“Please, Roman.Please.”
Their words finally sank in.
Roman stepped back, shaking his head like a man possessed. Leonie sobbed senselessly. He looked over to her. She was on her knees bent over as if in great pain.
The soldier fell to the floor, groaning. Roman wanted another go at him but Stoddard stepped between them.
“My lord,” the innkeeper said, “he’s done. Enough.”
Enough? Roman wanted to tear the limbs off the man. The reception room was full of the curious. If Leonie’s scream hadn’t woken them, the fight did. Candles had been lit and a lamp brought in.
Roman held up his hands, a sign that he was finished. He’d leave the man to his compatriots, all of whom eyed Roman warily and didn’t step to help their friend. Roman’s knuckles would be bruised. There was blood on them. Not his own. The innkeeper handed him a damp towel and Roman wiped his hands as he went over to his wife.
“Leonie?”
She kept her head bowed. Her assailant had torn her bodice. She held it together.
Roman knelt and placed his hand on her shoulder. “It is all right. Everything will be fine.”
She lifted her head.
The signs of her struggle almost caused him to tear into the soldier again. Instead, he raised the towel to her face and placed it gently where there was a cut by the corner of her mouth.
She flinched. He soothed her with soft words. Her lower lip trembled, but her crying quieted.
“Let me take you upstairs,” he said.
Leonie nodded and allowed him to help her to her feet. She pushed her heavy hair back with her hand. The innkeeper was apologizing. Roman barely heard a word. Instead, he noticed the soldier was still doubled up on the floor. “Tie him up for the magistrate.”
“Yes, my lord. Of course.”
“Come,” Roman gently ordered. “Let’s go to our room.”
She nodded and as they took a step together his bare foot struck a bottle. It rolled on the floor and the soldier’s protest came back to Roman—Traded it for a bottle, she did.
A white heat roiled through him along with a cruel understanding.
Leonie had come down here for a drink?His wife had exposed herself to this danger for a tipple?No wonder she hadn’t woken him when she left their bed. She hadn’t wanted him to stop her.
Roman looked to the innkeeper. It took all his control to ask civilly, “Do you have brandy?”
Beside him, Leonie made a sound of protest as if she might be ill. He ignored her.
“Yes, my lord.” He hurried to the taproom to fetch the bottle.
“Roman, no. That is not necessary.”
“Oh, but it is,” he said, unable to look at her.
The innkeeper’s wife had roused from her bed. She gave an exclamation of surprise upon seeing Leonie, who tried to hide her head in Roman’s shoulder.
The innkeeper came running back to them. “Here we are, my lord. And two glasses.”
Roman took the bottle. “The glasses aren’t necessary.” He led Leonie past the curious stares of the guests who had been sleeping in the taproom and to the stairs.
Mrs. Stoddard followed them. “Do you need anything for the cuts on your hands? Or for my lady?”
“We shall be fine,” Roman said, and gave her a tight smile, even though nothing could be further from the truth.
