Rogan narrowed his eyes. Though not a tall man, Althorpe moved with the ease of someone who could handle himself in a fight, and this, coupled with the duke’s suspicions, was enough to make Rogan’s body tense in readiness as the fellow stopped before them with a charming smile.
“Cousin Caroline, you look radiant! May I offer my congratulations?” Althorpe didn’t kiss Caroline’s hand, clearly cognizant of the fact that Caroline did not like to be touched. Instead he sketched a polite bow. “And to the groom as well, of course. Hunt, isn’t it? My felicitations, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“Husband, this is Mr. Randall Althorpe, my cousin,” Caroline murmured.
“Ah, Belvingham’s heir, is it?” Affecting a mien of conviviality that earned him a startled glance from Caroline, Rogan smiled broadly and shook the other man’s hand.
“Quite.” Althorpe glanced around the room. “And where is dear Uncle? I should like to greet him properly.”
“Entertaining guests no doubt,” Caroline said.
“If you will excuse me, I will seek him out.” With a polite nod of his head, Althorpe disappeared into the crowd.
“Hopefully he won’t stay long,” Caroline remarked. “He and Papa don’t get on that well.”
“A man can’t choose his family.” Senses on alert, he watched over her head as Althorpe spoke to a servant, then slipped from the room.
Noting his distraction, Caroline followed his gaze. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing.” He smiled at his bride. “Tell me, why does Althorpe refer to your father as ‘uncle’ if they are actually cousins?”
“He’s always called him that. And you will not distract me so easily, Rogan. Answer my question.”
“Actually, I believe I should find your father.”
She laid a hand on his arm, smiling in a way that didn’t erase the suspicion in her eyes. “We can look for him together.”
“Unnecessary.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “The bride should stay here to greet the guests.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Rogan, what’s going on?”
“Business, that’s all.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Before she could say another word, he slipped away through the crowd.
“Good morning, Uncle.”
The duke jerked with surprise at the sound of Randall’s voice. With shaking hands, he shoved the settlement papers for Caroline’s marriage into his desk drawer and slammed it shut. Given his heir’s fairly calm demeanor at the moment, he didn’t think the volatile young man knew about the money he had settled on her. “Althorpe. I don’t recall your name on the guest list.”
“A sad oversight, I’m sure.” Still smiling that amiable smile, Randall sauntered into the room. “And how is your health, Uncle? Well, I hope.”
Though his heir’s tone remained solicitous, the duke caught the knowing gleam in Althorpe’s eyes.
“I’m certain you would know better than I.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Prowling around the room, Althorpe ran a finger along the back of a chair, studied a painting. “You know, when I inherit I think I’ll redecorate this room in a dark green. What do you think?”
“I’m not dead yet, you—”
“Temper, temper,” Althorpe chided. “We wouldn’t want your heart to give out now, would we?”
“Is that what comes next?” Despite the weakness of his limbs, Belvingham got to his feet. “Is that what will finally kill me, you hell spawn?”
Althorpe widened his eyes in apparent distress. “Uncle, how can I tell such a thing? Am I a soothsayer?”
Rogan stepped into the room. “Good question. Are you?”
Althorpe swung around, clearly surprised to see the bigger man in the doorway. “Ah, the happy bridegroom. I was simply trying to calm my uncle’s fears. His illness addles him sometimes. It’s so very distressing.”
Belvingham grabbed a small, heavy statue from the desk. “I’ll show you addled!”
Rogan strode across the room and took hold of the statue, placing it on the desk. “Calm yourself, Your Grace.”
“My thanks, Hunt.” Althorpe touched the diamond stickpin at his throat. “I fear the duke is overset.”
Rogan assisted Belvingham into his chair, then turned to face Althorpe. “It’s not good for His Grace to overexert himself.”
Randall’s brows rose. “Certainly you don’t blame me for my uncle’s rantings.”
“Did I say that?” Rogan gave a small, menacing smile that drew a startled look from the other man. “I was merely cautioning you not to upset the duke.”
“Are you threatening me, sir?”
“That depends.” Rogan placed his hand over the statue he had just taken from Belvingham. “Is it working?”
Althorpe’s eyes narrowed. “You assume much.”
Rogan shrugged. “My bride would be displeased to know that her father was upset by your visit, Althorpe.”
“And you must keep the lady happy, I suppose.” Randall’s mouth curved in a condescending smile. “As long as Uncle holds the purse strings, at any rate.”
“You young whelp!” the duke snarled.
Rogan took a step closer to Althorpe, the desire to knock the supercilious smirk off his face nearly more than he could resist. “Leave my wife out of this.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, neither giving an inch. Finally Althorpe broke the contact, reaching for his pocket watch and flicking it open with his thumb. “I do believe I am late for an appointment,” he said, his tone heavy with ennui. “I only stopped by to extend my felicitations to the bride and groom. Good day, Uncle. Hunt.”
Rogan gave a short nod but said nothing. He watched Randall saunter out of the room, then turned to look at Belvingham.
“Don’t be fooled,” the duke said, sagging back in his chair. “He appears charming, but he’s a murdering bastard.”
“I believe you.” Rogan went to the doorway and watched as Althorpe strode down the hall. “I admit, I wasn’t certain before. But I believe you now.”
“The ramblings of a sick old man?” Belvingham snorted. “I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”
Rogan swung away from the doorway and back toward the duke. “That man is dangerous.”
“I suppose it takes one to know one.” Belvingham shifted in his chair, winced. “You see then why I was concerned for Caroline.”
“I do. Does she know…?”
“No! And she never will. I won’t have her frightened. Hopefully her marriage to you will be enough to keep her out of Althorpe’s reach.”
Rogan sat down in a chair by the duke’s desk. “Do you think he means to harm her?”
“I don’t know.” Belvingham slouched back in his chair. “Questions were raised during the investigation into her kidnapping, questions that to this day remain unanswered.”
“You believe Althorpe was behind that?”
“There is no proof. My heir is careful to keep his hands clean of such messes. But given recent events, I cannot help but wonder if that incident was Randall’s doing as well.”
“If he is capable of murder, the kidnapping of a young girl would be child’s play.” Rogan clenched his jaw. “But Caroline isn’t a child any longer.”
“With me out of the way and a clear path to the title, I don’t expect that he would have done any worse than to marry her off to some reprobate or, worse yet, wed her himself to get his hands on her fortune.”
“He can’t touch her now.”
“No.” Belvingham closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh of relief. “My daughter is safe.”
“And she’ll stay that way. That I promise.”
It was her wedding night.
As the carriage stopped before the tiny manor house, Caroline studied her new home. It looked cozy and private, a far cry from the palatial estate she had called home these past twenty years. She would share this house with Rogan, live with him as his wife.<
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He opened the door to the carriage and hopped out, then turned and extended his hand to her. “Welcome home, Caroline.”
She took his hand, and a jolt swept through her. His fingers were so warm, his smile intimate. Her stomach did a little flip-flop. He did understand, didn’t he, that she wasn’t yet ready to become his wife in truth? That she couldn’t yet share his bed?
She stepped down from the carriage, and he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. As he led her to the door of her new home, her heartbeat sped up, and her breathing grew shallow. What if he expected to consummate their marriage tonight? What would she do if he forced her?
She closed her eyes, swallowed hard. She had to believe that he would give her time to work through her fears. They had talked about it, hadn’t they? But she remembered that afternoon in the carriage, when he had seemed a different person, a dangerous man. When her fears had reared up and sent her scrambling from his arms.
How could this possibly work?
“Caroline.” His soft voice drew her attention to his face. Suddenly she realized that they stood on the doorstep of his home and that her fingers clutched his arm with enough force that he could no doubt feel her nails digging into his flesh even through the material of his coat. Mortified, she loosened her hold.
“Don’t be frightened, love.” He gently placed his hand over hers before she could withdraw it. “I know you’re not ready.”
“Not yet,” she whispered, her muscles relaxing in relief. “I wasn’t certain if—”
“We talked about this, remember? I’m not going to force you. We have the rest of our lives to get used to each other.”
“Thank you.” She mustered up a smile, lost for a moment in the tenderness that softened his gray eyes.
He leaned close to her ear. “I’ll be satisfied with a kiss good night.”
His suggestive whisper sent a shiver of desire through her. Aroused and confused, she felt her face grow hot even as her flesh prickled with awareness.
He chuckled, clearly satisfied with her reaction to his flirting. “Come, my blushing bride. Welcome to your new home.” He opened the door and gestured for her to enter first.
Caroline tentatively stepped inside, and Rogan couldn’t suppress a surge of possessiveness. Though he had fought it, this lovely, dainty lady was now his wife, and he couldn’t be sorry. He would protect her from Althorpe and anyone else who threatened her.
Even himself.
He closed the door behind them and hung up his hat as Caroline peered into the snug little parlor. Then she whirled around, eyes wide and face pale. “Rogan, there’s a man in there!”
Rogan grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her behind him as he stepped into the parlor doorway. He recognized the intruder at once and bit back a curse that would certainly have blistered his new bride’s tender ears. He’d hoped to avoid this for some time, but he should have known better. He narrowed his eyes as he noted the way the dark-haired intruder relaxed beside the fire, legs stretched out before him as he helped himself to Rogan’s favorite whiskey.
The handsome fellow looked up as Rogan entered, then gave a charming smile and raised the glass in salute. “And here he is, the lucky bridegroom. Good evening to you, Rogan.”
Rogan didn’t move from his position in the doorway. “What are you doing here, Colin?”
“Can’t a man stop by and wish his brother happy on his wedding day?” Colin got to his feet in one sleek move and tossed back the last of the whiskey, then set the empty glass on the mantel. “Of course I realize it’s more appropriate to offer my felicitations at the wedding; however, I fear my invitation must have been misplaced.”
“You might find it on the manure pile.”
“Really, brother.” Colin placed a hand over his heart and affected a tragic expression. “You wound me.”
“Rogan?” Caroline’s nervous whisper reached his ears even as she moved to stand at his side, slipping her tiny hand around his arm.
Colin’s dark eyes lit with appreciation. “And you must be my new sister-in-law. My brother is indeed a lucky man.”
“Caroline, this is my brother, Colin,” Rogan said, seeing no way to avoid the introductions. “Colin, my wife, Lady Caroline Hunt.”
“Charmed, dear lady.” Colin gave a graceful bow, then slanted a glance toward Rogan. “If I attempt to kiss the bride, do you suppose yon bridegroom will plant me a facer?” Caroline shrunk back closer to Rogan, and Colin chuckled. “Shy, is she?”
“Very.” Rogan turned to Caroline. “I apologize for my brother’s outrageous behavior, my dear. He is an ass, and there is no cure for it.”
Caroline gave a startled giggle, then glanced from Colin back to Rogan. He knew what she saw; the family resemblance was unmistakable. Except for having dark eyes where Rogan had gray, and except for the definite age difference with Colin being eight years older, Colin and Rogan could be mistaken for twins.
“What a lovely smile your bride has,” Colin said.
“You didn’t come here to compliment my wife,” Rogan said. “What do you want, Colin?”
“Again you wound me, brother.” Colin sent Caroline a mournful look. “Can you believe his cruelty, dear sister-in-law?”
“Fine. We’ll play it your way.” Rogan turned to his wife and gently removed her hand from his arm. “Caroline, why don’t you go upstairs while I talk to my brother? Your room is the second door on the left. I believe your father already sent Marie over to unpack.”
“All right.” She glanced at Colin. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine.” Colin watched the lady depart with a gleam of appreciation that raised Rogan’s hackles.
“Get out.” Rogan strode into the room, picked up his brother’s hat off the table, and threw it at him.
Colin caught the hat with both hands, then placed it on the chair, clearly in no hurry to leave. “Now, Rogan—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” He grabbed Colin by the shoulder and shoved him toward the door. “This is my wedding night, you jackanapes. Be gone!”
Colin twisted from Rogan’s hold. “I know it’s your wedding night, despite the fact that you didn’t invite your family to the ceremony.”
“Is it any wonder?” Rogan picked up the hat and tossed it into the hallway. “There’s the door. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.”
“Hey, that’s my favorite hat!”
“Sorry.” Rogan gave his brother a shove between the shoulder blades. “Out.”
“Stop pushing me!” Colin spun around and shoved Rogan in the chest with both hands.
Rogan stumbled back a step, then surged forward, grabbing his brother’s arm and twisting it up behind his back. “This is my house,” he gritted out. “This is my wedding night. I want you gone.”
“Your wedding night,” Colin panted, struggling to free himself. “Why the devil don’t you take the girl on a wedding trip then? I hear you have the blunt now.”
“Her father’s very ill.” He dodged Colin’s other elbow as he jabbed it backward. “I should have known you’d have heard about the money. Is that why you’re here?”
“Of course not. I came to wish you happy.” Colin threw his weight sideways, sending them both crashing to the floor. Freed of his brother’s hold, he nimbly jumped to his feet. “Then I was going to ask you for money.”
Rogan rolled and stood. Colin had taken on a fighting stance, fists at the ready. Rogan balanced himself on the balls of his feet, watching his brother’s eyes. “I had hoped the lack of invitation to the wedding would have made you realize that you aren’t welcome here.”
“Now is that any way to talk to your older brother?” The two men circled, more than familiar with each other’s styles after a lifetime of brawling.
“Be glad I didn’t set the dogs on you.”
“You don’t have any dogs.”
Rogan bared his teeth in a grim smile. “Then I guess you just have to worry about me.”
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�I’m shaking.” Colin narrowed his eyes. “Come now, are you going to hit me, or shall we dance all night?”
“When I’m ready.”
“You know, if I were you—” Colin let loose a punch.
Rogan dodged. “But you’re not me.”
“If I were you…” Colin fell back, and they circled again. “…I would be thinking about dancing with my pretty young wife and not about knocking out my brother’s teeth.”
“I have my priorities.” Rogan came in with a fast one-two punch. The second one caught the edge of Colin’s jaw. Not enough to knock him down, but enough to give Rogan a surge of satisfaction.
Colin regained his footing, working his jaw as if to check the damage. “My priority would be sweet Caroline in the marriage bed, dear brother. I am amazed that you bother with me when such pleasure awaits you.”
“Leave her out of this.” Rogan feinted with his right and came up with a hard left.
Colin spun out of the way an instant before it connected and came up behind Rogan. He locked an elbow around his brother’s throat. “You know, you didn’t even hear me out. Yes, I came to ask for money, but it’s for Hunt Chase.”
Rogan wedged both hands around Colin’s arm and pulled, sucking in air. “I’m sure.”
“It is.” Both men swayed as they fought for balance. “I want to make some improvements to the place.”
“You and Father did enough.” Rogan jabbed Colin hard in the midriff with his elbow, surprising him into loosening his hold. Colin fell back a pace, and Rogan darted away, spinning around to face his brother. “The two of you destroyed generations of our family’s work. Your gaming and wenching was more important than your legacy.”
“Will you continue to hold that over my head?” Colin folded an arm around his middle and sucked in air. “I came here sober, didn’t I? The property is mortgaged to the gills, and if I can’t find some way to pay the note, Hunt Chase will pass out of Hunt hands forever.”
“You should have thought of that before you sold it off, piece by piece.”
“It was Father’s idea, not mine.” Colin straightened, but he didn’t raise his fists. “It wasn’t my property yet, Rogan. I couldn’t stop him.”
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