Page 58 of Lady Lilias and the Devil in Plaid
“To my house,” he replied. “He thinks—” Kilgore swayed, and Nash gripped him more tightly. “He thinks that’s where I seduced the woman he claims to have loved.” Kilgore shook violently and coughed before he continued. “But all I did was shelter her there while making plans for her escape. That’s it.” He sucked in a ragged breath and swayed once more.
“What of your servants? Won’t they stop—”
“Don’t have any,” Kilgore choked out while shaking his head. “Levine knows.” He grabbed Nash’s overcoat, and Kilgore’s gaze clung to him. “He must have been studying me even as I watched him. I’m sorry,” Kilgore said, misery in his voice. “I thought myself so damn clever.”
“Jesus,” Nash said, glancing to Carrington and then back at Kilgore. Worry clawed at him now, causing him to tremble as badly as Kilgore. “No one is there? No one is at your home to help Lilias?”
“No,” Kilgore rasped. “My aunt is away at Bath.”
The thoughts going through Nash’s head would drive him mad. He thrust Kilgore at Carrington. “Take Kilgore and get him help.”
On a nod from Carrington, Nash left them both standing there and ascended the gig, praying he would get to Lilias before it was too late.
Chapter Fourteen
This was not how her story was supposed to end. Lilias jerked on her wrists once more, which were tied painfully tight to the bedposts of Kilgore’s bed. Her gaze darted across the candlelit room to the closed bedchamber door, and she yanked against her bindings repeatedly, the rope cutting into her skin, burning and causing her to whimper. But white-hot fear drove her to continue trying until warm blood trickled from her wrists. She was trapped.
Her throat tightened with the need to scream her fear and rage, but she refused to give Levine the satisfaction of believing he’d broken her. She was a fool to have gone to his home, to have made up that ridiculous lie, but she’d been desperate to save Kilgore.
Heaven above, Kilgore!
Her stomach roiled recalling all the blood on his face and leg, and then her stomach heaved recalling how Levine had told her he intended to use her so Kilgore would have to spend the rest of his life tormented by images of Levine touching her. The man was insane!
Heavy footsteps suddenly thudded on the stairs, and her pulse spiked as she began to yank again, wincing against the pain. Even if she didn’t care about Levine thinking he’d broken her spirit, it would do no good to yell. The house was utterly empty of servants. And by its exquisite furnishings, she didn’t think that had to do with a lack of funds, which meant Kilgore had sent everyone away to isolate himself.
“Mrs. Artemis,” Levine called as the bedchamber door creaked open and he appeared in the threshold. “I’m here for you. Are you ready for me?”
“You make me sick,” she cried out, frantic now and yanking on her wrists so hard that tears sprang to her eyes.
Levine moved into the room, stripping off his clothing as he went. He threw his overcoat to the floor and yanked off his neckcloth. Lilias’s stomach clenched. She was going to be sick, but by heaven, if it was the last thing she did, she’d keep the contents of her stomach down until she could lose them all over Levine.
He tugged off his boots, loosened his breeches, and offered her a sick, twisted grin. “You are far too overdressed, my dear. Let me help you.”
The bed dipped with his weight, and she screamed with all her fear and frustration, kicking out at him. He let out a strange laugh, catching her ankles deftly and yanking her legs apart. As she squeezed her eyes shut for the worst, a near inhuman roar filled the bedchamber. Her eyes flew open just in time to see Nash striding through the room like an angry god bent on destruction. He was upon Levine before the man could react, and he went flying backward—Nash having thrown him—and crashed into a set of chairs by the window. Then Nash turned, his massive shoulders heaving, and swallowed the distance between him and his prey.
Lilias could not see to the other side of the room, but she heard thethunkof Nash’s fist against the man’s body, bone crunching, and moans of pain. “Nash!” she screamed. “Nash! Stop it. Stop it! He’s not worth the guilt if you kill him! I’m here. I need you!”
Silence fell, then a moment of shuffling, followed by more groans from Levine. Heavy footsteps came toward her, and Nash appeared, agony twisting his face. He towered over her for a moment, then a string of curse words she’d never heard flowed from his mouth as he made quick work undoing her binds.
“Lilias,” he said, his voice a cry of regret and need. He gathered her into his protective arms, bringing her to his chest and cradling her. “Lilias, my Lilias,” he said, then kissed her nose, her chin, her cheeks. He cupped her face and looked at her, his visage a mix of undeniable love and pain. Lilias’s heart pounded as he stared at her. “Did he—”
“No!” she said, her voice breaking on a sob. “Is he dead? Did you—”
“No. He’s tied up.”
“Go on and kill me!” Levine bellowed.
Instead of answering, Nash scooped her off the bed and carried her away from Levine and into the hall. He set her on her feet, his gaze holding hers. “We’ll deal with him soon enough.”
She could not stop the smile from creeping onto her face and the hope filling her heart as he pressed her against his full, solid length. “We?”
“Lilias.” His deep voice broke on her name. “God, I want to kiss you.”
She wanted that so bad she could have wept with the desire. “What of your betrothal?” she asked, her body still trembling with what had happened, and her head aching from the hit Levine had given her.
“There is no betrothal,” Nash replied, running the pad of his thumb over her lips as if he were memorizing the shape of them. “My mother lied to you. I’ll deal with her later, too. Right now you come first.Wecome first. Are you all right?”
She nodded. “We?” she asked again, clinging to him for support.
