Seductive Silence by Larissa Lyons

Author:Larissa Lyons [Lyons, Larissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-07T21:00:00+00:00

A short while earlier…

“WHO’S THE RUNT?” Daniel nodded toward the lanky kid grinning at him from a distance. It was a touch eerie—the cub didn’t appear to be gawking at anyone else.

Now that Penry had spoken his piece and Harry echoed the points with convincing—and enviable—ease, and between them they’d managed to sway at least three of the others to give their cause due consideration, it was past time to secure his little widow.

But something about the way the kid had been staring at him all evening set off alarm bells. Like the ticking of an overloud clock one couldn’t ignore, Daniel had the feeling an explosion was about to detonate.

A feeling he shrugged off—why borrow trouble that didn’t exist?

“That’s Everson’s youngest.” Penry waved the cub over. “He’s a huge admirer but you need—”

“Admirer of what? Loose women?”

“Tell me I didn’t just hear that.” Penry shot him a dark look. “You’re under duress else I wouldn’t let that slide without a slap.”

A slap? As in challenge him to a duel? Over a jest? A quip barely slighting the man’s mistress? When had Penry become so protective? And what was he nattering on about now?

“…to meet you.” Penry spoke so low, Daniel saw his lips move more than heard him. “Fair warning, though, he—” Penry broke off when the boy raced the last few steps and reached them in a blink. “Tremayne, this eager fellow here is Thomas Everson, Jim’s youngest. But he prefers to go by Tom,” Penry said with the ease of long acquaintance.

With not more than a score of years under his belt—if that—the young buck stood taller than either of them, six-four or better, and his lack of muscle made him appear as long and thready as a weed. He had a shock of red hair and the type of fair skin that blushed abominably. Young Tom also had a smile wider than Penry’s slab of a dining table.

“Tom, as you already know, this here is Daniel Holbrook, the Marquis of Tremayne.”

Daniel gave a slight bow to acknowledge the introduction. Very slight—he wasn’t used to looking up to anyone. Not since reaching his majority and the height of six-three, not since escaping the estate and his brute of a father.

Tom didn’t look anything like his sire. Everson was a stout, beefy fellow well into his fifties. Without a daughter to his name, he was known more for his brood of nine sons than his talent in the ring, but Daniel had always found him a jovial, good-natured companion when they sparred. One who’d bluster on about anything with a smile on his face—even when Daniel’s fist had just connected with it.

Everson was often accompanied by a son or two, but Daniel didn’t remember ever seeing this one. Tom beamed at him and thrust his hand out in a casual show of greeting not found among mere acquaintances, never found from a pup to a peer.

Startled by the gesture as much as surprised to find himself grinning back, Daniel clasped Tom’s outstretched hand.

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