“No.” He shook his head, holding her gaze. “Not a hero. I’m so sorry for what he did to you. I feel as though it’s my fault.”
He reached out, and they both noticed the blood on his hand. Grimacing, he scrubbed his palm against his thigh, trying to wipe the crimson stain on his trousers.
“Stop it,” she whispered. “Come with me. I’ll help you.”
He frowned at her imperious tone but obediently followed her inside. She led him into the conservatory and gestured for him to sit in the nearest chair, then doused a clean handkerchief with a generous amount of brandy from the sideboard.
A soft hiss of pain escaped his lips when she touched the first of his split knuckles, but he quelled the sound. “You don’t have to do this.”
She threw him a chiding look. “And you didn’t have to keep Jonathan Taylor from molesting me. But you did.”
The undamaged corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. “If you keep this up, I might almost believe you care.”
Natalia scrubbed his bloody knuckles with unnecessary force and wondered how she could survive touching the lush curve of his mouth after she finished with his hands. “Of course, I care. But don’t start thinking I’ve forgiven you, because I haven’t. In fact, I don’t’ know if I ever will.”
He sighed and raked the hand she’d already tended through his disheveled hair. “All I want is a chance to earn your trust back, Natalia. How can I do that if you won’t even talk to me?”
She frowned and took his other hand. As she wiped away the blood, she tried to forget how tender he’d been that night in the garden. “You’re right. I can’t very well avoid you forever.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Some of the tension seemed to flow out of him. She couldn’t help but wonder if the last few days had been as horrible for him as they had been for her.
She finished his hand then boldly sat down on his lap so she’d have better access to his poor battered face. She tenderly dabbed the small cut on his upper lip. “You’re going to have a fat lip for our wedding.”
At her touch, his breath hitched, his gray eyes burning with intensity. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her closer. With the other, he took the bloody cloth from her hand and tossed it aside.
“If you really want me to feel better, just let me hold you for a while.” As he spoke, he pressed her head against his chest and enfolded her in his strong embrace. He pressed a tender kiss to her temple and squeezed her tight. “Now, tell me honestly. Are you all right?”
God, it felt so good to be in his arms again. She let out a breath and a shuddering sigh and relaxed against him. “I am now.” Her voice sounded muffled against the broad wall of his chest. “He scared me, more than anything. It seemed so unreal. I couldn’t believe he was actually attacking me in my father’s garden.”
Dylan made a soft angry sound deep in his throat. “I can’t believe it, either. When I saw him…”
She lifted her gaze to his and saw how much his own violence had upset him.
“I would have killed him if someone hadn’t stopped me. I completely lost control.”
Natalia cupped his face and stared deep into his eyes. “You protected me, Dylan. I’m so glad you were there. Lord knows what he would have done if you hadn’t heard me scream.”
“I went too far,” he insisted. “Ever since I returned from the war, my anger is far too close to the surface.”
“That’s understandable. And I don’t think you would have truly killed him. I imagine he’ll be fine in a few days.”
Dylan huffed out a sound of disgust and buried his face against the crook of her neck. “I don’t know how he expected to get away with it.”
Natalia shuddered at the memory. “I think he was drunk.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“Don’t think about it anymore. It doesn’t matter. No harm was done.”
Dylan lifted his head, a troubled look in his eyes. “You seem far more willing to forgive him than you are me.”
His words shattered the fragile truce the afternoon’s unsettling events had forged between them. Natalia pushed off his lap and stared down at him in dismay. She refused to admit his words had merit, even though they struck a chord deep within her. She told herself it wasn’t unreasonable to nurse her anger and hurt, even when faced with his tenderness. “Perhaps, that’s because I hardly know him. I never trusted him the way I did you.”
Dylan let his head fall against the back of the chair and closed his eyes as though he couldn’t bear to look at her. “I deserve that. But it’s still hard to hear.”
She stared at him, at this beautiful wicked man who’d stolen her heart, and she wanted to weep with the hopelessness of it all. Where did they go from here? Was it even possible to start again?
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.” With a sigh, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against the cut he’d suffered in her defense. “Thank you for rescuing me. Why don’t you rest for a while? I’ll send someone down to tell you when dinner’s ready.”
