“Well done, my love,” James murmured. “I shall secure him.”
Striding past her, James used a bedsheet to tie Wilmington’s hands.
“Where is the other half of the pawn ticket?” he demanded.
“For God’s sake, I’m bleeding to death?—”
Wilmington screamed when James clamped a hand over his wound and squeezed.
“The cabinet,” the bounder gasped. “In the…the lining of my hat.”
Retrieving the ticket, James presented it to Evie. Then he returned to Wilmington and used his cravat as a tourniquet to staunch the bleeding.
“Bloody hell, are you trying to kill me?” Wilmington moaned.
“Death is too easy for the likes of you.”
James knotted the linen with savage force. Wilmington screeched and lost consciousness. His job done, James went to Evie and took her gently by the shoulders.
“Are you all right, my love?”
She smiled. “Yes. Are you?”
“I lost a few years of my life when that bastard had his hands on you. Other than that, I am fine.”
Seeing the lingering shadows on his face, she moved closer.
“I was never in any danger. Not with you to protect me.”
“You protected yourself. With the pistol Mama gave you.” He tucked a stray tress behind her ear. “Let that be a reminder to never cross the females in this family.”
“I was referring to more than your physical protection,” she said softly. “Your love, James, has always been my shelter. Because of you, I had the courage to confront my greatest fears and now I am finally free. Free to be the wife you deserve—and the woman I was meant to be.”
“I could not be prouder of the woman you are,” he said fiercely. “My sunflower, my love.”
They kissed, and were still kissing, when their family arrived.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Releasing her arm, he shoved her aside.
“Dirty whore,” he said with a leer. “Remove your dress and do it slowly. I have a fancy for a show while I enjoy my tea.”
Panting, her arm pulsing with pain, Rose watched as he went to the table. He picked up the pot of tea that she had poisoned. Pouring the liquid into a cup, he grunted with approval at the darkness of the brew—strong, the way he liked it. He added cream and sugar, his every movement speeding up her heart.
He must pay. For what he did to Thomas. For what he will do to our babe if I do not stop him now.
She held her breath as he raised the cup to his mouth.
Let him drink it. Let him die. Let his death be as painful as the abuses he has visited upon me.
“No.” The word broke from her lips.
“What?” He snapped his head in her direction. “What did you say to me?”
“No,” she repeated…but it was to herself, not to him. “Not this way.”
He slammed down the cup with enough force to shake the table. “Do you dare to tell me what to do, you slut?”
