Chapter Six

God help him, he had used Kendrick in the most brutal of ways and now he’d deflowered her. Her words rang in his ears and soothed his intense anger, "Only you, Roane, it was always you."

Still, he hadn’t believed her. Had he really marched her through an entire ballroom of gaping jaws and enjoyed belittling her? Once he locked her in this room, he intended to prove her a liar, a treacherous woman who had cast him aside like last week’s bread. The opposite happened. She succumbed to his savage ravishment, indeed, asked for more. She proved her love to him this day, unequivocally.

He should have taken his anger and hatred out on Pitt. The man had always followed her around like a long-eared hound, tried his best to worm his way into her life. How smug Fleming must have felt when word came of his death. If the man stood in front of him now, he would rip him apart limb by limb.

Kendrick looked up at him, her flawless cheeks stained with tears. Guilt pulled at his insides. He eased out of her and then took her in his arms and held her close. "Don’t cry; I can’t bear your tears."

"Tears of joy," she whispered against his shirt.

"I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you. You’ll never have reason to cry again."

"Promise." She snuggled into him, the scent of their lovemaking drifting around them.

He closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer skyward. Of all the things he imagined would happen today, this wasn’t on his list. "My oath."

"I do have a confession to make."

His body went rigid. He should have known this was too good to be true. Bracing for her words, he tilted her chin up with a knuckle. "Go ahead, tell me."

"I want you again. God help me, I think I’ll want you all the time now."

"Is that your confession?"

Her brow furrowed. "Yes, were you expecting something more?"

He blew air out his mouth.

"Roane, there is no more. I love you. I have always loved you. When I take my last breath, I will love you still."

What made him ever think he could ravish her and walk away? He loved her more than life, more than breath. "I don’t know how you can love such a-a..."

She chuckled. "Beast?"

"Yes, beast comes to mind after what I did to you."

Looking into his eyes, she wrapped her arms about his neck. "I rather like you as a beast."

"I must remember to growl often after we’re married."

"Did you say grovel?"

His eyes narrowed. "You know perfectly well I said growl."

Panic crossed her features. "What are we to do? By now, Pitt, Dowager Huggins and all her guests will wonder what happened to me. The Dowager can smell a scandal with her nose pinched."

Roane walked to her clothing several feet away, returned, and handed her the garments. "Let me worry about them. Dress now and I will wait for you on the landing leading to the ballroom. We shall face the rabid dogs together." His lips thinned. "I will handle Pitt. As for those who spend their days steeped in tittle-tattle, not a one would dare say a word against my wife."

"No, I don’t imagine they would. They’d be too frightened of the repercussions."

Roane lifted her down from the settee and set her on her feet. She stepped into the pantalets and next donned her corset. Tilting her head to the side, she looked at him. "Your family is very wealthy, aren’t they? Or is that rumor too?"

Other than the scornful chuckle he emitted earlier, he laughed for the first time since they entered the room. "No rumor that. You’ll never want for anything, beauty."

She pulled the gown over her head and again turned her back to him. "Buttons, please."

When he finished with the buttons, another laugh left his lips before he nodded toward the door. "I must go. I’m sure they have the bloodhounds out by now."

"Oh, no. I hope they don’t pick up our scent. If they enter the library, they’ll rip the tabby apart."

"The Dowager calls her Calypso," He scanned the room for the creature. "I could have ripped the tabby apart myself not long ago. I lost ten years of my life when she leaped from the floor to the window."

"You were not the one sprawled naked over the settee." She followed his wandering gaze and wondered what the mischief-maker was up to now. There’s no a sign of the fur ball anywhere."

"I’m loath to leave you, but I must, beauty." Roane headed for the door, turned the lock and opened it.

Only to be met by a red-faced Pitt Fleming and a bevy of onlookers. "Where is she? What have you done with my fiancé?"

Roane stepped aside, and with a flourish of his arm in the direction of Kendrick said, "As you can see, she’s here, alive and well."

Pitt rushed into the room, his gaze taking in her disheveled appearance. His face had gone from red to purple as he attempted to draw her into his arms.

"No, Pitt, I’m sorry." She took several steps back. "I didn’t want to tell you like this, but I can’t marry you now that Roane has returned."

"You can’t mean that, Kendrick. I’m certain the man has bedeviled you, swept in like a hero recently returned from the war, but nothing has changed between us."

A feigned giggle left her lips. "Pitt, look at me. Everything has changed. If you force me into a confession in front of God and everyone, I’ll oblige, but―"

"Blame me, Fleming, if you must blame someone." Roane walked toward him. "I forced myself upon Kendrick."

The crowd clustered around the door gasped in unison.

Pitt turned to Roane, frothing at the mouth. "That is apparent, Bradfield." He turned to Kendrick again. "Needless to say, the banns will be canceled posthaste. I have no desire to climb between the legs of a whore."

Roane grabbed him by his fine cambric shirt, his tone lethal. "If you ever so much as whisper her name again, I’ll kill you."

His complexion reverting to an angry crimson, Pitt snarled the words. "I accept your challenge. Dawn. Pistols. My estate. Ready your second."

"No," Kendrick screamed, ran to Roane and clung to his neck. "Don’t listen to him. He knew you would react once he called me a whore. His reputation on the dueling field is well known, Roane. I beg of you, walk away."

His voice softened. "I cannot, Kendrick." He looked over her mass of blond curls, his tone steady and clear. "Pistols it is, Fleming. At dawn."

Pitt marched from the room, and realizing the show had ended for the time being, the crowd disbursed soon after.

Kendrick sobbed against Roane’s chest. "He’ll kill you. He’s an expert marksman."

Roane’s finger lifted her chin. "Then I’ll whisper your name with my last breath."