Unveiled (Turner #1)(103)

Ash turned to him once more. “Apparently, neither is hitting. You’d best conjure something up, and quickly.”

Richard feinted to his left, and seemed to contemplate this for a moment. And then he shrugged—shrugged, in the middle of a fight!—and said, “Very well.”

Before Ash could do more than narrow his eyes—before he could properly turn—Richard stepped in close and swept his foot out from underneath him. Neatly. Properly. Cleanly. And Ash went down.

She and Mark let out a joint exhale of relief.

Thank God. Their strategy had worked. Richard blinked, even more surprised than Ash must be at this turn of events. He stared at Ash on the ground before him, as if he didn’t quite understand what he’d done.

Ash sat up gingerly. “Damn,” he said. And then he looked over at Mark and Margaret, sitting next to one another. Margaret tried to school her expression into some semblance of angelic innocence. Mark did it so well—but she could not keep that naughty smile from creeping over her face.

Ash stood and then held out his arm to Richard. Slowly, her brother took that outstretched arm, clasped it tightly. And in that moment, a dark shadow in Margaret’s life flooded with light.

After they released each other’s hands, Ash looked over at her once more. But instead of shaking his head—she had set him up for this, after all—he walked towards her, smiling. And he didn’t stop until he’d folded his arms around her and pulled her to his chest—in front of both his brother and hers.

His mouth found her ear, and he gave her a gentle nibble that sent pleasure sparking through her. “Next time,” he whispered, “tell me ahead of time what you’ve taught him to do, so I know how to bait him into doing it.”

Margaret froze in his arms. “You knew?” she whispered back. “But—”

“Of course I knew.”

“But you let him—”

“I made you happy, didn’t I?” he responded smoothly. “Surely, by now, you must realize I’d do anything to make you smile.”

His arms were around her, powerful and strong. He loved her. He cared for her. And no matter what happened, he was dedicated to her. Margaret swallowed. She was the luckiest woman in the world.

“If you meet me upstairs in fifteen minutes,” she murmured, “we’ll see who makes who smile.”

His hold on her tightened, fierce and needful. “Well, my dearest love,” he finally answered, “that sounds like a challenge. I’ll have to take you up on it.”