The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie(64)

Beth flinched at his vehemence, but at the same time, her heart warmed. “And Ian is grateful you did. Very grateful.” “Ian couldn’t even speak. He wouldn’t look up when we talked to him or answer questions put to him. It was as though his body was with us but his mind was far away.” “I’ve seen him do that.”

“He did it for three months. Then one day when we were eating breakfast, Ian looked up and asked Curry whether there was any toast.” Hart nicked his gaze away, but not before Beth saw the moisture in his eyes. “As though nothing had been wrong, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to ask Curry for toast.”

The breeze of the dying afternoon stirred his hair, tugged at the curls on Beth’s forehead. She watched as one of the highest dukes in the land blinked away tears. “I’ll send for my solicitor in the morning,” he said abruptly. “We’ll find a way to negate the marriage. You’ll not be ruined.”

“I know you don’t believe me, but I would never hurt Ian.”

“You are right. I don’t believe you.”

The wind freshened, scattering cool droplets from the fountain over Beth’s face. Hart turned on his heel to stride back to the house, but Ian stood there like a solid wall.

“I told you to leave her be,” he said quietly.

Hart’s back went stiff. “Ian, she can’t be trusted.” Ian took one step closer to Hart. Though he kept his eyes averted, there was no mistaking the anger in his stance and his voice. “She is my wife, under my protection. The only way I will let you do anything against this marriage is if you declare me a lunatic again.”



Hart flushed dull red. “Ian, listen to me—“

“I want her as my wife, and she stays my wife.” Ian softened his voice a notch. “She is a Mackenzie now. Treat her as one.”Hart stared at Ian, then at Beth. Beth tried to keep her chin up, but her heart raced, and the urge to run away from that predatory stare was strong.

Strange, when Ian had informed Beth they were marrying, she’d argued with him. Now that Hart looked grimly determined to part them, she knew she’d do anything to stay wedded.

“I am Ian’s wife because I choose to be,” she said. “Whether we live in a grand mansion or a tiny boardinghouse, it makes no difference.”

“Or a vicarage?” Hart countered, scowling.

“A vicarage in the slums served me very well, Your Grace.”

“It had rats in it,” Ian said.

Beth looked at him in surprise. Curry’s notes must have been thorough.

“Indeed, there was a family of them,” she said. “Nebuchadnezzar and his wife, and their three children, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.”

Both men merely stared at her, the double golden gaze unnerving even if Ian’s didn’t touch her fully. “It was our little joke, you see,” she stammered. “Made having rats a bit more bearable if they had names.” “There are no rats here,” Ian said. “You never have to worry about rate again.”

“Not the four-legged kind, anyway,” Beth went on. “Inspector Fellows reminds me a bit of Meshach—his eyes would glow and his nose would twitch when he set his sights on a particularly tasty bit of cheese.”

Ian frowned, and Hart clearly didn’t know what to make of her.

“I imagine you have snakes, though,” she said, her tongue tripping. “This is the countryside, after all. And field mice and other creatures. I must confess I’m not used to the country. My mother was country born, but I lived in London from an early age and strayed outside the metropolis only when Mrs. Barrington saw fit to go to Brighton and pretend she liked the sea.”

Ian half closed his eyes, taking on the expression he did when he’d stopped hearing her. She knew he wasn’t listening, but a week from now he’d be able to come back to a particular phrase and drill her on it.

She closed her mouth with effort. Hart looked at her as though he’d fetch a lunacy commission up here on the morrow to grill her.

Ian came out of his trance and reached for her. “Tomorrow I will show you everything about Kilmorgan. Tonight we sleep in our chamber.”

“Have we got a chamber?”

“Curry fixed it up while we were at supper.”

“The ten-times-resourceful Curry. Whatever would we do without him?”

Hart looked at Beth sharply, as though she’d said something significant. Ian slid his arm around her waist and turned her around to lead her to the house. His warmth cut the coolness of the evening and blocked her from the wind.

A safe harbor. In the turmoil of her life, she’d known so few of them. Now Ian drew her close, protecting her, but Beth felt the edge of Hart’s gaze on her back all the way to the house.