Page 73 of A Touch So Wicked

“Later,” Damian replied distractedly.

“Aye,” Nan nodded. “Ye know in yer heart what must be done. ’Tis our lass ye must think of now. There ye be, yer lordship,” she said, tying off the bandage.

“Thank you, Nan.” He rose. “I know what must be done no matter how unpleasant it is.”

His body taut with determination, Damian marched up the stone staircase to Kimbra’s chamber. He paused a moment on the top landing to bring his rampaging temper under control, then knocked on the door.

No answer.

“Kimbra! Open up. I know you’re in there.”

Still no answer.

Damian cursed aloud and turned the knob. The door was locked. He was considering breaking down the door when it swung open. The Reverend Trilby’s stocky figure blocked the doorway.

“Where is she?” Damian demanded, pushing Trilby aside. He spied Kimbra cowering in a corner and ordered Trilby to leave the room.

“No, stay!” Kimbra pleaded.

Damian sent the reverend a quelling look. “Leave now, or I’ll throw you out.”

“Reverend Trilby, please,” Kimbra whispered in a quavering voice.

Apparently Trilby took Damian’s threat to heart, for he sent Kimbra an apologetic look and backed toward the door. “You must promise not to hurt her, my lord.”

“No matter how much I might be tempted, Lady Kimbra will suffer no physical harm at my hands.”

Trilby nodded and made a hasty exit. Damian slammed the door behind him, then rounded on Kimbra.

“Beneath your beauty, you’re a ruthless bitch. Admit it. You deliberately planned Elissa’s death.”

Kimbra’s chin notched upward. “If Elissa told you that, she’s lying. I am innocent.”

“Tell that to someone who will believe you. What did you hit Corbin with? You could have killed him.”

“I didn’t hit him hard enough to hurt him!” Kimbra cried. Suddenly her eyes rounded and her mouth clamped shut, as if realizing what she had just admitted.

Fury blazed from the depths of Damian’s eyes. “What did you expect to gain by Elissa’s death?”

“She didn’t die.”

“No thanks to you. ’Twas a miracle my bullet didn’t hit something vital.”

Kimbra sidled up to Damian and wound her arms around his neck. Her voice lowered to a sultry whisper. “Can we not forget what happened? I can make you happy, I swear it. I want to be your wife.”

Damian removed her arms and pushed her away. “That’s not going to happen. I’m sending you, the Reverend Trilby, and your escort back to London.”

Kimbra’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t send me away. The king personally chose me for your bride. He will be swift to punish you for your disobedience.”

“I’ll take that chance,” Damian replied. “I intend to send a letter of explanation to the king with one of my own men. The letter should reach London before you do.”

“I’m sure we can work this out to our mutual satisfaction,” Kimbra wheedled. “Don’t let a Jacobite traitor come between us.”

Damian’s contempt was palpable. “There is no us, Kimbra. There never was. Pack your belongings. Your escort will be waiting after you break your fast in the morning.”

Kimbra’s gasp of outrage went unheeded as Damian slammed out the door. Sending Kimbra away would probably lose him both his title and Misterly, but nothing could convince him to wed Kimbra. She wasn’t the kind of wife he wanted. He had no intention of living in London, or taking a wife who craved only the excitement city life offered.

An outrageous thought suddenly occurred to Damian and he nearly laughed aloud when he paused to ponder the ramifications. It would mean openly defying the king, but at this point it no longer mattered. In fact, the more Damian thought about it, the less outrageous the idea became.