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That made him dangerous.
So for now, her best—only—course was to stay at the abbey.
She moved away from Maggie’s bed, stopping at the closed door and listening. Not a sound in the hallway. Hopefully it was late enough that everyone had retired.
Slipping into the corridor, she pulled Maggie’s door closed and passed into the shadow of the sconce at the end of the hall toward the stairs. She made it down the steps and past the drawing room, library, study, dining hall and moved down the rear staircase to the kitchens. The door to the study had been ajar, a fire lit inside, but she didn’t stop to see who was in there. She most certainly didn’t want to encounter George, and she wasn’t yet ready to tackle Domnall.
Not yet.
He’d been a gracious enough host to George, but in every interaction she’d witnessed between the two men, she could see under Domnall’s strained smile that he wanted to crush George’s skull.
Domnall had restraint like no one she’d ever known.
Stepping into the kitchen, she moved to stand next to the large worn center table and reached for a chunk of bread. Tearing off a piece, she popped it into her mouth. Still warm. Cook must have just taken it from the oven before retiring.
Karta turned, leaning against the table as she tore chunks and popped them into her mouth. Chewing silently, she stared at the glowing coals on the hearth.
“I thought I heard a little mouse scurrying about.”
Karta jumped, spinning around.
George advanced directly at her, stepping in front of her and blocking her path to the doorway. He wore only a night robe on his thin frame, the skin of his chest peeking above the top fold of cloth and his feet were bare on the stone floor of the kitchen.
“G—” She choked on the piece of bread stuck in her throat, coughing, slapping her chest until it wedged free and she managed to swallow it. “George. I thought the household was asleep.”
“It would bode well for us.”
“For us?” Her eyebrow cocked at him. “What do you mean, us?”
“Us. Don’t try to deny it, Karta. I knew it from the moment father brought you into Leviton Hall. You want me. You’ve always wanted me. I saw it in how you looked at me. How you would watch me. I am so much younger, so much more vital than father. There’s no shame in admitting it.” He took another step closer, closing the distance between them. “And now that he’s dead, you can have me.”
He moved in so swiftly, so aggressively, that she didn’t have time to react. His lips on her mouth, crushing hers. The sour of his tongue mixing with the stench of cognac about him, invading her nostrils. His hand griped her right wrist, twisting it behind her until the bread fell from her hand.
He pulled his mouth slightly back, inhaling, his nostril flaring. “And I know how you like it. I know exactly what to—”
She wedged her left hand up, slapping him. Hard. The force of it tearing his face away from hers.
He sucked in a wicked breath, releasing her hand as he took a step backward.
“You’re delusional, George. I don’t want you. I never wanted you. I never once looked at you like that.”
“Not want me?” His hand went to his cheek, rubbing as his mouth twisted in fury. “You’ve always wanted me, so why not now?”
Karta edged along the table, her fingertips moving across the edge of the roughhewn wood, trying to gain a clear angle to the doorway. Run, scream, whatever it took to get away from her stepson’s madness.
George’s look went down to her fingers moving along the table and his eyes went wide, rage flashing in his green irises with his lips snarling. “So, it is that brute, isn’t it? Just like I thought.”
She froze in place. As much as she wanted to escape George’s clutches, she wasn’t about to let him disparage Domnall. Not in his home. Not ever.
A growl like she’d never heard from her own lips set thunder into her words. “He’s not a brute.”
“He’s a giant oaf.”
Both of her arms swung out, her palms smacking him hard in the chest. He faltered two steps backward. “He’s gentle and respects me and he’s a thousand times the man you are.”
George’s hands whipped up and he snatched her wrists in the air, going to his toes to lean over her, snarling. “Then I’ll tell him—I’ll tell him what you are. Hide it all you want. But he doesn’t know, for if he did he wouldn’t give you the slightest glance.”
She bit her lip. “You cannot.”
