Page 115 of Four Promises to Love

“I was doing my job,” she said. “Fooled these bluebloods into trusting me, didn’t I? I found the ring, and I’m close to getting the rest of the jewels.”

She saw Xenia flinch and pushed it aside.

“Carver ain’t happy you kept the ring from him. He wants it. Now.”

Xenia gasped as the brute pressed the knife against her throat.

Her heart hammering, Finn said, “Let her go, and take me instead. I know where the ring is—I’ll get it for you.”

“You’ll get it for us now, if you want this fine filly to live.”

There was no choice but to comply with his demand. Keeping her eyes on the ruffians, Finn edged toward Lord Ethan’s desk. With a thief’s memory for details, she found the key in the drawer where she’d seen him store it; going to the oil painting near the desk, she released the latch in the frame as he’d done. The painting swung away from the wall, revealing the iron strongbox. Taking a breath, she inserted the key and opened it with a click.

One of the thugs shoved her aside, searching the contents.

“Found it.” Triumphantly, he held up the ring; even in the dimness, the emerald flashed.

“You have the ring. Now let her go,” Finn said. “I promise I’ll get Carver the rest⁠—”

A creaking floorboard made her spin around. Owen stood in the doorway. His hands were fisted at his sides, his eyes stormy with rage.

“Make a move, a sound, I slit her throat,” the brute said.

It took every ounce of willpower for Owen not to act. Impotent fury filled him as he saw the blade at Xenia’s throat, the way she trembled as she clutched her midsection. So much was at stake and he couldn’t afford to make a wrong move. He couldn’t let himself be distracted by Finn—by the shocking, agonizing revelation that he’d made the worst of choices and endangered his loved ones yet again.

The cutthroats circled toward the door. He remained where he was, blocking their exit.

“Get out of our way,” the leader hissed.

“Release her first,” he said.

“Not until we’re out of here.”

The bastard jerked Xenia roughly, her wheeze of pain churning Owen’s insides. He tightened his fists and resisted the urge to launch himself at the blackguards. He couldn’t risk Xenia, or the life she carried, coming to harm.

“Let her go,” he said evenly. “You have my word that I will not fight or follow you.”

“Listen to him,” Finn said. “If you try to drag her out of the house, you risk waking the others.”

Finn spoke calmly—of course she did. She was one of them: a plant who’d been after the jewels all along. Everything she’d said and done had been a lie.

He blocked out the pain.

“We are outnumbered and weaponless,” she went on. “We couldn’t stop you if we tried. Just let her go and walk out of here.”

Clenching his jaw, Owen saw her words hit home. The leader jerked his head toward the other two, who kept their pistols raised as they backed toward the door. Owen moved aside, and they left the room, standing just beyond, their weapons trained on him. The leader went last, keeping Xenia between them.

Then he shoved her, and she pitched forward with a cry.

Owen caught her before she hit the ground. The roaring in his ears muffled the sound of the cutthroats’ retreat. He would deal with them later—after he took care of Xenia. Laying her head on his lap, he saw with panic her bloodless features and fluttering lashes. With shaking hands, he examined her throat, exhaling when he saw no mark from the blade. He found her pulse.

Strong and steady. Thank Christ.

“She’s swooned.” Finn’s voice trembled. “I’ll get help.”

He looked up at her, fury bleeding through his vision.

“You’ve done enough, you deceitful jade,” he bit out.