Free Lois Greiman by Seducing a Princess Page B

expression was absolutely sober. Far too somber for a lad of twelve. But maybe he was thirteen now. Maybe another birthday had come and gone without note. The boy looked lean and tired and savvy. But spirit gleamed in his eyes. There was no mistaking that. “That y’ do.” He turned his gaze to Poke. “What’s ’e doin’ ’ere?”
    “As it turns out, Mr. Slate here killed Lord Rambert.”
    The lad swore, and his face went pale as his gaze spurted to Will’s.
    “You killed Vic?”
    A thousand explanations welled up inside Will. The boy was a thief, a scoundrel, far beneath his own lofty station. So why did he feel a burning need to explain himself, to seek forgiveness. How had it come to this? “There was a fight,” Will said, and forced himself to shrug.
    “I don’t believe it.” All eyes turned to Princess. Will had almost forgotten the danger from that front. Had almost forgotten her rabid animosity. “Why does he sit here day after day if he can lift a snuffbox?”
    “’E can’t,” said Jack, and drank again. “They’d a ’ad him strung up to the nearest yardarm if’n I ’adn’t distracted the gent.”
    “And pray how did you manage that?” Poke asked.
    “I lifted a pocket from a nearby soldier and galloped through the crowd with ’im breathing down me neck. Thought ’e ’ad me for a moment, but I skimmed between two boatmen and nipped away.” He glanced at Will again. Not a glimmer of a lie showed in his eyes. “Didn’t think I’d see you again. Not ’ere anyways.”
    “That’s because he doesn’t belong here,” Princess said.
    “So quick to judge,” Poke chided, and slipped his arm about her waist. “How do we know whether or not he can shoulder his weight when we’ve barely given him a chance to wake up. And let us remember…” He eased his fingers beneath her jaw, tilting her head up. She met his eyes with easy bravado. “He did kill Vic. Surely we owe him for that if for nothing else, aye, my lady?”
    She made no comment, but eyed him coolly.
    “Now…” He kissed the corner of her mouth. Something curled up tight in Will’s gut. “I want you to promise you’ll be nice to our guest.”
    “He doesn’t need—”
    “Hush,” Poke said, and slipped a finger over her lips. Will clenched the top blanket. “Promise me you’ll tend to Mr. Slate.”
    “I—”
    Poke smiled and shushed her as he leaned closer. “Promise me,” he said, and Will waited for her to spill her doubts, to end his life, but when she spoke her words were innocuous.
    “I believe he can care for himself. At least so far as eating is concerned.”
    “Ahhh, but we want him to feel welcome, don’t we?”
    She didn’t answer.
    “I’ll tell you what, if you take care of him yourself—with your own clever hands.” He skimmed his fingersdown her arm and lifted her hand in his own. “I’ll give you something special.”
    “Gem would be better suited to tend him.”
    Poke chuckled. “No maternal instincts, Princess?”
    “None that I’ve noticed thus far.”
    He laughed. “Then perhaps you’ll tend him because he’s so very forceful. After all, Lord Rambert was not easily bested.”
    She merely stared, and he laughed again.
    “Then you’ll do it because I insist.”
    She canted her head in apparent concession.
    “Good,” Poke said, then kissed her neck where the hair was swept away from the delicate curl of her ear. “But I think I’ll give you that something special just the same,” he whispered and grinned. “Good night, Mr. Slate.”
    Will was never certain whether he responded. But in a moment the couple was gone, leaving the room in utter silence. He eased his hands open, forcing himself to breathe. From across the room, he could feel Jack’s gaze on him and brought himself jerkily back to the present.
    “Thank you,” he murmured, but the boy shook his head.
    “Leave ’er alone.” His eyes were narrowed, his lips pursed. “She don’t need no trouble from