Page 107 of Outrageous

Byer’s face was a mask of loathing. “You are a pitiful excuse for a man, Visel,” he said, flexing the pain out of his right hand. “And you are certainly not worth a sore hand.”

Godric could not agree more.

“Was there anything else?” he asked in a bored, insulting tone that would have guaranteed a dawn meeting in most situations.

Byer’s handsome face flushed a dark red and his nostrils flared. “No.”

“So why don’t you get the hell out of my room and get on with your happy new life.”

Byer pivoted on one foot, not giving him another look before striding toward the door and slamming it behind him.

Godric’s entire body was hot and his pulse was pounding in his temples—and not just from the punch to his face.

Even the voice in his head sounded amazed and disgusted. You did it, didn’t you? You were scared she’d go with Byer so you just made sure she’d have no choice, didn’t you?

Get fucked. Godric pushed himself off the floor, deliberately keeping his back to the connecting door.

You coward; you’re too much of a coward even to admire your handiwork.

Godric’s gorge rose as he forced himself to turn and look at the connecting door: it was closed.

Well, good, then, that is done.

He dragged his aching body over to the window. The day was beautiful—just like a painting: cerulean blue skies with white puffs of clouds. The only sign it had been raining for the past three days was the unusual number of puddles, which sparkled like diamonds under the late day sun.

He’d done the right thing by her, no matter how much his words must have hurt her.

Bringing home a wife—even one as amusing as the woman only one thin door away—wouldn’t assuage his pain for long. She was vibrant and loving and would want and deserve an entire man, not a walking shell. She would come to hate him once the novelty wore off; bed sport would only hold a woman like that for so long.

She would need love, and as much as he might want to give it to her, he was no longer capable of the emotion. He knew what it was and could see it around him, but he was like a deaf man who’d once known music. What he knew now was only the echo.

In any event, the deed had been done; after what she’d just heard, she’d never want to look at him again, and he couldn’t blame her.

It was all for the best. Even if he’d not lost the ability to love, only an idiot would believe that loving yet another person was a cure for losing everyone he’d ever loved.

No. Loving another person just meant you had one more person to lose.

Chapter 22

Exham Castle, Devon

Eight Weeks Later

“Here you are. Why am I not surprised?”

Eva glanced up from the new mare their teaser stallion, Liberty, was currently courting, to Tommy, who was dressed as impeccably as usual. His coat sported no fewer than a dozen capes, his cravat was a white froth with some gemstone winking in its folds, and his high-crowned beaver tilted at just the right angle on his glossy brown locks.

Eva was exhausted just looking at him; it must have taken him two hours to reach such perfection.

“Hallo, Tommy, I’ll be just a minute.”

“How is she?” he asked, gesturing toward her newest acquisition.

“Just grand, isn’t she, James?”

“Aye, my lord. She’s a right ’un.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed when he looked at the big groom, whom he’d not warmed to—a feeling he made no effort to hide.