The sneer grew. “Would you believe I was waiting on you?” His hand closed on her elbow.
A flare of alarm shot through Rose and she took a step backwards, jerking her arm, trying to pull it from his grasp. “Stay away from me, Northey.”
His grip tightened. “Oh, don’t be difficult.”
Rose spun to get away, and barely registered his free hand flying toward her head until the impact shoved her face into the wall with a sudden shock. Pain shot through her skull, and she staggered as her vision blurred, her knees buckling. An arm around her waist kept her from falling, and hand clamped over her mouth smothered her cry of pain. Her body sagged against Northey’s as her eyesight faded and the darkness consumed her.
*
Thomas shook EdmundTimmons’s hand, a surge of deep satisfaction spreading through him. They had agreed to meet at two the next afternoon, giving everyone a chance to rest and recover from tonight’s festivities. Edmund had agreed to the usual terms of a marriage contract, as well as setting up Rose’s dowry in a personal account for her use. Thomas no longer worried that the lack of an heir would leave him and the ducal title in a state of penury. He had learned a great deal from his father in a short period of time and knew there were ways he could make the entailed properties self-sufficient. He had also talked with Robert about running the estate in tandem, should something happen to his father, since Robert continued to feel more loyalty to Bill Campion than the Ashton holdings. They could work everything out to everyone’s benefit.
And Rose would be his.
Thomas tried not to dwell too much on this, knowing he would find himself distracted by completely carnal thoughts of this woman he admired so much.
He had hoped he could speak with her tonight about why she had gotten so mad at him the night of the soiree. What had he said to make her think he only wanted her as a mistress? Definitely a conversation that should be held face-to-face—and whatever it was, he wanted to make sure he never said it again.
Where was she?It should not take this long to replace a feather? He scanned the crowd near the hallway that led to the ladies retiring room, but there was no sign of Rose or Cecily. Then a rapid flutter caught his eye, and he spotted Cecily flying into the room, her eyes wide as she frantically searched the crowd.
Fear piercing his chest, Thomas was already in full motion before their eyes found each other. Cecily darted toward him, garnering disapproving glares as her slippers skidded beneath her. She landed hard against Thomas, almost knocking him backwards, clutching his arms.
“He took her!”
“Who?”
She pointed back toward the hallway, gasping for air. “Northey! He grabbed Rose. I think he knocked her out! I saw him dragging her into a room past the ladies room.”
Thomas set her on her feet. “Get Robert. Tell him.” Then he pushed past her, shoving his way through the crowd to cries of surprise and outrage. He barely heard them as he strode in the corridor, strides as long as he could manage with his cane.
Near the ladies retiring room, Beth waited, urging him on, pointing down the hall, her voice panicked. “Three doors down on the left. He just dragged her in there. We tried to get in but it’s locked. We sent for Blackmore too.”
“Robert is coming. Wait for him.”
She nodded, and he rushed to the third door, grabbing the doorknob and turning it.
Nothing. Solidly locked.
From inside came a muffled feminine scream of rage and terror, followed by a harsh curse. “Lie back, bitch, or I’ll cut you again.”
An all-consuming fury coursed through Thomas, as a thin red veil began to cloud his vision. He stepped back and ripped his sling away from his body. He reversed his grip on the cane, and swung it upward, as if it were a golf club aimed for a long drive. The doorknob snapped off, and Thomas rammed the door with his left shoulder. It slammed open with a thunderous boom, and he stumbled into the room.
Time froze.
A mere instant as the three people in the room, stunned by his sudden appearance, did not move. A blink of time in which Thomas absorbed the scene in front of him. An ephemeral moment before his body sprang into action, fueled by a berserker rage and a muscle instinct built by years of fight training.
Rose lay on a gaming table, her dress and chemise split hem to neckline, her drawers ripped free and left in a silken puddle on the floor. Northey had pinned both her wrists over her head with one hand, the other clamped hard over her mouth. Her legs were spread, held wide by Roger Bentley as he knelt on the table between them. His left hand pressed hard on one thigh. His right held a knife poised over her groin. A thin line of red traced along her hip, just below her waist, streaks of blood sliding toward the table. The placket of Bentley’s trousers hung open, his penis exposed and engorged. But his left eye swelled and a cut had split the skin over his cheekbone. Northey’s cheek had been opened by three deep and parallel scratches, blood smearing down his neck and collar.
Lady Rose had not gone quietly or easily.
The frozen second thawed. Rose reacted first, using the instant’s distraction to raise her free leg and with a solid thrust land a slippered foot on Bentley’s throat. Choking, he toppled backward, slipping off the table.
Thomas lunged for Northey, swinging his cane across his body, the first blow thudding into Northey’s chest. The force shoved Northey against a bookcase, and before he could recover, Thomas swung again. The wolf’s head caught the side of the man’s face with a sound of cracking bone. Northey slumped to the floor.
Free of both men, Rose rolled off the table, landing on her side with a hard thud. She scooted beneath the table, curling into a tight ball, as Thomas turned on Bentley. Scrambling back to his feet, Bentley took up a defensive position, almost like a boxer, with the knife still clutched in one hand. Thomas, frenzied by the red-veil rage, took no time for tactics. He brought the cane down on Bentley’s wrist, sending the knife spiraling across the room. Bentley screamed and dove in an attempt to tackle Thomas, who shoved Bentley away and down, tripping him. Bentley hit the floor with a howl that ceased when the wolf’s head struck again.
And again.
And again.
