“I did not expect such noble company, gentlemen.” She sipped from her cup, then stared at it with distaste.
Merrick removed the coffee cup from her and drank it himself. Bertie gaped at this rudeness. To his surprise, Cassandra threw Wyatt a look of gratitude. The adoration in her eyes as she watched a bleary-eyed Wyatt drain the cup struck Bertie forcibly.
Wyatt was no Adonis, nor even a Byron, to be gazed upon with such open admiration. Women never looked at Wyatt like that. The obvious affection between these two made it even harder to believe when they finally exchanged words.
“I am sorry to have put you to such trouble, gentlemen,” she began innocuously enough, “but you really must go home now. I cannot expect my husband to take me back while I am in the company of other men.”
A muscle tightened over Wyatt’s jaw, but he merely signaled the waiter to fetch hot chocolate for Cassandra. When the man was gone, he answered without emotion. “We’ll talk to Rupert together.”
A white line appeared around Cassandra’s lips. “You cannot do that, Wyatt. I will not allow it. This is none of your affair.”
“Like hell, it isn’t.” The normally equable earl glared at Cassandra, then at Bertie. When neither bowed to his opinion, he continued, “You are being childish, Cass. If you truly wish to return to Rupert, I won’t stand in your way. I just insist on being there for the interview. If Rupert becomes abusive, I’ll not leave you there.”
Cassandra forced back her tears. Lud, how she wanted him with her when she warned Rupert of Duncan’s treachery. Perhaps... Just maybe... She shook her head at the thought. No, not Wyatt. She couldn’t bring Wyatt into this fantastic disaster she had created.
So she smiled brilliantly for Bertie’s sake and mouthed a few words of agreement and fled back to her room. She would have to escape now before anyone suspected anything. Wyatt would see Lotta and Jacob home. She could not afford to keep them any longer.
The last few coins in Rupert’s bag might feed her until she found a job as a governess or companion. Concealing her coins from her maid, Cassandra excused herself to use the privy out back, and left the hotel. She had warned Merrick. He could not fault her for that. He just hadn’t believed that she would do it. She just wished he hadn’t looked so ill and worried when she left.
Remembering the feel of Wyatt’s strong arms around her, his body inside hers, she almost wept with the pain of loss.
She had difficulty explaining her destination to the sedan carriers. Her accent was miserable, and they couldn’t read the written address she held. A passerby straightened out the situation, and soon she was lurching through the streets in the direction of Rupert’s apartment. The prospect made her more ill the closer they came.
When she finally stood in front of the impressive edifice, nausea returned. She had to choke it back. She couldn’t disgrace herself in the street right in front of her husband’s home. She had to be calm and assertive.
She wished she had brought Jacob with her. He would in all probability have gone straight to Wyatt with warnings, but she should have taken the chance. Her terror of Rupert was overwhelming. Merrick had taught her the way it could be between a man and a woman, but she greatly suspected Rupert would be considerably more violent. She must not give him the opportunity to touch her.
It was midday. He should not be drunk at this hour. She would pass on the warning about Duncan and leave, disappear from all she knew forever.
Bravely she stepped forward and lifted the knocker.
A servant opened the door and accepted her card.
When a footman returned, she followed him through carpeted halls, their feet making no sound in the magnificence of this monument. She felt as if she were in some sacred tomb where she must speak in hushed tones. Her gaze followed the soaring ceiling upward to what very much appeared to be obscene cherubs on the cornices. She blushed at the positions she recognized, and looked back to the floor.
She almost didn’t find Rupert in the room to which she was led. Towering stacks of books and enormous ancient furniture huddled in the gloom of the heavily draped windows. The books startled her. She hadn’t thought Rupert a reader. Thinking herself alone, she cautiously approached the nearest shelf. Even though the titles were in French, she recognized the trick of hollow bindings to fill the shelves with the illusion of knowledge. That was the Rupert she knew.
“Well, wife, did you come to see me or my shelves?”
The voice came from so close behind her that she jumped, startled. Already she was at a disadvantage. She swung around and came face-to-face with her nemesis.
The signs of dissipation were a little more marked, but he was still a well-looking man. He was slender and not much taller than herself, but she had reason to remember the strength behind the padding of his coat. Cassandra edged away from the trap of the wall behind her.
“If I thought the shelves would show more sense and sympathy, I would speak to them,” she replied. “I am likely to receive more reward for my effort.”
Rupert crossed his arms and leaned back against a medieval hand-carved chair. “If you have come to solicit my charity, you are quite likely right. You have already stolen all that you will get.”
He was still closer than Cassandra liked, but she could not speak to the back of his head. “Had you listened to me that night, I would have helped you get back all that you had given Duncan and seen him punished for his efforts. What I took scarcely compared to what you tried to take. That is not my reason for being here. I will not see another man die in my name, not even you, Rupert. I don’t know what is necessary to obtain an annulment, but I suggest you seek one immediately, and be certain to let Duncan know when you have obtained it.”
Rupert’s fair brows lifted with cynical interest. “You are warning me? How very interesting. And what do you seek from this?”
“My freedom, that’s all I ask. Duncan covets your wealth and will seek it through me. He could have hired assassins already.”
Rupert threw back his head and laughed. Once he recovered, he studied her breasts, then grinned.
“And you are concerned for my health? How considerate of you. But I enjoy challenges, my dear, and you are worth the danger. We’ll have no more talk of annulments. It is time we got to know each other. You may end up a wealthy widow, but I will have enjoyed every minute of our time together. Come, let us begin at once.”
Rupert reached out to catch her arm, but Cassandra smacked his hand away. There, that was done. She had given him the warning. If he wanted to make her a wealthy widow, that was fine with her.
As she ran for the door, Rupert grabbed her from behind. He jerked her around and crushed her close. Cassandra caught the faint fumes of an unfamiliar liquor on his breath as he pressed his face close to hers.
“I’ll not let you escape again, my dear. I paid well for you. Now I’ll see what my coins have bought. Has someone else been teaching you what you should have learned in my bed?” His hand caught cruelly in her hair as she struggled to escape, and his eyes glittered. “I do not feel the hysteria of innocence this time, Lady Cass. You know what I mean to do now, don’t you?”
He chortled as one hand cupped her buttocks and pressed her hips against his arousal. Cassandra squirmed, but her motion only served to arouse him more and reveal the mockery of the act to be performed. This would be no gentle love-making, but torture, pure and simple. It would not surprise her if he meant to kill her when he was done.
That would explain his reckless ignoring of her warning.
She had played the part of fool once more. Wyatt would come after her, and Rupert would kill him too. She had saved no one with this act of sheer willfulness. Once again, it would be all her fault.
Fighting for Wyatt’s life as well as her own, Cassandra freed one arm from the trap of their bodies and swung her fist as low as she could. She only grazed his hard abdomen and made him laugh more.
Catching her hair tighter and yanking her head back, Rupert cove
red her mouth with his. When Cassandra refused him entrance, he jerked her hair harder, causing her to gasp in pain. His tongue took full advantage, filling her with his lust and the threat of what was to come.
Cassandra beat futilely at his shoulders, gagged and screamed, and kicked at him with her thin slippers. No one came to help. In all probability, no one could hear her in this dismal mausoleum. She bit Rupert’s tongue and scratched his face, and he was forced to return her to the floor just to catch her hands.
She fought and struggled, bringing her knee up whenever a space opened between them, swinging her fist when he had to protect himself with his hands. He cursed and held on.
She lacked his strength. Her screams rent the air, but she was already gasping for breath. Rupert aimed a blow at her jaw, but she ducked and grabbed a brass figurine from the shelf. The object glanced off his head, and he had to drop his grip on her hair to dodge a second blow.
Cassandra lifted her skirt and ran. Rupert dashed after her, slamming her face first against the closed door and viciously tearing at the fastenings at the back of her gown, pressing her in a trap between the solid wood and himself.
As he tore at her clothing, Cassandra screamed as if to bring all of Paris running.
Abruptly, Rupert was there no longer. Released, she slid down the wooden panel, weeping, until the harsh crack of bone against bone reverberated above her.
Rupert’s furious growl forced Cassandra back to her reeling senses. Scraping her bare back against the carved wood, she absorbed the astonishing sight of Wyatt repeatedly plowing his fist into Rupert’s stomach. Those sensitive fingers that played the pianoforte so magically had become weapons of destruction, and she could not bear the sight.
This was her fault. She had done this to him. She was a curse. She had never done anything right in her life, and now she was destroying the man she loved. With a groan, Cassandra sought a weapon.
Almost as if he read her mind, Wyatt brought his merciless punishment to a halt with one solid blow to Rupert’s jaw. The smaller man crumpled and lay still.
The sound of a cheer drew Cassandra’s gaze from Wyatt’s fury to the audience at the far end of the room. Bertie looked solemn and concerned, but Lotta and Jacob hurried toward her, grinning. Rupert’s servants huddled uncertainly in the background.
“Get her out of here,” Wyatt commanded, gesturing toward Cassandra. “Tie her and lock her up if you must, but don’t let her out of your sight until I return.”
Cassandra gaped in astonishment at this cruel command from her gentle lover, but Wyatt had already turned his attention to the man on the floor. Heart filled with pain, she didn’t linger to watch. She ran out the door ahead of her bodyguards.
Chapter 23
Merrick signaled the servant to leave the basin and depart. Rupert was starting to come around. Wyatt didn’t need an audience for what he had to say.
Rupert rubbed his jaw, frowning at the pain as he attempted to speak.
Merrick gestured him to silence. “Just listen, and listen close. My solicitors will forward a petition for annulment to you. You will sign that petition as soon as it arrives and return it to the messenger, who will wait for it. If you do not, I will personally return with that paper, and you will be in no shape to do anything but sign it when I am done with you. Are you understanding this?”
The hatred glaring in Rupert’s eyes answered that question. Merrick helped himself to a cloth from the basin, and wetting it, wrapped it around his injured knuckles. He schooled his features to their normally impassive expression.
“If you ever come near Cassandra again, I will shoot you, so there is no reason for you not to agree to the annulment. She is no longer under Duncan’s protection, but mine. It would behoove you to note that there is a decided difference.”
So saying, Wyatt strode out. Cass would kill him if she knew what he had done, but the point was moot. He was going to strangle her for placing herself in such danger for no good reason at all.
But when he returned to the hotel, Cass was too busy being violently ill for him to do more than pace the floor. When Lotta finally assured him that her mistress was sleeping, Wyatt made arrangements for their return journey.
He had known Cassandra would be a rare handful. She was willful, stubborn, temperamental, and wild to a fault. She did not know the meaning of restraint, and propriety was a synonym for prison to her.
She would also foolishly risk her neck for anyone she considered a friend. And probably for stray dogs as well.
He had enjoyed the pleasures of her abandoned nature. Somehow, he had to learn to endure the consequences. Never in his life had he lashed out at anyone as he had Rupert. It would have given him great pleasure to kill the man. His own violence horrified him. Yet even as he favored his aching knuckles, Wyatt savored the moment when he heard Rupert’s jaw crack.
He would become as heathen as Cassandra at this rate. Casting a glance at the door behind which she lay, he experienced a sharp pang of pleasure at the thought. For the first time in his life, he felt truly alive.
Later, while they waited in the private parlor outside Cassandra’s room, Wyatt handed Bertie a glass of port and waited for him to speak. He had no intention of defending his actions, but he hated to lose this one friend who had stood by his side.
Bertie merely raised his glass in silent toast and sighed, “She’s a rare handful, ain’t she?”
Wyatt felt a load lift from his shoulders, and tenderness curved his lips as he pictured Cassandra’s fierce passion in love and anger. “Rare is as good a description as any. Luckily, Rupert is too crude to appreciate that. He’s agreed to an annulment.”
Bertie’s blond eyebrows rose, but he poured another drink in celebration. “By Jove, you’re a lucky bastard, Merrick. How you going to explain that to Duncan?”
Wyatt set his glass aside. “No explanations are necessary. The deed will be done without him. Do you think I ought to send for a physician?” He nodded at the closed door to Cass’s chamber.
Lotta emerged in time to hear this last, and she shook her head vehemently. “None of them Frenchie quacks, milord. Let us get her out of here, and she’ll lighten up, just see if she don’t.”
Wyatt looked skeptical, but he ordered bags packed and made preparations to depart.
The return journey was more pleasant. The sun emerged long enough for them to bask in its warmth. Cassandra rested in a chair fashioned for her on the ferry’s deck. The livid bruise on the side of her face had begun to fade and the throbbing disappeared, but only in the evenings could she keep her food down long enough to enjoy the company.
Wyatt discreetly left her alone as he had promised, but Cass feared the questions in his eyes. She had left him, defied his wishes, and caused a great deal of grief. Bertie in all probability thought her a fallen woman and would no longer allow her to visit his family. She had created disaster and chaos, and had not accomplished even one of her goals. Rupert was still in danger from Duncan—although he at least had been warned—and Wyatt still seemed to feel responsible for her. He had every right to hate her.
But when they arrived in Dover, everyone remained solicitous. All the decent rooms were taken. Bertie ordered Thomas to surrender the room he had taken while waiting for them, and the two brothers agreed to travel ahead, leaving Wyatt and Cassandra to travel at a more leisurely pace.
Grateful for their understanding, Wyatt watched as the brothers rode off, then turned back to the stairs and the room they would share for the first time in over a week.
Cassandra hadn’t objected when he had led her to the chamber and had their luggage carried in. It was very probable that she no longer wished his attentions, but he couldn’t allow her to lie ill and alone in a strange inn. He would let her rest, and they could talk when she woke.
Wyatt found her sleeping soundly. He dismissed the maid to look for Jacob in the servants’ quarters, and began removing his travel-stained cravat. Cassandra looked so pale and still, he sat d
own beside her to verify she was just asleep. It was an odd feeling, this need to protect another, to know her life was in his keeping—odd, but satisfying.
Wyatt touched her brow and Cassandra stirred. Satisfied, he began to remove the rest of his clothing. Even in sleep with the mark of Rupert’s hand across her jaw, she was beautiful. Perhaps she would leave him come morning, but for now she was still his to care for.
~*~
When Cassandra woke, it was dawn and her stomach was churning, although there could not possibly be anything left in it. She reached wearily for the basin, as had become her habit these last few mornings . Only when a strong hand reached to hold her shoulder did she realize she was not alone.
Wyatt held her as she heaved the meager contents of her stomach into the bowl. Then he rose and mixed a weak concoction of brandy and water to clear her mouth and sent for someone to bring warm water for washing and hot tea to drink.
She watched warily as he prowled the room wearing only his trousers. Her gaze took in the raw scrapes on his knuckles, rested on the bare expanse of his chest and shoulders, but she refused to meet his eyes. They had discussed nothing since Paris. She understood that was about to end. When Wyatt came to sit on the bed beside her, she was tense and nervous.
He leaned back against the headboard and drew her into the curve of his arm. She came reluctantly, but he stroked her hair, and she rested her head against his shoulder.
“How long have you been ill in the mornings?” Wyatt asked.
With all the things to be said between them, this was the least expected. Cassandra frowned and wrapped a curl from his chest around her finger. “The carriage ride made me sick coming down here, that is all. I’ll be fine when we’re home again.”
“Cassandra, we have not slept together this past week. Have you been having your monthly courses?”
Shocked at the proper Merrick asking her such an improper question, Cassandra frowned up at him. Crushing her embarrassment, she replied, “No. Is that why you stayed away from me?”
Dash of Enchantment Page 21
