Page 9 of The Rebellious Countess
Our son misses you almost as desperately as I. Please come home soon.
All my love,
Iseabail
—A letter from Iseabail Blair Handcock Harding, Duchess of Ross, to her husband Nashford Xavier Harding, Duke of Ross, regarding her younger sister Máira Blair’s marriage to Ellison Collins, Earl of Dorset, June 1812
“Máira…” He took a step toward her, wanting to take her into his arms and erase the horrors she’d experienced in the hours since he saw her last. The way she quickly moved to keep distance between them, nearly gutted him and he stopped before he made her run out the door she’d just entered. “You look as if you fought off the demons of hell and somehow won. Are you alright?” He asked.
The noise she made was decidedly unfeminine and nothing like the woman he knew. Somewhere between a snort and a growl, it was attached to a sneer that only hatred could form. “I’m breathing, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Breathing?” Holy bloody hell. What had he done? He was going to kill Peter and every one of his crew for not looking out for her. “I meant, do we need to fetch a surgeon?” He spoke softly, as if that would keep their conversation private in the middle of a tavern with every eye and ear observing them with avid curiosity. If he were lucky, only Hag, her henchman, and Jack spoke English.
“Are you worried about my reputation? My virtue? My life? Or are you worried that I still stand on this green Earth?” Her hand rose to her chest in a display of mock distress. It succeeded in drawing every eye in the place to her damned feminine curves.
He glared at the men around him, some looked away sheepishly, others didn’t care. They would look their fill unless he challenged each and every one of them. In his current condition, he didn’t think he’d be able to survive one fight, let alone ten. He felt almost as bad as she looked.
He’d never expected to hear such bitterness in her voice. Anger and regret for their marriage, yes, but this was something so much more than that. It was deeper and filled with anguish and betrayal and despair…and hatred. His heart jumped and screamed and drummed the beat he’d always heard in her presence from the first moment he laid eyes on her. This time it pounded on the drum harder. She was beautiful—and broken. He had done that.
He moved toward her, but she backed away once more and he winced at the pang her mistrust caused.“What happened to your head?”
“You.” Venom dripped from her voice.
“Me?”
“The condition of my lovely gown, my perfectly coiffed hair, and my dainty slippers, along with this knot on my head and the nausea I can’t seem to control are all thanks to you.” She delivered the last three words as if each one was its own separate punch to his gut.
“Let me take you to a room, and I’ll fetch a surgeon.”
She laughed as if the situation called for humor. “Do you want to share our marriage bed now?” Her voice held a fighting spirit he’d not known she possessed, as she cocked an angry brow at him that only made him want to throw her over his shoulder and toss her into a bath where he could soothe all her aches and anger away. She was even more appealing than the fresh-faced innocent who’d furiously blushed when he’d first brushed his lips on her knuckles. It was the last thing he needed to notice.
“No. I want you to remove the layers of shite you’re wearing as if it were part of a trousseau.” The sparkle in her eyes died, the light no longer glimmering and he knew he’d hit the target that would stiffen her spine. Because even if he could win her back, he couldn’t have her. He cleared his throat and turned to the woman he’d come to see as he pushed the bound and gagged Jack forward. “Hag, if you would be so kind as to take care of my friend while my wife and I have a word. In private.”
“Does that involve me bathing and tupping him?” Hag asked, as she lifted her chin in Jack’s direction. Returning the conversation to French pleased the crowd, who broke out in laughter. Hag only tupped one man. She had a few private meetings in the back with others, but never of a sexual nature. Those meetings were strictly business.
He sweetened the deal. “I’ll throw in an additional barrel of Scotch.”
“You’ll throw in five extra barrels of Scotch.” The crowd whistled and Elias rolled his eyes.
“Three and not a pint more.”
“Done. Would you like him cleaned up and fed? That will cost you a pound.”
His headache wanted to split and multiply. He’d had enough with difficult women. A pound for food and bath? He wouldn’t be paying that much for his own comforts and Hag knew it. She was rubbing salt in the wound she sensed the moment Máira walked through the tavern door.
His gaze traveled to the beautiful blonde standing with her back to the doorway, wounded and nearly broken. She braved his observation without realizing the danger her position posed. A hunted man wouldn’t stand in front of an open door in the manner she had adopted. Máira, however, didn’t have an inkling about the hidden perils of the world she entered. Her vulnerability was even more evident by the way Jack looked ather, the same way every other red-blooded man in the place did. They were cataloging her assets, from her plump lips to her long neck and the delectable twin mounds of flesh he wanted to devour, while completely ignoring her filthy hair and attire. Every man in the tavern wanted his wife the same way he had the moment he set eyes on her. Except he wanted to catalog her injuries and soothe her pain. While Jack wanted to douse the fire in her lovely eyes then turn her over to Billy’s business partner.
For that look alone, Elias put his foot in front of the man and gave Jack a shove. Máira stepped forward in a futile attempt to catch the bastard, but was too late to stop his fall. Jack twisted his body mid-air, in time to keep his nose from hitting the floor. The muffled grunt he released caused Máira to flinch and a few men in the bar to raise their glasses to toast the nasty bugger’s predicament.
She turned on him, eyes flashing as if she suffered the same brutality. “Do you think treating a member of your crew with violence will earn my trust?”
“You don’t understand what he wanted to do to you.”
“The same thing you wanted to do to me?”
He snorted. “Not even close. I was defending your honor.”
Máira looked down at her torn and soiled dress, then lifted a limp curl from her shoulder. “You do it well.”
