“I don’t want either of you to regret your decision, for it cannot be undone,” Rosalinde continued, ignoring her grandfather’s looming presence.
Celia looked at Stenfax, and he looked back. Rosalinde realized it might have been the first time she’d ever seen them look each other in the eye. A moment of silent communication went between them, a moment where the hesitation her simple truth created was obvious.
“Do you forget what I can take away?” Fitzgilbert said, directing the comment to the room at large. Rosalinde supposed he meant his money when it came to Stenfax.
And his secrets when it came to her. Secrets he had lorded over them for years now. Secrets that she knew could easily put the final nail into the coffin of his ambition.
“Are you referring to the way you blackmailed Celia into accepting Stenfax’s proposal?” Rosalinde asked softly.
Stenfax pushed off the desk. “What?”
Celia covered her mouth with one hand. Her voice was muffled as she said, “Oh, Rosalinde. Don’t, don’t…”
She faced her sister, tears stinging her eyes. “We will live under his thumb forever, Celia. We will be his puppetsforeverif I don’t. And he’ll never tell us the truth.Never.”
“What are you holding over Celia’s head?” Stenfax asked, and suddenly he seemed to have gotten even taller. There were storms on his face, passions that he had never revealed because he never felt them for Celia.
But there they were, and Rosalinde caught her breath at the power Stenfax exuded now. Money or not, he was most definitely the man with the most power in the room.
Fitzgilbert shook his head. “It’s none of your concern!”
“I think it is,” Stenfax growled. “You have made it my concern.”
“You can tell him or I will,” Rosalinde said softly. “You can tell him about our father. About who he was. About how you stole us away from him. About how you held his true identity over our heads like cheese to a rat, forcing us to run your maze and do your bidding.”
“Shut up,” Fitzgilbert said.
“He was a servant,” Rosalinde said, turning her attention back to Stenfax.
Celia caught her breath. “What?”
Rosalinde nodded at her, seeing her reel with the information as much as Rosalinde had herself the night before. “We may not know his name, but now we know he was nothing but a servant to our grandfather. That’s how much our poor mother wanted to escape him. She would run away with a servant and bear that man two daughters out of wedlock rather than be held hostage one more moment. Gray has the proof.”
Stenfax pivoted on Gray and stared. “You haveproofof this?”
Gray opened his mouth, and Rosalinde forced herself to look at him. He might see this as a betrayal. Only he didn’t look betrayed. He met her eyes, nodded slightly and opened his mouth to answer his brother.
But he didn’t get a chance. Before he could speak, Fitzgilbert suddenly rushed across the room toward her. She let out a truncated scream and tried to back away, but it was no use. Her grandfather had the element of surprise in his attack. He caught her throat in one big hand, even as they fell backward together.
She hit the floor, what little air he wasn’t choking from her lungs exiting with the blow. She stared up into his face, this man who was meant to raise her, protect her, love her, and all she saw was his insanity. His hatred as he closed both hands around her neck and began to squeeze. Squeeze even as she clawed at him, even as the air disappeared from her lungs and the world grew blacker and silent.
Chapter Twenty
Gray was moving and he hadn’t even given his legs the order to do so. He was just flying across the room at Fitzgilbert as he leaned over Rosalinde, choking her as Celia screamed and clawed at his shoulders in a vain effort to make him stop.
Stenfax was moving too, but Gray reached Fitzgilbert first. He pushed Celia aside, knocking her on her ass before he ripped Fitzgilbert off of Rosalinde. As she was freed, she gasped for air and shoved herself backward, out of the range of her grandfather’s swinging grip.
Gray threw him across the room, into a chair that shattered into splinters, and then he jumped on top of him. Rosalinde was free, safe, and it didn’t matter—because Gray was going to destroy this man. For threatening her, for hurting her, for trying to kill her.
Gray was going to annihilate him.
He threw the first punch with all his might and felt the older man’s nose break beneath the weight of Gray’s fist. Blood splattered both across his face and Gray’s knuckles. Gray threw more and more punches, raining them down without stopping, without speaking, without thinking about anything but Rosalinde’s face when Fitzgilbert had grabbed her throat.
He felt arms and hands on him, but didn’t stop his assault until he was yanked away. Only then did his mind clear, and he became aware that he was being held by both Stenfax and Folly. Except Folly wasn’t supposed to be here. But then it also became clear that the door to the office was now open and half a dozen curious, whispering faces were peering in at the carnage in the room.
Celia moved toward her grandfather cautiously, digging in her pocket for a handkerchief.
The man needed more than that. His nose was shattered and his face was bruised. Gray didn’t feel the least bit sorry, either.
