belong to Lord Sydney now. You have no claim on me.'
His mouth twisted in a malevolent sneer. 'My claim on you goes far beyond some piddling marriage vows.'
'Have you deluded yourself into thinking that you could purchase me like some bit of goods in a shop window?' she asked scornfully.
'I own your very soul,' Radnor whispered, clenching her wrist until she felt the delicate bones flex, and tears of pain came to her eyes. 'I purchased it at the expense of my own. I've invested more than ten years of my life in you, and I will be repaid.' 'How? I am another man's wife. And I feel nothing for you now-not fear, not hatred-only indifference. What can you possibly think you will recoup from me?'
Just as Lottie thought her arm would break, she heard a quiet snarl from behind her. It was Nick, moving swiftly between them. His arm descended in a blur, and whatever he did, it caused Lord Radnor to let go of her with a grunt of pain. The abrupt release sent Lottie stumbling backward, and Nick caught her hard against his chest. Automatically she turned into the crook of his arm, and she heard the deep rumble of his voice as he spoke to Lord Radnor.
'Don't come near her again, or I'll kill you.' It was a quiet statement of fact.
'Insolent swine,' Radnor said hoarsely.
Risking a glance at Radnor from the safety of her husband's arms, Lottie saw a grayish-purple tide sweep over his pallid face. It was clear that the sight of Nick's hands on her was more than he could bear. Nick touched the back of her neck and slid his fingers along the top of her spine, taunting the earl deliberately.
'Very well,' Radnor whispered. 'I leave you to your debasement, Charlotte.'
'Leave,' Nick said.'Now.'
Radnor walked away, his frame stiff with the righteous fury of a deposed monarch.
Cradling her throbbing wrist with her free hand, Lottie saw that they had drawn more than a few curious stares from people passing through the gallery. In fact, some guests in the ballroom were becoming keenly aware of the scene. 'Nick-' she whispered, but he went into action before she needed to say another word.
Keeping a supportive arm around her, Nick motioned to a servant who was passing with a tray of empty glasses. 'You,' he said tersely. 'Come here.'
The dark-haired footman obeyed with haste. 'Yes, my lord?'
'Tell me where I can find a private room.'
The footman thought rapidly. 'If you proceed along that hallway, my lord, you will come to a music room that I believe is unoccupied at present.'
'Fine. Bring some brandy there. Quickly.'
'Yes, my lord!'
Dazedly Lottie went with Nick as he guided her through the hallway. Chaotic thoughts filled her mind, while the elegant din of the ballroom receded behind them. Her body was charged with peculiar battle-readiness. The long-dreaded confrontation with Lord Radnor had left her ill, elated, furious, and relieved. How was it possible to feel so many things at once?
The music room was quietly lit, the outlines of a piano, harp, and several assorted music stands casting deep shadows on the wall. Nick closed the door and turned to Lottie, his broad shoulders looming over her. She had never seen his face so hard.
'I'm all right,' Lottie said, and the unusually high pitch of her own voice actually drew a giggle from her throat. 'Really, there's no need to look so-' She paused with another uncontainable laugh, seeing that Nick clearly thought she had taken leave of her senses. She would never be able to explain the wild sense of freedom that flooded her, after having faced her greatest fear.
'I'm sorry,' she said giddily, even as tears of relief dampened her eyes. 'It's just.... I've been so afraid of Lord Radnor for my entire life...but as I saw him just now, I realized that his power over me is gone. He can do nothing to me. I don't feel any obligation to him wh-whatsoever...and I don't even feel guilty about it. The burden of it is gone, as well as the fear, and it feels so strange...'
As she trembled and laughed and blotted her eyes with her gloved fingers, Nick took her into his arms and tried to soothe her. 'Easy...Easy...,' he whispered, while his hands moved gently over her shoulders and back. 'Take a deep breath. Hush, everything's all right.' The warm brand of his mouth pressed against her forehead, her wet lashes, her cheeks. 'You're safe, Lottie. You're mine, my wife, and I'll take care of you. You're safe.'
As Lottie tried to explain that she wasn't afraid, he murmured for her to be quiet, to rest against him. She began to breathe deeply, as if she had just run for miles without stopping, and lay her head on the center of his chest. Nick tore off his gloves and placed his warm hands on her chilled skin, his strong fingers kneading the rigid muscles of her neck and upper shoulders.
Someone knocked at the door.
'The brandy,' Nick said quietly and guided Lottie to an armchair.
Lottie sank into the chair, listening to the footman's appreciative exclamation as Nick gave him a coin in return for his trouble. Returning with a tray bearing a bottle and a snifter, Nick set it on a nearby table.
'I don't need that,' Lottie said with a wan smile.
Ignoring her, Nick poured a finger of brandy into the snifter and held the bowl of the glass between his palms. After warming the spirits with his hands, he gave it to her. 'Drink.'
Obediently Lottie took the snifter. To her surprise, her hands trembled so badly that she could barely hold it. Nick's face darkened as he saw her difficulty. He sank to his knees before her, his muscular thighs spread on either side of her legs. Covering her fingers with his own, Nick steadied her hands and helped guide the rim of the snifter to her lips. She took a sip, grimacing as the brandy scalded her throat.
'More,' Nick murmured, forcing her to take another swallow, and another, until her eyes watered from the velvet fire.
'I think it's a bit off,' she said scratchily.
Nick's eyes flickered with sudden amusement. 'It's not off. It's a Fin Bois '98.'
'It must have been a bad year.'
He grinned at that, his thumbs caressing the backs of her hands. 'Someone should tell the wine merchants, then, as it usually goes for fifty pounds a bottle.'
'Fifty pounds?' Lottie echoed, aghast. Closing her eyes, she finished the brandy in a few determined gulps and coughed as she gave him the empty glass.
'Good girl,' Nick murmured, sliding a hand around the back of her neck and squeezing gently. She could not help reflecting that although Nick's hand was much larger and infinitely more powerful than Radnor's, he had never caused her a single moment of pain. Nick's touch had given her only pleasure.
She winced as she rested her sore wrist on the arm of the chair. Subtle as the movement was, Nick detected it immediately. He swore beneath his breath as he took her arm and began to peel away the long glove.
'It's nothing,' Lottie said. 'Really, I would prefer to leave the glove on...Lord Radnor did take hold of my arm, but it wasn't all that-' She broke off with a gasp of discomfort as Nick eased the glove from her hand.
Nick froze as he saw the black finger marks that had been left by Lord Radnor's vicious grip. The murderous fury that suffused his face caused Lottie to start in alarm. 'I bruise quite easily,' she said. 'You mustn't look like that. The marks will be gone in a day or two, and then-'
'I'm going to kill him.' Nick bared his teeth in feral rage. 'When I get through with him, all that will be left is a stain on the ground, damn him to everlasting hell-'
'Please.' Lottie laid a soft hand on his stiff cheek. 'Lord Radnor intended to ruin this evening for both of us, and I refuse to let him succeed. I want you to bind my wrist with a handkerchief, and help me to put my glove back on. We must hurry back before we're missed. Sir Ross will be making his speech, and we-'
'I don't give a damn about that.'
'I do.' Regaining her composure, Lottie stroked his cheek with soft fingertips. 'I want to go out there and waltz with you. And then stand by your side while Sir Ross tells everyone who you really are.' Her lashes lowered as she glanced at his mouth. 'And then I want you to take me home and carry me to bed.'
As Lottie had intended, Nick was momentarily distracted. His savage gaze began to soften. 'And then what?'
Before she could answer, the door vibrated with a demanding thump. 'Sydney,' came a muffled voice from the other side.
