Page 51 of Greed: The Savage
He’d questioned her opinion of him earlier? After today, he’d be a damned fool to expect her to see anything good—or honorable—in him.
He held her gaze, willing her to see the truth he proffered. “I didn’t enjoy any of it, Addien.”
The only part of this day he’d relished had been pounding Dunworthy into the floor and leaving him for dead.
“It sure looked like ye were.” Bitterness edged her words.
“She climbed on me, Addien.”
She angled her neck just enough to cast him a sidelong glance. “How strong she must be—that a man your size couldn’t fend her off.” Her eyes were a raw mix of hurt and something he couldn’t name.
That look hit him like a fist to the gut.
“I threw her off the instant she touched me,” he heard himself say.
“What a man of honor you are,” she replied, the wounded bite in her tone impossible to miss.
And even more impossible for him to ignore.
She cared—some.
He’d never make her admit it. Never gloat. But knowing she cared whether he’d been with another woman stirred something in him that wasn’t unpleasant. Maybe because he’d had his own taste of the green-eyed monster earlier, learning about her and Roy. Hell, maybe that’s why—despite his ennui—he’d let Lady Darrow linger as long as she had.
Addien shrugged and turned back to the glass. “Not my business either way.”
“I was thinking of you,” he said quietly. As soon as he spoke the words, he wanted to slap himself for them.
In the warped reflection of the leaded pane, Addien’s features spasmed with pain—and it knifed through him.
Addien’s breath caught, sharp and uneven, and agony not to reach for her.
“Ye think that matters to me somehow?” she rasped, her voice raw and ragged as torn silk.
He’d hurt her, and worse, even more unforgivable, he’d left her in harm’s way.
He squeezed his eyes shut, every muscle tight with strain. “You mistake me. While she climbed on me, I felt nothing—because all I could see in my mind was youranklefrom when you climbed in the bloody carriage.”
Her surprise struck like flint to steel, and the air in the carriage turned hot, volatile, alive. Cut raw by the admission, Thornwick’s neck heated, the silence bristling with a tension he could neither name nor master.
For the remainder of the ride, the carriage rattled and swayed, the wheels clattering over the road, the only sound, the only movement. It forced Thornwick to live in his own head with his crimes that day.
Had he stuck to the damned interview for Dynevor—instead of sniffing out the baroness as a potential wife to infuriate his father—Addien wouldn’t have been left to fend for herself. Wouldn’t have had to fight her own way free.
She should have been able to rely on him.
That was his sole purpose—in life, in work—and the one time he’d failed, it had been today. His gut knotted hard. This slip of a firebrand who’d upended his bloody world deserved his protection, and he hadn’t been there when she needed him. He’d failed her.
The pain, the guilt, the shame of that were his to carry to the grave—and he’d never forgive himself for it.
Nor should she.
At some point, they arrived.
One of the servants yanked the door panel open to reveal a smug, triumphant Roy in wait. “Dynevor wants to see the both of you now.”
By the other man’s crow, it couldn’t be any clearer; Lady Darrow’s servants had gotten to the earl first. She’d be out for blood. His and Addien’s.
It wasn’t himself Thornwick worried about. “Give us a moment, Roy.”
