Wicked Surrender (Regency Sinners)(27)
As well as deer, there were wild boar in the forest surrounding this track. Not dozens of them, but it would only take one of the older males to take umbrage at Bella walking through his forest for the beast to attack. An angry male boar was enough to make a grown man quake in his boots, and Bella would stand no chance against such a creature.
Much as he tried, Dante could not get the vision out of his head of a bloody and broken Bella lying on the forest floor, her chest stilled, the life having dulled from her eyes.
Spank her ass? He could think of a much more fitting punishment for that ass, one that would give him pleasure while he withheld that same pleasure from Bella. Being refused her pleasure, any climax denied her, would perhaps make her think twice before she attempted to escape him again. He—
He came to a halt as the moonlight showed him the outline of a horse and rider walking down the lane toward him.
The rider brought the horse to a halt several feet away. “I believe I have something of yours,” he said mockingly.
Dante frowned up into the darkness as he recognized that voice. “Devil?”
“The same,” Sebastian Trentham, the Marquis of Deveril, drawled as he swung a leg over the horse’s neck to slide down to the ground. His movements were sure and fluid despite the fact he was holding something in his arms.
No, not something, but someone.
Bella.
Dante’s heart went cold as he realized she was unmoving in Devil’s arms. Another of The Sinners, Deveril had always been known to his close friends as simply Devil.
Dante had no idea what the other man was doing in Hampshire at all, let alone this late at night. Or how he came to be carrying Bella on his horse with him.
“She ran into me, literally, about a mile from here,” Devil said briskly when Dante made no reply.
His heart lurched to a stop. “You ran her down?”
“Strictly speaking, she ran me down,” the other man murmured derisively. “But as Thunder is so much bigger than she, she obviously came out the worst of the encounter. I do not think she has suffered any serious injury but… Careful,” he warned as Dante finally managed to snap himself out of his daze and stepped forward to take Bella into his own arms.
“Give her to me,” he all but growled at the other man.
“Fine.” The surprise at Dante’s aggression could be heard in Devil’s voice as he relinquished Bella’s light weight into Dante’s arms. “I believe she fainted rather than suffered any harm from Thunder’s hooves. I am a little worried she has not regained consciousness, however.”
Dante barely listened to the other man as he turned and began striding back toward his hunting lodge. He was vaguely aware of Devil walking beside him rather than remounting his horse, but his own attention was concentrated on returning Bella to the hunting lodge and not in making conversation. Devil seemed no more inclined to talk either. No doubt the other man would explain his reason for being here when it suited him to do so. Devil was an absolute law unto himself and always had been.
Dante made short work of the walk back, anxious to get Bella back into the warmth. Once in the candlelight, he would be able to check her for injury.
She was still unconscious when Dante laid her down on the couch. Her cheeks were a little pale, but her breathing seemed normal, and he could see no obvious injuries after folding back her cloak.
“Drink some of this.” Devil held out one of the two glasses of brandy he had just poured. He’d remained outside briefly in order to secure his horse and see to its needs before coming inside.
Dante grimaced. “It was my having drunk too much of that which helped lead to this situation in the first place.”
Devil sipped his own brandy. “Explain.”
So Dante explained the events of the previous evening—omitting the more intimate parts of the past few days—finishing with his need to drink tea after consuming half a bottle of brandy, and making the mistake of leaving Bella alone while he went to fill the kettle.
“That all sounds perfectly reasonable to me.” Devil made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs. As tall as Dante, he had mid-brown hair and eyes so dark they appeared almost black: probably another reason the Sinners had nicknamed him Devil while they were at school together.
“What are you doing here?” Dante prompted curiously.
The other man shrugged. “Nik thought your note to him sounded a little strained and wondered if perhaps it might not be better if I took over where this particular lady is concerned.”
“Nik can go fu—” Dante broke off with a wince as he realized he was allowing his emotions to get the better of him.
His mood and state of mind were none of Devil’s doing. Or Nik’s either.
But Dante certainly had no intention of leaving Bella alone with Devil. For some inexplicable reason, his friend’s bored disinterest in the ladies only seemed to make them want him more. Dante had no reason to suppose Bella would be any different, and she was his, damn it.
“Your assistance is unnecessary,” he refused stiffly.
Devil glanced at the reclining Bella. “Do you think she is the guilty lady?”
He sighed heavily. “I think her having run away twice, the second time successfully, points in that direction, yes.”
“My running away is a direct result of your own despicable behavior in having kidnapped me,” the subject of their conversation accused as she gingerly moved into a sitting position on the couch. “Like any captive, I took the opportunities presented to me in order to try to escape.”