The howl had not been repeated, but now sounds of smashing and breaking came from the same direction. Could Weldon possibly have mounted some kind of attack on the house? When his head steadied, Ross lurched over to the fireplace and grabbed the poker. Clad only in his drawers, he opened the door and tracked the noise to its source.
It sounded like a battle was taking place in his cousin's dressing room. Cautiously he opened the door, thinking that there had better not be any real danger. At the moment Sara's cat could whip Ross with one paw behind its back.
The scene inside the small room brought Ross to a stunned halt. Mikahl was going berserk. He had already tipped over a heavy wardrobe, and the floor was ankle-deep in delicate lady's undergarments, bruised shoes, and crushed hats.
As Ross watched, the other man shoved over the chest of drawers with an incoherent growl of fury. He began jerking out drawers and pitching them into the wall. The frames smashed noisily, gouging holes in the plaster before clattering to the floor. Drawers emptied, Mikahl grabbed an elegant evening gown and ripped it from décolletage to hem with his bare hands.
Ross tightened his grip on the poker, for Mikahl in a rage was a daunting sight. Raising his voice, he said sharply, "What the devil are you doing?"
His friend whirled, his eyes feral and his body poised for attack. Seeing who had entered, Mikahl checked his motion, but he still radiated violence. "Your damned cousin has left me."
Ross whistled softly. An assault by Weldon would have been more believable than Sara deserting her husband. Deciding that he was in no immediate danger, Ross let the poker sag to the floor while he unobtrusively propped his right shoulder against the door frame. "Why?"
"Because I'm a bastard who has injured innocent people without giving a damn," was the harsh answer. "Because I'm a monster who has been cutting a swath like one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse."
Ross took a moment to absorb that. "She didn't leave you because you're a bastard," he said with dry, calculated humor, "though the rest may be correct."
Ross thought that the odds were about even whether the comment would bring assault on his own head or penetrate Mikahl's mania. Fortunately, after an uncertain moment, the latter happened. Gaze sharpening, his friend growled, "What the hell are you doing out of bed?"
"I came to find out if Weldon had broken in with a party of hired assassins."
"Not yet." Mikahl smiled mirthlessly. "I think Weldon will need to pause and regroup his forces. His chief thug, Kane, is the one who shot you, and Kane is now answering to a higher master than Charles Weldon."
Ross's brows went up. "What happened?"
"I had my knife, and I was faster than he was," his friend said with grim satisfaction. "Someone in Weldon's household has probably found his body on the back steps by now."
Ross gave an involuntary shiver. "Now what?"
"I don't know." Wearily Mikahl pushed his disordered hair from his eyes. "I just do not know."
"Well, I hope you think of something quickly," Ross said tartly. "If Sara went to London, will she be safe there?"
Mikahl's expression changed again. "I'll check to see if any of the guards went with her."
"Good idea." Ross's knees were slowly beginning to give way, so he said, "Would you mind helping me back to bed before I join the rubble on the floor?"
Swearing, Mikahl reached Ross just in time to save him from collapse. The hard grip sent pain blazing through Ross's side and momentarily darkened his vision.
"Neither you nor your cousin have the sense God gave a sparrow." As Mikahl pulled Ross's good arm over his own neck, his voice was rough but his hands were not.
After half carrying Ross back to the bedroom and depositing him on the bed, Mikahl made a quick examination of the bandages. "You don't seem to have started bleeding again. Do you have the elementary intelligence to stay in bed until you're fit to get up?"
"I'll be delighted to stay here," Ross said, sweat sheening his forehead, "as long as the house isn't under attack."
"It isn't and it won't be." Mikahl straightened. "Are you going to thrash me or give me a lecture on how to treat my wife?"
"I couldn't thrash you when I was healthy, so I doubt I could do it now." Ross's smile was twisted. "And while I have done many foolish things in my life, meddling in someone else's marriage is not one of them."
He wanted nothing more than to slide back into darkness, but he forced his weighted eyelids to remain open. "No one ever said marriage was easy, but most problems can be solved."
Mikahl shook his head. "Not this one. Once you said that I believed that the end justified the means while Sara held to the higher standard of right and wrong. That is the heart of our disagreement. I doubt that something so basic can be changed."