Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

“What is this? You waited up to see that I kept to my end of the bargain? Yes, Paxton is off my property. He’s gone. It’s over, all of it.”

She saw he was tired—bone-weary, as her Aunt Ida used to say. Even though his words put her back up, she nonetheless walked to him and lightly laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you, Brent. I appreciate what you did, what you’ve done. You’re a fine man.”

He shook off her hand and walked away from her. Without a word, he stripped off his clothes, shrugged into a dressing gown, and sat down in the chair she’d recently vacated. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Perhaps you’d be kind enough to tell me what you were doing in Paxton’s house.”

“I woke up and you weren’t here. I couldn’t sleep so I went out onto the balcony. I thought I heard someone and went down to the garden to see. I saw Paxton drag Lizzie onto his horse.”

“Yes, I’m listening. Continue.”

“I got dressed and got one of your rifles. I went to see if Drew could help me, but no one was there. I had no choice but to go to Paxton’s house. He was trying to rape Lizzie when I stopped him.”

Brent cocked an eyebrow at her and slowly opened his eyes. “I see. Such a heroine you are, my dear. I suppose it never occurred to you that Paxton could get that rifle away from you? Perhaps even rape you also? No, I see that such a logical flow of mental thought never went through your little mind. Of course, you are a woman. How could I expect logic from you?”

Byrony could only stare at him. She hadn’t known what to expect when he returned, but not this attack, and done so calmly, with such a display of disinterest. “How did you know where I’d be?”

“Ah, an excellent question, one, I’m certain, that just occurred to you. You see, my dear, Josh is a man, and thus reacts with logic. It’s true that he was waiting for Lizzie, but evidently she was early and Paxton got her. I was returning from Natchez with Drew and came upon him. It didn’t require an excessive amount of thought to determine what had happened, particularly when we discovered that you and a mare were missing.”

“I did try to find help, Brent, but of course, you weren’t here. You were doing whatever men do. I really didn’t need your interference. I simply would have taken Lizzie and left his house.”

“Ah, I can just picture what comes next. Had you managed to leave his house with your lovely hide intact, Paxton, filled with righteous indignation, would have confronted me the next day. And I’m really not certain that I would have ordered him to leave. But of course, since I witnessed the man’s foolishness, I really had no choice.”

“Foolishness? That’s what you term his attempted rape of Lizzie?”

Brent suddenly rose and stretched his arms above his head. He looked at her thoughtfully a moment, then said, “Byrony, listen to me. You aren’t used to the ways here. It’s probably very true that Paxton has taken any and every black female slave he wanted. Or hasn’t it occurred to you to wonder why there are so many light-skinned slaves around?”

“It’s evil and disgusting. Why, you would never—”

“Don’t kid yourself, Byrony. I had my share of slaves when I was young. Didn’t I mention that to you once? But, of course, they were all willing.”

“Unlike me.”

She saw his body clench. “Enough. No more from you. I’m bloody tired. And don’t back away from me. What you did, Byrony, was stupid as hell. Now, leave me be. I’m going to bed.”

THIRTY

Brent stood quietly in front of the portrait, unable to stop staring at it. It was nearly life-size, the colors so warm and vibrant that he wanted to reach out and touch them. Byrony was seated on a marble bench beneath a rose arbor. He recognized the evening gown immediately. It was a pale violet silk, trimmed with narrow ribbons of lavender. She wasn’t wearing the lace-and-ribbon headdress and her hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose curls. But it was her face that drew him, her air of sweetness. He’d seen that small, impish smile about her mouth, but it seemed so long ago. Drew hadn’t gotten the color of her eyes precisely right, but they invited him to share a naughty secret. She looked utterly delicious, he thought, a beautiful confection that was his alone. How could that feminine confection be the same woman who had flung herself on a horse at midnight to ride off and rescue Lizzie? And face down Paxton with a rifle? Slowly he forced himself to turn away and say, “It’s fine, Drew, very fine indeed. Has Byrony seen it yet?”

“No, I wanted you to be the first, though she’s been after me since I set down my brush. It’s for your birthday, Brent. Won’t you be an ancient twenty-eight soon?”

Brent grinned. “In four months, to be exact, but don’t let Laurel hear you use the word ancient. She’ll go after you.”

“Drew? Are you there?”

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Both men turned to see Byrony come into Drew’s studio. She came to an abrupt halt, staring at the portrait.

“Oh dear,” she said. “I don’t look like that, do I, Drew?”

“Actually, Byrony,” Brent said, “you look better. Drew here is something of a beginner.”

Drew cuffed his brother’s shoulder, then turned in time to catch Byrony in his arms.

“It’s so lovely. Thank you, Drew. I did wonder about that dress—all that lavender. I thought I’d look like a sallow chicken. But it’s beautiful.”

He gave her a quick hug, and at her kiss on his cheek, he felt a gentle flow of warmth go through his body.

“You’ve made me look so acceptable.”