Unveiled (Turner #1)(71)

Ash reached out and grabbed Richard’s wrist as he threw the next punch and wrenched his arm hard to his side. Richard let out a hiss of pain, thrashed and subsided.

“Listen to me,” Ash said, his voice whisper-quiet in its intensity, “and listen well. You relinquished all claim to her when you left her here alone. She’s mine now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He shoved the man hard and Richard staggered into the room, hitting the wardrobe behind him. He slouched there as if dazed, raising a hand to his head.

“Stop it! Both of you!” Margaret screamed.

Ash flicked a glance at her and moved to stand between them. “Curb your sentimentality, my dear. This beating has been a long time coming.”

“You son of a bitch.” Richard struggled to his feet. “Get your bloody hands off my sister.”

Ash froze. Margaret could see his mouth go slack. He turned to her—and just as he did, Richard threw a punch, smashing his fist into Ash’s eye.

Ash staggered back, raising his hand to his face. “Your sister?”

She could see all of the easy affection draining from his expression. She could almost taste the loss. His breath sucked in. He shook his hand out, and then he raised his eyes to Margaret’s, as if asking her if it were true. As if begging her to deny it.

“Your sister,” he repeated dully.

Margaret bowed her head. “I was once Lady Anna Margaret Dalrymple.” Her voice choked. “I was trying to tell you, but…”

“Ah.” He rubbed his eye where Richard had struck him. The skin had already begun to pinken; in a few hours, he’d sport purple. He blew out his breath, deflating.

Here it came. Here was where he denounced her. But instead, he cut his eyes toward Richard. “I suppose, then, that I deserved that.”

Richard drew himself up taller and took a step forwards. “That,” he said crisply, “and more. Why, I ought to—”

In one smooth motion, Ash pulled back and punched Richard, harder.

Margaret let out a muffled scream. Her brother shrieked louder, and crumpled to the floor. And Ash said nothing; he just advanced on Richard, huddled in a ball on the carpet.

“Ash! Stop it. What are you doing?”

Ash didn’t turn towards her. Instead, he towered over her brother. The contrast between them could not have been more striking. Ash was wide and dark and tall; her brother seemed a pallid, frail thing, scuttling backwards until he cowered against the wall.

“I deserved your blow,” Ash said harshly, “but you deserve more. You left your sister here, alone, with nobody to stand for her. What kind of man sends his sister into danger, while he himself cowers in safety?” He would think of that first.

“What danger?” Richard said. “She was safe. Mrs. Benedict promised to watch over her.”

Ash’s hands clenched at his side, and an almost murderous silence settled in. “If I still had a sister…” he said slowly. But he did not complete that thought. He didn’t need to; Margaret could fill in the unspoken words for him. Of course Ash wouldn’t put his family in danger. Finally, he looked at Margaret. “Why did you stay behind?”

Margaret squared her shoulders. “We didn’t know what to expect of you. Someone had to watch Father. Someone had to make sure you didn’t despoil the estate. And…and when I agreed to do it, I didn’t know you. Not then.”

Ash took a step towards her. “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. You’ve been staying under a roof with two bachelors, and Mrs. Benedict or no, there’s not been an appropriate chaperone in sight. You’re a duke’s daughter. When the news gets out, your reputation—”

“I have no reputation worth speaking of, Ash.”

“Balderdash. Perhaps your brothers might have rammed the issue of your legitimacy through Parliament after all. Even as a bastard daughter, you might have made a perfectly respectable match one day, so long as your reputation had been safeguarded. Why would you sacrifice the chance to have your own life, your own home? You must have agreed to this, knowing that the end result was that you would spend the rest of your life living in some tiny room on your brother’s estate, accepting whatever scraps this cad decided to toss your way.”

Richard had been watching this interchange with an increasingly horrified look on his face. Clearly, he hadn’t understood what she’d agreed to do. She had risked her reputation. And her brother hadn’t even noticed.

“Here now,” Richard said on a sputter. “I sure as hell wouldn’t toss my own sister scraps. And as for the rest, I only came back because her letters suggested she was in some danger.” He cast Ash a dangerous look. “And I see I was right.”

“Shut up, you. Margaret, you’re worth ten of him. Why would you sacrifice so much for this rat?”

Margaret pulled the silk robe Ash had given her about her like a shield and faced him. “First, he’s my brother, not a rat, and I’ll thank you not to speak of him that way.”

“Christ.”

“Second, you cannot be thinking. I have no reputation—or at least, nothing that a reputation can buy me.”

“Why? Because you’re a bastard? I’m telling you, that won’t matter—”

She could feel Richard’s eyes on her. Still, she met Ash’s glower. “No, you idiot. Because I wasn’t a virgin.”