“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I think it was, actually.” He looked away. “He’d been talking, complaining. This job wasn’t what he expected. The Conte hired him for his strength and size. Everyone assumed he was stupid, and he hated it. He was accustomed to getting his fill of female attention too, but here in England he couldn’t even speak to them. I should have realized he’d start looking your way and...circumstances being what they are, he got ideas.”
Isobel shook her head. “It still wasn’t your fault. There are a dozen things I could have said and done to prevent this as well. One of them might have worked—or none of them.”
Nino sniffed, but he nodded, anyway. “I think this should do it,” he said, tying a knot at the end of the thread.
He did fine work. The stitching was neat and narrow.
“How often have you done this?”
“A few times,” he said, cleaning up the sewing materials from the table. “Would you like some comfrey?”
Surprised, she looked up. “I was not aware that you knew anything about healing plants.”
“I’ve been paying attention,” he said dismissively.
She picked up the glass again and took a large sip. The brandy burned her throat, and her eyes watered.
“Actually I made a salve that will work better. It’s in the conservatory with the other supplies,” she said, wincing at the taste of the brandy.
She’d only ever drunk wine and that had usually been watered down. No matter how expensive this brandy was—and if Matteo had bought it, then it was very costly—it still tasted like a combustible solvent going down her throat.
“I’ll go fetch it. And then I’ll help his lordship clean in there.”
Swallowing hard, she nodded as he made his way to the door.
He paused at the threshold. “It’s different now, isn’t it?”
Taking another bracing sip, she squinted up at him. “What do you mean?”
“The beast. It doesn’t kill the same way. Before all it had to do was touch someone and they died. Now it uses its strength to beat you to death. That and the way it behaves with you.”
Too tired for explanations, Isobel dismissed his comment with a shrug. All she wanted was a bath. She would worry about everything else later.
***
Hours later, Matteo walked into Isobel’s bedroom. It had taken a long time to dig a hole deep enough for the bastard’s body.
It was a macabre bit of irony. Usually Ottavio was the one digging the hole. Nino had complained that it usually went a lot faster, but Matteo refused to apologize—despite how he felt.
It had been upsetting. He’d never had to bury one of his victims before. That was done out of his sight on orders from his father. This was also the first death he remembered clearly.
He wanted to say that he would regret it. The violence and the carnage would stay with him for a long time. But he wasn’t sorry that the figlio di mignotta was dead.
Isobel was sitting at her dressing table in her nightgown. She was examining her bruised lip by candlelight in the looking glass. He came up behind her, their eyes meeting in the glass. Tentatively, he put his hands on her shoulders. To his relief, she didn’t flinch away.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he whispered. “I never wanted to do something like that in front of you.
Under his hand, Isobel’s shoulders shook as she took a deep shuddering breath. “That wasn’t you. Trust me, that was very clear.”
He didn’t know what to say. Well, there was one thing...
“It felt like me,” he whispered. “And perhaps there is a reason for that.”
She turned around to face him. “What do you mean?”
Passing a hand over his face, he chose his words carefully. “I mean that I would have killed him too, curse or no curse. He was hurting you, trying to rape you.” He closed his eyes, hands fisting as the rage welled up again. “Nino was right. It was my fault.”
“Again, that’s not true.”
His Isabella was getting angry, and it touched him. Even after everything he’d done to her, she was trying to absolve him of guilt. She didn’t understand.
“Yes, it is. Every terrible thing that has happened to you is because of me. And as badly as I felt about that, I wasn’t truly sorry because I was able to keep you. You’re my wife, and I would protect you with my life...and now I know I would kill for you too. I would do whatever I have to do to keep you safe. But I’m the one you need to be protected from.”
He looked down at his hands. They were clean now, but he could still see the blood on them. “Isabella, I think it’s time to end this. It’s time for me to die.”
Her brow creased and her shoulders slumped. She looked so exhausted. “No.”