August knew her family would not care one way or another what he felt, or about his love or needs…
His beloved visage disappeared behind the tears in her eyes.
“M-Meghan?” Campbell’s faltering voice called her.
He stared with horror and shook his head.
“I love him.”
And those three words that the McQuoid-Smiths vowed conquered all—did.
Even the bloodlust of enemies.
Chapter 18
The McQuoids wanted to put a bullet in Culross’s heart.
Each of them. The Smith brothers. McQuoid. Every one of them wanted a shot at him.
Actually.
They should too.
And it would still be too good for Culross.
They had already done a bang-up job with Culross. From the beating Meghan’s youngest brother doled out—with a couple of extra strokes from the eldest—not a single part of Culross that didn’t absolutely throb and ache.
And he would take the same beating one thousand times over to spare himself the invisible agony rending him apart inside. Bit by bit.
Through his bloodied, swollen eyes, he silently raged at Meghan’s cousin.
Why did you not choose Meghan for me?
Culross’s fingers wavered about his former friend’s neck.
Why did I not choose her for me…until it was too late?
Anguish punched beneath his breastbone.
I am not ready to lose you…
You already lost her…
He had lost her the moment she walked in and then out of Rutland’s orangery…
Culross had been too stupid, too stubborn, too cynical to see his need to stop her wedding to Hartwell had nothing to do with the McQuoids.
The walls of his throat grew narrower.
Culross had not wanted to stop that union.
He had needed to.
Because then she would belong to Hartwell.
And he hadn’t acknowledged that he loved her.
Instead of realizing he needed to stop her marriage to Hartwell at all costs—because he wanted her, because he needed her, because he loved her—he had chosen a scheme.
