Read Online Lois Greiman by Seducing a Princess - Free Book Online

Ox had been drinking. He could smell it on the man’s breath and, despite everything, the scent was intoxicating, scrambling his wits, tilting his insides.
    “Is that the way of it?” rasped Oxford. The smell of whisky was almost overpowering, but Will steadied himself as best he could, remembering to focus on the business at hand. The business of living. It took a hell of a lot of concentration these days. Had it always?
    “You’d best find a bed and sleep it off, Oxford,” he said, and hoped his tone conveyed bored self-assurance. The cocky words of an armored gladiator instead of the sniveling whine of a foppish fool.
    But the Irishman laughed “Oh I’m planning on finding a bed,” he said, and, reaching out, yanked Gem to her feet.
    The soup bowl flew into the air, then landed, spinning crazily on its side. Gem gasped and tried to jerk away, but Ox held her tight. Her expression was defiant, but she couldn’t control the horrific dread in her eyes. Dread he’d seen before, though he didn’t know where. Revulsion twisted Will’s gut, but there was nothing he could do. This was the life she’d chosen after all. The life of a thief. And Oxford had a knife. Will could see the handle protruding past the belt of his greasy trousers. He could see the knife and remember fresh, startling pain with shocking, breathtaking clarity. The smell of blood. The taste of terror.
    Oxford looked into William’s eyes, and there he saw the horrific truth, for he laughed as he yanked the girl to his side.
    She struck him with a fist to his chest, and he backhanded her across the face. She staggered away, still held by her wrist.
    “Ox!” Will said, startling himself. The single word felllike poison into the room, and Will’s stomach roiled with dark premonition.
    The world went silent. Ox turned slowly. “Aye, laddie?” he said, and pulled his knife from his pants. It gleamed in the firelight but no more brightly than his eyes, which glowed like a rabid wolf’s. Half-human he looked. Savage and wild and capable of anything.
    Death yawned in William’s face. Death and pain and lingering agony, and for what? A thief? Fear gnawed at him. Ox grinned. Evil shone dark and deadly in his eyes.
    “Come on then, lovey. ’E ain’t gonna bother us none,” growled the Irishman, and jerked Gem forward. She whimpered, and it was that sound, that tiny whisper of fear, that galvanized Will’s resolve.
    “Let her go, Ox.” For a moment William truly didn’t realize the words came from him, for it would be so much more practical to turn away, to remain in the darkness of his own mind, but he could see the imprint of Oxford’s knuckles against the paleness of Gem’s cheek. And suddenly he knew—he was not the kind of man to let the innocent suffer. Not when there was something he could do to prevent it.
    “What’d you say?” The Irishman seemed surprised to hear him speak.
    Will drew a deep breath, steadying his nerves. So even heros felt fear. That much was clear. “I told you to let her go.”
    Oxford squared off, still holding Gem’s wrist. “And tell me, me bonny lad,” he said, and smiled again. Death shown in his eyes. “Why might I be doin’ that?”
    Fear was a glacial block in Will’s gut, slowing his motions, gumming his thoughts. His muscles screamed. At any moment, the Irishman was going to charge, and there was little he could do in his present state. Except maybepray, if he remembered how. He tried that immediately, a garbled, incoherent thought to a God he hoped would favor boldness, no matter how idiotic. “Because Lord Rambert’s dead.” The words seemed to come of their own accord.
    Oxford snorted. “Who the fuck is…” But he stopped, and his eyes narrowed.
    Will remained absolutely still, letting the silence soak into the room, and praying like hell it would drown his terror. “I believe you may have called him Vic.”
    The Irishman scowled. “’E’s dead?”
    “Yes.”
    Oxford shrugged, but