Chapter 31
One look at Selina, bound to a chair by her ankles and wrists, and Philip knew it would be a miracle if he didn’t rip the Marquess limb from limb.
He liked to think of himself as someone calm in times of chaos, but as he watched Selina writhe and twist to free herself, calling out his name, he saw red in a way he never had before. Not even when faced with an enemy horde, or the whip of his father’s cane.
“You bastard!” he roared as he lunged for the weaselly Marquess.
The priest stumbled out of the way as Philip drove his fist straight into the bridge of the Marquess’s nose.
The Marquess stumbled backward, his hands flying to his face. His eyes watered, tears trickling down his cheeks, but he was not the sort of coward who gave up without a fight. He was a worse kind, the sort of coward who didn’t know when to quit.
As blood poured from his nose, he made a run for the back of the room. “You can’t have her, Ashbrook!” he garbled. “She was promised to me! I am deserving of her, not you—a dirty soldier without a speck of decency or dignity!”
“I will tear your tongue out!” Philip snarled, striding after the weasel.
In a panic, the Marquess began wrenching drawers open, clearly searching for something. A weapon, no doubt. Meanwhile, Philip didn’t need one. His fists would serve him just fine.
“Philip!” Selina yelped. “Philip, don’t!”
He ignored her and continued his approach.
Twisting around, terror etched on his pale face, the Marquess bolted away from the chests of drawers and ran like a child to the opposite side of the dining table. As if that would be enough to stop Philip.
“You are the thief! You stole her from me. I am merely taking back what belongs to me,” he rasped, his face smeared with red.
“Belongs to you?” Philip bristled. “No, Lord Ramsbury, she was never yours.”
He sprang up onto the table, the wood groaning beneath his weight, and stalked toward the terrified Marquess. If the man had any sense, he would flee, but it was obvious that he had no sense whatsoever.
“I will kill her before I let you have her,” the Marquess threatened, frantically searching around for something to defend himself.
“I will kill you before you get close,” Philip replied.
The priest put up his hands in a gesture of peace. “Gentlemen, perhaps this is a conversation to have over tea, once you have both calmed down.”
Philip shot him a dark look. The priest didn’t hesitate. In an instant, he turned tail and ran out of the dining room, the slam of the front doors confirming his departure.
Maybe he would fetch the constables. It would be a difficult situation to explain, but that would depend on whether there was a dead marquess when they arrived or not.
Death would be too good for him.
Philip surged forward and leaped off the table, tackling the Marquess to the ground. The Marquess wheezed, more blood pumping from his nose, but he still didn’t seem to understand that the fight was over.
He wriggled and squirmed, fists flailing to try and land a blow. A few grazed Philip’s head and shoulders, but Philip barely felt them.
Just then, the Marquess turned his head and sank his teeth into Philip’s arm—tried to, at least—but the thick fabric of Philip’s greatcoat proved too difficult to get through. Nevertheless, the insult of the bite was enough for Philip to put an end to his futile retaliation.
With one sharp jerk of his head, Philip butted him on the already broken bridge of his nose. A moment later, the Marquess’s eyes rolled back, and he went limp. Not dead, not even close, but out cold.
Leaving the man on the floor, Philip jumped up and went to Selina.
“Are you well? Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice thick. “Did he… do anything to you?”
She shook her head weakly. “You got here in time.”
“I am sorry I took so long.”
He untied her wrists and ankles, and though he longed to pull her into his arms, there was something he needed to do first.
Taking the ropes, he darted back to the Marquess and bound him in the tightest knots his strength could fashion. Ties that the bastard would not be able to get out of by himself when he woke up, no matter how much he wriggled and writhed.
Satisfied that the Marquess would not interrupt or somehow get away from the justice that was coming to him, Philip made his slow way back to his betrothed.
Selina rubbed her raw wrists. “I was so worried you wouldn’t know where I was.”
Philip sank to his knees in front of her and took her hands in his own, bringing her sore wrists to his lips and kissing each in turn.
“I came to speak to you, and when I couldn’t find you in your chambers, I felt that something was wrong.
I searched the entire estate for you.” He kissed her wrists again.
“It was your brother who noticed the Marquess was missing. Only then did Mary tell me that she had seen him riding in your direction.”
“Oh… oh… Mary and Lord Ramsbury. They were working together. I don’t know what the plan was exactly, but—”
“I know,” he said.
Her gaze dropped. “Mary had me eavesdrop outside your study. She wanted me to hear that…” She shook her head. “We have a lot to talk about, but I am not sure that this manor is the place for it.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He rose to his feet and, with great care, pulled her up with him. “For now, I just want to make sure that you are all right. I just want to feel this relief for a while.”
He wrapped his arms around her and sighed as he felt her arms slide around his waist, holding him in return. Her cheek nestled against his chest, her eyes closed as if she, too, just wanted to feel this sweet relief for a moment.
He held her for a long while until she pulled back and looked up at him with those beautiful green eyes. They shone with tears that spilled onto her cheeks.
With a smile, he brushed them away with his thumb. “You are safe now, Selina.”
“I was so afraid,” she whispered. “I thought I would have no choice but to be his.”
“You could never be his,” he told her softly, “when you are already mine.”
He hooked a finger under her chin. As her head tilted willingly and her pretty eyes closed in anticipation, he caught her mouth with his in a slow, sensual kiss. A promise that she was his and he was hers, and nothing would ever come between them.
Her hands smoothed up the contours of his chest to loop around his neck. Rising on tiptoe, she clung to him, kissing him back.
It would not have been right to make use of another man’s house, least of all the Marquess’s, but Philip could not deny that he would have liked to carry his bride up to one of the bedchambers and let her know just how grateful he was that she was all right.
“I wish we were back at Ashbrook already,” she whispered between kisses, as if reading his mind.
“As do I.”
He kissed her harder, holding her tighter… and might have suggested what he was thinking had it not been for the interruption of a most unwelcome voice.
“How dare you kiss my daughter!”
It seemed John had finally caught up.
“I tried to keep him outside, but he insisted,” Zachary said, breathless.
Meanwhile, Reuben gasped at the sight on the floor. “Is he dead?”
Blushing, Selina pulled back. “You did not tell me you brought reinforcements.”
“I thought they were far enough behind that they would not bother us,” Philip replied wryly. “But it seems some things never change. I imagine your father will still be telling me not to kiss you when we are married.”
Sadness fell across her face. “Yes, well, I… I hope your kisses won’t change.”
“Never,” he murmured close to her ear, and her face flushed a darker shade of pink. Eager to return to Ashbrook, he kept his arm around her and turned to address the others. “Did you happen to pass a priest on your way here?”
Reuben nodded. “He said he was going to fetch the constables.”
“You should follow him. Make sure the constables hear the correct side of the story,” Philip said. “I would go myself, but I have a bride to take care of.”
An almost proud smile curved Reuben’s mouth. “Of course. I will ride to town at once.”
Soon enough, all of this unpleasantness would be over, and Philip would go home with the woman he loved. Although he understood that returning to Ashbrook was only the beginning, and that officially making Selina his wife was not yet guaranteed.
If she heard everything I said in the study, then I do have a lot of explaining to do.
“Take me home, Philip,” Selina said quietly, leaning into his side.
He bent to kiss the top of her head, not caring about her father’s sharp glare. “Soon, my dear. Soon.”