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"Collin. Don't. He won't hurt me."
St. Claire's chuckle iced her nerves. Collin met her eyes, then walked to the tree, wrapped his hands behind him around the trunk. "Don't come back, caitein."
"Very good," St. Claire crooned, following to tie Collin's wrists in a tight knot. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket with a flourish and stepped around the tree to face him. "Can't have you distracting her," he grinned and stuffed the fabric into Collin's mouth. Another length of rope secured the gag and pulled his head against the bark.
"You don't look much like your brother, you know. Must have been the peasant blood that made you so large."
"Why are you doing this?" Alex asked again, desperate to distract him from whatever he meant to do to Collin.
"I need the money, of course."
"But why did you start this? Why did you kill John?"
"I didn't mean to kill him. I only meant to break him. The killing was an impulse, though perhaps not a smart one. I simply couldn't resist."
"But why? Why?"
"Oh, so many reasons, really. He had everything I wanted—money, his father's title, the friendship of every damned buck in school. Still, he stole from me. First that blond whore at The Priory . . . pulled her right from under my nose when he knew I wanted her. He stole my money, though he had too much to spend. Goaded me into playing too deep, then threw my notes back in my face to show everyone I couldn't pay them."
"He was only being kind!"
"Do you know nothing? He may as well have slapped me in the face right there in the club. And then he did it again, the little fool. Turned over his hand with that mew of pity. You should have seen their faces. Oh, they loved watching that.
"I wanted to kill him then, but I didn't have the nerve, not yet. But everyone knew he was in love with you, so I stole you from under his nose. A whore for a whore."
Her temper flared, finally, worming its way from beneath her fear and injury. He had killed John for a petty
slight, an imagined insult. He had lured her to that room, had set her on that desk and faced her toward the door so that John would see her naked thighs and busy hands as soon as he turned the doorknob.
"You're a coward," she growled as he left Collin and approached her. She regretted her words almost instantly. Her eyes fell on the rope binding Collin's hands. She couldn't goad him on, couldn't give him the excuse he wanted to hurt them. If he let her go, surely she could do something. . .
"Come down and visit with me, beautiful."
He reached up and yanked her off the horse, letting her fall to her knees before him.
"I don't know that I'd call myself a coward."
He pulled her, dragging her toward her husband. Collin's eyes drilled into her, demanding she obey him. But she wasn't stupid. She knew he planned to kill them both.
"I'll admit to being cautious. For example, it would have been easy enough to swive you, to truly ruin you. You were certainly itching for it." She tried not to moan in disgust. "But I did not wish to bring down the wrath of a duke on my head. It was a near enough thing as it stood, but I counted on you to protect me; everyone knows your brother indulges you. Perhaps he was the one who had you so primed, hmm? Was big brother after you in the nursery?"
"You're vile."
"Mm." He stopped in front of Collin, pulling her to face her husband as he pressed his chest against her back. One hand held her to him, the other rose to cup her chin, angling first one way, then the other, as if offering her for examination. Alex studied Collin's face, memorized it.
"And I am still cautious, so this is what we'll do. When we leave here tomorrow morning"—Tomorrow—"I will release you to go to Westmore. Your dear husband and I will move on to new environs. Wouldn't want you leading a hunting party back to us, would we?"
His hand slipped from her jaw to her neck. His fingers caressed her skin. "You will leave the money somewhere convenient for me, but—listen to me now—Blackburn will not be with me when I come to fetch my prize. Do not think to ambush me or you will never find out where I've hidden him."
"But you will not hurt him?" She felt her voice shake against his fingers. Collin's eyes flared.
"Oh, no. I give you my word as a gentleman."
She nodded, ignoring the silver fire that leapt at her. "Don't hurt him."
"I won't." His hand crept lower, playing over her collarbone, flicking aside her wrap. "Not if you cooperate."
Nodding again, nodding past the lump in her throat, she felt the hand cup her breast and jerked her eyes from Collin's scarlet face. The thickness of her wool habit proved a paltry defense to the sensation of a killer's fingers pinching her nipple.
