In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)(64)

“So far as I can tell, Ari’s only sin was being born,” Beau said. “You’re a f*cking 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 f*cking 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 f*cking 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 f*ck 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 f*cked 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.

Caleb scowled at Beau’s response to Ramie but Beau sent him a withering look that challenged him to say one f*cking word.

To Beau’s surprise, Ramie reached for his hand, sandwiching it between her palms, and she smiled, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him.

“I was telling you what I sensed,” she said, seemingly battling laughter. Why the hell would she be laughing at a time like this?

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and then leaned up on tiptoe, brushing her lips across his cheek. “You’re done for, Beau Devereaux,” she whispered as her lips dropped away.

Still grinning she stepped back, shooting her husband a look of warning. It amused Beau that Caleb immediately took a step back and relaxed his stance, automatically obeying his wife’s silent command. Caleb was as whipped as Ramie claimed Beau was. And it appeared neither brother gave one damn.

Then her expression became utterly serious, her smoky eyes somber and swirling with streaks of gray, reminding Beau of a summer thunderstorm.

“When Ari feels better, please tell her that I’ll help her. But I can’t guarantee anything.” She said the last with a grimace. “Typically I use an item from the area where the abduction—or other violent act—occurred. Obviously that’s not possible in this instance since Ari has no idea what time or where her parents disappeared.”