Anna Campbell - What a Duke Dares

Cam heard her relief. She’d already lost one brother. The prospect of losing another, even if to distance rather than death, must be agonizing.

Together they climbed the rickety staircase to the top of the tall house. The air outside reeked of rotten fish. The air inside reeked of mold, dirt, misery, and human ordure.

Cam’s conviction firmed that Sophie would object to this foretaste of her new life. Leath should have no trouble persuading her home, after which she became his problem. The runaways couldn’t have married already. Sophie was under twenty-one, and they hadn’t had time to stop and talk a friendly vicar into performing a ceremony of doubtful legality.

“Let’s take them by surprise,” Leath whispered as they stood on the landing below the attic.

Cam was about to agree when Pen spoke. “No, let me talk to them.”

“I’d rather kick the door in,” Cam murmured.

Pen’s quelling glance expressed disdain for dramatics. The exchange was a bitter reminder of their previous wordless communication. Regret pierced him as he counted what he’d lost. He’d been so intent on decrying her betrayal. He’d forgotten that without Pen, he was fated to arctic desolation.

The idea revived his impulse to smash something. Unfortunately, while the Marquess of Leath offered the perfect target, punching his lordship wouldn’t help Sophie and Harry.

Pen pushed past Cam and Leath to ascend the last flight. She knocked on the door. “Harry? Harry, are you there? It’s Pen.”

The flimsy door squeaked open. “Pen, what on earth—”

Leath mounted the stairs two at a time, flattening his hands against the door and slamming it open. Cam pursued close enough to see the door crash against the faded wallpaper and a hunk of plaster fall from the ceiling. Sophie Fairbrother curled up on a narrow bed and watched with wide eyes as the tiny room filled.

“I’ll kill you, you bloody worm,” Leath gritted, grabbing Harry’s coat and aiming a blow at his jaw. “How dare you come within an inch of my sister?”

Harry staggered. Sophie screamed and flung herself between her brother and her lover. “James, no! Please, don’t hurt Harry.”

“Hurt Harry? I’ll sodding murder him,” the marquess hissed, flinging her out of the way and advancing on a reeling Harry. “Stand up and act the man. Nobody ruins my sister and lives to tell the tale.”

Fleetingly forgetting his anger, Cam glanced at Pen. He’d been right to fear bloodshed. “Stop it, Leath,” he said sharply.

“You can’t kill Harry,” Sophie protested. “I won’t let you.”

“I’ll deal with you when we get home,” Leath bit out, seizing Harry again.

“Stop it, I say.” Cam tore Leath away before he inflicted more damage. “This serves no purpose.”

“It makes me feel better; that’s enough,” Leath growled. He was stronger than Cam expected and keeping him from Harry, who still looked dazed, took a good deal of effort.

Sophie regained her balance and threw herself on her brother. “James, please, listen to me.”

“Hiding behind my sister, are you, Thorne?” Leath snarled.

Harry shook his head, Cam thought more to order his addled senses than to contradict Leath’s taunt. “What are you doing here?” he asked shakily, touching his jaw and wincing. “How the devil did you find us?”

“We’re here to stop the two of you making the biggest mistake of your young lives, you fool,” Cam said roughly. “Given the mistakes you’ve both made, that’s saying something.”

With a shocked expression, Harry looked past Cam to Pen. “Did you give us away?”

Pen took Harry’s arm. “Harry, this isn’t the way to win Sophie.”

“He has won me,” Sophie insisted.

Leath interpreted that in the worst possible sense. A sense that Cam, unfortunately, suspected was true. “You bastard.”

Leath lurched free of Cam and raised a fist to slam Harry to the ground. The concentrated power in the gesture promised murder. Pen must have seen it too. With the reckless courage Cam knew so well, she darted between the two men.

“James, watch out!” Sophie screamed, but it was too late.

Fist thudded on flesh and Pen stumbled.

“Pen!” Cam pitched forward to catch her.

He went down on his knees, hitting the uncarpeted floor with a painful bang. He hardly cared. Pen looked as pale as she had when he’d accused her of betrayal. He cradled her against his chest and bent his ear to her lips. Was she breathing? Over the thunder of his heart, he couldn’t be sure.

Panting, he glared at Leath. “You are a dead man.”

Leath regarded Pen in horror, hands held stiffly open at his sides as if he couldn’t bear the thought of them wreaking further harm. “My God, man, why did she do that?”

Harry hovered at Cam’s shoulder. “Cam, for pity’s sake, tell me she’s all right.” ’

Cam clutched Pen more tightly. “Pen, darling, say something.”

Dear heaven, don’t let her be seriously hurt. With shaking desperation, he pressed her to his chest. She couldn’t die. He wouldn’t let her.

But as he stared into his wife’s waxen features, his show of arrogance disintegrated. Instead, all he had was a wounded heart. And blind terror that she left him forever just as he discovered that he couldn’t live without her.

This was like that delicious moment of forgetfulness when she’d awakened in the phaeton. Pen didn’t want to move in case it was a dream. Or in case Cam pushed her away again.

Then red-hot pain sliced through her head and she groaned. Recollection crashed back. Leath had hit her. If Cam held her, it was noblesse oblige . She began to detest that phrase.

“Pen, Pen, say something.” Cam’s voice, yet not Cam’s voice. Or at least not how she’d last heard him. Then he’d spoken like he hated her. Now he sounded like he cared. Perhaps she should ask Leath to hit her again.

“Pen, I’m so sorry,” Harry fretted somewhere behind Cam. “This is all my bloody fault.”

“Yes it is, you damned idiot.” Even that lacked the bite of Cam’s earlier remarks. “Pen, please…”

“I’m… I’m fine.” It wasn’t true, but pride was a powerful motivation. She opened dazed eyes. Cam, Leath, and Harry crowded her, sucking up all the air. She tried to move, although the slightest twitch made her head feel likely to fall off.

“I’d give the world to relive the last minute.” Leath kneeled beside her. “Your Grace, how can I beg your forgiveness?”

“Get away from her,” Cam snarled, his grip making her wince. “Name your seconds.”

“Haven’t we had enough violence?” Pen asked shakily, struggling to sit straighter in her husband’s arms. Fighting the pounding in her head, she forced out a plea for good sense in a choked voice. “It seems we’re all family or destined to become so. Can’t we discuss what’s happened calmly and kindly?”

Cam’s arms tightened protectively. “Pen, don’t try to talk.”

“No, I must say this.” She looked at Leath. “Do you really want to shoot Harry?”

Leath scowled at Harry. “Yes, I do.”

Sophie spoke and to Pen’s surprise, she didn’t sound young or silly. “That’s too bad, James. Because I’m marrying Harry Thorne, whether here or in America. In Outer Mongolia for all I care. I love him.”

“You’re not old enough to know what love is.” Leath turned from Pen to Sophie almost with relief. She didn’t mistake how appalled he’d been at hitting her.

“Yes, I am. You think I’m not because you’ve always looked after me.” Sophie smiled at Harry, who still stared at Pen as though expecting her to expire any moment. “Now Harry and I will look after each other.”