by Julia Quinn
“Undoubtedly.”
Her face twisted with disgust. “That’s . . .”
“Sick?” he finished for her. “Welcome to my childhood.”
He regretted the words the moment he said them. Her eyes filled with pity, and he felt bile rising up his throat. He didn’t want her pity, not for his leg, or his childhood, or any of the sodding ways he could not hope to protect her. He just wanted to be a man, and he wanted her to know that, to feel it. He wanted to hover over her in bed, nothing between them but heat, and he wanted her to know that she had been claimed, that she was his, and no other man would ever know the warm silk of her skin.
But he was a fool. She deserved someone who could protect her, not a cripple who had been so easily bested. Kicked, drugged, and tied to a bed—how could she possibly respect him after this?
“I think I’ve got this one,” she said, yanking hard at the rope. “Hold on, hold on . . . There!”
“One quarter of the way,” he said, trying to sound jolly and failing wretchedly.
“Hugh,” she said, and he could not tell if this was the precursor to a statement or a question.
And he never found out. There was a terrific commotion in the hall, followed by a grunt of pain and a loud string of expletives.
“Daniel,” Sarah said, wincing slightly.
And here I am, Hugh thought miserably, still tied to the damned bed.
Chapter Twenty
Sarah barely had time to look up before the door flew open and the air was rent by the sound of wood ripping and splintering around the useless lock. “Daniel!” she shrieked, and for the life of her, she did not know why she sounded surprised.
“What the hell—”
But Daniel’s shout was cut off by the Marquess of Ramsgate, who ran in from the hall, hurling himself through the doorway and onto Daniel’s back.
“Get off me, you bloody—”
Sarah tried to jump into the fray, but Hugh yanked her back with the hand she had so recently freed. She shook him loose and ran toward her cousin, only to be knocked down by Lord Ramsgate’s shoulder as Daniel spun him around, trying to dislodge him from his back.
“Sarah!” Hugh cried out. He was pulling so hard at his remaining bindings that the bed started scooting across the floor.
Sarah scrambled to her feet, but Hugh swung his arm out in a wild arc and caught a fistful of her sodden skirt.
“Let go of me,” she ground out, tumbling back onto the bed.
He wrapped his arm around her, his fingers still holding her skirt in a death grip. “Not on your bloody life.”
Daniel, meanwhile, had been unable to get Lord Ramsgate off his back and was now slamming him into the wall. “You bloody madman,” he grunted. “Get off me.”
Sarah grabbed a chunk of her skirt and started pulling in the opposite direction. “He’s going to kill your father.”
Hugh’s eyes met hers with steely disdain. “Let him.”
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? He’d be hanged!”
“Not with only us as witnesses,” Hugh shot back.
Sarah gasped and gave her skirt another yank, but Hugh had her in an astonishingly firm grip. She tried to twist out of his grasp, and that was when she saw Daniel’s face going terrifyingly periwinkle. “He’s choking him!” she screamed, and Hugh must have looked up, because he let go of her skirt so abruptly that Sarah went skidding across the room, barely able to maintain her balance.
“Get off him!” she yelled, grabbing at Lord Ramsgate’s shirt. She looked around for something—anything—with which to bash him over the head. The only chair was far too heavy to lift, so with a quick prayer, she balled her hand into a fist and swung hard.
“Ow!” She howled in pain and shook out her fist. No one had told her that punching a man in the face hurt.
“Jesus Christ, Sarah!” It was Daniel, gasping for breath and clutching his eye.
She’d punched the wrong man.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” she yelped. But at least she’d set the human tower off balance. Lord Ramsgate had been forced to let go of Daniel’s neck as both men tumbled to the floor.
“I’ll kill you,” Lord Ramsgate growled, scrambling back over to Daniel, who was in no condition to defend himself.
“Stop it,” Sarah snapped, stepping hard on Lord Ramsgate’s hand. “If you kill him, you kill Hugh.”
Lord Ramsgate looked up at her, and she couldn’t tell if he was confused or furious.
“I lied,” came Hugh’s voice from over on the bed. “I did tell her about our bargain.”
“Did you stop to think about that?” Sarah demanded. Because she had had it with these men. “Did you?” she fairly screamed.
Lord Ramsgate held up his hand—the one that she was not crunching under her boot—in supplication. Slowly, Sarah lifted her weight, not taking her eyes off him until he’d scooted several feet away from Daniel.
“Are you all right?” she asked Daniel perfunctorily. The skin under his eye was turning purple. He was not going to look pretty for his wedding.
He grunted in response.
“Good,” she said, deciding that his grunt had sounded healthy enough. And then it occurred to her. “Where are Marcus and Honoria?”
“Somewhere behind me in a carriage,” he said furiously. “I rode.”
Of course, Sarah thought. She didn’t know why it had not occurred to her that he would insist upon riding after her once it was discovered that she’d departed without them.
“I think you broke my hand,” Lord Ramsgate whined.
“It’s not broken,” Sarah said testily. “I would have heard it snap.”
From over on the bed, Hugh let out a choke of laughter. Sarah shot him a scowl. This wasn’t funny. None of this was funny. And if he couldn’t see that, he was not the man she thought he was. Gallows humor only counted when one wasn’t at actual gallows.
Swiftly, she turned to her cousin. “Do you have a knife?”
Daniel’s eyes widened.
“For his bindings.”
“Oh.” Daniel reached into his boot and pulled out a small dagger. She took it with some surprise; she hadn’t really thought she’d meet with success.
“I acquired the habit of carrying a weapon in Italy,” Daniel said in a flat voice.
Sarah nodded. Of course he would have done. That was when Lord Ramsgate had had trained assassins hunting him down. “Don’t move,” she snapped at the marquess, and she stalked across the room to Hugh.
“I would recommend that you not move, either,” she said, and she walked around to the far side of the bed to saw through the rope that immobilized his left hand. She was about halfway through the fibers when she saw Lord Ramsgate begin to rise to his feet. “Eh eh eh!” she screeched, pointing the knife in his direction. “Back on the floor.”
He complied.
“You’re terrifying me,” Hugh murmured. But it sounded like a compliment.
“You could have been killed,” she hissed.
“No,” he told her, his eyes serious. “I’m the only one he would never touch, remember?”
Her lips parted, but whatever she was going to say evaporated as her mind began to spin.
“Sarah?” Hugh sounded concerned.
He wasn’t the only one, she realized. He wasn’t the only one.
The last bit of rope snapped, and Hugh pulled his arm to his side, groaning as he massaged his overstretched shoulder.
“You can do your ankles,” Sarah said, just barely remembering to turn the handle out as she gave him the knife. She marched back over to Lord Ramsgate. “Stand up,” she ordered.
“You just told me to sit down,” he drawled.
Her voice fell to a menacing growl. “You do not want to argue with me right now.”
“Sarah,” Hugh ventured.
“Quiet,” she snapped, not even bothering to turn around. Lord Ramsgate rose to his feet, and Sarah stepped forward until he was backed against the wall. “I want you t
o listen to me very closely, Lord Ramsgate, because I am only going to say this once. I will marry your son, and in return, you will swear to me that you will leave my cousin alone.”
Lord Ramsgate opened his mouth to speak, but Sarah was not yet done. “Furthermore,” she said before he could make more than a syllable of sound, “you will not attempt to contact me or any member of my family, and that includes Lord Hugh and any children we might have.”
“Now see here—”
“Do you want me to marry him?” Sarah cut in loudly.
Lord Ramsgate’s face went red with rage. “Who do you think—”
“Hugh?” she said, holding her hand behind her. “The knife?”
He must have freed his feet, because when he spoke, he was a lot closer than the bed. She turned to look; he was standing a few feet behind her. He said, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Sarah.”
He was probably right, blast him. She had no idea what devil had overtaken her, but she was so bloody angry right now that she had half a mind to strangle Lord Ramsgate with her bare hands.
“You wanted an heir?” Sarah growled at the marquess. “Fine. I’ll give you one or I’ll die trying.”
Hugh cleared his throat, presumably trying to remind her that this whole cockup of a day had started with his predicted demise.
“Not a word out of you, either,” she said furiously, swinging around with an irately pointed finger. He was standing just a few feet away, his cane lightly gripped in his hand. “I am sick of you and you and him”—she jerked her head toward Daniel, who was still sitting against the wall, clutching his rapidly blackening eye—“trying to solve things. You’re useless, the lot of you. It’s been over three years, and the only way you’ve managed to keep peace is by threatening to kill yourself.” She swung back around to face Hugh, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Which you will not do.”
Hugh stared at her until he realized he was supposed to speak. “I will not,” he said.
“Lady Sarah,” Lord Ramsgate said, “I must tell you—”
“Shut up,” she snapped. “I have been told, Lord Ramsgate, that you are desirous of an heir. Or should I say an heir beyond the two you already possess.”
The marquess gave a terse nod.
“And, in fact, you are so desirous of this heir that Lord Hugh was able to bargain for my cousin’s safety with his own life.”
“It was an unholy bargain,” Lord Ramsgate spat.
“In that we are in agreement,” Sarah said, “but I believe you have forgotten an important detail. If, indeed, all you care about is procreation, Lord Hugh’s life is worthless without mine.”
“Oh, so now you’re going to tell me that you are also going to threaten suicide.”
“Nothing of the sort,” Sarah said with a derisive snort. “But think for a moment, Lord Ramsgate. The only way you can get your precious grandchild is if your son and I remain in good health and happiness. And let me tell you, if you make me unhappy in any manner, I will bar him from my bed.”
There was a highly satisfying lurch of silence.
Lord Ramsgate scoffed. “He will be your lord and master. You can’t bar him from anywhere.”
Hugh cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t dream of violating her wishes,” he murmured.
“You worthless excuse—”
“You’re making me unhappy, Lord Ramsgate,” Sarah warned.
Lord Ramsgate let out a furious breath, and Sarah knew she had bested him. “If any permanent harm should ever come to my cousin,” she warned, “I swear I will hunt you down and rip you apart with my bare hands.”
“I would take her at her word,” Daniel said, still gently palpating the skin around his eye.
Sarah crossed her arms. “Do we all understand these terms?”
“I certainly do,” Daniel mumbled.
Sarah ignored him, instead stepping closer to Lord Ramsgate. “I am certain you will see that it is a most beneficial solution for all involved parties. You will get what you want—an eventual heir for Ramsgate—and I will get what I want: peace for my family. And Hugh—” Her words came to an abrupt halt as she forced down the bile that threatened her throat. “Well, Hugh doesn’t have to kill himself.”
Lord Ramsgate held himself preternaturally still. Finally, he said, “If you agree to marry my son and you do not bar him from your bed—and I hope you will trust me when I tell you that I will have spies in your household and I will know if you are not fulfilling your end of the bargain—then I will leave your cousin alone.”
“Forever,” Sarah added.
Lord Ramsgate gave a quick, bitter nod.
“And you will not attempt to contact my children.”
“I cannot agree to that.”
“Very well,” she acquiesced, since she never expected to win on that point, “I will allow you to see them, but only in my or their father’s presence, and at a time and place of our choosing.”
Lord Ramsgate shook with rage, but he said, “You have my word.”
Sarah turned and looked to Hugh for confirmation.
“On this you can trust him,” Hugh said quietly. “For all his cruelty, he does not break his promises.”
Then Daniel said, “I have not known him to lie.”
Sarah gaped at him.
“He said he was going to try to kill me and he did,” Daniel said. “Try, that is.”
Sarah’s mouth fell open. “This is your endorsement?”
Daniel shrugged. “Then he said he wouldn’t try to kill me, and as far as I know, he didn’t.”
“How hard did you hit him?” Hugh asked.
Sarah looked down at her hand. Her knuckles were turning purple. Good Lord, and his wedding was in two days. Anne would never forgive her.
“It was worth it,” Daniel said, one of his hands making a loopy wave near his face. His head tilted drunkenly to the side as he quirked a brow toward Hugh. “She did it,” he said. “What you and I were never able to manage.”
“And all she had to do was sacrifice herself,” Lord Ramsgate said with an oily smile.
“I’m going to kill you,” Hugh growled, and Sarah had to step in front of him and forcibly hold him back.
“Go back to London,” Sarah ordered the marquess. “I will see you at the christening of our first child, and not a moment before.”
Lord Ramsgate just chuckled.
“Are we clear?” she demanded.
“As water, my dear lady.” Lord Ramsgate walked to the door, then turned around. “If you had been born sooner,” he said with an intense stare, “I would have married you.”
“You bastard!”
Sarah was pushed to the side as Hugh launched himself toward his father. Fist met flesh with a horrible crack. “You are not fit to speak her name,” Hugh hissed, looming menacingly over his father, who had fallen to the floor, his nose bloodied and almost certainly broken.
“And you’re the better of the two,” Lord Ramsgate said with a little shiver of revulsion. “God above, I do not know what I did to deserve such sons.”
“Nor do I,” Hugh bit off.
“Hugh,” Sarah said, laying her hand on his upper arm. “Get off. He’s not worth it.”
But Hugh was not himself. He did not pull his arm away, nor did he give any indication that he’d heard her. He leaned down and retrieved his cane, which had clattered to the floor in the fracas, never once taking his eyes from his father’s face.
“If you touch her,” Hugh said, his voice terrifyingly clipped and even, “I will kill you. If you speak one untoward word, I will kill you. If you so much as breathe in the wrong direction, I—”
“Will kill me,” his father said scornfully. He jerked his head toward Hugh’s bad leg. “You just go on thinking you’re able, you stupid little cr—”
Hugh moved like lightning, his cane arcing before him like a sword. He was beautiful in motion, Sarah thought. Was this what he had been like . . . before?
“Would you care to repea
t that?” Hugh said, pressing the tip of his cane against his father’s throat.
Sarah stopped breathing.
“Please,” Hugh said, in a tone that was all the more devastating for its calm. “Say more.” He moved the cane along Lord Ramsgate’s windpipe, easing the pressure without breaking contact. “Anything?” he murmured.
Sarah wet her lips, watching him warily. She could not tell if he was the epitome of control or whether he was one breath away from snapping. She watched his chest rise and fall with his heartbeat, and she was mesmerized. Hugh Prentice was more than a man in that moment; he was a force of nature.
“Let him go,” Daniel said in a weary voice, finally rising to his feet. “He is not worth a trip to the gallows.”
Sarah stared at the tip of the cane, still flush with Lord Ramsgate’s throat. It seemed to press forward, and she thought, No, he wouldn’t . . . and then, quick as mercury, the cane flew away, leaving Hugh’s grip for a split second before he caught it again and stepped away. He was favoring his injured leg, but there was something dashing about his uneven gait, something almost graceful.
He was still beautiful in motion. One had only to look.
Sarah felt herself exhale. She wasn’t certain when she had last drawn breath. She watched in silence as Lord Ramsgate pulled himself to his feet and left the room. And then she stared at the open doorway, half expecting him to return.
“Sarah?”
Dimly, she registered Hugh’s voice. But she couldn’t tear her eyes from the doorway, and she was shaking . . . her hands were shaking, and maybe her whole body was shaking.
“Sarah, are you all right?”
No. She wasn’t.
“Let me help you.”
She felt Hugh’s arm on her shoulder, and suddenly the shaking intensified, and her legs . . . What was happening to her legs? There was an awful, wrenching noise, and when she gasped for breath, she realized that it had come from her, and then suddenly she was in his arms, and he was carrying her to the bed.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Everything will be all right.”
