Angelica tore his hand from between her legs, yet her body cried out at the absence. Her knees buckled. She swayed against Peter’s chest, sobbing Captain Neill’s name over and over again, imagining the man she loved as she desperately fought back an orgasm she didn’t want.
Peter Lawton hauled her off him. He grabbed her face in his hand, squeezing her cheeks until her jaw ached. Again, she thought he meant to hurt her, but his words were oddly soft. “He doesn’t deserve you.”
Angelica shook her head against his grip, hot tears sliding over his knuckles. “I don’t deserve him.”
He turned her loose to wrench open the door. “Be sure to wear nothing under your dress at dinner. It’s going to be a long night.”
He pushed her into the corridor, stepping out behind her. Angelica couldn’t know if anyone had seen them—or possibly overheard them—but, by the flush of her skin and her sodden combinations, she looked positively defiled. No one would believe that she hadn’t let Peter Lawton have his way with her.
The floor shifted from somewhere to her left. She was not alone.
Angelica fumbled blindly for the doorknob. She didn’t care that her dressing gown was open and hanging off her shoulders. She didn’t care that whoever it was could see her twisted underclothes, or the evidence of what Mr. Lawton’s advances had done to her traitorous body. She only wanted to hide—to retreat into the shadows as she’d always done.
Yet, the voice at her side stopped her. “Angelica?”
***
Thank God for Bessie. When she’d come beating on his door, screeching about Angelica being raped, Brody could hardly believe his ears. He had sprinted down the hallway just in time to see the woman he loved roughly handled by a man he’d once considered his friend.
If the old Brody had witnessed the scene, he’d have doubted Angelica’s fidelity—hadn’t she told him, the night he had first discovered her betrayal, that she would gladly give herself to any man who’d throw his attention her way? The old Brody would have judged her, and found her guilty.
Yet the new Brody trusted her love. He saw her tears, and the panicked look in her wide, blue eyes. She was his girl. She would never willingly give herself to another.
He reached for her. She flinched away from his touch.
Finally, she found the knob, and pushed the door open. Before she could lock him out, Brody stepped into the steamy bathroom behind her. It was so hot, he could hardly breathe. What in God’s name had Peter been doing in here?
Angelica gripped the marble sink top, hanging her head. “Leave me alone.”
“I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think.”
“Oh, please go away. I can’t talk to you.”
“Why? Did something happen with Peter?”
She rounded on him. “Were you there, listening? Did you have your eye to the keyhole, watching the whole sordid thing?”
“Angelica…”
“You’re not shocked. Not even angry! Were you testing me? Did you put him up to it, to see if I would—”
“I’d never do that!” he hissed. “You know I wouldn’t.”
“Then why were you there? Why didn’t you help me?”
Brody wanted to reach for her, to comfort her, but let his hand drop. She didn’t need to be touched just now. “Your maid ran to find me. I came as soon as I heard. My God, Angelica. When I thought that Peter might hurt you…”
She sobbed. “He did hurt me!”
He saw her gaping dressing gown. The way her skin was splotched red. He saw the slackened strap of her lingerie, and the way one breast had been rudely pulled from its support—he’d never even seen her breasts, but apparently Peter Lawton had weighed them in his vile hands. Brody’s throat went tight as he took inventory of her body, noting the purpling bruise on her soft, rounded thigh.
“I’ll kill him.”
Angelica cried out, blocking the door. “No! I’m not worth that.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I won’t stand for anyone hurting you. Now, step aside.”
“I liked it! There’s no use in hanging for something I probably would have done anyway.”
Brody grabbed her. “Not two hours ago, you said what we had was special. That it was worth fighting for. No woman—especially you—would take another man after what we pledged to one another.”
“I’m sorry!” she cried. “But I won’t deny that I felt…aroused…when Mr. Lawton had his hands on me. Don’t do anything rash on my account. I love you, Brody, but I’m always going to be a whore.”
He knew her better than that. Whatever her body felt for Peter Lawton, her heart was fully his. He too had done things he regretted, all in the name of pleasure. The mind did not have to be a willing participant for the body to reach for what it craved. Angelica loved him. Peter had hurt her, and no matter how strongly she tried to convince him otherwise, Brody knew she had not consented to another man’s touch.
She was confused. She was also trying to protect him.
“If I swear not to kill Peter, will you tell me the truth?”
Her blank eyes fell to his chin. “I told you…”