttered her words aloud. He leaned against the door jamb. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned him in concern.
    “Are you all right, Adam?”
    He massaged