Page 133 of Four Promises to Love

“Have a taste for hitting women, do you?” he gritted out. “For preying upon them?”

Carver bared his teeth. “That stupid whore was asking for it⁠—”

Owen planted a facer and felt the satisfying crack of bone.

“You broke my nose,” Carver gasped as blood spurted from him.

“I’ll break you in half for the pain you’ve caused Finn.”

Owen continued the pummeling. His opponent stopped fighting back. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he turned his head.

“What?” he growled at Finn.

“May I?” she asked.

He heaved a sigh. “Have at it.”

He stayed close, just in case. She stepped up to Carver, studied him, and punched him in his bloodied nose. He gave a choking sort of scream—and slumped down the wall.

“I’m done,” she announced.

Rawlins and his men collected the limp cutthroat.

Owen ran a thumb gently along Finn’s cheekbone, which was already swelling.

“I should have killed that bastard for putting his hands on you,” he muttered.

“To be fair, I did spit in his eye.” She smiled. “And I broke his nose.”

“I broke his nose.”

“As you wish.” She wound her arms around his neck. “Thank you for standing up for me—and for the Hawks.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“Then thank you for loving me.”

“As if you gave me much choice in the matter,” he murmured. “How could anyone resist you, my scheming, brave, darling Finn?”

“Stealing your boots was the best thing I ever did,” she said.

Laughing, he kissed her, and she kissed him back.

Thirty-Nine

A week later, Finn and the Hawks were settled back at Pell House, and Finn was bringing lunch up to Iris. To her delight, Iris wasn’t in bed where she’d spent most days. Instead, she was sitting in a rocking chair, looking out the window.

“You are looking well,” Finn said warmly.

Iris’s smile was wan. But it was a smile. “I am feeling less dreadful.”

“I’ve brought some of Mrs. Thornton’s pork pie and mashed turnips.” Finn set the tray on a table. “Will you have some?”

“I will—later. Come sit with me.”

Finn did what she’d done so many times as a girl, and what she’d feared she would never get to do again. She sat at Iris’s feet, her head in her friend’s lap. Her eyes stung when Iris gently stroked her hair. They didn’t talk, the silence as comforting as a warm blanket.

“I’m sorry.”