Seduce Me at Sunrise (The Hathaways #2)(75)

It wasn't easy, however. Harrow was the perfect picture of an outraged romantic hero… slim, elegant, his face pale and indignant. He made Kev feel like a swarthy oafish villain by contrast. And those last words, until you've killed her, chilled him to the marrow.

So many vulnerable creatures had suffered at his hands. No one with Kev's past could ever deserve Win. And even though she had forgiven his history of brutality, he could never forget.

"No one is going to harm her," Kev said. "It's obvious that as your wife, she would have been well cared for, but it wasn't what she wanted. She's made her choice."

"Under duress!"

"I didn't force her."

"Of course you did," Harrow said with contempt. "You carried her off in a display of brute strength. And being a woman, of course she thought it thrilling and romantic. Women can be dominated and persuaded into accepting nearly anything. And in the future, as she's dying in childbirth, in grotesque pain, she won't blame you for it. But you'll know that you're responsible." A harsh laugh escaped him as he saw Kev's expression. "Are you really so simple that you don't understand what I'm saying?"

"You believe she's too fragile to bear children," Kev said. "But she consulted another doctor in London, who-"

"Yes. Did Winnifred tell you the name of this doctor?" Harrow 's eyes were frosty gray, his tone brittle with condescension.

Kev shook his head.

"I persisted in asking," Harrow said, "until she told me. And I knew at once it was an invented name. A sham. But just to make certain, I checked the registers of every legitimate physician in London. The doctor she named doesn't exist. She was lying, Merripen." Harrow raked his hands through his hair and paced back and forth. "Women are as devious as children when it comes to getting their way. My God, you're easily manipulated, aren't you?"

Kev couldn't answer. He had believed Win, for the simple reason that she never lied. As far as he knew, there was only one time in her life she had ever deceived him, and that had been to trick him into taking morphine when he'd been suffering from a burn wound. Later he'd understood why she'd done it, and he had forgiven her at once. But if she had lied about this… Anguish burned like acid in his blood.

Now he understood why Win had been so nervous about returning.

Harrow paused at the library table and went to half-sit, half-lean on it. "I still want her," he said quietly. "I'm still willing to have her. On condition that she hasn't conceived." He broke off as Kev fastened a lethal glare on him. "Oh, you may glower, but you can't deny the truth. Look at you-how can you justify what you've done? You're a filthy Gypsy, attracted to pretty baubles like the rest of your ilk."

Harrow watched Kev closely as he continued. "I'm sure you love her, in your fashion. Not in a refined way, not in the way she truly needs, but as much as someone of your kind is capable. I find that somewhat touching. And pitiable. No doubt Winnifred feels that the bonds of childhood kinship give you more of a claim on her than any other man could possibly have. But she has been too long sheltered from the world. She has neither the wisdom nor the experience to know her own needs. If she does marry you, it will only be a matter of time before she tires of you, and wants more than you could ever offer. Go find a sturdy peasant girl, Merripen. Better yet, a Gypsy woman who would be happy with the simple life you could give her. You want a nightingale, when you would be so much better served with a nice, robust pigeon. Do the right thing, Merripen. Give her to me. It's not too late. She'll be safe with me,"

Kev could barely hear his own rasping voice, his pulse hammering with confusion and despair and fury.

"Maybe I should ask the Lanhams. Would they agree that she'd be safer with you?"

And without glancing to judge the effect of his words, Kev strode from the library.

Win's sense of unease grew as evening settled over the house. She stayed in the parlor with her sisters and Miss Marks until Beatrix had tired of reading. The only relief from Win's growing tension was in watching the antics of Beatrix's ferret, Dodger, who seemed enamored of Miss Marks, despite-or perhaps because of-her obvious antipathy. He kept creeping up to the governess and trying to steal one of her knitting needles, while she watched him with narrowed eyes.

"Don't even consider it," Miss Marks told the hopeful ferret with chilling calm. "Or I'll cut off your tail with a carving knife."

Beatrix grinned. "I thought that only happened to blind mice, Miss Marks,"

"It works on any offending rodent," Miss Marks returned darkly.

"Ferrets are not rodents, actually," Beatrix said. "They're classified as mustelidae. Weasels. So one might say the ferret is a distant cousin of the mouse."

"It's not a family I'd care to become closely acquainted with," Poppy said.

Dodger draped himself across the arm of the settee and pinned a love-struck gaze on Miss Marks, who ignored him.

Win smiled and stretched. "I'm fatigued. I'll bid everyone good night now."

"I'm fatigued as well," Amelia said, covering a deep yawn.

"Perhaps we should all retire," Miss Marks suggested, deftly packing away her knitting in a little basket.

They all went to their rooms, while Win's nerves bristled in the ominous silence of the hallway. Where was Merripen? What had been said between him and Julian?