Prologue
Spring 1811
Hugh Margolis, Duke of Brighthollow, dug his heels harder into his stallion’s sides, urging the animal to fly faster through the almost moonless night. It was reckless to push himself and the beast so hard, especially in his current emotional state, which was pure rage. It was hot and red and rough, and he knew that it limited his ability to be rational, something he’d always prided in himself.
Tonight he was not rational, and with very good reason. He was riding through the night, desperation heavy in his chest, for one reason and one reason only: his younger sister Lizzie.
She had been a mere child when their parents died, just eight. He’d been twenty-one and inherited her guardianship along with the dukedom and all the responsibility that entailed. He’d become her father in every sense of the word.
And for so long, they’d gone along together, affectionate and close. He was so very proud of her, for she was an accomplished young lady. And she was always obedient and sweet natured.
Until a few months ago. At sixteen, she had become a little secretive, a little furtive. He’d ignored it. After all, most children hit a difficult phase, or so friends told him.
He should have been more involved. He would hate himself forever for that. Especially if he could not reach her in time. Hugh was almost to the border now, Scotland was less than a league up this winding, wild road. Scotland was wherehewas taking her.
Aaron Walters…the man Hugh wanted to kill at this moment.
His heart leapt as he saw a cottage looming just ahead. He’d been following Lizzie andhimfor three days now, always just a step behind them, always getting information too late. But his last source had said they planned to stop at this cottage before riding on to Gretna Green in the morning.
Hugh’s stomach turned at the thought of it.
He pulled the horse up short before the house and swung down. It was a tiny place, rundown, certainly not fit for his sister. But then, the man who had taken her was not thinking of her comfort or her heart or her future.
He was thinking of her enormous fortune.
Hugh didn’t knock. He hit the door with his shoulder and the lock broke, allowing him to tumble into the room without preamble. As he did so, he heard a little scream and looked up to find Lizzie, just as his source had claimed.
She was standing before a fire, before a bed, in the arms of the man who had taken her. Walters’ shirt was half-undone, Lizzie’s bright honey hair was down around her shoulders. She looked at Hugh with shame and pain, her blue eyes darting away.
Walters, on the other hand, stared straight at him. He smiled. The bastardsmiledas he said, “Brighthollow, we did not expect you. Come to witness our wedding, have you?”
What Hugh wanted to do was stride across the room, put his hands around Walters’ throat and squeeze until he went limp. He wanted to put a bullet between his eyes. But Lizzie was standing there, Lizzie was watching, and her eyes were now filled with tears.
“Hugh,” she whispered, almost imperceptible in the tiny room.
He pushed away the irrational, uncontrollable rage and sank back into the deep control he had mastered over himself since he’d become duke eight years before. With great effort, he extended his hand and said, “Lizzie, come.”
His voice was gentle, and for that he was happy. He was not angry with her. No, he chose to put all his anger on the bastard who was still holding her. Walters’ fingers tightened on her arms for a moment, but as Lizzie let out a shuddering sigh and moved toward Hugh, he did let her go. Hugh nearly collapsed with relief and gently pulled her behind him. Her hands shook as she clung to his.
“She is sixteen,” he managed to growl through clenched teeth.
Walters arched a brow and shrugged one shoulder. “It hardly matters now.”
Hugh snorted in a deep breath through his nose. “Lizzie, go outside. I’ll join you in a moment.”
“No!” She tightened her grip on his hand. “Please, please, no Hugh. Please don’t. We—we care for each other.”
Hugh jerked his gaze down at her. There was hesitation in her voice. Like she had determined the truth before he arrived but felt she had no escape from it. Tears gathered in her eyes, and one slid down her cheek.
He shook his head as he wiped it away gently. “He does not care for you,” he whispered, and hated how she flinched.
“One way or another, I get what I wanted, don’t I?” Walters said, and his smug tone drew Hugh’s attention back. His eyes were lit up and a smile settled on his face. Handsome, yes. Young, yes. Kind? Oh no. There was nothing kind about this man. He was a swindler who had lured in Lizzie, taken advantage of her innocence of spirit as much as her body.
And now she saw it, perhaps more clearly than ever before. Her lips parted and her expression twisted in pain. “What—what do you mean by that, Aaron?”
He looked past Hugh to her. “My dear, I would have married you, and engaged in all those pleasures you and I had just begun to explore.”
Hugh could not stand it anymore—he lunged for Walters, but Lizzie held fast to his arm and kept him from exacting the kind of revenge this bastard deserved.
