And if she hadn’t just ruined his entire appearance, he’d have been on her heels like a burr. No. If she hadn’t called him a painted-up freak, or referred to his attire as a circus suit; or…if he could wipe this gooey mess of wet powder from his eyes, get this wig off, and toss the false facial hair. Then, he’d be pursuing.Damn.Jean-Pierre flew straight up out of the water, hovering several yards above it as he honed his senses, looking for her. Gone. The woman and his sword. Vanished.The cheat! Regardless of her gentle, fragile gender and the fact she was his mate, she deserved his ire and punishment. And she was going to get both. Jean-Pierre reached shore, pulled the sodden wig, mustache, and goatee off, and then the coat, slapping them to the ground in disgust. Then he ripped at his shirt, making strips of the broadcloth in order to wipe at his face. His ego smarted. And there was only one thing to do about it.o0oThe countryside surrounding their rebuilt Tirgoviste Castle looked deserted.
