Over the next several days, Kristen stayed behind while Trevor went out to search for Hagan. She felt much like a caged animal, and it killed her to be so passive and wait, but for once she was trying to listen to her husband.
On the fifth day, Trevor came home extremely tired. There were shadows under his eyes, which hadn't been there before, and she knew then that he loved Hagan just as much as she did. Her heart tightened at the realization.
That night, they ate dinner in silence. Kristen didn't like the uneasiness she sensed. What was Trevor thinking? Did he know something, but wasn't telling her?
Soon dinner was over, and they retired to the library where tea was served. She noticed Trevor hadn't indulged in spirits since she'd returned, and she sure hoped he wouldn't. But when he withdrew like this, she became nervous. She still remembered the last time he'd become drunk much too well.
Trevor sat in a chair, his shoulders slightly slumped. He stared down at the brown liquid as if it held some dark secrets. He didn't seem to notice that she was even in the room.
When Kristen couldn't stand the silence any longer, she demanded, "Tell me what's wrong!"
He looked up at her and blinked a couple of times before he spoke. "I thought we'd have turned up something by now," he admitted as he shook his head with regret. "I hate to think of Hagan out on those streets with that leech."
"I do, too." She shuddered inwardly at the thought. "He's so young."
"I know." Trevor stood, then went to the window, and stared out into the darkness as if he were searching for answers. His shoulders were rounded and his head bent.
Kristen had never seen him so helpless and sad. Without thinking she got up, and went to him, placing her hand on his arm. "We'll find Hagan," she assured Trevor in a choked voice, wanting to ease his hurt. "Ye just haven't looked in the right places." She hesitated. "I appreciate ye helping me," she added softly next to his ear.
Trevor turned, capturing her within his arms. He hugged her fiercely and for the longest time. Then his hands began exploring the soft lines of her back down to her waist, before he squeezed her tightly. He looked at her again. "Don't you know, I would do anything for you," he admitted honestly as he gathered her back to him, letting her soft curves fit into his body. Slowly, his seductive gaze slid over her face, and she saw the longing in his eyes.
She melted right on the spot.
He examined her in a way that made her knees buckle. His hands held her head captive while he lowered his mouth inch by inch until she wanted to scream to please hurry.
God, she couldn't breathe. Nor did she want to.
After a few agonizing minutes, his lips touched hers. Softly at first. Inviting her . . . enticing her to give in to her swirling emotions . . . and become his.
Trevor's mouth moved in such a mesmerizing way, she automatically opened her lips. She wanted to be a part of him so bad it hurt. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she shaped her body into his. She felt his arousal pressing against her. There wasn't any mistaking that he wanted her, but she needed more. How could she make him love her?
She drew his tongue into her mouth, marveling at how seductive it felt. His arms tightened in response.
"Kristen, I want you," Trevor whispered in her ear. He heard her soft whimper of assent, and it took every ounce of control not to take her over to the couch and cool his burning need for her. Time away from Kristen hadn't eased his desire for her one bit. He wanted her just as badly now as he had the first time he'd met her. Her fingers slid into his hair, and she kissed him back with a hunger he hadn't expected.
He explored every corner of her mouth. He couldn't get enough. He adored the taste of her . . . the feel of her.
She was more like opium to his system. No matter how much he obtained, he needed more. Somehow this woman managed to always be in his thoughts, no matter what he was doing. When they were not together, he felt as though something was missing. Kristen was a part of him, whether he wanted her to be or not.
As Trevor pulled away and looked at Kristen's slightly swollen lips. That's when he heard his grandmother's words . . .
When you can think of nothing but that one person. When they block all others from your mind so that when you're not with them, you find a part of yourself missing. When the first thing you do is look for them as you enter a crowded room and think of them when you are eating, and dream of them when you are sleeping. When you forget about pleasing yourself and think only of pleasing them. And suddenly the moon and stars are brighter when they are standing beside you, and turn dull when they are gone . . . That's when you'll know a love so powerful that it will bring you to your knees.
His grandmother had been right, Trevor thought. But what was he going to do? He had no idea how Kristen felt about him. He couldn't trust her. But he wanted her just the same. He wouldn't lie to himself on that point.
"My beautiful temptress, I want you. Just as much now as I did the first time we met. And I believe you feel the same things I do."
Kristen wanted so much to deny his statement, but she made the mistake of looking deep into his eyes. She knew the lust she saw there matched her own, and she couldn't lie because she, too burned with need. "Aye," she murmured.
He kissed her forehead. "At the moment, I don't have the answers to our problems," he said, brushing his lips across her cheek. "I may not have the answers tomorrow either, but tonight I'd like to forget everything but us." He stepped back and looked at her. His gaze bored into hers in silent expectation.
Kristen's blood raced through her veins like a raging, boiling river. She wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. With a moan of desperation, she slipped her arms around him and squeezed. She just wanted to be close. . . to be able to have some small part of him. If only for tonight, with no thoughts of tomorrow.
Without another word, Trevor swept Kristen up in his arms and carried her upstairs to his bedroom. Kristen barely noticed the upstairs maid, who opened the door for them as they brushed through the door.
All Kristen could see was Trevor. He was the most important thing to her tonight . . . tomorrow . . . forever. Somehow she knew she'd never have feelings like this about anyone else.
Her mind tried to tell her that she needed to know how Trevor felt about her, but her body wouldn't let it. Did he love her? She needed his love as much as she needed to breathe.
He stopped beside the bed, where he let her slide out of his arms. He fumbled with the fastenings of her gown, then removed the layers of her clothes until there was nothing left between them. Warm fingers brushed her skin.
Kristen tried to resist the sensuous onslaught his fingers brought to her needy body. She trembled as all the questions she had asked herself slipped easily into an abyss. She loved this man, whether she wanted to or not.
Trevor noticed her flushed face, and liked what he saw. The pink of her cheeks accented the emerald-green of her eyes. He started to remove his clothes as he stared at her magnificent body. He liked the way she didn't try to hide herself from him. Her nipples were erect, her waist narrow, her hips voluptuous, and he intended to explore every inch. He saw the hungry look in her eyes when she boldly returned his gaze. The slow burning ache deep inside him grew to an inferno.
He cupped her breasts, marveling at the weight and smoothness of each one. He massaged each mound as his thumb teased the ends of her nipples into tight little buds. Bending down, he placed a soft kiss on her lips, then nibbled his way down her neck and across her cheek. He couldn't stop there and moved lower. He ran a tongue around her nipple before closing his lips over the tiny bud.
Sliding her fingers through his hair, Kristen gasped. She held on to him so she wouldn't fall down. He might threaten her soul, but she couldn't think when Trevor's lips seared everywhere they touched.
Hot . . . she was too hot.
Urging her down on the bed, he placed feather-like kisses on her forehead, then down her cheeks, and finally, after agonizing teasing, he took her mouth.
His lips sucked the very life out of her. Her fingers held the back of his head as she opened her mouth to let his thrusting tongue enter once again.
God, this was good.
He was good. How could he not love her?
Instinctively, she pressed her body into his. His firm muscles felt splendid against her softness.
And to think only a short time ago, she'd never been kissed. Her tongue met Trevor's as she pushed her way into his mouth. She wanted to give as much pleasure as he gave her.
Pulling back slightly, she placed small kisses on his face and down his neck, loving his manly smell. She moved lower. The hair on his chest tickled her nose.
But Trevor needed her now. He pulled her back to him and rolled over her, pinning her beneath him. His fingers sought a path down her stomach until he found the warmth between her thighs. Gently, he stroked. She responded, writhing beneath him as he kissed her.
He had to have her now. He positioned himself over her, and with a powerful thrust he entered her warmth. He found heaven as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer.
Kristen gasped with pleasure. Her hands caressed the muscles and planes of his back. She trembled as he began to move within her.
Something was different this time. She felt a desperate tenderness. Pleasure soared within her, and she wanted to shout out how much she loved him.
Instead, she held back. Kristen knew he might laugh at her softly spoken words, so she showed him with her caresses and kisses until she drove them both to the brink of insanity.
"Kristen, my love." The words sounded weak as Trevor drove into her one final time. Waves of pleasure washed over her, and she tightened her arms never wanting to let him go. She held him close until his breathing returned to normal.
He slid to the side, pulling her with him. She cuddled next to Trevor as he drifted into an exhausted sleep.
"I love ye," she murmured, but knew her voice landed on deaf ears. Maybe it was for the best that he not know, she thought as sleep called to her, because she didn't know how to handle these strange new feelings.
And she didn't know if she could trust him.
Kristen leisurely stretched and opened her eyes to the soft morning light. She rolled over to wish Trevor a good morning, but found herself alone in bed.
Frowning, she felt a sharp stab of disappointment. She had wanted to snuggle and enjoy Trevor holding her close.
Evidently, he had other ideas.
She sat up in bed. Last night Trevor had been so loving, so tender, and simply wonderful. She'd hoped they had, perhaps, made a fragile beginning. She gnawed on her bottom lip and wondered how he felt this morning when he'd first awoke.
Had he been happy?
Did he have regrets?
Kristen climbed out of the high, old bed and pulled the bell cord for Rebecca.
It wasn't long before the door opened, and the maid came through the door. "Yes, mum?”
"Do you know where Trevor has gone?"
"Not exactly, mum. I heard him tell Jeeves, the butler, that he was going to search for Hagan."
Kristen sighed. She didn't know whether to consider that good news or bad. Kristen moved over to the wardrobe.
"Let me get your dress, mum."
"I want to look a moment," Kristen said. "Will you style my hair this morning?"
"Of course, mum. I'll fetch my things."
Kristen glanced over the gowns hanging in the wardrobe while she thought. Hagan had been gone for two weeks, and every day he was gone made it just that much more difficult to find him. She knew her crafty stepfather could cover his tracks well.
Kristen decided she wasn't going to sit and wait one minute longer. While Rebecca was out of the room, Kristen snatched a plain brown dress off a hook, and she threw it on the bed.
Rebecca returned and placed her combs and hair pins on the dresser.
"Please style my hair in a tight bun in the back," Kristen told Rebecca as she sat down in front of the dressing table.
"Hadn't you rather have something prettier?" Rebecca asked as she brushed Kristen's long red hair.
"Not today. I've an errand tae run and I dinna want tae be bothered with a lot of curls."
"As you wish," Rebecca replied as she expertly pulled Kristen's long hair together and started wrapping it around the center. She secured the hair with hairpins.
"Put an extra pin at the very top," Kristen instructed.
"Is that to yer likin', mum?" Rebecca patted Kristen's curls and moved to the side while she watched her mistress and waited for approval.
"Fine, thank ye." Kristen stood. "Ye always do a good job."
Rebecca help Kristen dress, and in no time she was ready. Giving herself a final glance in the mirror, she was satisfied she wouldn't draw much attention in her old neighborhood. She turned to leave, and that's when she noticed Rebecca starting at her in a most peculiar way.
"What?" Kristen asked.
"If you don't mind me saying, mum, you are acting a bit strange. Is there something I can help you with?"
Kristen smiled. "I wish you could, but this is something I need tae do by myself."
"You should not go out alone," Rebecca reminded her. "If you give me a minute, I can get ready and go with you."
"I do many things I shouldn't," Kristen said and smiled. "But this is something I need tae take care of. I'll be back soon," Kristen said on her way out the door.
Soon Kristen was on her way. She had the driver of her carriage drop her off at Grafton House, the dress shop where she'd bought her wardrobe, with instructions to pick her up in the afternoon. She'd thought of everything. No one would question a lady visiting her dressmaker shop.
As soon as the carriage had left, she weaved through the streets until she was once again in her old neighborhood.
She paused to look at her rat-infested street. It was so much worse than she remembered. Somehow she had forgotten.
Vendors were crying out what they had to sell on their carts as they moved up and down the docks. Kristen glanced out at the Thames. It was low tide and the Mudlarks were busy she noted as they scrounged for coal, copper nails, anything they could sell that would buy a little food for an empty stomach. And they were all children.
Kristen had never tried the scrounging herself because she couldn't stand the mud covering her bare feet, but there were many children who became Mudlarks. She vowed that Hagan wouldn't be one of them, providing she found him in time.
An orange girl held a bright orange up to her as she passed. Kristen couldn't help stopping to buy one. How often had she longed to do so when she lived on this street.
Further on down the street, several barrels were turned over with debris strewn on the streets. The usual tabby and black cats stood on top of the barrels, reaching their paws in the openings in hopes of finding a morsel of food someone had thrown out. She shook her head at the dirt she'd lived in for so long.
Kristen hurried past a couple of taverns, then made a left on Waters Street. Dirty Sally glanced up as Kristen went by, but said nothing. Evidently the woman didn't recognize her, or didn't care, because she continued searching though a pile of trash. Further down the street, Kristen observed Two-Fisted Joe stalking his next unsuspecting victim. She couldn't help but smile at what once was her life--a life she didn't intend to go back to.
Finally, she spotted the one person, she thought could help her. "Sam!" she called to a small man wearing a faded brown coat.
He whirled around and stared warily at her as if he were trying to decide whether to run or stay. "Whatcha want, lady?"
"'Tis Kristen." She held out her arms.
Sam squinted and peered a little closer at her. "Kristen, girl," he said and finally grinned in recognition. Look at ya. Somebody has gone and cleaned ya up real nice."
"Yes, they have," she admitted with a wry smile. "How are ye doing?" she asked.
"Not too bad for an old man. Still trying to dodge the Bow Street police. Ya know what a pain in the arse they can be. What brings ya back?"
Kristen took a deep breath and prayed he would be able to help her. "Ned has stolen Hagan. Have ye seen them?"
"I did. Hagan was with your pa." Sam rubbed his chin as he remembered. "Ned said pickings were slim 'round here, and he and the boy were going to head north."
"He's not my da!" It was impossible to steady her rapid pulse. "When did ye see him?"
"Last night."
"Oh dear!" she blurted out. " 'Twould mean they'd be leaving tomorrow." Kristen felt scorching heat spread through her body. An inner-torment began to gnaw at her. "Where are they staying?"
"Ya wouldn't believe it--."
"Where, Sam?" Kristen cut him off.
"Get this, girl. They're staying at The Dirty Lady. Actually sleeping in a bed, they are." Sam rocked back and forth, nodding his head. "Seems Ned's getting too good for the rest of us."
"Thanks, Sam." Kristen placed a gold coin in his hand, then turned and headed for the tavern. The Dirty Lady had to be one of the worst taverns on the wharf, and she didn't want Hagan to stay there one minute longer than he had to.
But how was she going to get him out? She couldn't go in the tavern dressed as she was. She'd draw too much attention. Even if her gown was plain, it was still better than most of the clothing seen in this area.
The sky had turned a dusky hue by the time Kristen found The Dirty Lady. She stood in the shadows across the street, watching the red front door. Now what? She had come this far. She wasn't leaving without her brother.
There wasn't any way she could get through the front without Ned seeing her; she had no doubt he was at the bar. Where there was liquor . . . Ned lurked close by.
That meant she needed to find another way into the building. She stepped from the shadows and bumped into a seaman passing by.
He grabbed her arms. "Look'n for some fun?" he asked, pulling her next to his body.
He was drunk, of course. Everyone in this part of town stayed drunk, but he was way too strong for her to pull away. She decided to try another approach. "I'm looking for my husband. I think he's in there." Kristen batted her eyelids prettily. "I could make it worth yer while if ye'd go into the pub and confirm the fact."
He grinned at her. "How much?"
Kristen dug down in her reticule and produced a gold coin, which she placed in his hand. "I'll give ye four more upon yer return."
His eyes widened as he stared at the gold piece. "Ya got a deal," he said. Letting her arm go, he placed the coin in his pocket.
"Be back." He winked and started across the street.
Just as soon as he disappeared through the door, Kristen hurried across the street, this time watching to make sure she didn't bump into anyone else. She didn't have an abundance of coins left to bribe people.
Moving between the buildings, she looked up at The Dirty Lady. There were three windows across the top. She silently prayed that Hagan was behind one of them. However, the windows were much too high for her to get to from here, so she maneuvered around to the back of the place.
Her luck held out. A back door, and no one was around.
She twisted the knob, but the door wouldn't budge. "This, Rebecca, is why I needed the extra hairpin," Kristen murmured as she reached up and removed a hairpin from her hair and jimmied the lock until she heard a click. Carefully, she peeked in the room, and seeing it was safe, she entered.
A dim light let her see only a small part of the room, which appeared to be some sort of storage area. Fearing discovery, she glanced quickly around and found what she wanted: a set of stairs, leading to the next floor.
Kristen took the stairs two at the time, being careful not to make any noise. A man was just coming out of the first room, and Kristen held her breath as he looked up and spotted her. However, he merely nodded her direction and moved toward the other set of stairs that led to the front of the building. She released a pent-up breath.
She listened behind the next door, then whispered, "Hagan." When she didn't receive an answer, she walked to the next door. "Hagan?"
"K-Kristen," came a soft cry.
She tried the door, and surprisingly this one opened. She saw why the minute she entered. Her hand flew up, and she covered her mouth to keep from making any more noise.
Hagan was tied to a chair, his little head bent over. He looked up when she came in.
Kristen gasped. One of his eyes was black and swollen, and dried blood crushed his lower lip. Tears burned her eyes as she hurried toward him, and anger scorched her stomach.
"What in the Saints has the mon done tae ye?" Kristen whispered furiously. She ran a hand down the side of his face. She was shaking with rage at what Ned had done. Bending down she tried to loosen the ropes, but her fingers were clumsy as she tried to untie the bindings. Finally, after several tries, she freed him.
Hagan threw his arms around her neck, squeezing her tight. “I’m sorry, Kristen," he sobbed.
"Sorry for what?" She patted his back.
"That I rode too far. I wanted to see Trevor, but Pa caught me before I could get there."
She held Hagan away from her. "'Tis not yer fault. But promise me ye won't go off again without telling me first. Can ye walk?"
"Aye." He nodded.
"Good. We dinna want tae stay here."
Kristen took Hagan's hand and reached for the door knob. "Come on." The door flew open, and she shrieked and jumped back. Ned filled the doorway, a near-empty bottle dangling from his fingers.
"See ya finally showed up," Ned snarled. "Where do ya think you're takin' my boy?"
"Away from ye," Kristen retorted defiantly. She heard Hagan weeping, so she shoved him behind her. The sour stench of liquor made her want to retch. The man was a pig.
"Ya ain't going nowhere, girl." Ned took a step forward.
Kristen tried to push past him, but he grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. He slapped her, knocking her backwards. She landed on Hagan, but she didn't stay there long as she quickly scrambled to her feet. She had begun to shake again. Terrified, she was determined not to break down.
Ned swayed toward her, raising his hand to inflict another blow. Quickly, she held up her arm to deflect the next punch. Hagan ran from behind her and grabbed Ned's leg, trying to stop him.
"Leave her alone!" Hagan yelled.
"Watch it, Hagan!" Kristen warned, glancing down at him, and in so doing, not seeing the fist that suddenly connected with her left eye.
Again she hit the floor. This time she didn't get up so quickly. She took a deep breath, trying to stop the panic that threatened to engulf her. Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed hard. Her eye had already begun to swell, blurring her vision. Her head swam.
She had to get up. She couldn't stay here. Ned would start kicking her if she did. She tried to shake the fog away. Desperately, she held onto the side of the bed as she shoved herself off the floor.
Someone was screaming.
Kristen blinked several times, trying to focus. Hagan was screaming. Ned was shaking him. Then, as if a miracle had occurred, she saw the dull metal of a gun barrel sticking out from under the pillow.
She didn't stop to wonder what Ned was doing with a gun, she just slid her hand under the pillow and grasped the weapon. Quickly, she turned and pointed the gun at Ned. "Let Hagan go!"
Ned cuffed Hagan again and sent him tumbling against the wall. The boy screamed at the top of his lungs.
"I said for ye tae leave him be!" Kristen cocked the gun.
Ned grinned at her. He didn't think she had the nerve to shoot. She could see it in his eyes. He swung his leg to kick Hagan.
Without thinking, Kristen shut her eyes and pulled the trigger. A loud explosion shattered the air. Gunpowder burned her nose.
Her eyes flew open.
Ned was still standing. Oh God, she had missed him!
"You bitch!" Ned cursed. He let go of Hagan, and grabbed at his chest. That's when she saw the red stain. Ned stumbled backwards and fell out into the hallway.
Kristen slumped to the floor. Hagan scrambled over and threw his arms around her She should feel something. Sadness? Regret? But she felt nothing--nothing at all.
Suddenly, everything happened much too quickly. Footsteps sounded on the stairs. There were people in the hallway, staring at Ned and then at Kristen and Hagan.
"What's happened here?" someone asked.
The bartender said, "Look. It's Ned."
"Is he dead, mate?" a sailor asked.
Another man leaned over him. "Dead as a stone."
The sailor pointed. "The girl killed him. See, she still has the gun."
Kristen looked down at the gun she held in her hand. That's when she realized what she'd done. She'd killed a man!
"Somebody get her!"
A couple of men started through the door.
Kristen raised the gun and leveled it at them, automatically halting their progress. She didn't know who these men were, but they definitely didn't look none too friendly, and they were not going to touch her if she had anything to say about it.
"Who is she?"
"The lady is my wife. Step aside," came the firm voice that Kristen knew so well.
Trevor moved between the two men and started for his wife. But he stopped suddenly at the sight before him.
He couldn't do anything but stare. Kristen and Hagan looked as if they'd been through hell. Hagan was black and blue, and his face was bloody at the side. And Kristen's beautiful green eyes . . . One was swollen and already turning purple. Trevor's blood ran cold.
Hagan jumped up and ran to Trevor, throwing his arms around Trevor's leg. "He was mean," Hagan whimpered.
Trevor scooped the child up in his arms and hugged him to him. "You're safe now, son. He will not be hurting anyone again."
Putting Hagan back down, Trevor noticed that Kristen hadn't moved. She still held the gun pointed at the other men.
Trevor held out his hand. "Give me the gun."
"Arrest that woman," the bartender said to a Petty Constable who'd just arrived on the scene.
"She still has a gun," the officer said, stating the obvious. He backed away, pulling his pistol and aiming it at Kristen.
"There is no need for a weapon," Trevor said, looking at the Constable.
"Are you bloody crazy? She has a weapon, I tell you. Who are you, anyway?"
"I am Trevor Claremont, The Third Duke of Chatsworth," Trevor bit out. "And that woman is my wife."
"A duchess?" The Constable looked startled, and lowered his weapon a tad before he snapped it back into place. "I don't care if she's the bloody queen, herself. She has shot a man, and she will have to stand trial."
Trevor glared at the man dressed in his blue coat, blue trousers and drab waistcoat. "I suggest you watch your language in front of my wife!" He didn't give the surprised officer a chance to say anything before he turned his attention back to Kristen.
She had an odd, blank expression in her eyes. He wasn't even sure if she saw him as he made Hagan sit on the bed. Trevor stepped closer to Kristen.
Stooping down, he held out his hand. "Give me the gun."
Finally, she looked at him. Her eye was starting to turn an ugly color and her cheek was bruised.
"Kristen, give me the gun," Trevor said a little more firmly. He didn't want her shot, even though he could shake her for not staying at home where she should be now.
She blinked a couple of times, but finally handed him the gun.
Trevor placed the gun behind him and took Kristen by the shoulders, bringing her to her feet. "It will be all right," he soothed, realizing she must be in shock.
"I killed him," she whispered, her eyes never leaving Trevor's.
"I know. But it was in self-defense." Trevor hugged her to him. Slowly, her arms came around him and she lay her head on his chest.
Kristen trembled. She was cold. So cold. She felt safe in Trevor's arms, though. Every time she was in trouble, he seemed to be nearby.
"Come on, lady." The Constable came up behind Trevor and reached for her. "I have to take you in."
Trevor turned. “Do you have a name?" he asked as he glared at the Constable.
"Yes, Your Grace, the name is Henry Holborn," Henry said as he stood at attention.
"I will escort my wife. Lead the way," Trevor said in a voice that meant no further discussion.
The Constable didn't bother to argue. Instead he dropped his hand and left.
"Come on, Hagan." Trevor helped the child off the bed and they followed the Petty Constable.
When they were in the carriage, Hagan asked, "What are they going to do with Kristen?"
"I hope they will see reason, and she will go home with us."
Kristen didn't bother to say anything because she didn't have the same optimism, and when the carriage came to a halt in front of a familiar brown building, what little hope she had died instantly.
They entered the building, and Henry showed them to a desk where Frederick Hendrickson, the Superintendent of Police, sat with his hands resting on his big belly. He wore a scarlet tunic with gold epaulettes and a military cocked hat with plumes.
Upon seeing Kristen, the superintendent straightened, raised a gray brow slightly with question, and stared at her.
His was a face, unfortunately, Kristen had seen before.
"Well, if it isn't Kristen Johnstone," Frederick Hendrickson said. He smiled and reared back in his chair. "What have you stolen this time, girl? Appears your victim put up a real struggle by the looks of your eye."
"You know her?" the escorting constable asked.
"You could say that, Henry. I must say, she does look some different from the last time she was dragged in here. What has she done?"
Trevor looked at Kristen. "You know this man?"
"Afraid so." She nodded and frowned.
Trevor wondered why he should be surprised. He didn't, after all, have an ordinary wife.
Hendrickson looked at Henry. "Well, Henry?"
"She murdered a man."
"It was self-defense," Trevor injected quickly.
Hendrickson glanced at Trevor, his bushy gray brows arching as he noticed the cut of Trevor's clothing. "And who, pray tell, are you? I thought you were probably the poor victim Kristen had robbed, but I see you're still alive."
Kristen had to choke back a laugh. She knew how serious the whole situation was, but at the same time it was also amusing. And totally unbelievable -- even for her. Trevor had to wonder what he'd gotten himself into. He probably wished he'd never laid eyes on her, she thought, all her amusement leaving her.
"I am Trevor Claremont, Duke of Chatsworth."
"Well, Your Grace. Since you're not the victim, how do you figure in this situation?"
"Kristen is my wife."
"You poor man." Frederick shook his head slowly. "Probably takes a saint to live with the woman."
"It has been an adventure," Trevor admitted dryly.
"So you're a duchess," Frederick said to Kristen. “All the more reason you shouldn't be here. Someone tell me what happened. And slowly this time."
Henry gave him a short summary on what had transpired. It wasn't even close to what had really happened, but Kristen remained quiet. She figured they wouldn't believe her anyway.
Frederick considered her a moment. "Kristen, I've know you the last few years. However, this surprises me. What do you have to say?"
"The mon deserved tae die," she told him, her chin raised stubbornly.
Trevor squeezed her arm, and she realized that wasn't the smartest thing to say.
"You can see what the man has done to her,” Trevor pointed out. "I would like you to release my wife to my custody."
"Your Grace, under normal circumstances, I probably would do as you request. However, murder is a serious charge, and your wife does have a slightly tarnished background, which I can't ignore. Therefore, she will have to remain in jail until she goes to trial."
"No! Kristen!" Hagan shouted as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
"I resent this!" Trevor bit out.
Kristen bent down to Hagan. "I'll be fine. Ye go with Trevor and take care of yerself."
"But I don't want to leave you," Hagan protested, looking at her with tear-filled eyes. "What's jail?"
"'Tis a place where people who have done something wrong have tae stay."
"But he was hurting us," Hagan pointed out.
"I know. Everything will be all right." She gave Hagan a quick kiss and a hug before turning back to Trevor. "I'm sorry I have caused so much trouble."
Trevor gave her a grim smile. "If you had stayed home, and let me handle everything you wouldn't be in this situation," he pointed out needlessly.
"I've never been tae good at listening."
"Among other things." Trevor grabbed her arms and made her look at him. "I will get you out of here as soon as I can." He hugged her to him, then drew slowly away. Taking Hagan's hand, they left.
Kristen watched them walk out. She had never felt so alone in all her life.