“You’re not marrying Carnis,” he told Rhiannon. “Marry me instead.”
“Why should I marry you? You’ve made yourself quite clear on the matter of marriage.”
Their gazes were locked.
“Which one of you would care to tell me just what the bloody hell is going on?” Whit demanded, his voice bearing the lash of a whip.
Aubrey didn’t look away from Rhiannon. “Perhaps you ought to ask your sister.”
There was hurt in her eyes; he read it there. And he was the cause of it. She shook her head slightly, as if to deny the truth of what had burned hot and bright between them—the passion, the desire, the yearning.
But he wasn’t having it.
She wasn’t marrying the Earl of Carnis.
She was going to marry him. And damn the consequences.
But she was staring at him, silent accusation in her sky-blue gaze. Saying nothing. As aloof and removed from him as she’d been these last few days.
So Aubrey did what he had to do.
He turned back to Whit. “You should know that I ruined her.”
Whit’s brows snapped together. “You did what?”
“I ruined her. I took her innocence. And now, I’ll marry her. It’s the least I can do to answer for my many sins.”
His congenial friend was suddenly emanating with rage. “How the devil… Explain, now, curse you.”
“Aubrey, no,” Rhiannon said faintly.
He glanced in her direction, thinking her pale again. She was clutching her stomach. Good God, was she going to be ill?
“Aubrey?” Whit repeated in a snarl. “Rhiannon, you owe me an explanation. Why are you being so damned familiar with Richford?”
She swayed. Aubrey saw the moment they lost her before her eyes rolled back in her head. He started forward and caught her in his arms as she swooned.
Rhiannon regainedconsciousness to the sound of two grown men bickering like children.
“Get away from her, you despicable swine.”
“She’s ill, you arse. I’m tending to her.”
“Get your beastly paws off her.”
“Would you have preferred I allow her to fall to the floor and injure herself, Whit?”
“I’m going to beat you to within an inch of your miserable life.”
Her eyes fluttered open at the last, particularly damning threat. She was reclined on a settee, Aubrey hovering over her in a protective pose, as if to keep Rhys from causing her harm, her hand clasped tightly in his as if he feared she would leave him if he released her. Just beyond him, looking angry enough to tear apart the room with his bare hands, stood her brother.
“I deserve a drubbing and worse,” Aubrey agreed. “But let’s make certain Rhiannon is well first.”
“Do not speak of her with such familiarity,” Rhys snapped.
“Stop fighting at once,” she managed.
Two pairs of eyes swung to her, both concerned, one also filled with fury.
