With one last squeeze to her father’s hand, Juliana stomped towards Dunkeld, her expression transforming into a terrifying scowl. Brogan almost felt bad for the marquess. Confronting an enraged Juliana was like facing an angry cat. Your chances for survival were decent, but you wouldn’t escape without several deep scratches.
“Juliana,” Brogan began.
She put her hand up, palm in his face. “We’ll talk later. Right now, your employer and I have—” She squawked as Brogan banded an arm around her waist and lifted.
He carried her out of the room, her squirming and cursing the entire way. At the door, he turned and nodded to their audience. “My apologies. I’ll return her later.”
“Put me down.” She clawed at the walls, as though that would stop their progress through the house.
Brogan kicked open one door, startling a maid, and continued down the hall. He kicked another door, and stomped inside after seeing the room was empty. He placed her down in the middle of the library, between floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and planted his hands on his hips. “Just what do you think you’re doing? There is a small chance you can still join Rose’s debate society. But squawking like an angry hen isn’t going to help you.”
She prowled around him. “The debate society? Who gives a fig about the debate society? This is your career we’re talking about. I’m not going to let you be dismissed for doing your job.”
He ran a hand up the back of his head. “I hit my employer. Of course I’m gone.” The dread he’d expected to feel wasn’t there. It had been worth it. He might want to show people he was more than just his fists, but when it came down to it, those were his best tools. Juliana had needed a bruiser, and he was happy to fill the role, regardless of the consequences.
“Why, exactly, did you hit Lord Dunkeld?” Her circling about him made him the slightest bit dizzy. She truly was like a cat, stalking her prey.
Brogan didn’t know whether to chuckle or take a wary step back. “It was a distraction, like Dunkeld said. If you were going to do something as foolish as disarm your brother, you needed as much help as you could get.”
She threw up her hands. “You couldn’t think of any other distraction besides punching your employer!”
He scratched his jaw. “I thought if I punched your father you’d be angry.”
She stopped pacing and dropped her face into her hands. “Unbelievable.” She looked skyward. “Why did I have to fall in love with an idiot?”
Brogan stilled. “Don’t say that. Don’t say you love me.”
She dropped her gaze to his. “Why not? It’s true.”
“Saying it aloud will only make it harder on yourself.” On him. He barely had the strength to walk away from her now.
She smiled, but there was no amusement in it. “If you think I won’t be anything other than devastated if you walk away, then you are sorely mistaken.” She reached for him, then dropped her hand. “I’m willing to fight for you. Fight for us. Against any nay-sayers or cuts direct. But…” She swallowed. “I won’t push myself where I’m not wanted. Do you love me, Brogan?”
He snorted. “Loving you isn’t the issue.”
She blew out a wavering breath. “Can you say the words? Can you do that for me? Sometimes a woman needs to hear the words.”
He grabbed his hair, tugging. “I love you, damn it. Now how does that help anything?”
Her whole body sagged, as though she hadn’t expected him to admit to it. He narrowed his eyes. Or hadn’t known that he’d actually loved her. But if she didn’t know that already, then she was the idiot.
“You said it for me.” She beamed.
He stepped close and gripped her shoulders. “Damn fool woman, don’t you know I’d do anything for you? That’s why I broke things off. To protect you.”
“If you’d do anything, then live for me. Live with me. You think I won’t be happy with you? Well, make me happy.”
He gave her a small shake. “It won’t work.” A sharp pain thudded behind his temple. Why wouldn’t she listen? She had to be wrong. Didn’t she?
“It could be embarrassing for you, joining with my family.” She placed her hand over his heart and rubbed small circles. It felt better than he wanted to admit.
“What? Your father’s an earl.”
“And my brother is a criminal.” She shook her head. “By the standards of decent society, you’d be the one marrying beneath you.”
“That’s asinine.” The toes of his boots nudged the toes of hers. “I don’t care what your brother is.”
“And I don’t care who your father is.” She lifted her chin. Her lips hovered inches beneath his.
