Trial by Desire (Carhart #2)

“Kate,” he said, without taking his eyes off Harcroft, “what should we do with this carrion-eater?”


“We’ve sent him home once. I suppose we can do it again.” Kate shook her head and gingerly touched her wrist. “We haven’t any use for him here.”

“Shall I decorate his face for him, before he takes his leave of our fine hospitality?”

“I should think there has been enough decoration for now.” Kate thought of the fine network of bruises she’d seen on Louisa’s arm. She thought about the spreading ache from her fingers on up to her shoulder. “The last thing we need at this point is violence. Isn’t that the case, Harcroft? I say that because I am, in fact, a gentle creature.”

“There,” Ned said. “Now you see why I turn to my wife for consideration in these important decisions. Because if it were up to me, I would break every bone in your body before I tossed you in the water trough to cool off. What do you think, Kate? May I break one rib? Please?”

Kate smiled. “If he comes back, break everything.”

“There. Mercy and justice, all in one delightful package. I shall put you down now, and you will walk out the door.”

Harcroft licked his lips and turned to them as Ned let him down. “You will regret this,” he said. “You will both regret this.”

“I know,” Ned said, shaking his head sadly. “I already do. I shall have to make do with envisioning your body bloodied and in need of a physician. But we all suffer disappointments.”

“I won’t give up. You can’t send me away.”

“And I—” here Ned stepped forward “—I am not going to let you hurt my wife. Not for any reason, and certainly not for no reason at all, which is what you appear to have. You are not welcome here any longer, Harcroft, and you’d damned better crawl off and lick your wounds. You have some nerve, threatening my wife just because you can’t beat your own any longer. Now scramble away.”

Harcroft took one step toward Ned, his hands clenched into fists. And then he turned—and he scrambled.

Kate watched Harcroft scamper down the hall. Beside her, Ned’s chest heaved. He flexed out his hand. He stared at the empty hall, his eyes focused unseeingly on nothing. His head bowed, finally, and he scrubbed that hand through his hair.

“Hell,” he said. “I think I might have finally said too much. What have I done?”

Saved me, she thought, before the rest of his speech caught up to her.

“You mean—you knew?”

He looked away. “Um. If you mean, did I happen on Lady Harcroft in the shepherd’s cottage a few days prior? Well. Perhaps.”

Oh, God. Kate’s stomach fluttered. “Are you dreadfully angry with me for not disclosing it earlier? Do you want me to stop?”

“I am ablaze with curiosity as to how you managed such a tremendous feat in secret. But angry?” He looked in her eyes. “It took me years to trust myself. You’re allowed to wait at least a week. Now, if you had actually loaded the pistol Lady Harcroft pulled on me, then I would have been wounded by your mistrust.”

“She didn’t.” Kate’s hand covered her mouth.

“She did.” He smiled faintly. “But you needn’t worry. We saw eye-to-eye shortly after.”

He let out a sigh. “Damn me. I had it all under control—Harcroft actually believed I was on his side. I had allayed all his suspicions. One little setback and the next thing I know, I’ve ruined it all.”

“Ned. Are you joking?”

“If I had been in control of myself—”

Kate held a finger up to his lips. “I have had it up to here with your control,” she said, her voice shaking. “There is a time and a place for control. And that time and place is not when a man is threatening to rip your wife’s arm out of its socket. That is the moment when you are allowed to lose control and crush him like the worm that he is. You think too much of your control.”

He looked down at her, the afternoon light catching his eyelashes in gold. “Do I?”

“Yes.” Kate shook the last of the smarting pain out of her wrist and looked up at Ned in return. If she said the word, he might run after Harcroft and pound the man to a delightful pulp. Or, better yet…

She placed her hand on his and gazed into his eyes with all the pent-up yearning of the past three years. “In fact,” she said with a tight little smile, “I wish you would lose control again.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN