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“I don’t want his eyes on you.”
Richmond chuckled at Nick’s words, and the air sizzled with tension. Crossing his arms, the duke leaned against his desk and offered Richmond a cool stare.
“Miss Merrithorpe is currently a guest in my home, and she isn’t going anywhere, I’m afraid.”
Richmond sneered. “Even a duke can’t keep a man from his daughter.”
“You are not her father.”
“Cambertson means to retrieve her.”
Somerhart shrugged. “My communication with Mr. Cambertson is none of your concern. If you are done here, Smith will show you the door.”
“I am not done here,” Richmond snapped. “My need for an heir outweighs this chit’s need for independence. My cousin is in line to inherit and he is entirely inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate?” Nick barked.
“This girl has been promised to me, and she has violated the contract of our betrothal with her childish drama. Her father will retrieve her and we shall be married tomorrow.” He snapped a paper from his coat. “I have the license here if you care to examine it. In a few hours time, she will be my wife.”
Nick stepped so far forward that his shins pressed into the table. “You will never lay another hand on her, you sick fuck.”
“Oh, she will not mind,” Richmond drawled. “There have already been hands laid on her, as I’m sure you’re aware.” He arched a mocking eyebrow. “I hope she did not try to convince you I was the one to breach her. I have been a perfect gentleman.”
Faced with the barrier of the table, Nick simply leapt atop it and flew toward Richmond, who backed quickly behind the desk.
“You shut your mouth about her,” Nick growled. He looked like an animal, back curved and teeth bare as he pushed both fists against the desktop. Cynthia was very afraid of what he might do next, and even the duke watched Nick with uncertainty, moving around to the side of the desk and holding up a hand for calm.
Nick leaned across the desk, eyes locked on Richmond’s face. “I will kill you.”
Despite that he’d backed up so far his shoulders pressed into the curtains, Richmond smiled. “Seems I’ve heard those words from you before, boy.”
Though she’d been moving toward them, Cynthia’s step stuttered. What could he mean?
“Bram,” Richmond barked, and the man moved to his side. “I believe we are overdue for a call on Cambertson. I shall see you again soon, Your Grace.”
Cynthia hurried forward and was nearly to Nick’s side when Richmond passed. Nick kept his head down and his fists to the polished wood. The air sounded torn from his throat with every breath, as if he were a horse run too hard.
What had Richmond meant? When had Nick threatened to kill him before?
Just when she thought the confrontation over, just as she was drawing a deep breath of relief, Richmond stopped and spun slowly on one heel.
Illogically, he leaned closer to Nick, well within reach of his hands. He leaned in until his face was only inches from Nick’s ear. And then he whispered something. Something that sounded horrible and made no sense.
“I hope she squeals as prettily as you did, boy.”
Everything shifted so quickly that time seemed to slow to accommodate each movement in the room.
Nick’s head snapped back as if he’d been slapped, and Richmond drew away with a smirk, confident he’d landed a fatal blow. Past the line of Nick’s profile, Cynth
ia caught sight of the duke’s face just as a terrible realization lit his eyes. She could recognize the thoughts popping like tinder behind his gaze, because those same thoughts exploded behind hers.
Richmond. Nick. Pain. And suicide. I hope she squeals as prettily as you….
Paralyzed by shock, Cynthia was still staring at Somerhart when his expression flattened to alarm and he began to dive forward.
“Wait,” she murmured, not understanding until she looked at Nick’s face. It wasn’t him anymore. He was a desperate, mad animal, teeth bared in a feral growl. Skin drawn tight over the bones of his face. And he was moving toward Richmond.
His fist landed on Richmond’s jaw with such a loud crack that Cynthia’s stomach turned in protest. Nick followed the man’s falling body down to the floor, one of his elbows landing in Richmond’s soft gut.
