CHAPTER 30
Emma watched the hot fire crackle in the fireplace before her. Burning woods fell apart and tumbled down to the ground, sparks flying. A sudden surge of euphoria pulsated through her body as she watched the red flecks dance before landing on the ground.
Ohh…pretty.
Mesmerizing.
The door clicked opened and the floor beneath her squeaked, alerting Emma. A tall figure approached her, closer and closer. Facing the intruder, Emma squinted to get a look at the looming figure. Too dark to see. Giving up the attempt to figure out who it was, she turned her attention back to watching the bright red flecks. Reaching for the pretty colors showering down like fireflies, a large hand snatched her hand away from the fireflies.
“Emma,” a man said. “Look at me.” The man’s tone was laced with concern. She blinked for several seconds looking at the handsome man with very familiar piercing blue eyes….
When recognition took hold, she wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, Michael, darling,” Emma said, kissing him. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” Michael voice was laced with warning. He pulled her to him. “Can you can stand up for me?”
Smiling wide, she kissed him. He kissed her back. Then, Michael’s gaze lowered to her cheek and landed on her lips with the strangest look on his face. He touched her cheek with his hand, caressing the sore spot there.
“He hurt you,” he said. “I’m going to kill him.”
She looked into his eyes. “Has anyone told you how devilishly handsome you are?”
“We need to go, Emma.”
She shook her head. “But why?” she said. “Stay with me here.”
“I’m going to take you home,” Michael said. “Don’t you want to go home with me?
“Home?” Emma smiled at him. “With you?”
He nodded and gave her a wide smile. “Yes, love.”
Emma smiled and attempted to stand, but her legs felt like mush. She nearly fell, but Michael caught her. He whisked her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing.
Wait, there was something she needed to tell him. Something, but it slipped from her mind. “Michael…?”
“Yes?” he said, walking toward the door.
“You aren’t angry with me, are you?” What was it that she had to tell him?
“I could never be angry with you.”
She kissed him. Just then, the door clicked open and she saw Tomkin enter with a pistol in his hand.
Michael saw the bastard enter the room from the periphery. He gently released Emma back on the floor next to the fire. Reaching into his boot, he pulled out a knife and swiftly tossed it at Tomkin. It landed in the culprit’s arm and he let out a shrill cry of pain, dropping the pistol in his hand.
For a brief second he looked as though he might fight back, but instead took off in a run out the door.
“Stay here. I’ll be back for you.” With that Michael stormed after Tomkin. As soon as he exited the room, he saw Tomkin heading to the servants’ stairs.
In hot pursuit, he rushed after him, following his trail. Down the winding stairs, he came to a landing. He looked right and left. There he saw the cull running down the hall toward the west wing.
Picking up speed, he dashed after him, but the bastard disappeared through one of the service rooms. As he rushed after Tomkin, Michael nearly collided with a footman carrying a tray of empty glasses, causing the glasses to tumble down like rain and onto the floor. The footman cursed and lowered to pick them up.
Michael pursued his foe, but lost the trail when he was funneled into a large kitchen with several maids scatteringd about.
Damn it. “Did you see a man running through here?” Michael said.
One of the young maids, wide-eyed, pointed through an opening, “He went that way toward the ballroom, sir.”
Christ, taking the route the maid had pointed out, he ran out of the kitchen. There he saw Tomkin exiting the servants’ hall into the west wing. In a mad dash, he sprinted after his enemy.
As soon as he entered the main gallery of the ballroom, he heard shouts and screams. Michael stormed into the ballroom and saw Tomkin shoving and pushing his way through the large crowd of guests. Marie Antoinette fell on her behind when his target shoved her aside to get out of his way.
Tomkin looked back at Michael, flushed. When Tomkin grabbed one of the guests and shoved him toward Michael, he swiftly dodged the fallen man and continued to chase after the traitor.
Catching up to him, Michael lunged forward and landed on Tomkin, both falling onto the marble floor.
Grabbing him by the coat, the man tried to claw his way free of Michael’s grip. When that didn’t work, he proceeded to kick Michael and nearly struck him in the face.
“No, you don’t.” Michael grabbed a fistful of clothes and pulled him up and proceeded to punch him, until all he saw was red, rage pumping through him. Just before Michael’s fists rammed down Tomkin’s face again, someone caught his wrist.
“Enough,” Wellington ordered.
“This bloody bastard deserves to die,” Michael said.
“Indeed, Michael,” Wellington said. “But that isn’t your job. Let him go.”
Michael looked back at Tomkin, all bloodied. Backing away slowly, he looked around the ballroom, all eyes on him and silent. Blackthorn had just arrived and was making his way through the crowd. The Prince Regent arrived and looked at Tomkin.
The Regent joined them, his secret agents trailing behind him.
“Your highness.” Tomkin kept his eyes closed, defeated.
His grace patted Michael on the shoulder. “Well done. Now that our enemy has been apprehended, I shall like to return home.” With that, the entourage of agents quickly escorted the Regent out.
“I will leave our prisoner to you, sir,” Michael said to Wellington. “I need to see to Miss Willoughby.”
“Go get her,” Wellington said.
Just then Blackthorn joined them. “I have Shaw in custody.”
“Good.” With that Michael went back to the guest room to retrieve Emma.