by Shayla Black
“I screamed and pleaded and threatened the cad. He laughed at me. It was merely luck that allowed me to twist free of my binds and jump from a window down to a buggy full of hay so that I could escape.” Tears filled her eyes then in clear, insistent drops. “He threatened to kill me if I told anyone. Not that anyone would have listened, for everyone thought me a harlot.”
Gavin felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. Vance had tied her down and stripped her bare? He saw the picture and could nearly hear her pleading. He blocked the ugly image from his head.
Red rage took its place.
No wonder Darius had gone after the cad. Gavin wished at the moment that he could join Kira’s brother in the hunt.
“Did Vance—”
“Touch me? Not with any intent. He at least spared me that.”
Lord Vance didn’t seem the kind of man with many scruples. Why wouldn’t he take advantage of Kira’s captivity when he had the opportunity? Gavin wracked his brain until he remembered Brock’s claims that rumor said Vance was a sodomite.
If that was the case, why would he propose to Kira? Gavin now had no doubt the knave had done so, but for what purpose?
Before he could pursue that thought, Kira railed, “I am so naïve. I once believed a handsome man of consequence wanted me for his bride. I believed he cared for me. I believed it so thoroughly that I eloped with him. He duped me. And I was foolish enough to believe it again with you, so much so that I allowed you to—”
“Kira, you’re not to blame.”
“Yes, I am, for believing you were anything other than the haughty, judgmental wretch I first met.” She made her way to the door and turned, arms crossed over her chest. “When James returns, he and I will wed quietly and retire to Tunbridge Wells. I will forget this matter and expect you to be a gentleman and do the same.”
Gavin winced. The thought of Kira and James married—it was all wrong. Kira was too passionate, possessed too much quiet strength to love or respect James. She needed someone with a firm hand who knew when to indulge her and when to challenge her. It was a role Gavin knew he could fill.
“Are we agreed?” she prompted.
A crazy, impulsive marriage proposal hovered on the tip of his tongue. He could heal her. He could right the wrongs he’d done her. But he would ruin himself and his family—and maybe even her—in doing so.
He swallowed. Reluctantly, he nodded.
Kira said nothing, but gave him a glare that singed him all the way to his toes. Then she turned back to the door and reached for the latch.
Suddenly Gavin didn’t want her to go. Once she left the room, he feared they would become nothing more than polite strangers. What if he never saw a glimpse of that exotic, sensual creature he’d made love to? The thought of that didn’t set well with him. If he let her go now, things would never be the same again. He knew it.
Gavin grabbed her arm and spun her around. Surprise parted Kira’s red mouth, widened her searing blue eyes. He ground his teeth together, mentally cursing his distressing urge to kiss her.
“What do you want?” she asked, looking pointedly at his hand upon her.
He frowned. He wanted…so many things. “I want you to know that I’m very sorry. I do not want you to be angry or to hate me. I—I don’t want you to blame yourself or regret what happened.”
Kira gently pulled her arm from his grasp. “You want the impossible.”
* * * *
Another four days passed in tense silence and without a single note from James. Kira did not discuss the matter with Gavin—his grace, she mentally corrected—but she assumed that as little as he thought of her, he did genuinely care for his cousin and was, therefore, worried.
A visit from Mr. Burgess did little to relieve her worries.
“Good afternoon,” she greeted Darius’s friend, anxiety pitching her stomach.
“Miss Melbourne.” He nodded, sitting when she gestured for him to do so.
“I hope your family is well and that you’ll forgive me for not—”
“You want news of your brother.” At her nod, he said, “I understand.”
He sighed, his craggy face troubled. Then he withdrew a letter from his waistcoat.
Mr. Burgess passed it to her across the card table. Kira opened it with a trembling hand. It was a letter, dated not one week ago.
Mr. Burgess,
I have arrived near the town of Tavistock and am staying at the Tall Tree Inn. I do not know how long I shall be. Please say nothing of my whereabouts to my sister. If you should chance to see her, tell her I am in Yorkshire, where you shall soon return. I do not want her to worry about me.
As I said before I departed London, I believe I shall be in some danger. In fact, I am even now being watched, I am certain. The people I seek are engaged in a dangerous business, but I dare not say more now.
I write to remind you of the promise you graciously gave me at our last meeting. Care for my sister in the event I do not return. She and Mr. Howland should be wed by the time you receive this letter. If they are not wed, I must ask you to act in my stead and right the situation. I rely upon your friendship and appreciate your acts on my sister’s behalf.
Yours,
Darius Melbourne
Stunned, Kira read the missive again. Darius knew he was in danger and that he was being watched? And he spent energy worrying about her? She exhaled a shaky breath, wanting to hug him—just after she punched him senseless.
And where was James? Darius’s letter should have included some word of him, had they connected already.
“Thank you for bringing this to me,” she said finally.
“I saw the worry on your face when I last came. I thought it best to tell you I had news of your brother.”
“That is very good of you. Very, very good.” She tried her best to smile. Deep down, however, Kira knew something would need to be done. Darius was in danger. It seemed James was indeed missing.
And it was her fault. Neither would be gone now if she had not foolishly eloped with Lord Vance.
“Have you and Mr. Howland wed yet?” Mr. Burgess asked.
“No.” And Kira didn’t know whether she should be worried or relieved about that fact. “He left in search of my brother immediately after your last visit, just before we were to marry.”
“To help Darius?”
“To stop him. Darius’s pursuit of Lord Vance is dangerous and unnecessary. It will do nothing to repair my reputation.”
Mr. Burgess looked at his feet. “It’s a brother’s duty to protect his sister’s honor.”
“Perhaps,” Kira conceded. “But it is an older sister’s responsibility to guide her brother.”
She must go after Darius and James both. They had left to help her. She would have no peace until she knew they were well and out of harm’s way.
Kira smiled and stood. Mr. Burgess followed suit.
“Thank you again for coming.”
Burgess shrugged. “You’re very welcome. I shall send word if I receive any further information.”
Though Kira planned to be in Tavistock very soon, she replied anyway. “Please do.”
Chapter Thirteen
That evening, Gavin arrived home halfway between drunk and sober, to the distressing news that Kira had received a male visitor earlier that day, that said male caller had been `round once before during Gavin’s absence, and that she was currently packing to depart for an unknown destination.
His liquor-soaked brain quickly latched onto anger. She’d just told him to go to hell a few days earlier and already she was receiving other gentlemen callers? In his very own house! And now she was packing. Had the new bastard in Kira’s life already persuaded her to run away with him?
By God, she wasn’t stepping foot outside the house until he taught her some common sense.
Despite the fact that everything about him seemed to sway, Gavin stumbled up the stairs and burst into Kira’s bedchamber. She stood there, biting her lip, her
sleek black hair in a haphazard coil atop her head, fat curls tumbling down her back. Her maid, Kerry, Katie—no, Kitty—stood beside her, piling her clothes into a valise.
“Where in God’s name do you think you’re going?”
Kira whirled around, eyes wide with surprise. When she caught sight of him, that surprise became anger and more than a little contempt. So he looked a little disheveled. So what?
“Get out, if you please.”
Not the answer he’d hoped for. As greetings went, it was terrible. Granted his hadn’t been the smoothest either, but damn it, he wanted an answer.
“No, I won’t get out,” he slurred. “I would very much like to talk to you.”
“And I would very much like you to jump off a cliff.”
Gavin gritted his teeth. While he admired spirit in a woman, this was more than he wanted. Damnation, his head was beginning to hurt, and he needed to use the water closet yet again. But not until he talked some sense into Kira.
“You may go,” he barked at her maid.
The young blonde servant—had he decided her name was Kitty?—looked to Kira for direction. Kira looked as if she wanted to refute him quite badly, if the mutinous set of her lush red mouth was any indication. But she paused.
“Go ahead,” she muttered.
Smart girl. Apparently she didn’t want her maid privy to the intimate details of their… situation any more than he did.
Kitty walked past him, gaze riveted to the carpet beneath her feet. Once she’d gone, Gavin shut the door behind her, nearly stumbling into it.
“I want the door open,” she insisted.
“Too bad. I want to talk about your gentleman caller.”
He took a hulking step forward until he found himself close enough to Kira to see the individual spikes of her lashes. She blurred a bit but cleared again when he blinked. He wasn’t surprised when she lifted her chin, refusing to back away.
“Have you forgotten me so quickly?” he murmured.
Kira swallowed, hesitated. For a moment, she looked much less angry, vulnerable even. Then she glared at him.
“If you imagine me enough of a whore to have taken up with another man already, why do you care?”
Good question. Gavin scowled, tired to the bone. The sluggish gears of his brain turned, trying to find an answer to the question. But no, he couldn’t come up with a bloody reason.
“If you’re allowing men to court you under my roof, under the very roof that your fiancé occupies, that will create gossip. I won’t abide that.”
She shrugged and backed away, then stuffed several pairs of shoes into her small valise. “I’m leaving. The only gossip my departure should raise is that of your fortune to have escaped such a gauche houseguest.”
Likely, Kira was right. But Gavin did not like it one bit.
“So you’re simply going to leave James, without so much as a by your leave? He was willing to marry you, despite—”
“Yes, despite the scandal and my half-breed background. James is as understanding a man as any woman could hope for. And I have no intent to leave him, you daft rogue. I’m going to find him.”
“With the help of your gentleman caller? Won’t that raise brows?”
With stockings in hand, Kira paused in her packing to hoist one hand on her hip and stare at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“Why do men insist that women need them when it’s the men themselves who are clearly lacking in mental capacity?” She heaved a disgusted sigh.
He shot her an open-mouthed stare. “You insulted me!”
“Yes, I did. I am going alone, you buffoon. Consider that if I left again with a man who was not my husband that I would be completely beyond the pale. Contrary to your inebriated thought, I would not do that to myself.”
“Going alone is equally shocking. Worse, even, for do you know what manner of thieves and scoundrels—”
“There are dangerous people everywhere. Look in a mirror.”
Ouch! “Kira, be reasonable—”
“I will not. I can no longer sit idle and worry about my brother and my fiancé because you consider me too helpless to do anything.”
Kira had never been helpless. He’d never considered her in that light at all. But if she were attacked by someone on England’s dark roads, she had no way to defend herself. And if Lord Vance found her, Gavin doubted he would let her get away so easily again.
“I’m coming with you,” he declared.
“No, you are not.” She stuffed her stockings into her valise, refusing to look at him.
He grabbed her arm to stop her. “I am.”
As she glared at him with all the heat in hell, another thought occurred to him. “How are you going to find them? You have no more notion than I do where they are.”
“You’re quite wrong,” she taunted.
That news cleared the fuzz from his head. “You know something? And you didn’t tell me?”
Kira sent him a cloyingly sweet smile. His anger soared.
“Aunt Caroline has spent the last week sobbing and bending my ear because her son is missing. And you told me nothing?”
“If you’ll recall, you spent most of the last two weeks avoiding me.”
Yes, damn it, he had. He shook his head. In any case, her withholding was irrelevant.
“Whatever. I insist on going with you.”
She gasped. “But your grace, whatever will the ton think of you associating with me? Why, they might withdraw your invitations.” Artificial despair transformed her features. “Your aunt might have to spend her evenings at home if you’re seen with me. Better not to risk their wagging tongues.”
Her face became an angry scowl. With a huff, she lifted several pairs of gloves and shoved them atop the stockings. Gavin was no less happy.
Kira was right. People would talk if they knew he and James’s fiancée traveled alone together. But he felt sure he could arrange a falsehood or two that would eliminate suspicion. Yes, they could circulate the story that Kira was returning to her Suffolk home and—and Gavin could invent a trip to Birmingham to check on the end of the railroad line. That sounded good, smart even, despite the bottle of brandy he’d consumed earlier.
“You mock me,” Gavin accused.
“You discerned that all alone? Perhaps you’ll learn yet.”
“Damnation, you have a nasty temper!”
Her cutting stare sliced him. “It’s how I respond to dictatorial boors.”
“I don’t care. I am going with you.”
“Darius is my brother, my family!”
“James is my cousin, my responsibility.”
Kira glared at him in stubborn silence, but she couldn’t refute that.
With clenched teeth, she regarded him. “I refuse to travel with you.”
“As you wish. Until we find Darius and James, I shall travel behind you.” He smiled, liking the idea already. “Wherever you go, I shall follow, quite closely. In fact, about six inches from your back—”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Her narrowed eyes told him she very much feared he would.
Gavin flashed her his brightest grin yet and left to start his own packing.
* * * *
“Remember, you’re my cousin,” Gavin whispered to her as they placed their horses in the care of a young boy and headed toward the Tall Tree Inn, centered in the Cornish countryside.
Kira wanted to refute him. But she knew from the past several nights of travel that no reputable innkeeper would rent her a room if she traveled unescorted, despite having money. As if that didn’t flare her temper to new heights, the fact that Gavin took advantage of the situation, remaining annoyingly close, irritated her even more.
“Perish the thought,” Kira murmured instead.
Gavin said nothing, but the hand he tightened around her arm told her that he heard.
Good. She hoped sincerely that something she said made him feel half as wretched as she did. Besides the fact every muscle in her body ached from s
pending hours upon hours in the saddle, she had to contend with the dreadfully handsome scoundrel who had broken her heart, who forever tried to speak to her but never uttered a single word of marriage. Apparently he wanted her to be happy, despite his ruining and abandoning her.
How she wished they would find Darius and James in the next five minutes. But that wasn’t likely to happen. Over the past five days, she and Gavin had found an assortment of innkeepers who remembered either her brother, his cousin—or both—but no one had any other details to impart. In her bags, she had hidden Darius’s letter to Mr. Burgess, and she had no intent to share it with her all-too-attractive nemesis. Now that they had reached Tavistock, Kira hoped to lose Gavin and see to this mess herself. He could rot wherever he chose, as long as he wasn’t near her. For when he came near, she was hard-pressed to keep her heartache at bay.
Once ensconced in the inn under false names, the innkeeper’s wife bustled them into the only remaining private parlor with Cornish pasties and strong, hot tea.
“This’ll nourish yer weary bones.”
Kira stared at the aging woman, who was robust and buxom with a graying chignon wrapped tightly at the back of her head. The innkeeper’s wife looked like the kind of woman designed to survive the harsh, rock-strewn countryside.
When the woman finished setting the trays before them, she turned a smile to them. Kira wanted to ask her questions about Darius and James. But she wanted to get the woman alone to do it. Gavin could find his own information.
“I’ll return with yer scones and clotted cream, dearies.”
Before they could reply, she left.
Gavin turned to her, cup of tea in hand.
He looked ready to speak—again. Kira did not wish to hear anything he was inclined to say.
“From the manner in which you insisted we lodge here, I assume that we’ve arrived at our final destination,” he reasoned. “I insist you tell me of the information you received before we left London.”
Actually, he’d already discerned it for himself, but Kira would rather cut her tongue out than admit it. “Insist all you like.”
