CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Thursday arrived, but instead of having tea with Celia Rollins, Velvet sat next to Jason in Litchfield’s borrowed black carriage, jostling along the muddy road on the way to the Peregrine’s Roost.

She’d had to beg Jason to let her come with him.

“I won’t be a burden,” she’d argued. “I can help you. If I dress as a chambermaid, I can move freely among the servants. They love to gossip. I can get them to tell me things you couldn’t begin to ferret out.”

He scowled. “You don’t look the least bit like a servant. There isn’t a one of them you’d be able to fool.”

Her chin went up. She flashed him a saucy bright smile, clamped her hands on her hips, and tossed her head. “I’d ’ave to differ wi’ ye, gov. I’d ’ave to say I could do a right foine job o’ makin’ ’em believe me, if I were a mind to.”

Jason’s jaw dropped. “How in God’s name did you learn to talk like that?”

Velvet grinned. “Have you ever listened to Tabby? John Wilton isn’t much better. With as few servants as we had left at Windmere, we all grew fairly close.”

Jason shook his head. “I don’t like it, Velvet.”

“You don’t have to like it. You can pretend you don’t know me. I’ll arrive on horseback, say I’m headed for a job at Castle Running—or better yet, Carlyle Hall. That will give me an opening to talk about the duke. I’ll say my cousin works there, that she got me the job. The rest I’ll play by ear.”

“I don’t know…” Jason rubbed the late afternoon shadow of beard that darkened his jaw. “Avery’s even more dangerous than we believed. If he somehow got wind that you were sniffing around again, if he started putting things together—”

“That isn’t going to happen. The man isn’t omnipotent. There is no way he could know we were there.”

Jason said nothing for several long moments. “I still don’t like it.”

Velvet grinned. “But you’ll do it—right, gov?”

A hint of amusement then a frustrated sigh whispered out. “I have to find out if anyone at the inn actually saw the murder. As a servant, you might have a chance at the truth. Besides, I’ll be there to make sure you don’t get into trouble.” He pinned her with a glare. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

Velvet’s lashes swept down. “Of course, my lord.”

She wasn’t about to argue. She wanted Jason there, wanted to be with him as much as she possibly could. She was determined she could make him care for her enough to stay in England—or if he left, to take her with him. Being married to her, she had decided, was in his best interests as well as her own.

And so they’d set out the following day, Jason driving Litchfield’s stylish one-horse phaeton, a bony gray saddle horse tied on behind for Velvet’s hopefully inconspicuous arrival at the inn. Jason would be playing the part he had played before, Jason Hawkins, a member of the landed gentry just passing through.

Less than a mile from the Peregrine’s Roost, he pulled the conveyance off the road and helped Velvet down, then settled her astride the old gray horse, pulling her simple woolen skirt down to cover her legs as best he could, then scowling at the portion of trim, stockinged ankle still exposed.

“I’ll follow at a distance,” he said, his face still dark, “make sure you get there safely. An hour later, I’ll join you.”

“All right.” She was dressed in a brown woolen skirt and an unbleached muslin blouse, a mobcap hiding most of her dark auburn hair.

Jason caught the horse’s rein as she started to ride away. “Dammit, I don’t like involving you in this. Are you sure you want to go through with it?”

Velvet flashed him a jaunty smile. “Whot ye think, gov? I can ’ardly wait to get there.”

Jason flinched. “Steer clear of the taproom. The men in there might find a woman traveling alone a bit too much temptation.”

“Right ye are, gov.”

Reluctantly, he grinned. “As charming as you look in that getup, I’m afraid I’d turn out to be one of them.”

Twin spots of color rose into Velvet’s cheeks. Then her warm smile slowly faded. “Good luck, Jason.” She blew him a soft pretend kiss, and reined the bony old horse away.

Jason watched her ride off with a mixture of unease and admiration. She had more brass than any two men he knew. She was loyal and she was fiercely determined. If he was the man he had been eight years ago, he would be proud to claim her as his wife. Then again, if he was that naive young man, he would have married Celia Rollins. He wouldn’t have been smart enough to recognize the qualities he admired in Velvet. He would have been too busy listening to his little head instead of thinking with his big one.

Cursing himself, Jason rolled along behind Velvet in the phaeton, then waited in a leafy copse of trees for the hour to pass so he could follow her into the inn.

When he finally arrived, he spotted her old gray nag in the stable. Tossing the stable lad a coin to see to his own horse and rig, he made his way across the courtyard to the entrance of the inn. Ivy covered the thick stone walls and hung down over the low wooden door. He ducked his head and stepped into the flagstone entry.

At first he didn’t see her, not until he walked past the door to the kitchen. Spotting her small form hidden behind a cloud of steam erupting from the stove, he was amazed to see her working. Apparently she had traded a night of lodging for a day of labor.

It shouldn’t have surprised him but it did.

Jason felt the pull of a smile. At least he knew where she was and what she was doing. Hopefully it would keep her out of trouble.

He made his way to the taproom, a low-ceilinged room crisscrossed with heavy wooden beams. Though the place was old and a bit age-worn, the flagstone floors were neatly swept, the walls newly whitewashed since his last visit. He remembered the proprietor had always done his best to keep the place clean. Apparently, he still did.

Settling himself at an empty wooden table in the corner where he could watch the comings and goings in the room, he leaned back and called for the serving maid, then ordered a tankard of ale. The balance of the day and most of the evening, he spent either at his table or milling about the inn. He spoke to the barkeep and the serving wench in the taproom, spoke to several of the inn’s longtime patrons, but decided to take it easy, to wait a while, let Velvet have a go at the servants before he pressed too hard.

Leaning back against the wall behind his roughhewn table, he pulled the gold watch fob from his pocket, flipped open the lid, and checked the time. Fifteen minutes before eleven. Time for his rendezvous with Velvet in the stable.

Having learned that the stable lad had already gone to bed in a nook above the carriage house, assuring they would be alone, Jason left the inn by a small door at the rear of the taproom and crossed to the barn. Only a sliver of moon lit the night, and odd-shaped passing clouds occasionally obscured even those few puny rays of brightness.

Moving through the shadows, his long strides lengthened. He was eager to find out what Velvet might have learned. He wanted to be sure she was all right, and that she had a decent place to sleep. If nothing had been discovered, tomorrow he would try again, press until he had the answers to his questions.

Pausing inside the door, he could just make out the faint glow of a lantern, the candle behind the thick glass burning so low there was barely the hint of a flame. Then he caught a glimpse of Velvet’s mop-capped head. Even in the dimly lit stall where she waited, he could see damp strands of her long dark hair, loose and glinting red at her temples, see her cheeks flushed pink with exertion.

“Jason,” she called into the darkness. “I’m over here in the corner.” He could see that she was. He could see as well that her blouse was moist with the heat of the kitchen and clinging seductively to her bosom. Without the panniers she usually wore beneath her skirts, her hips were rounded, womanly, incredibly alluring.

He approached her in the stall where she stood in front of a worn leather saddle, but paused a few feet away, not trusting himself to get closer. “Did you have any luck?”

She dabbed at the perspiration on her forehead with the back of a hand. “Not as much as I had hoped. At least not yet.”

He wasn’t surprised, yet disappointment coursed through him. “We knew it wouldn’t be easy. We’ll try again tomorrow.” His eyes ran over her clinging, rumpled clothes. Hard work agreed with her. He wouldn’t have believed it. In truth she looked as pretty in her simple working garments as if she were gowned in silk.

“What I meant to say,” she amended, “was I didn’t find out as much as I wanted, but someone here knows something, Jason. Someone at the inn saw something that night—I’m certain of it. There is no doubt in any of the servants’ minds that the old duke’s murderer was not his eldest son.”

Jason’s heart began pumping. He fought down a surge of excitement. “Do you think you can find out who it is?”

“I’ll find out, sooner or later. I told the cook I had several more days before my new job started and she said she could use the extra help. In a few more days—”

Jason frowned. “In a few more days, you’ll be back in London. I can’t stay past tomorrow without arousing suspicion and I’m not about to leave you here alone.”

The line of Velvet’s jaw went firm. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is the chance we’ve been waiting for. I’m not about to leave until we find the person who can help you clear your name.”

“I said, you’re leaving with me.”

Her small hands clamped on her hips. “I’m staying till I find out which of these people saw your father murdered.”

“You’re leaving.”

“I’m staying.”

His jaw flexed. The woman was a menace. She was also the most appealing little baggage he had ever seen. “If you were really my wife, I would beat you.”

She cocked a brow, a slow grin forming. “I don’t think so.”

A corner of his mouth tugged up. “Oh, you don’t? If I remember correctly, you made that mistaken presumption before.”

She flushed prettily but remained where she stood, not one bit daunted by his words. Then the teasing note in his voice slid away. “You don’t know me, Velvet. If you did, you wouldn’t be so sure.”

She stared at him for long silent moments, her eyes running over his face. “You’re wrong, Jason. You’re the one who doesn’t know who you are. I know that you’re a good and noble man. You’re a man of principle. You’re gentle and decent—”

“That is what you think, Velvet? That I am a man of principles? That I am gentle and decent?”

“Yes.”

Velvet watched him move closer, his eyes fierce now, burning with a hungry light that darkened them almost to pitch. “If that is what you believe, perhaps it is time you found out exactly how wrong you are. Let me tell you what it is at this moment that I am thinking.”

She moistened her lips, nervous now as he loomed above her, yet somehow strangely intrigued.

“I am thinking that you have never looked more enticing to me than you do at this very instant. I am thinking I should like to pull the cap from your hair and drag my fingers through it. I would kiss you, roughly, ravish that sweet mouth and plunder those ripe, seductive lips.” His jaw tightened. Desire blazed in his eyes like a flame burning out of control. “Then I would take you—right here in the stable. I would bend you over that saddle, lift your skirts and plunge myself inside you. That is what I am thinking. That is exactly what I would like to do. Is that the gentle man you imagined? Surely even you are not too blind to see there isn’t an ounce of gentleness left in me.”

The pounding of Velvet’s heart made it difficult for her to speak. The heat pumping through her made the inside of her mouth feel hot and dry. “We could do it that way … make love as the horses do?”

“Sweet God, aren’t you listening! You’re a lady, forgodsakes. Surely you don’t want me to take you right here!”

“You have done it that way before, have you not?”

“Of course, but—”

“No one is here. If I were your lover instead of your wife, would you make love to me here in that way?”

Glittering blue eyes bored into her. “Aye. I would take you now … here … take you as I have wanted to every day since the first moment I saw you.”

Velvet reached for his hands, slid his wide palms over her breasts. Her nipples went hard at his touch and she heard him groan. “From the start, you have been more than clear in the fact that I am not your wife. Once I was your lover. Please, Jason … I want to be your lover again.”

He shook his head, but he didn’t move his hands, his fingers curling instead around her, testing the firmness, the fullness.

“I’m only a man,” he said roughly, his gaze intense. “God knows I have tried to be a better one, but it appears once more I have failed.”

His arm slid around her. Jason hauled her against him, his mouth coming down hard, slanting over hers. A hand swept the cap from her head and he dragged his fingers through her hair, scattering what few pins remained, setting it free to tumble around her shoulders. Heat raced through her. The smell of man, horses, damp straw, and leather all combined to swamp her senses.

She clung to him and kissed him back, accepting the sweep of his tongue, the flood of warmth it stirred, the feel of his rock-hard torso crushed against her breasts. His hold on her shifted. He jerked the tie on the simple blouse she wore and dragged the material down to bare her breasts, then lifted one into his hand. He pebbled the end with his fingers, bent his head and sucked the nipple into his mouth, gently biting the crest.

Velvet swayed against him, arching her back, her nails digging into the thick bands of muscle across his shoulders. Good sweet God! Her breast swelled into his mouth; her nipples ached and distended. Her head fell back and he kissed the pulse at the base of her throat, trailed kisses across her bare shoulders.

“God, I want you.” Then he was turning her around, hauling up her simple brown skirt, jerking up her thin lawn chemise, leaving her legs and hips bare. She felt the smoothness of the saddle pressing into her stomach as he bent her over the seat. Her knees brushed the low rack it sat on. She heard the buttons on his breeches popping open one by one, then he was freeing himself, his hardened arousal pressing with resolve against her hips.

“Spread your legs for me, Velvet.”

She did as he told her, trembling with excitement, with heat and unbearable need. She whimpered at the hot flood of sensation when his fingers found the entrance to her core and he began to softly stroke her.

“You’re so wet.” His hands smoothed over skin, softly caressing. “So tight and hot.” He sank a finger deep inside, probing carefully, preparing her for him. Another finger sank in, stroking even more deeply between the plump, slick folds.

“Jason…” Her stomach contracted, the muscles tightening as a shattering climax tore through her. Pleasure rolled over her, whispered through her limbs, and she worried her legs might give way beneath her. For a moment she forgot where she was, knew only that sweet fire coursed through her in thick, mind-numbing waves. Then a stiff, pulsing heaviness slid deep inside and the waves of sweet sensation began to build again.

“Jason…?”

“Hang on, love.” Surging into her fully, his groin came hard against her bottom, his heavy shaft filling her, sliding out and then filling her yet again. Scorching heat broke over her, gooseflesh crested on her skin. His palms cupped her breasts, his fingers plucking the sensitive ends, then he settled his big hands at her waist and began to ride in earnest.

Dear sweet God! His deep, plunging rhythm had her hips arching upward, pulling him farther inside. Velvet’s eyes slid closed as wave after wave of pleasure swept through her. Sweet, sterling moments passed. Velvet moaned, her body constricting around him. Jason groaned and his muscles went rigid as he reached his own release.

At the last possible instant, he withdrew, spilling his precious seed onto the straw-covered floor beneath them. Breathing hard, he held her against him, his body still flush against hers.

His lips brushed the nape of her neck, the rim of an ear. One big hand smoothed over her hair. Then he was turning her into his arms, cradling her gently against his chest. They stood like that for long, silent minutes.

Idly, his hand cupped a breast. There was no tension there now, only a tender caress. “We have to go in, love.”

Velvet snuggled closer. “That was incredible, Jason. I can hardly believe the things you make me feel. If I cannot have you for a husband, I am more than happy to settle for this.”

She felt his muscles tighten and wished she had kept the thought to herself. He drew away from her, pulled her blouse up over her breasts, then began to refasten the buttons at the front of his breeches.

“That was a selfish thing to do,” he grumbled, “yet I cannot regret it.”

“I do not regret it. In truth, I already await the moment that it will happen again.”

He whirled on her, his expression dark once more. “No, dammit! If we keep this up, sooner or later there is bound to be a babe. What the devil would you do if I got you with child?”

Velvet blinked at the unexpected sting of moisture in her eyes. “I would love it, Jason. I would love to have your babe.” Her hand trembled where she pressed it against his chest. “I could love you, Jason … if you would let me.”

His face went paper white. Jason gripped her shoulders. “Don’t you understand—I don’t want you to love me. I don’t want you to have my child. What I feel for you is lust—nothing more. You’re a beautiful, desirable woman and I want you. That is all there is between us. That is all there ever will be!”

Pain jolted through her. She knew he felt that way and yet it hurt, dear God it hurt so badly. He turned and stalked away from her, pausing a moment at the door. He didn’t turn around. “Where are you sleeping?”

She swallowed past the ache that had risen in her throat. “I … have a room in the attic upstairs.”

“Will you be all right there?”

“The place is clean and neat. I’ll be fine.”

He still did not turn. “Is there a lock on the door?”

“Yes.”

“Use it.” And then he was gone.

*   *   *

Jason watched from the shadows beside the barn until Velvet appeared through the stable door then disappeared inside the back door of the inn. He returned to the taproom, his chest feeling leaden. Dammit, what was there about the girl that he couldn’t seem to resist her? Christ’s blood, she was young and naive. Why did he continue to take advantage?

But even as he said the words, his mind said Velvet was a woman not a girl. She was strong and determined and she knew exactly what she wanted. Still, he did not want to hurt her.

He settled himself heavily at a table to the right of the hearth. A group of soldiers, infantrymen from the fourth regiment just back from India, had arrived earlier in the evening, hard-drinking men, half of them drunk as lords by now, the other half well on their way to joining them.

Four of them were joking with the tavern maid, one of them a thick-chested sergeant with stripes on the sleeves of his red and white uniform. He reached over and pinched the skinny girl’s bottom. She jumped, spilling a tankard of ale, then turned to slap his hand.

“Mind your manners, sergeant.”

I’ll pay ye,” he whispered, the words more a loud hissing slur. “Give me a tumble and I’ll pay ye, lassie … more’n ye make here in a week. ’Tis months since me and the boys here been with a woman.”

Jason shifted uneasily, thinking of Velvet, not liking the direction of the men’s conversation. There weren’t that many women in the tavern and several of the soldiers had remarked on the “ripe little dark-haired beauty” they had spied in the kitchen when they came in.

The girl eyed the silver in the palm of the big sergeant’s hand. She glanced over her shoulder at the barkeep, then nodded. “Aye, I’ll meet you. I’m through here in an hour. I’ll meet you out in the stable. No one ever goes out there this time o’ night.”

A guilty flush warmed the back of Jason’s neck. Christ, he wasn’t much better than the sergeant, taking an innocent young girl like Velvet out in the stable, treating her like the doxy he had once called her. God’s breath, they had made love three times and never shared a proper bed. Worse than that, each time he had left her, he was already hard and wishing he could take her again. Good Christ, what was there about her?

At the table beside him, the sergeant grumbled something to the effect that an hour of waiting for a wench was too damned long, and the girl sauntered off to fetch another round of drinks. Jason ordered one as well, a mug of rum he finished far too quickly, then a second mug that finally had the desired effect and began to make him groggy.

He must have nodded off, for when he awakened a few minutes later, the sergeant was gone and two of the soldiers were haggling over a bet. One said the sergeant would slake his lust long before the hour was up, while the other man’s coin said the girl would refuse him, no matter how much money he offered.

A third man said it wouldn’t matter. The girl would wind up beneath him, whether she wanted it that way or not.

“Damn shame, you ask me,” the lanky corporal said. “The sergeant’s a rough one, when it comes to the women. Pretty little thing like that oughtn’t to be treated that way.”

Jason’s heart slammed hard against his ribs. Whatever effect the rum might have had was gone in a instant. He jerked to his feet so fast he knocked over his chair, and then he was running, his booted feet pounding toward the servants’ stairs at the back of the taproom.

*   *   *

Velvet awakened slowly, her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness of her small attic room. A noise had aroused her, the sound of metal grating, or perhaps it was the lifting of the latch on her door. She knew that couldn’t be. She had locked the door soundly. It must have been another door down the hall.

Rolling onto her back, she worked to get comfortable on the narrow, corn husk mattress when an odd prickling rose at the nape of her neck. Someone was in the room with her—she was sure of it. Someone was watching. Cold fear snaked down her spine, making her hands feel clammy. She bolted upright in her tiny single bed, her mouth opened wide on a scream.

A meaty hand clamped over her lips, stifling the sound, nearly gagging her. A heavy male body, ripe with the smell of sweat and rum, forced her back down on the bed.

“Hello, lass.” He twisted a lock of her hair around his callused thumb, and fear made her shiver. “Ain’t you a pretty little thing. You and me gonna get real well acquainted.”

His breeches were already partly unbuttoned, she saw. A thick roll around his waist hung over the band at the top. The fear increased, making her nauseous. He was twice her size. Even if she could pry away the hand and manage to cry out, the walls were thick and there was no one up there to hear her.

She started thrashing beneath him. God, he was so heavy! His foul breath filled her nostrils and tears began to burn behind her eyes. He let go of her long enough to grab the front of her night rail and Velvet jerked away, desperate to free herself. A scream erupted, but his hard slap muffled the sound. A second slap split her lip and made her ears ring. His long blunt fingers ripped her nightgown down the front, then he cruelly twisted one of her breasts.

“Ye better learn to please me, lass. Ye’ll learn quick enough, Sergeant Dillon don’t take no sass from a woman.”

She wet her lips, tasted the coppery flavor of her own blood, then steeled herself for another violent effort. She bucked and kicked, but couldn’t dislodge him. Her scream died beneath his thick, punishing lips. The bile rose in her throat and she thought she might be sick.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she bit down hard on the tongue he forced into her mouth, and he jerked backward, swearing violently, his fist lashing out, slamming against her jaw and knocking her nearly unconscious back down on the bed.

“Ye bloody little vixen. Ye’ll pay for that, ye will.”

“You’re the one who is going to pay,” said a soft, deadly voice from the doorway. “I’m going to kill you, Sergeant. I’m going to do it with these two hands.”

Velvet whimpered. The room spun crazily, yet there was no mistaking the tall forbidding figure standing in the shadows across the room. Jason had come. She blinked to clear the tears from her vision. Thank God, Jason had come.

The sergeant straightened away from her, his eyes now trained on his new quarry, and Velvet held her torn and bloody nightgown together over her aching breasts.

“The girl is mine, bucko. If I have to take ye down before I can have her, so it shall be.”

“Stand away from her,” Jason warned with deadly calm. For the first time, Velvet’s eyes came to rest on his face. She almost cried out at the cold-blooded menace she saw there, his eyes so piercing they looked black, his mouth no more than a hard, grim line. Every muscle in his powerful body quivered with fury. His hands were so tightly balled his knuckles looked as though they would pop through his skin.

She wiped at the blood oozing from the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t notice the pain. Instead she stared at the deadly combatants, then caught the glint of steel as the sergeant reached toward his boot and withdrew a thin silver blade.

“Jason! Look out!”

He jerked back just in time, the blade missing him only by inches. A corner of his mouth curved up in a predatory smile that gleamed with brutal purpose. Velvet wet her lips, her whole body shaking. She had never seen him like this, never could have imagined the ruthless determination that twisted his handsome features into a cold mask of rage.

Jason circled, but in the small room, there wasn’t much room to maneuver. The big sergeant grinned with malice.

“She’s a ripe one, ain’t she? Ye can bet I’ll take ’er hard.”

Jason’s pupils shrank to pin dots. His jaw flexed, but the soldier’s words did not hamper his steely control. If anything it seemed to settle even more deeply.

“I’m going to kill you,” he repeated. “I’m going to carve you up with your own knife, and I’m going to relish every drop of blood I spill from your worthless carcass.”

Velvet made a keening sound in her throat. She didn’t know this man. She was nearly as fearful of him as she had been of the sergeant. She backed herself into a corner just as the barrel-chested soldier lowered his head and charged into Jason like a bull.

Velvet bit hard on her lip to stifle the scream that lodged in her throat. The side of her face ached, her head pounded, and her jaw throbbed, yet she felt none of those things. She was too caught up in the horror of watching two fierce male opponents determined to take each other’s life.

The men crashed over a rickety table near the corner. Jason captured the sergeant’s knife hand and twisted the viscous blade away, but the moment the soldier’s hands were free, he wrapped them around Jason’s neck and began to squeeze.

“Jason!” Fear nearly blinded her. Watching his face turn a vivid shade of red, she began to search desperately for some sort of weapon.

Then his fist lashed out, pounding into the sergeant’s face, bloodying his nose and smashing his lip. Jason rolled free and the two men staggered to their feet. The sergeant landed a heavy blow to Jason’s ribs but he merely grunted. His fist lashed out, taking the sergeant square on the chin and knocking him over backward. Jason grabbed him by the lapels of his scarlet coat, dragged him to his feet, and began to smash one fierce blow after another into the sergeant’s bloody face.

Grunts of pain erupted from between the man’s bleeding lips. Blood spurted from his nose. Frantic to save himself, he clawed the floor above his head until his fingers closed around the handle of the knife. He swung it down fiercely, but Jason caught his wrist and wrenched it away as if it were no more than a simple distraction.

Smiling coldly, he gripped the handle and pressed the blade against the sergeant’s fleshy neck. “I’m going to slit your throat. I’m going to let you bleed to death like a butchered pig.”

“Jason!” Velvet screamed. Bolting forward, she gripped the hand that held the knife gouging into the sergeant’s flesh. “Forgodsakes, don’t kill him!”

He didn’t seem to hear her. The thin edge of steel bit cleanly into the soldier’s mottled skin, leaving a fine trail of blood in its wake.

“Have pity, man—she’s only a serving wench!”

Jason’s eyes blazed. “The woman is my wife.” The blade cut deeper; blood began to flow.

“Jason!” Velvet started crying. She could barely see for the tears flooding her eyes, just a hazy blur of his tall, powerful figure that appeared to be edged with crimson. “Please … I’m begging you … please don’t kill him.”

His hand shook, but the pressure remained. The knife blade wavered but did not move.

“Jason…” she whispered, still gripping his arm. “Please…”

His breath hissed out. His dark head dropped forward against his chest. He tossed the knife against the wall with a steely clatter, grabbed the sergeant’s jacket, jerked him up and hit him so hard his head bounced loudly on the floor.

“H-he’s unconscious,” Velvet whispered between her dry lips, staring with horror at the blood-covered figure on the floor.

Jason staggered to his feet. “He’ll stay that way for a while.” He weaved unsteadily toward her, his lip bloody, his coat torn. Unconsciously, she flinched when he reached out to touch her, and his eyes shot up to her face. They were clouded with concern, she saw, dark with worry and fear for her.

Staring into her stricken features, the look slowly faded, changing into something she could not read. The muscles in his face went taut. He seemed to collect himself, withdraw somewhere inside. “Are you all right?”

She wasn’t all right. Every part of her ached and throbbed. She was shivering with shock and fear and she wanted to cry more than she wanted to draw the next breath of air.

“I-I don’t want to stay here. I-I can’t. Please … I want to go with you.”

He surprised her with a shake of his dark head. “You can’t mean that. Not after what has happened.” His eyes remained dark, forbidding, the bleak eyes of a stranger. “Not after what you’ve seen.”

She didn’t understand, couldn’t seem to make her foggy mind function. “What I’ve seen?”

“I would have killed him, Velvet. God, I would have slit the bastard’s throat. If it hadn’t been for you I would have done it.”

“Yes.”

“Now do you understand?” He glanced away from her, no longer able to meet her eyes. Stark pain outlined each of his features. “Now do you see the kind of man I am?”

Oh, dear God. Her legs were trembling so badly she feared they might collapse, yet she forced herself to move. Stepping over the sergeant’s unconscious body, she walked unsteadily toward him, feeling the same thrumming ache for Jason that pounded through her bruised and battered body.

She stopped in front of him, waited until his eyes came to rest on her face. “Yes … I saw what you did. I understand you cared enough for me to risk your life defending me. I saw that you are even braver than I had imagined.”

He gripped her shoulders. “I would have killed him!”

“Yes. Or you would have died fighting to protect me, if the sergeant had had his way.”

His eyes bored into hers. “I don’t understand you. How can you still believe in me? Surely now you have doubts … surely you must wonder—”

“Did you kill your father?”

He only shook his head. “No.”

“This man beat me. He would have raped me. You were angry, blinded by fury at what he had done. You were trying to protect me!” Still clutching her torn and bloody nightgown, she closed the distance between them. “Take me out of here, Jason. Please. Take me out of here now. I know with you I will be safe.”

Jason stared hard. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then a low sound came from his throat and he reached out to touch her, enfold her in his arms. He buried his face in her hair. For seconds, he just held her, then he lifted her against his chest, kicked open the door, and stepped out into the hallway.

“We’ll be safe in my room.” His boots echoed down the stairs. “We’ll get your things in the morning.”

Velvet didn’t argue. Shock had claimed the last of her reserves and she had started to shake all over. When they reached his room, he drew back the covers on the bed and rested her carefully in the middle. He lit a candle on the bedside table, then went over and locked the door. Pulling a pistol from his satchel, he checked the load and set it on the table next to the candle.

Seating himself carefully on the edge of the bed, he reached toward her. His hand shook as he gently lifted her chin, turning it into the light so that he could survey the bruises. He blanched when he realized the extent of the sergeant’s cruelty.

The muscles in his throat constricted. He couldn’t seem to speak. “God, I’m sorry. So damned sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Velvet said softly. “You came for me. That is what is important.” But she was still shivering and she was still frightened inside.

He gently parted the front of her nightgown, saw the bruises beginning to darken around her breasts. “Christ, he really hurt you.” His eyes slid closed. “God damn the bastard to hell.” His gaze was piercing. “I never should have brought you here. It’s my fault this happened.”

Velvet gripped his hand, felt the tension thrumming through it. “Do you think everything that happens is your fault? Just because you are a duke does not make you responsible for every bad thing that occurs.”

But the look on his face said he believed that it did.

“Even your father wasn’t perfect. If he had controlled his temper, if he hadn’t followed you to the inn, he might not have been killed—or do you believe that is your fault, as well?”

His head dropped forward. A weight seemed to settle on his shoulders. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Velvet blinked back tears. She rested a hand on his cheek, felt the hard line of his jaw beneath her fingers. “I am still shaking. Please, Jason … I am so very tired but I know I shan’t be able to sleep. Will you hold me?”

She thought he would argue, that he would refuse. Instead, he turned away, bent down and began to pull off his boots. His shirt and breeches followed. With his broad chest bare, wearing only a pair of tight-fitting cotton drawers, he climbed into bed beside her. Velvet snuggled into his arms, rested her head against his thick-muscled shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered. In minutes she was asleep. As she had said, she knew she would be safe. And that Jason would not close his eyes before the sun rose the following morning.