The Devil May Care (Brotherhood of Sinners #1) Read Online Free Page A

might be better, Sebastian.”
    “Might it? Would you prefer I leave?” Not waiting for an answer, he dropped into the chair nearest Rachel, his long legs sprawled in front of him. “From the looks of things, you were just getting to the best part.” He leaned forward with a speed that made her know what a mouse feels as a falcon swoops towards it.
    She shrank back into the protection of the cloak.
    “Come now, little nun,” he said, clucking his tongue reproachfully. He planted an elbow on his knee, and his chin on his fist, settling in to examine her. “If you’re scared of me, how do you plan to deal with the most murderous operatives of the French?” His tone was light and teasing, but his eyes blazed with predatory heat. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Fangs bared . Primal, dangerous, not a bit civilized.
    Was that liquor she smelled on his breath?
    Well, that explained the redness in his eyes. But his hands looked steady. The hand beneath his chin was clenched so tight, his knuckles stood out like white stones.
    “Take my advice, ma belle nonnette ,” he told her. “Run along home where you’re safe, while you still can .”
    Sudden anger sent her pulse pounding against her ribs, her eardrums, the inside curve of her skull. “I don’t have a home anymore,” she said, and added pointedly, “ mon beau monsieur . Safe or otherwise. Thanks to all of you.”
    Helm came to stand before them then, his hair more disheveled than before, his neckcloth a shade or two more dingy, in contrast to the gargoyle’s perfection. “There’s no need for this unpleasantness, Sebastian. Miss Covington’s come to us quite voluntarily and proved herself possessed of considerable backbone. Perhaps you might prefer to wait in your library or return to your club while we—”
    Something tugged at Rachel’s skirts, and she gave a cry. Good God , the gargoyle had seized the hem of her dress, and was lifting it quite high enough to expose half the length of her stockings.
    “What is this fabric?” he was asking, in a tone of utter disgust, rubbing the cloth between his fingers. “Sal would have gone naked before she’d have—”
    Rachel kicked her skirt out of his hand, and sprang to her feet. “Stop it!” she cried. “I don’t know what game you are up to, Mr.—” She hesitated, realizing she had no decent way to address him. “Mr. Sebastian . But you will not speak of my sister in those terms! And you will most certainly not touch me!”
    “Ah,” he purred, standing in a fluid motion which brought him far too close for her comfort. “So she has a temper.” His gaze slid over her, somehow insolent and appreciative all at once. “I wondered just how deep that Quakerish stillness ran.”
    She stood as squarely as she could, glaring straight back into that wicked angel face with its hostile smile. She could only hope her blush wasn’t as blazing as it felt. Both her hands clenched into fists now, and wild hot pressure boiled up through her chest. And out, in words. “You have very fine teeth, Mr. Sebastian. Pity if a few of them were to be broken.”
    “Bravo!” cried Mawbry. “Looks like she’s brought some fireworks of her own!”
    To her surprise, the gargoyle laughed again, a sound quick and intimidating as a cracking whip. “Bravo, indeed, little nun,” he said. “But it’s Hawkesbridge.”
    “What’s Hawkesbridge?”
    “ I am Hawkesbridge,” he drawled again, his voice cool, contemptuous. “Sebastian Talbot, Marquess of Hawkesbridge, to be precise. If you’re going to threaten me, you ought to get the name right. You could just call me ‘my lord,’ if you prefer.” He gave a small, elegant shrug. “When you make your next threat.”
    Bastard. Of course a man that arrogant had to be a lord. A marquess, no less.
    Lord Gargoyle, then . The Marquess of Bloody Gargoyles. The Gargoyle Prince .
    She was saved from doing something utterly unladylike by the Black Giant. He swooped in, towering over