Calliope’s lips curved, cold. “A man you’d spit at in the street. A criminal. A beast.” A lovely, gentle, broody beast.
“Enough,” Duvessa hissed. “You weave lies. She is untouched. She must be. She will be examined, and the truth will out.”
Calliope’s chin lifted higher. “Do what you must, the outcome will not be changed.”
“Fetch a physician,” Duvessa said. Calm voice. Cold eyes. “Now.”
One guard moved for the door.
“Wait,” the earl snapped. “We’ll not have the neighbors talking. Send for Dr. Pritchard. Quietly.”
The guard nodded and slipped out.
Lord Flemmington said, “If she’s spoiled, I’ll not take her.”
Thank stars!
However, her plan to dash off was felled by her uncle.
“Hold her.” The earl pointed at the guards who remained. “I won’t have her bolt.”
The corridor beyond the doors erupted with noise. Shouts, cursing, a cry of pain, and an all too familiar crash of something shattering against the floor.
The room froze again.
“What is that?” Duvessa snapped.
A laugh bubbled from Calliope even as one of the guards caught her arm.
The drawing room doors blew inward.
Their reckoning had come.
Maxen filled the doorway, eyes cold, flanked by Reaper and Drake. He looked like dark, avenging angelic beast. So did his brothers. In fact, they looked positively menacing.
A part of her hated that he now knew. Hated that he saw what her life had been like. But stars, she also wanted him to keep seeing. Because someone was angryforher. Furious, even. His eyes burned into her. And he didn’t look away.
No one had ever burned for her like that before.
The man gripping her arms tightened his grip, and she flinched. Not missed by her beast’s sharp gaze.
He all but snarled, “Hands. Off. My. Woman.”
*
Ever since Peregrinehad taken Calliope from under his nose, Maxen had known fury in a dozen shades. Nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the rage he felt at the sight of the scene before him. He’d never seen Calliope look so damn beautiful, but at the same time, one sweep of the room, at what was being forced on her, and he wanted to rip the dress from her body and burn it. He’d rather endure the torment of her striding about in trousers than see her in what was meant to be a wedding gown for another man.
“Who the blazes are you?” an older woman demanded, two young women pressed close to her skirts.
“The last man you should have crossed.” He crossed the floor in three strides, slammed his fist into the man holding Calliope, and in the same motion seized her waist, dragging her against him. The man dropped like an ox, both hands flying to his bloodied nose. He rolled, groaning, spitting crimson. His partner shifted as though to lunge, but Reaper’s pistol cocked with an audible click. The second man froze. Drake leveled his on the man on the ground.
The world righted. Most of his fury bled away now that his woman was back in his arms. Where she damn well belonged. “I’ve come to collect what was stolen from me.”
Maxen didn’t spare them another glance. His arm tightened around Calliope, and bright, sparking eyes stared up at Maxen.
“How did you find me?”
He smiled. “Did truly believed I wouldn’t?”
