Seduce Me at Sunrise (The Hathaways #2)(30)

And he knew Rohan understood that a Rom found it difficult, even impossible, to tolerate any other man putting a hand on his woman, for any reason.

"She's not yours, phral" Rohan said in Romany, not without sympathy.

Slowly Kev forced himself to relax.

"May I get off him now?" Leo asked. "There's only one kind of exertion I enjoy before breakfast. And this is not it."

Rohan allowed Kev to stand but kept one arm twisted behind his back.

Win went to stand beside Harrow. The sight of her wearing so little, being so near another man, caused muscles to twitch all over Kev's body. He could see the shape of her h*ps and legs. The entire family had gone insane, letting her dress that way in front of an outsider and acting as though it were appropriate. Turkish trousers… as if giving them such a name made them anything but underdrawers.

"I insist that you apologize," Win said. "You've been very rude to my guest, Merripen."

Her guest? Kev stared at her in outrage.

"No need," Harrow said hastily. "I know how it must have appeared."

Win glared at Kev. "He has made me well again, and this is the way you repay him?" she demanded.

"You made yourself well," Harrow said. "It was a result of your own efforts, Miss Hathaway."

Win's expression softened as she glanced at the doctor. "Thank you." But when she looked back at Kev, the frown returned. "Are you going to apologize, Merripen?"

Rohan twisted his arm a bit more tighdy. "Do it, damn you," Rohan muttered. "For the sake of the family."

Glaring at the doctor, Kev spoke in Romany. "Ka xlia ma pe tute." (I'm going to shit on you.)

"Which means," Rohan said hastily, " 'Please forgive the misunderstanding; let's part as friends.'"

"Te malavel les i menkiva," Kev added for good measure. (May you die of a malignant wasting disease.)

"Roughly translated," Rohan said, "that means, 'May your garden be filled with fine, fat hedgehogs.' Which, I may add, is considered quite a blessing among the Rom. "

Harrow looked skeptical. But he murmured, "I accept your apology. No harm done."

"Excuse us," Rohan said pleasantly, still twisting Kev's arm. "Go on with breakfast, please… We have some errands to accomplish. Please tell Amelia when she rises that I'll return at approximately midday." And he steered Kev from the room, with Leo at their heels.

As soon as they were out of the suite and in the hallway, Rohan released Kev's arm and turned to face him. Raking his hand through his hair, Rohan asked with mild exasperation, "What did you hope to get out of killing Win's doctor?"

"Enjoyment."

"No doubt you would have. Win didn't seem to be enjoying it, however."

"Why is Harrow here?" Kev asked fiercely.

"I can answer that one," Leo said, leaning a shoulder against the wall with casual ease. " Harrow wants to become better acquainted with the Hathaways. Because he and my sister are… close."

Kev abruptly felt a sickening weight in his stomach, as if he'd swallowed a handful of river stones. "What do you mean?" he asked, even though he knew. No man could be exposed to Win and not fall in love with her.

" Harrow is a widower," Leo said. "A decent enough fellow. More attached to his clinic and patients than anything else. But he's a sophisticated man, widely traveled, and wealthy as the devil. And he's a collector of beautiful objects. A connoisseur of fine things."

Neither of the other men missed the implication. Win would indeed be an exquisite addition to a collection of fine things.

It was difficult to ask the next question, but Kev forced himself to. "Does Win care for him?"

"I don't believe Win knows how much of what she feels for him is gratitude, and how much is true affection." Leo gave Kev a pointed glance. "And there are still a few unresolved questions she has to answer for herself."

"I'll talk to her."

"I wouldn't, if I were you. Not until she cools a bit. She's rather incensed with you."

"Why?" Kev asked, wondering if she had confided to her brother about the events of the previous night.

"Why?" Leo's mouth twisted. "There's such a dazzling array of choices, I find myself in a quandary about which one to start with. Putting the subject of this morning aside, what about the fact that you never wrote to her?"

"I did," Kev said indignantly.

"One letter," Leo allowed. "The farm report. She showed it to me, actually. How could one forget the soaring prose you wrote about fertilizing the field near the east gate? I'll tell you, the part about sheep dung nearly brought a tear to my eye, it was so sentimental and-'"

"What did she expect me to write about?" Kev demanded.

"Don't bother to explain, my lord," Cam interceded as Leo opened his mouth. "It's not the way of the Rom to put our private thoughts on paper."

"It's not the way of the Rom to run an estate and manage crews of workmen and tenant farmers, either," Leo replied. "But he's done that, hasn't he?" Leo smiled sardonically at Kev's sullen expression. "In all likelihood, Merripen, you'd make a far better lord of the manor than I will. Look at you…… Are you dressed like a Rom? Do you spend your days lounging by the campfire, or are you poring over estate account books? Do you sleep outside on the hard ground, or inside on a nice feather bed? Do you even speak like a Rom anymore? No, you've lost your accent. You sound like-"