Heartbreak and Honor Read Online Free

“But if that’s the extent of your injuries, I’m most grateful. We’ve a few men who didn’t fare as well, I’m afraid.”
    No need to correct Sethwick’s wrong assumption.
    György poked his tousled head above his father’s shoulder. “He nae should have tried to kiss me sister.”
    The crowded passageway grew tomb-silent. Every gaze, but Tasara’s, focused on Lucan. Hers seemed permanently affixed to the floor, her black lashes fanning her pinkened cheeks as she fidgeted with a clasp at the front of her embroidered shirt.
    Heat scorched Lucan, culminating on his face. Devil take it, blushing like a lad in short pants caught sneaking a bonbon.
    Well, her lips were a sweet treat of sorts.
    He wanted a taste of her mouth, but not until it healed. Damn and blast, he’d have hurt her if he succeeded in stealing a real kiss. Might have, even with the gentle sample he’d snatched.
    Humor glinted in more than one male gaze, and Lucan fought to maintain eye contact with the smirking Scots. The gypsies, their faces bland, peered at him accusingly. A specimen at Bullock’s Museum or a medical laboratory received less intense scrutiny.
    Lucan snagged Balcomb’s attention.
    The tinker scowled, disapproval creasing his weathered face and stretching his mouth into a single condemning line. He held his peace, although his dark regard chastised severely. Did fear of confronting a duke prevent him from rightfully defending his daughter’s honor?
    The notion left a sour taste in Lucan’s mouth.
    Another inequality brought about by status. A duke could do no wrong, a gypsy no right. Preposterous and unjust. He’d witnessed far more unscrupulous behavior amid the upper ten-thousand than amongst commoners and those lowly born.
    Lala pulled her thumb from her mouth. “Thithter hitted the preddy man.” She pointed at Lucan before ramming her thumb home between her rosy lips.
    A few muffled guffaws and choked-off laughs—even amongst the travellers—greeted the announcement, but Tasara’s sweet mouth firmed into a thin ribbon as color swept her once more.
    Sethwick’s incredulous expression earned a twitch of Lucan’s lips. Reverse the situation, and he’d be laughing his arse off.
    A muscle in Sethwick’s jaw worked, yet he remained mute
    Rarely did something render Craiglocky’s lord speechless. In fact, Lucan couldn’t recall a single time his glib-tongued, diplomatic friend didn’t have precisely the perfect thing to say.
    A jot of censure hovered in Sethwick’s eyes.
    Go ahead, say it.
    I’m a lout. Scoundrel. Reprobate.
    The worst sort of knave.
    Balcomb stood, Lala clinging to his neck and György to one leg.
    “Ye’d nae right.” Fists balled, György glowered at Lucan. “Yer nae better than the others.”
    No. I’m not.
    “György, hush dear.” Tasara awkwardly embraced her father around the children. “I’m thrilled to see you. Can we please go now? I’ve had quite enough of this place.”
    “ Aye , lass. Are ye unharmed?” Balcomb asked far more with the discreet question.
    She gave one, short nod. “ Aye .”
    He smiled and tenderly touched her shoulder. “I’m proud of ye. Ye kept yer sister and brother safe.”
    She patted Lala’s head and winked at György. “They were verra brave.”
    Balcomb’s smile grew into an enthusiastic grin. “Did think my heart would stop when I saw ye lowerin’ Miss Ferguson from the window, though.”
    “Yes, well, we hadn’t many other options.” Tasara laughed, low and melodious, happiness shimmering in her gaze. “None, truthfully.”
    Utterly lovely.
    She shoved her mass of curls behind a shoulder. “Miss Ferguson is the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”
    One eye swollen shut, Lucan examined every inch of Tasara with the other. A desperate need grew to commit each angle of her face, every curve of her form, the lilt of her voice, and the music of her laughter to memory.
    Absurd. Illogical. Ridiculous.
    Yet, Lucan drank in her presence, uncaring