"She's gone?" Hugh lunged for Rolley and fisted his hands in the man's shirt. "Where's she going and who's she with?"

"To a ball," Rolley said, but immediately glanced at Quin.

Hugh gave Rolley a shake, knowing he was risking Rolley's swift uppercut, usually accompanied by those steel knuckles.

"Go ahead," Quin said. "Weyland tells him everything anyway."

"She's goin' to a masquerade with Quin's sisters and one of their friends."

"What kind of masquerade?" Hugh asked, though he had a good idea.

"Libertines and courtesans," Rolley said. "In a warehouse on Haymarket Street."

With a grated curse, Hugh released Rolley, then forced his legs to cooperate while he crossed to his horse—which seemed to eye him with disbelief that their journey wasn't over yet. Gritting his teeth at his tightened muscles, Hugh mounted.

"You're goin' after her?" Rolley asked. "We're just supposed to follow her. Weyland doesn't want her to know yet."

"MacCarrick, rest," Quin said. "I'm sure they took a hansom, and the traffic will be mad. I've got time to saddle up and beat them there—"

"Then follow, but I'm going now." Hugh reined around. "Best tell me what I'm up against."

Quin's grave expression made Hugh's fists clench around his reins.

"Not what, but who . Weyland thinks Davis Grey's on his way to kill her."

Chapter Two

At his first sight of Jane in nearly ten years, Hugh forgot to breathe. The pain in his body, the hunger and fatigue went unnoticed.

He strode headlong after her, shadowing her group from a parallel alley as they strolled down Haymarket after alighting from their hansom.

At the mere mention of Grey, Hugh was determined to take Jane from this place—

A massive hand clamped on his shoulder and yanked back. "Could've planted a knife in your back a dozen times these last ten minutes," a deep voice intoned from behind him. "Losing your touch?"

"Ethan?" Hugh wrenched his arm back, throwing off his older brother's grip, then swung a lowering glance at him. "What are you doing here—"

"Christ, what happened to your face?" Ethan interrupted.

"Explosion. Falling rock." Hugh had been caught in a shower of slate in a battle down in Andorra just days ago—the same battle Courtland had nearly lost his leg in.

"Now answer the question."

"Went by Weyland's. Caught Quin just as he was readying to leave," he replied. "And lucky thing I did. It's no' like you to be so careless in a place like this. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I'm taking Jane home."

"Weyland only wants her followed. Stop shaking your head—Grey has no' made England yet." When Hugh remained unconvinced, Ethan said, "And he might no' make it here alive. So just calm yourself and take your nursemaid duty like a man."

"Is that what I've been called back here for? Why would Weyland want me?"

"He seemed to think I would unnerve Jane while protecting her," Ethan said casually. His scarred face had been known to scare women. "And that Quinton is only qualified to divest certain foreign ladies of certain critical secrets. No, Weyland needed a gunman. And you know Grey best."

Hugh returned his attention to Jane, who was at that moment passing the cross-street where he stood concealed, so close he could hear her throaty, sensual voice, but couldn't make out the words. She was clad in a rich green dress with a plunging neckline that bared her alabaster shoulders and revealed how much fuller her body had become. Her face was partially covered by a mask of dark green feathers that fanned out to the sides, like the wings they'd been plucked from.

In that dress and that mask, she looked…wanton.

He wasn't even surprised when cold sweat dotted his forehead. He'd always reacted physically to her. He remembered well the symptoms he'd endured that last summer he'd spent with her—the thundering heart, the need to swallow half a dozen times a minute, the stifled shudders of pleasure at her lightest touch.

One of her soft whispers in his ear could make him bite back a groan….

"Is Courtland back in London with you?" Ethan asked.

Without looking away from her, Hugh said, "I had to leave him behind when I got the missive from Weyland. Court injured his leg and could no' ride fast enough."

"Where did you leave him?" Ethan snapped. "Far enough away fromher , I hope."

Hugh had been charged with more than just seeing Court back to England—he was supposed to make sure that Court didn't have second thoughts and return for his woman, Annalía Llorente. "I left him in France. Court will no' go back for her. He understands what he'll do to her if he returns," Hugh said confidently enough, though he had to wonder. Court yearned for his lass so badly it was palpable. But Hugh hadn't had a choice except to abandon him, not after learning Jane was in danger. "What the hell is this I'm hearing about Grey?" Hugh asked. He had counted the man a friend until the last couple of years.

"Weyland sent him on a suicide mission. That failed."

That got Hugh to face Ethan. "Were you a part of that?" Sometimes, most times, he wished Ethan had never been recruited with himself by Weyland.

Ethan gave him a chilling half smile—distorting the whitened scar winding down his face—the sneer that now seemed to say,Brother, had I been, there would be no failure . Then he replied, "I was no', but I did volunteer to take him out. Weyland seemed to think I was personally too involved, and declined."

"You volunteered?" Hugh asked in disgust.

Ethan shrugged, unconcerned. "Well, go on. Doona let me stop you from overtaking their little coterie once more so you can see her from the front."

Hugh scowled, but Ethan was well aware of his desire for Jane—there was no use denying it. "Have no' seen her in years," he bit out defensively as he strode down the side lane with Ethan following. "Curious about her."

"It's like a carriage wreck I can see coming from a mile away," Ethan muttered. "First Court with his lass and now you with Jane—again. Thankfully, I remain immune."

Hugh ignored his comment, settling into another dark spot farther up the street. "Why is Weyland so certain he'll target Jane?"

"Grey wants revenge," Ethan said simply. "He'll destroy what's most precious to the old man."

Just then, Jane laughed at something one of her cousins said, and Hugh returned his gaze to her. She had always been quick to laugh—a quality that was foreign to him, but one that had beguiled him. She'd told him once, while cupping his face with her delicate hand and gazing up at him solemnly, that she promised to laugh enough for both of them, if need be.

"So now Grey plans to kill Jane," Ethan murmured over his shoulder, "seeks to slit her throat like he's done with other women. Only now it seems he's got a real taste for it. Likes to make it last."

"Enough," Hugh grated, still staring at Jane's soft smile. The idea that Grey needed to be taken out permanently had never sat well with Hugh, even as he understood it might be the only course. No longer would he be reluctant.

"I wager that right about now, you wish my offer to kill Grey had been accepted," Ethan said, easily reading him. "But no' to worry, little brother, it certainly has now. Weyland will do anything to protect her."

Ethan jerked his chin at Jane, faced Hugh, then did a double take back to the girls, only to stare. A disquieting interest flickered in his eyes, then flared—all the more unsettling to Hugh because it was completely unfamiliar.Interest? In Ethan's deadened eyes?

At once, Hugh's fists clenched. Was Ethan casting that hungry look at Jane?

Hugh had him shoved against a building wall, his forearm lodged against Ethan's neck, before he'd even realized his own intention. They used to fight constantly when younger, and had mutually called a truce when the two determined they were getting better at it and could easily kill each other.

Hugh was ready to resume hostilities.

Unaffected by Hugh's ready violence, Ethan gave him a weary look. "Rest easy. I'm no' ogling your precious Jane."

After a long moment, Hugh released him, believing him, although it was hard to understand how any man wouldnot be battling lust for her. "Then what held your attention?"Still he was looking over Hugh's shoulder, and Hugh followed his gaze. "Claudia? The one in the red mask?" That would fit Ethan. Hugh remembered Jane telling him Claudia possessed a wild and wicked nature.

When no answer came, Hugh turned back. "Belinda? The tall brunette?"

Ethan shook his head slowly, never taking his eyes from the object of his attention—the third girl, a short blonde wearing a blue mask, whom Hugh didn't recognize.

Since the injury to his face, Ethan had seemed to lose interest in so many things—including chasing skirts, as he'd once been wont to do. Now, it was as if years ofsomething , some kind of need, rushed to the fore.

Ethan, it seemed, wasnot immune.

The unusual notice shocked Hugh. "I doona know her, but she must be one of Jane's friends. And she looks young, no' more than twenty. Too young for you." Ethan was an old,old thirty-three.

"If I'm as bad as you and Court and all of the clan believe, then I'll find her that much more enticing for it, will I no'?" In the blink of an eye, Ethan's hand shot out to snare a passing masquerade-goer's domino. The man opened his mouth to object, took one look at Ethan's ominous expression, and darted away.

"Doona toy with her, Ethan."