In His Keeping(74)

“Are you forgetting who her father is? That he was the last one to see our father alive?” Caleb asked hoarsely, though regret already simmered in his eyes. He cast a sorrowful look in his wife’s direction, abject apology etched on his features, and it just pissed Beau off all the more that he could feel that kind of remorse and be utterly appalled by what he’d put Ramie through, but he saw nothing wrong with brutalizing a complete innocent.

And in that instant, Beau knew he’d been right not to confide all the details of the phone call he’d received to his brother, because he would be completely ruthless and unstoppable when it came to Ari.

“So far as I can tell, Ari’s only sin was being born,” Beau said. “You’re a fucking hypocrite if you think she should be judged and held accountable for the actions of the man she calls father. Because you and I both know that our father was no saint. And if you’re going to make Ari answer for her father’s sins then you better be fucking ready to own up to ours.”

Caleb closed his eyes, but not before Beau saw that he’d scored a direct hit.

“God, I’m a dick,” Caleb said wearily. He reached for his wife as if needing to touch her, as if by touching her he’d be clean again. But it wasn’t Ramie he needed absolution from. She’d given him hers already by marrying the bastard.

“Yeah, you are. But that’s nothing new,” Beau said, a bite still to his voice.

He was still seeing Ari, hurt and then fear flashing in her eyes. Her hasty retreat from the heat of the words Caleb hurled at her like daggers. And worse . . . defeat. As though she had no one. No one who cared. No one to hold her. To tell her it would be okay.

And then her terror, fueling rage, the glasses and plates hurling through the air, lashing out because Caleb had hurt her and Beau hadn’t had time to intervene. She’d thought he was as much against her as the other occupants of the room who stood back, allowing Caleb’s words and actions to go unchecked.

Beau wanted to fucking fire every goddamn one of them in that moment. Where was Eliza’s fury? She’d damn sure taken Caleb to task when it came to Ramie. Only Zack had been gentle with her, anger simmering in his gaze when he’d briefly glanced at Caleb before preventing Ari’s escape.

Thank God for Zack. That someone in the room had some goddamn sense. He couldn’t bear to picture Ari out there alone, unprotected . . . rejected by the very people sworn to protect her . . . without rage consuming him all over again.

He shook with it, his entire body vibrating with the raging need for retribution.

And then a small, gentle hand slid over his arm, and he turned, instinctively reining in his seething mass of emotions, because he didn’t want to hurt Ramie. She didn’t deserve it. She’d been nice to Ari and Ari, sensing just that, had ensured that no harm came to Ramie even amid a torrent of bewilderment at the source of such animosity emanating from Caleb. It would have been easy to just say to hell with all of them, shake the house down and walk from the wreckage and wash her hands of the whole lot of them.

“Even while you were ripping Ari to shreds, piece by painful piece, she protected Ramie. Your wife. Because she’s good to her soul, and she doesn’t deserve any of what she received tonight.”

He turned, including Dane and Eliza in his condemnation.

“She didn’t deserve it from any of us, and yet that’s precisely what she got. And why? Because she’s desperate to find the only family she has in this world? I don’t give a flying fuck if the Rochesters are her blood relatives or not. To Ari, they’re her entire world. So that makes them important, and it’s not up to us to play judge and juror and condemn a man with evidence so flimsy even a fool could pick it apart.”

“You have strong feelings for her,” Ramie said in her sweet, gentle voice.

He stared at her in astonishment. “Why does a man have to have strong feelings for a woman in order to condemn the abuse of a woman by a man twice her size?”

He knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he sounded defensive. As though she’d struck a huge nerve. And hell, maybe she had. He was so fucked up over the entire situation that he didn’t know which end was up. He felt like this was his first rodeo, like he was the virgin Ari had been.

The reminder that just the night before she’d so sweetly offered him her innocence sent another wave of fury rolling through his veins. He should be holding her. Offering her comfort. Ensuring that she felt no pain. Instead he was out here, outside the sanctuary of his bedroom, defending her against inexcusable abuse at the hands of his own damn brother when he should be with her so she didn’t wake alone and think the worst.