Page 100 of Barbarous

Hugh stared down at the other man. “I’ve been a fool—but no longer. Killing is too good for you and it is no good for me. You’ve dealt in human misery and have ruined thousands of lives, but mine will not become one of them.” He turned away and Daphne closed her eyes to stop the tears, sagging bonelessly against Hugh’s giant horse. Thank God.

Something warm and velvety brushed her cheek and she opened her eyes to find Pasha watching her. He snorted and gave her a bored look, as if to say this type of thing happened all the time and she’d better become accustomed to it. His jaw resumed its stolid up and down motion as he enjoyed a brief snack, not about to allow human foolishness to get between him and a meal.

Daphne brushed away her tears and rubbed his soft chin. He snorted his approval and stomped a huge hoof in emphasis.

“You are wise to remain calm,” she murmured, scratching his chin and causing his eyes to close in equine bliss. She turned toward the clutch of men surrounding the man she loved. “I can see how living with such a man will have taught you that.” She planted a kiss on the big beast’s nose before going to his master.

The men moved aside as she came near.

Kemal bowed. “The demons are gone now.”

Daphne didn’t need to ask which demons he meant—she’d seen them with her own eyes.

She touched Hugh’s shoulder, almost afraid to look at his face when he turned around. But the first thing she noticed were the bloody cuts that ran across his chest and forehead and she sucked in a noisy breath. “Hugh! Oh, God—”

A big hand gently tilted her head so she was looking at his face, rather than his chest.

“Hello, darling.” He stared down at her, his eyes—both of them—warm and smiling.

Daphne’s gaze briefly flickered to his blood-smeared forehead. The cut was oozing, but it was nowhere as deep as the one on his torso.

“Hugh, your wounds. You must—”

He wrapped his arms around her, lifted her off the ground, and squeezed her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. “Oh my beautiful, beautiful, darling,” he rumbled in her ear as he held her close. “How many times do I have to tell you not to get into carriages with strange men?” A chuckle reverberated through his chest as he crushed her body against his.

“Hugh . . . can’t . . . breathe.”

He lowered her to the ground. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, and then covered her mouth with his and kissed her with an urgency that told her more than words ever could. He released her and leaned back to look at her, wincing. “Lord, what a bloody mess I’ve made of your fetching gown. And I do so love that shade of yellow on you.”

Daphne laughed weakly. “I’m afraid you were too late to ruin this one, my lord.”

“We’ll get you a dozen more in this same design.” He ran a big finger around the tattered keyhole neckline, his nostrils flaring as he skimmed her bosom.

She took his hand and pressed it against her cheek. “Don’t you ever think about anything else?”

“You mean other than women’s fashions?”

Daphne sighed, and Hugh laughed, pulling her close to kiss the top of her head. “Come, let’s get you home.” He led her toward Pasha.

Daphne stopped and motioned to Malcolm’s body. “What about him?” she asked, and then pointed to Calitain and Jean-Paul, who’d been bound and were being led to the rowboat. “And them?”

“Sir Malcolm tragically perished inside his fishing hut when it caught fire. Unfortunately, he’d been drinking and did not smell the smoke.” Hugh’s grim tone told her how much he regretted her cousin’s death.

“As for those two?” They watched the men scrambling into the boat, their hands tied behind them. “I think it is time they had a taste of what they were so willing to inflict on thousands of others. Martín will drop them off with some associates of ours who will make sure Calitain and his crew of slavers don’t see freedom for a very long time.”

He slid his hands around her waist and lifted her onto Pasha’s back before swinging up behind her only a tad less gracefully than usual. He circled her with one arm and pulled her back against him, his breath hot on her ear. “Shall we go home, my darling wife-to-be so I can get you out of these clothes and into bed?” He gave a wicked chuckle. “Or should we see what is possible on horseback?” His hips pushed suggestively against her back.

“What? You are not up to doing both, my lord?”

His booming laugh echoed through the small clearing and Daphne indulged in a private smile; it seemed she knew how to flirt, after all.

Chapter Twenty-Five

It was well past midnight by the time Hugh came to Daphne’s chambers. He wore the same robe she’d seen once before, a luxurious Chinese silk that hugged the contours of his big body. He had a plaster on his temple and a much larger bandage around his chest.

She was sitting at her dressing table, brushing her hair, and their eyes met in the glass. Her entire body tightened at the look on his face as he came toward her.

“Has everything been taken care of?” she asked.