Chapter Eighteen
Rhys played a slow melody on his piano. He’d needed something to keep him occupied as he tried not to stalk Violet Sommerset.
These past few days, since he had spewed his emotions all over poor Matthew, Rhys had tried his best to stay away from her.
He didn’t need to see her in order to investigate the Duke of Lavensham, and with each encounter, he only became more captivated.
What he needed was some space from her so he could remember all the reasons he’d chosen to keep away from entanglements of the heart.
The dog picked up his head from where he lay across the room. His ears twitched, and he let out a low woof. Rhys paused his playing to listen. “What do you hear, boy?”
Lumbering to his feet, the dog barked again. This time, Rhys heard it as well. Someone was knocking on his front door. He strode over to the front window. Who the fuck would knock on his door this time of night? Flicking back the curtains, he peered out at the front stoop. Fuck.
He raced to the door, the dog already there, barking his head off. He wrenched it open. Violet looked up at him with wide, wild eyes. Wearing what looked like only a robe and slippers, she hiccupped loudly on the back end of a sob.
“I killed him. I killed him.”
Rhys reached for her and pulled her roughly against him. Shutting the door with his foot, he wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders. “What the hell do you mean, you killed him? Who?”
She buried her head in his chest. Her bare fingers clutched at his shirt. “Stuart is dead.”
He sucked in a shocked breath. Her husband dead?
He gently cupped her head, pulling it back so he could see her face.
Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and her cheeks were so pale.
“How? What happened tonight? Are you hurt?” His words tumbled over each other.
Something terrible must have happened in that house tonight.
Another wet sob came from her. Her lips trembled.
God, what was he doing interrogating her in the front hall?
“Sugar, let’s go…” Fuck. He had nowhere comfortable to settle her on the main level.
She shivered in his arms. The only fire burning was upstairs, so Rhys swept her into his arms and started up.
Violet buried her head into the crook of his neck, her tears dampening his collar.
“Here now, let’s get you warm.” He pushed open the door to his room. “Why are you in your nightclothes?” He set her onto the seat of his leather wingback chair, then crossed to poke the embers of the fire back to a blaze and add two logs.
When he turned back, she sat stock-still except for her fingers, which twisted the gold ring around and around her thumb.
Her blond hair was a wild halo around her head.
And now, the glow of the firelight revealed a red mark on her cheek.
Christ. He went to his knees in front of her.
Cupping that cheek, he gently ran a thumb across it. “What happened tonight, Violet?”
“He’s dead. He fell down the stairs. He tried to grab for me, but I stepped back. He was falling and falling.”
“All right. I am starting to get the picture. Was he hurting you?”
“Yes, we argued. He slapped me.” She raised her hand to where he held her cheek.
“I ran upstairs. He pulled my skirts, and I fell. He yelled that I should never run away from him. We struggled, but when he pulled back, I ran up the stairs.” Her brow furrowed as though she was having trouble putting the events in order.
“He was shaking me. Yelling. Then he lost his balance. I could see him stumble. He reached for me, but I took a step back.” She covered her mouth with one hand.
The horror on her face was heartbreaking.
“Shhhh…you’re safe now.” He pulled her off the chair and onto his lap. Stroking her hair, he rocked her gently. “You were protecting yourself. He would have pulled you down with him.”
She was quiet for a long time. When he looked down, her eyes were closed, her breathing even. He rose slowly, trying not to jostle her too much. Then he carried her over to his bed and laid her gently on the sheets.
The dog let out a soft woof. “Quiet, boy. Don’t wake her. She has had a rough night.”
As Rhys pulled his arm out from underneath her, she stirred. “Don’t leave me alone.” Her hand grasped his sleeve. “Please.”
“All right. Hang on.” He went to bank the fire.
Then he toed off his shoes and slid off his braces.
He sighed. What was he doing? He looked over at Violet, lying on her side, watching him with those big brown eyes.
Not able to stop himself with any amount of logic, he crossed to the bed and climbed on next to her.
Violet immediately scooted over and laid her head on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close.
She needed the comfort, and he needed to hold her.
Fuck, that bastard could have killed her tonight.
“You don’t think it was my fault? That I could have prevented him from falling?” she whispered in the dark a few moments later.
He swept a hand over her hair. “No, sugar. No. His body weight would have pulled you down with him.”
She nodded against his shoulder, then was quiet again for a while.
“I’m not sorry that he is dead. I feel…relieved.”
He kissed her forehead. “He was a horrible person. Cruel. Don’t you feel bad about being relieved. I’m glad he’s dead too. I would have taken care of him for you.”
“I know.” She burrowed her head against his chest, and with a deep sigh, she finally fell asleep.
*
Rhys woke early. Something was different.
A soft sigh tickled his neck. As he came fully awake, he remembered that he was not alone.
Violet was wrapped around him, one leg over the top of his, her head on his shoulder, and her long hair spread over his chest like the tentacles of a mythical sea creature.
Had he ever woken up next to someone else?
Not since he was a child. He assessed the situation.
It felt nice. She was warm and soft in his embrace.
He fingered a length of her blonde hair.
Silky soft. And she smelled good; clean, faintly of citrus.
When he glanced down at her face, she blinked at him owlishly. Then she sat up abruptly, pushing her hair off her face. “Sorry. Oh, sorry,” she said.
Rhys tucked his hands behind his head. “Don’t be sorry. You feel nice.”
“Oh dear, this is so inappropriate. I stayed the whole night. In your bed.” The look of shock on her face was priceless.
“You came seeking refuge from a very bad night. You asked me to stay, so I did.”
“I did, didn’t I?” she murmured. A blush bloomed across her cheeks. She was so damn beautiful.
The dog let out a low bark from next to the bed. His big head rested on the mattress.
“Hello, pup. Aren’t you such a handsome fellow?” Violet reached out a hand and patted the top of his head.
“Don’t!” Rhys scrambled up with the intention of throwing himself between her and the dog’s jaws. But nothing happened. Not even the smallest growl.
Violet glanced at him. “Don’t what?”
“He doesn’t like to be petted.”
The dog let out a long-suffering sigh as though he was so misunderstood, as though he hadn’t snapped and growled at everyone who had come within two feet. He stared up at Violet with his soulful dark eyes, all the while drooling on the sheets.
“Nonsense. Every dog likes a good head scratch.” She rubbed behind the mastiff’s ears. “Don’t you?” she cooed.
Rhys chuckled and sat back on his haunches. This woman charmed all manner of beasts. Even him.
“Where did you get such a dog in the city? He looks like a hunting dog.”
“Um, yes, about that. He was chained in a cage inside your father-in-law’s mews. He was going to be used in the fighting rings, so I sprang him. He has been my shadow ever since.”
Violet paled at the mention of the duke. She petted the dog’s head. “He came and took his son last night. Said that Stuart would lie in respite at Sommerset House.”
“Was he angry at you?”
She shook her head. “Hodgins—that’s my butler—didn’t tell him I was part of it.
Hodgins was at the bottom of the stairs.
He saw what happened, said there was no reason to involve me.
Had Ginny take me to my rooms. I could hear the duke yelling when he arrived, but Hodgins told him that Stuart had been drinking, lost his balance, and fell. ”
“Good.” Rhys took her hand and rubbed his thumb across the soft skin. “Do you want me to take you home?”
But her eyes were glassy and unfocused. She had withdrawn into her head again. Rhys squeezed her hand. “Violet, do you want me to take you home?”
“No.” Her gaze snapped to his. “Can I stay? Just for a bit.”
“Won’t your absence be noticed?”
“I don’t care. I can’t go back there.” Her voice cracked. “Not today anyway.”
“You can stay as long as you like,” he said. Fuck, he would promise her anything. “Are you hungry?”
She smiled. “Yes. But also I need to use the necessary.”
He rose and helped her off the bed, then led her across the room to the door that led to the bath. “Right through there. I will meet you downstairs in the kitchen.”
He turned to the dog. “Come on, you, let’s give her some privacy.” They walked down the corridor. “So, what? You only like the ladies?”
The dog snuffed an exasperated breath and knocked his big head against Rhys’s leg. Rhys experimentally went to pet him and was rewarded by a low warning growl. He chuckled. “Just the ladies, then.”