He took her by the arms. “No, it’s not. There’s still time if you let me help you. Violet, don’t let him control you any longer.”
Her gaze flicked to his and held. There it was—what she really feared or hated. No matter. Fear and hate were two sides of the same coin.
“I know what it is to be controlled,” he said. “My father tried it for years. He tried to break me. Why do you think I was in the wilds of Scotland tormenting witches? To show him I couldn’t be broken or forgotten.”
“And look where that has gotten you.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Yes, look. Right now, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
She cocked her head dubiously.
“Very well,” he acknowledged her. “I would rather you had a servant and a cook and a feather mattress, but otherwise, there’s nowhere else.”
“Uh huh.”
“Perhaps a valet. And more blunt so I might see a tailor.”
“Yes, you certainly seem content.”
“Violet, don’t go. Let him come to us, and we’ll take him on. Better yet, we won’t wait for his retaliation. We’ll strike first. That was always my favorite ploy when I was younger. I had to study a lot of military tactics in school. Strike first and strike hard always works.” Almost always, anyway.
Violet closed her eyes. “You are asking a lot, King. I could lose everything.”
“Speaking from experience, sometimes that isn’t the worst that can happen.”
She opened her eyes and looked directly into his. King looked back at her. He was as surprised as she looked that he actually meant what he said. Somehow, over the past couple of days, he’d realized losing everything wasn’t the end of the world. It wasalmostthe end of the world, but he could imagine worse fates. Like losing Violet and the boys to this Ferryman.
King swallowed his fear. “Maybe God or providence or whatever you want to call it—magic, I suppose—brought me to you for this reason. Maybe something good can come of this curse.”
“Or maybe you’ll just bring me down with you.”
“There’s my Miss Sunshine.” He stepped back. “I don’t want you to go, Violet, but I’m not here to control you.”
She turned to stare at the door to the tavern. King knew she was thinking about her brothers. She was probably thinking about Peggy and Archie and the tavern, too. Was she willing to risk it all to get it back? She had to know, as well as he, that rightnow, none of this was hers. Ferryman owned it and her, and the gang leader was taking over little by little, day by day.
“Fine. We’ll do it your way. Whatisyour way?”
Shit. She wanted a plan.
Her lips thinned and her gaze turned deadly. “Tell me you have a plan, King.”
“I’m good with plans. Very good. Just give me a little time to refine it.”
She shook her head. “What have I gotten myself into?”
He took her wrist, and she met his gaze before allowing herself to be drawn against his chest. “Give me some time, and I’ll show you.” He brushed her hair off her forehead. “You won’t regret this.” He was speaking of more than her decision to trust him with Ferryman, because he could sense that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He felt her catch her breath when he touched her, saw her cheeks turn pink, and her eyes darken. For his part, he could hardly resist touching her whenever she was near. Her scent—simple ale and yeast—was intoxicating. His gaze dipped to her lips, and she wet them with her tongue in anticipation.
“Better not,” she said before he could take her mouth. “Your lip is cut.”
“I don’t care,” he murmured. “I’ve been thinking about nothing else but kissing you for hours.”
“Just kissing me?” she teased.
“If I say more, you’ll probably punch me.”
“I’ll definitely punch you.” She stepped away. “Now, back to work. If you can manage?”
“I’ll manage,” he said, though without her body pressed to his, all the aches and pains from earlier came back in a rush. And she turned and strode through the door to the tavern, leaving him wanting her more than he had ever wanted any woman.
