by Shayla Black
Finally, Vance looked nervous. He licked his lips, glancing at Darius over his right shoulder and at Gavin over his left.
“Yes, you’re trapped.” Gavin smiled.
And before Gavin could blink, Vance raced across the room and closed in on him, knife high in the air. Gavin raised his gun in defense and leapt back, trying to get off a steady shot. But the viscount’s blade swooped down and sliced a gash in his wrist. Gavin felt a scrape and a burn. Blood began rushing in a warm trickle across his skin, quickly dotting the floor in crimson. He cursed and pulled his arm to his side.
“Cropthorne, move out of the way so I can shoot the bastard!” Darius shouted.
Then Vance wielded the wicked blade down again. Gavin scrambled back, evading the worst of the blow, but Vance still managed to slice another cut into Gavin’s thigh.
He staggered to remain on his feet, refusing to give up. Then Vance tried to run past him. Gavin latched on to the swine’s coat with his unwounded hand and yanked back. The viscount turned around with a snarl on his white face and raised his knife up high above Gavin’s chest.
Gavin leaned away from the blade’s arc as Vance swung it down. At the last second, Gavin pushed the villain away and fired his pistol. The force of the blow nearly knocked him over.
Then Gavin heard an echo, another blast. He smelled the acrid scent of gunpowder, heard Vance grunt in pain.
The bounder staggered back, clutching his stomach. Red rivulets of blood ran in every direction from the wound within instants, staining his crisp white shirt. He also sported another gunshot deep in his shoulder.
Apparently, he and Darius had chosen the same course of action, only one had had better aim than the other. He hardly cared which now, only that Vance wasn’t going to get away.
The viscount looked up at Darius, then at Gavin, his blue eyes glazing over with a mixture of fury and pain.
“You bastards!”
“No.” Darius advanced on the viscount, teeth gritted. “That honor is yours.” He cursed. “I bloody wanted to see you suffer before you died.”
“You’re both stupid savages,” he cursed. “They’re just women!”
“And you’re just a criminal,” Gavin returned.
Darius grabbed the viscount by his lapels. “Why did you prey upon my sister?”
“Go to hell,” he muttered, grimacing.
“Why?” he demanded.
Still, Vance refused to reply.
“Because she is beautiful and sensual, intelligent and exotic. Men would have paid a fortune to have her,” Gavin finally supplied.
Darius glared at him, then turned back to his quarry. “Why did you malign her to the ton? Why did you ruin her with lies?”
Vance didn’t answer. Instead, he turned whiter. He made a gurgling noise. Lifting his hands away from his stomach, Vance looked down to find them covered in red. His eyes widened, then rolled into the back of his head.
He slumped to the ground, dead.
With a vicious curse, Darius kicked Vance in the ribs. “Why, you son of a bitch?”
“Because he could discredit her with lies,” Gavin offered. “If the ton thought her a whore, no one would believe her if she chose to inform anyone of his unscrupulous conduct.”
Darius turned to him and swallowed. “Kira did not deserve the hell he put her through.”
“No, she didn’t.”
The fists balled at Darius’s side told Gavin the young man was full of rage at the injustice of Vance’s actions. And Gavin himself felt outrage for the evil viscount’s scheme, that he’d inflicted such pain upon Kira. But the man was dead now. He could not threaten another woman again.
Screaming at the far end of the altar brought Gavin’s gaze back around. Darius followed suit. Charlotte and Beatrice!
Gavin ran to the slabs which held them chained, Darius at his heels. In seconds, they freed the girls. Charlotte’s pale eyes were wild with rage, her fair skin mottled as Darius removed his long coat and placed it around her shoulders. Gavin performed the same act for Beatrice, but she fell into his arms, sobbing.
And Gavin thanked God they were safe. More, he thanked God that Kira was safe. Now that he’d seen for himself what she had endured, he understood all too well what could have become her fate. And having held her in his arms, kissed and stroked her, laughed and sang and commiserated with her, the thought of losing Kira filled his gut with a giant, aching gape.
Chapter Sixteen
The following day, Darius went to the local constable to answer questions about Lord Vance’s death and the young girls’ rescue. Kira left for London with James and Gavin.
It rained. Kira swore the pitter-patter of the fat droplets on the carriage roof was the only sound in the somber vehicle for miles. Gavin, having received a pair of stitches on his wrist and five in his thigh where Lord Vance had stabbed him, slept for most of the first day of the journey. James was oddly quiet.
Even Kira had little to say. Still she could not believe the extent of Vance’s evil plans. Relieved did not begin to describe her reaction, knowing that he would not prey upon her—or anyone else—again.
But more than Vance weighed upon her mind. Since leaving Cornwall, she’d scarcely had a moment alone with Gavin. Still, she had no notion what he’d intended to say to—or ask—her before Darius’s interruption at the Tall Tree Inn. She was beyond impatient to know the answer. She felt foolish, but Kira could not stop hoping he would propose.
Perhaps she wished for the moon, but Gavin’s behavior after their lovemaking was different than before. After the night in the library, he’d run from the room and done his best to avoid her for nearly a week. This time, he had all but pleaded with her to stay beside him. He’d held her hand the following morning as well. Even now, her palm tingled where he’d massaged it with his thumb. Most compelling, he had risked his life to kill Vance and repair her reputation. What man would do so much if he did not love her?
Kira sighed. What had she seen in Lord Vance? A title, she supposed. Never knowing anyone with his deceitful nature before, she believed his flattery and false charm. He’d seemed to like her, regardless of her Persian heritage.
By eloping with Lord Vance, she had also imagined she would be less of a burden to her brother, so he might be free to live his own life, rather than seeing after hers. Instead, Darius had abandoned his pursuits to avenge her. He was the best brother ever, and Kira wondered what she would ever do without him.
She also wondered what to do with her life now.
Casting a sideways glance at her fiancé, Kira studied James. His blond hair glinted when the occasional ray of sun penetrated the thick clouds. Sleepiness softened his face. He stared out the window, watching the passing scenery. He’d folded his smooth hands and rested them atop the Bible sitting in his lap.
Beside him, Gavin slept, his large frame slouched against the side of the black vehicle. Repose tempered the hard angles of his face a bit. He’d lost blood, the surgeon had said before stitching him up. Kira didn’t remember a time she’d been so worried about an injury, or so stunned that he’d done so much to help rid her of Lord Vance’s threat and lies.
She hoped he’d done that to clear a path for their future. The T & S railroad might even have launched today, and he had missed the festivities to help and protect her. Kira could think of no reason why he would risk so much, except love. And since they’d made love at the inn, Gavin’s constant gaze had been warm, if a bit anxious. Perhaps the idea of proposing marriage rattled his composure. Kira smiled at the thought.
While she was not entirely certain when Gavin had changed his mind on the matter of marriage, his actions seemed to indicate that he had. She sighed in frustration. If only they could spend a few minutes alone so that she could know for certain!
It wasn’t as if he could blurt such a question out in front of James. And perhaps Gavin delayed asking her out of deference to his cousin. It was entirely possible—probable even—that Gavin did not want to make an
y claim upon her until he knew James would not be hurt. Yes, that made sense.
As for Kira herself… Well, she had never loved a man the way she loved Gavin and was thrilled that he might want to make her his wife.
By the time they reached London, Kira knew what she must do with her future. And her first course of action was to speak with James.
“Mr. Howland,” she said to him in the cloud-covered garden the gray morning after their arrival in London.
The breeze tugged at his fair hair as he raised his head from the flowers he had picked. Kira feared they were for her, and she didn’t know what to say. Romantic gestures on his part would only make this meeting more awkward.
“Hello.” He smiled. “How good to see you. Did you sleep well finally?”
“I fear not.”
Concern shadowed his blue eyes as he faced her. “You must put the past behind you. Lord Vance is dead, and Gavin sent word only hours ago that they rescued nine girls from Mrs. Linde’s brothel. All of the girls should be returned to their families soon.”
Kira’s heart went out to each one of those poor creatures. She could scarcely imagine the hell they had endured. “I am indeed relieved they are free. Pray God they find happiness somehow. And I hope Mrs. Linde sees the inside of a prison.”
“She almost certainly will.”
“That is very good news. Thank you.”
James nodded. “Shall we walk.”
Kira smiled and placed her gloved hand upon his arm, uncertain how to proceed. “May I speak with you about…us?”
James peered at her, confusion rife on his face, until comprehension dawned. “Ah, you wish to discuss our wedding. It’s natural that you should wish to settle your future.”
Kira swallowed. He was so dear and unspoiled. But he was a boy, really. She owed him a great deal. And for his sake—and for her own happiness—she must do this.
“I do wish to settle my future.” She took her gloved hand from his arm and folded them before her. “And I must do it by declining your proposal of marriage.”
Shock transformed James’s face. Mouth agape, he frowned. The flowers slipped from his finger to the blood red bricks below.
“W—why?”
“We do not love each other.”
“Love isn’t necessary for marriage.” His frowned showed confusion. “It only requires companionship and… and respect, commitment to each other and to God.”
“Marriage does require all you say,” she agreed. “But to make me whole, it must contain love. I need it. Someday, you might feel the same, and if you wed me out of duty or pity, you would not be free to pursue your heart. I refuse to be in your way when you meet the someone who wins your love.”
“I’m perfectly fond of you,” he objected.
She smiled. “As I am of you, but that is not the same as love.”
He sighed, looked at his feet. “Do you love another?”
Kira wanted to avoid the truth, but James was too sweet a man to lie to. “Yes.”
James absorbed the news with a slow nod. He turned to retrieve the flowers, one tender, colorful bud at a time, clearly stalling for time.
“Will you marry him?” he asked finally.
She wished it with all her heart. “I believe so.”
“You’re certain you want to do this? What of your reputation?”
“I’m quite certain.” Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Now that Lord Vance’s deeds have been exposed, perhaps the ton will see me as more a victim than a seductress.”
“That would seem fair.” He nodded.
Optimistic, as usual. Kira had always liked that about James. She smiled, genuine fondness for him swelling inside her. She hoped to call him cousin soon, but she would always call him friend.
“You’ll be leaving, I suppose.” He looked dejected by the prospect.
Kira hoped he understood someday that she was doing the right thing. “I must, though I will beg upon your hospitality until my brother returns from Cornwall.” And she and Gavin could hopefully settle upon the details of a life together.
“Of course. You should not travel alone.”
“Thank you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, everything you were willing to do to save my reputation. You deserve the very best in life.”
He handed the flowers to her with a soft smile. “So do you.”
* * * *
Listless, Kira walked the length of the gallery that night, waiting for Gavin’s return. She scanned the wall of his ancestors. The family resemblance from father to son was strong, deviating by eye color or chin shape every few generations. Indeed, Gavin looked a great deal like his father, yet without the devil-may-care attitude apparent in the previous duke’s grin.
“That was my brother, Richard.”
Kira whirled to Mrs. Howland’s voice to find the small woman standing near, fat, graying ringlets framing her round face. She looked anxious, and Kira wondered what the woman wanted.
“I guessed as much,” she replied.
“As you can see, we keep a number of family portraits here. That was Gavin’s mother, Jane.” Mrs. Howland pointed to the image of a fragile russet-haired creature with large green eyes.
The air of responsibility, the serious slant to her expression—Kira saw where Gavin had acquired those, as well as the shallow cleft in his chin.
“She was lovely,” Kira said.
Mrs. Howland nodded. “She died very young.”
“I’m sorry.” Kira wondered what the woman wanted. The longer she stood here making idle conversation, the more she knew something was afoot.
“James told me that you’ve ended your engagement.”
So, he’d told his mother already. It was for the best, Kira was sure. Now all that remained was for Kira to tell Gavin so they might get on with their lives.
“Indeed. I came to realize that we did not suit.”
Mrs. Howland absorbed the victory with a wry smile. “I have not been very kind to you, and I see that I owe you an apology.”
“Apology?”
“Indeed. You risked yourself to help bring James home, rather than letting Gavin rescue his cousin himself. And James also told me of Lord Vance’s terrible deeds. I had no notion…”
Kira saved the older woman from her discomfort. “Oh, no one did, least of all me, not until it was nearly too late.”
“Still, I misjudged you. You were not a party to Lord Vance’s seduction but a victim of it. I see now why marrying my son seemed like the perfect solution to your dilemma. And still, you chose the difficult path of courage to set him free.”
Kira had set herself free as well in the hopes of wedding Gavin. Even if she had not, she felt certain she could never have gone through with a marriage to James.
“I truly am sorry,” murmured Mrs. Howland.
Kira swallowed. Mrs. Howland may not ever like her, but she was no longer an enemy “Thank you. That means a great deal to me.”
* * * *
That night, Kira waited in Gavin’s room for his arrival. Now they would finally have a moment alone to settle the future.
She had searched for Gavin for hours after ending her engagement with James so she might inform him that the obstacle to their union—namely her engagement—was of no consequence anymore. Now that Lord Vance had been exposed as a liar, certainly the scandal would die. And if Gavin knew she loved him and that James would not be hurt by their marriage, Kira prayed he would propose. His willingness to risk his life to protect her safety and repair her reputation proved that he cared a great deal.
Now she lay naked in Gavin’s bed, missing him, impatient to connect with him again. She yearned to experience the magic they generated, show him the tender love she had for him. She prayed he would look inside his heart and heed its call, for she knew if he did, they would always be together.
At half past two in the morning, Gavin strode in. As she’d hoped, he did not rouse his valet. They were alone.
In t
he shadows, Kira lay behind the sheer draping about his massive bed and watched as he shrugged out of his somber blue coat and dark trousers. He was meticulous as he laid them across the back of a plush green striped Louis XV chair. Her own brother would have simply left them in a heap on the floor. But that was Gavin—special in small ways.
With elegant fingers, he untied his crisp cravat, loosened his very white shirt, and pulled it over his head, revealing the taut skin rippling across his chest and abdomen. Kira devoured the visual treat, then skimmed down to the length of his calves evident beneath his drawers.
Then, at last, those came off as well. Naked and near perfect, Gavin stood, all wide shoulders and lean torso, supported by long, strong legs.
And he had held her. Kira remembered the pleasure to be found in his embrace, her heart expanding with joy as he possessed her as if he meant never to let her go. In truth, she could not forget a moment of her time with the man.
She hoped that a reminder of their sizzling perfection as lovers would start their life together on a happy note.
After draping his shirt across the chair, Gavin reached inside his wardrobe and retrieved a nightshirt. Then he padded on bare feet toward the bed. Though she could not discern his exact expression in the darkness, Kira thought he looked troubled.
Well, a good wife’s duty was to ease her husband’s mind, and she knew the perfect way.
Gavin neared the bed and raised the nightshirt above his head, as if he meant to don it.
“I do not think you will need that tonight,” she murmured.
With a start, Gavin pulled the drape aside. His gaze fell upon her immediately. She was covered. Though she’d wished she could be daring and lay before him completely unclothed, she found herself oddly reticent. For all of her sneaking into his bed, she simply wasn’t bold.
“Kira, what are you doing here?”
She raised herself up on her elbow, allowing her unbound hair to fall across her bare shoulders and half-covered breasts, while she extracted the garment from his fingers. Gavin’s gaze followed the movement. Instantly, his shoulders tensed.
