He did care.
The realization swept through the fragile tangle of her emotions like wildfire.
Chapter 14
Lord Kerr had been so good as to loan his younger brother, Greyhold, to Culross for his short voyage.
Unfortunately, Culross was going to repay the favor by killing the younger man.
It mattered not that Greyhold was the size of a tree, and thick as one too. Or that he had more than half of a foot on Culross. Or the newly titled war hero had four stone extra on Culross.
He was going to kill him.
Culross fixed his stare on his new quartermaster, Lord Greyhold. Because if he moved his focus lower, he would see it. That small, inconsequential scrap of material, the only barrier between the reckless gentleman’s skin and Meghan’s.
He buried his hands into fists.
The insolent bastard, the same man who had laughed with her over an Axminster carpet, had dared lay a hand upon Meghan. Culross inhaled slowly through his nose.
Greyhold, maritime marvel, had stood inCulross’schambers, his fingers grazing what did not belong to him.
For that he would pay the ultimate price.
To give his hands a purpose until the inevitable killing, Culross loosed the tips of his black leather gloves, one at a time.
Even garrulous Meghan, who never found a void of silence she did not yearn to fill, sensed the gravity of the moment.
One glove free.
Culross, with forcible restraint, returned the weathered article to the front pocket of his boat cloak beside his spyglass.
Culross worked on his other wet glove.
Did Meghan know a man would be flogged within an inch of his life this day because of her?
Culross flicked his stare briefly to the fiery minx who had upended his natural order. A grim line touched his mouth. It was an unfair thought. The crime was Greyhold’s alone.
It belonged solely to the one who dared graze his hand upon her body. It was Culross’s alone to touch.
Meghan, Culross’s future wife, soon to be countess, stood with her head hung low. Her arms hugged tight to her waist in a sorrowful little embrace. Culross hated even that embrace for taking what belonged to Culross alone.
Meghan’s gaze: that breathtaking, undaunted, unconquerable gaze, was now vanquished.
In shame. In guilt.
Not in all the time he had known her last year. Not at Lord Rutland’s. Not during these two days alone with her.
Now.
For the first time, Meghan, always splendorously proud, carried emotions unworthy of her.
A fresh wave of rage sizzled through his veins.
Greyhold would pay.
Culross added that second sin for Kerr’s pup of a brother to answer for—
“Captain—”
