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“You should be glad I am willing to bargain, for by marrying me you will ensure that the secret of your traitorous birth will be safe. And you will eventually find your way back into my good graces—provided you are sufficiently obedient. That is my offer. More than fair, considering the circumstances, I should think.”
The man was a beast in human guise. Mélisande could not allow him to prevail. It seemed Alessandro had been right after all. If she could make him angry enough, she might force him to expose his true nature now, publicly, before it was too late.
“You leave me little choice,” she whispered. His gaze flared with unholy desire as she leaned in, at last giving way to the pressure on her wrist. Pressing herself firmly against him, she stretched up on her toes to whisper softly in his ear. “I will marry you when the fiery lake freezes and devil skates upon it.”
She braced herself.
Herrington roared with rage. Jerking her arm nearly out of its socket, he twisted her wrist and slowly forced her to her knees on the gravel, his smile ugly as she gasped in agony, tears streaming down her face.
Gathering her breath, Mélisande shrieked and struck out at him with her free hand, aiming for his most sensitive manly parts.
His knee rose to block the blow as he raised his hand high.
Mélisande had only a fraction of a second to shut her eyes before the back of his hand landed across her cheek with a crack that echoed across the courtyard. Black spots swam before her vision as she reeled from the impact. As she tried to regain equilibrium, Herrington used the opportunity to grab her other wrist and yank her to her feet. His amber eyes were bright with fury and lust as he pulled her in and ground his mouth against hers. She thrashed and kicked, biting down on his lip with all her might, tasting the iron tang of blood.
Again, Herrington roared, withdrawing to swipe a hand across his torn lip, chuckling at the dark, vitreous smear on his fingers. “Ferocious little bitch!” He grinned and lashed out with the speed of a whip to again grab her by her arms, laughing aloud at her whimper of pain as he dug his fingers deep into her flesh. He crushed her against the stone wall. “Yes, fight me!” he hissed. “Once we are wed, I will relish taming you!”
“I will never submit to you!” she bit out, glaring at him with hatred.
“You should be grateful for my attentions!” he rasped. “No matter. You’ll soon learn proper appreciation for my favors.”
Mélisande let out another terrified shriek. It was suffocated by his mouth. Heaven help her, the lunatic was going to rape her right here in the king’s own garden! She tried to bite him again, but he withdrew just in time, chuckling as he again twisted her wrist until the pain caused her knees to buckle beneath her. A sweaty palm was clamped over her mouth, preventing her from screaming, while his other hand held her wrist in agony.
Footsteps crunched around the corner, coming to a halt in a skittering of gravel.
Herrington had only an instant’s warning before he was knocked sprawling to the ground by a powerful blow to the side of the head. When he looked up, the Duke of Gravina was standing over him.
“Get up,” Alessandro grated, death in his smoldering, black eyes.
“Alessandro!” Mélisande gasped in a breathless sob, rushing to his side.
Herrington, in no hurry to rise, braced himself on one elbow. “You have no authority here,” he said, taunting him with a serpent’s smile. “This is English soil and you are a foreigner.”
“No matter, I will still see you brought to justice!”
Herrington grinned. “It might interest you to know that your hellcat fiancée is a foreigner as well,” he said, wiping at his lip and flinging a bloody hand in her direction. “She’s no countess—she’s nothing more than a bastard! The illegitimate get of yet another worthless foreigner!”
“I challenge you!” Alessandro said just as Reggie and David rounded the corner, Charlotte hard on their heels.
“And I accept,” said Herrington with a sleek look of triumph.
Charlotte, taking in the scene and seeing the blood on Herrington’s face and hand, rushed to his side, falling to her knees. Her face contorted in a mask of cold fury. “How dare you!” she raged at Alessandro. Rising, she strode across the alcove, fists clenched.
Mélisande backed into the shadows as she approached, shocked at the hatred in her friend’s eyes.
“You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Charlotte snapped coldly. “You have your happiness, yet you would deny me mine. You have no right!”
“You don’t underst—”
“I’ve heard enough of your lies!” Charlotte yelled, stepping back from Mélisande’s outstretched hand as though it were a snake. “He has tried to make peace with you for years, and you’ve done nothing but fling it back in his teeth and treat him with contempt! You made him out to be the villain when it is you who are to blame!”
David stepped forward. “I can promise you that this man has made no attempts at peace,” he interjected. “He is using you, Charlie.”
Charlotte’s eyes were slits of pure hatred as she walked over to stand before him, trembling with rage. “Don’t call me that anymore! Don’t even speak to me!”
“He doesn’t love—”
“You fornicate with women paid for their affection and dare talk of love? Do you really think you have the love and gratitude of your whores? Given a choice between performing vile acts with you for money or dying of hunger in the streets, they’ve merely chosen the lesser of two evils. Or so they think!”
