Chapter Twenty-Five #2
The moment those words left Violet’s beautiful lips, Drake wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her wildly.
He, more than anyone, knew the cost of letting go.
He’d taken treasures from his mother’s family after her death, but what he’d really wanted to do was rip their mouths from their faces, their hearts from their chests.
Walking away with baubles had been a bittersweet compromise, and more bitter than sweet.
Violet could demand anything from him, anything at all, and he would give it without question, without pause.
She must know this. And yet she’d chosen to leave him the choice, the mercy.
Bloody hell, he loved this woman.
Drake pulled her back to his side and looked down at the man kneeling in the cell. “I may yet have use for two earls.”
“Oh?” Violet murmured. “What use may that be?”
He smiled at her curiosity. “We may have need for help in this war with my uncle.” He brought her palm up to his lips. “My uncle approached your brother from the start.”
Her eyes widened. “He did? So your uncle is the supporter they were boasting about?”
Drake nodded. “See, little flame? We were always destined to cross paths.”
She gave a light scoff. “I remember you suspected me of foul play at the start.”
He had. That seemed ages ago, however. “My suspicions weren’t that far off.”
“True enough.”
“You are both equally mad,” the dog growled from its cage. “The Crown will never allow you to get away with this!”
Drake snorted softly through his nose. Men like Reginald clung to crowns and titles like charms against the harsh reality of life. “What the Crown doesn’t know, the Crown cannot act upon.”
The dog’s glare turned fierce. “You think you’re untouchable! You are not!”
Drake tilted his head. “No, I don’t believe myself untouchable. However, leverage and trade are things I know all about.”
Violet’s fingers tightened in his. “You plan to leverage and trade my brother? Are you sure? I don’t think he’s worth much.”
“No, but his title does have some uses.”
“What are you thinking, Drake Fury?”
Drake grinned, leaning to brush his lips against her ear. “Why don’t I tell you in bed?”
She whacked at him, matching his grin.
Christ.
Violet’s smile was the kind of smile that changed a man. He’d chase it all his life. He reached for her hand and guided it to his chest, pressing it flat above his heart.
“Feel that?” he asked again, softer now.
“Yes.”
“That hasn’t stopped pounding since I met you.”
“Don’t you dare confess what I want to hear here!”
Drake chuckled. “As my lady wishes.”
Reginald gave a hysterical bark of laughter. “Do you think we’re the only ones your uncle is supporting? The only brother he’s courting?”
Rage exploded as he turned back to Reginald.
“You think this ends here, with me, with him?” His gaze flicked to Percival, still unconscious.
“Britain is crawling with men who hate you,” the dog earl spat.
“Men who would happily take you and all you hold dear apart piece by piece to get to you. Some even in your midst. You’ll never be able to protect my sister. ”
Drake clenched his jaw.
“What are you talking about?” Violet demanded.
Reginald’s eyes gleamed. “You truly don’t know? Oh, sister.” He shook his head, mock pity softening his voice. “How very you.”
Drake’s hand tightened at his side. “Choose your next words carefully.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Violet said with a shake of her head. “It doesn’t matter if it’s one man, ten men, or the whole world. Drake doesn’t need to protect me,” Violet remarked, once again squeezing his fingers, “alone. We will protect each other.”
Protect each other.
His gaze found their joined hands. He liked that idea even though the thought filled him with slight horror at the same time. While Drake had been shaped by men who did not abandon their own, Violet was different.
His brothers closed ranks without question. They fought, bled, and covered one another’s backs as naturally as breathing. There was nothing gentle about it. Nothing uncertain. Each man knew his place, knew when to step forward and when to retreat.
With her, she would not fall in behind him or wait for orders. She would argue. Demand answers. Step into danger by choice. It would drive him bloody mad, but it would also make him work harder to protect their future. To not ruin what he had now touched, what he had now claimed.
“Correct,” Drake agreed. Always. “We shall protect each other while you rot in here. Better hope we don’t die, Barrowmere. The key to this cell might be forever lost to you if I do.”
Violet gave a curt nod. “You haven’t asked how I escaped your friend over there, Barrowmere.”
“Why should I ask?” Reginald snapped. “It was these criminals, no doubt.”
“You still haven’t figured it out?” Violet murmured. “I suppose Rook is really good at what he does.”
Drake’s head whipped to her. “Rook?”
Her face flushed. “I heard he tried to stab you. Forgive him, please? When I left London, he kept my brother’s attention occupied somehow. Also, he was there before you arrived at my garden.” Her countenance turned sheepish. “I told him to hide when I suspected you were coming.”
Holy hell. Their paths interlaced on a truly magnificent scale. His eyes bore into his little flame’s. “So there is another man.”
“Would you stop that?” she hissed. “Rook is not another man. He’s just a man.”
“And a bloody traitor!” Reginald howled.
Drake chuckled. He hadn’t fallen too far in his judgement of people. Thank God.
“I would think of ways you could be useful to each of these men,” Violet advised her brother. “It might be your only chance not to rot here for the next twenty-one years.”
Drake’s brow furrowed. “Twenty-one years?”
“My age,” she said easily. “I find it a useful measure of time.” She cast him a glance of pure curiosity. “What’s yours?”
Bloody hell. “I’d rather not say.”
“Why not?”
The tease came so naturally it surprised even himself. “A bit of mystery is good for a marriage.”
“Marriage?”
Ah, right. Confession. Time. Place. He turned to her and swiftly lifted her up into his arms, hands splaying over her arse, her body pressed along his.
“Drake! Put me down!”
“In a moment.” He turned with her in his arms and strode to the door.
Reginald’s voice rose behind them. “You bastard! You think you’ve won? You think she’ll stand by you when the blood starts flowing?”
Drake did not look back. “Tell that cockchafer when he wakes up to settle in,” he called back evenly.
“You’ll both be here for a while.” He reached for the torch mounted beside the door, wrenched it free, and strode toward the passage.
The light leapt and danced along the stone, throwing their melded shadows across the walls. The sight made him tighten his arms.
“You are impossible,” Violet muttered, though there was more breath than bite to her words.
Reginald hurled another curse, then another, his threats fading into the dark as Drake mounted the steps two at a time. Some admissions could not be made in the dark with an enemy at your back.
And he had things to make clear.