Viscount of Vice by Shana Galen Read Free Book Online Page B

whatever the ton said of Lord Chesham, the truth was he had more honor and integrity than anyone gave him credit for. If he didn’t, she would at that moment be well on her way to losing her virginity, rather than standing alone in the Emersons’ morning room.
    Emma sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned her head on the cool glass of the French doors. She’d had her chance with Flynn, and it was gone. Now she supposed she would have to look reality in its ugly face and accept a marriage proposal from a man who was not, and never would be, Henry Flynn. The thought made everything inside of her ache, her heart—or where it should have been had Flynn not ripped it from her chest—most of all. She almost smiled at herself. What theatrics! Perhaps she should take up poetry or the stage, or perhaps—
    Quite suddenly, the door she rested her forehead upon fell away, and she stumbled forward. She would have fallen if a pair of arms had not caught her. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand settled over it while the other fastened on her arm and dragged her into the dark garden. “Not a word,” he whispered, pushing her back against the wall of the house.
    She blinked up at him, momentarily confused. For just an instant, she had thought he might be Flynn. There was something about his voice, about the way he looked in the spill of light from the morning room. But it was not Flynn. This young man looked too rough, too thin. He was almost painfully thin. His dark hair fell in dirty strings to his shoulders, and his clothes were caked with something she did not want to examine too closely. His hand was rough and cold on her lips, while his other hand pushed her hard into the stone. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could not catch her breath.
    â€œIf I lift my hand, will you scream?”
    Emma shook her head, but he must have seen she was lying, because he gave her a dubious look. “Was that Henry Flynn you were talking to?” he asked. “Nod yes or shake your head for no.”
    She swallowed with some effort and attempted to tamp her panic down. She must be calm. She must think if she were to escape. She nodded.
    â€œAre you his wife?”
    She shook her head. If the man thought the Viscount of Vice was married to her, he did not know Flynn very well.
    â€œWho are you?” he asked. “If you scream, you will be sorry.” He lifted his hand away from her mouth the tiniest fraction, while his other hand pushed her harder into the stone of the terraced house.
    â€œEmma Talbot,” she said quickly. She did not think any good could come of adding Lady to her name. Perhaps if he thought she was unimportant, he would let her go.
    â€œHow do you know my brother?”
    She started, and his hand came down on her mouth again. “Your brother?” she mumbled around his fingers. “ You’re Robert Flynn?”
    His eyes narrowed, and he lifted his hand again. “I am asking the questions. How do you know my brother?”
    â€œHe’s a friend of my brother.”
    â€œIt looked to me like the two of you are also good friends.”
    She felt her cheeks heat then. He had seen them kissing in the morning room. They had been talking of him, and he’d been outside all along. “He’s here for you. He’s going to find you.”
    â€œI know,” Robert said, wrenching her away from the wall. “And you’re the bait to lead him right where I want him.”
    She saw the rope and struggled to free herself of his punishing hold, but he had strength in his wiry body, and it did not take long for her to realize she was doomed.

Five
    â€œWe have a problem,” Dr. Emerson said, stepping into his office. Flynn and Derring looked up from the crude map Derring had drawn.
    â€œWhat problem?” Flynn asked. He had all he needed to find his brother, and nothing—nothing at all—would stop him from going this instant.
    â€œI