Trial by Desire (Carhart 2)

“Harcroft,” Kate said, “you must know I love your wife as I would a sister. I would never want anything that was bad for her. If she needs you, why would I keep her from you?”

It was a dangerous tack to sail into, that line of questioning. He let out a breath, and then—she was watching his eyes—his pupils contracted, slowly but surely, until all that malevolent attention focused on Kate. If his lack of attention had made her shiver, that focus froze her to the bone.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Why would you keep her from me?”

He took a step toward her, and Kate flattened herself against the wall.

“Why would you keep her from her lawful husband?” Harcroft asked. “Why would you think she needed to stay away from me? Do you imagine she has anything to fear from me?”

He took another step. Kate made to sidle away from him, but he rammed his hand into her shoulder, slamming her into the wall. The force of the blow pushed her against one of the carved cornices that decorated the doorway. The wood embellishment bit into her back. Kate stifled a cry of pain.

“Because surely, any obedient wife would know she need feel no fear of me right now. That’s what you feel, isn’t it? Fear?” His hand clenched on her shoulder. “Louisa would want for nothing at all, so long as she followed the commands of her husband. Any God-fearing woman would never set a foot outside the path dictated to her by the man she’d made a sacred vow to honor.”

“Get your hands off me.” Kate set her hands on Harcroft’s chest and pushed, but the man didn’t move. “I don’t know what you’re speaking about.”

“But then, what would you understand of God-fearing women?” Harcroft pushed close into her. She choked on the angry smell of smoke on his clothing. Taproom smoke. “A God-fearing woman wouldn’t lead her husband astray. When I left Ned this morning, he had promised to start canvassing immediately. Yet not a few hours later, he was traipsing about the village, gazing into your eyes. Why would you distract him from his duty, if you weren’t afraid of what he might uncover?”

“You’ve lost your senses.” She pitched her voice to carry. Any second now, a footman would hear them. He would intervene, and then Harcroft would have to let her go.

“Have I? God-fearing women don’t steal other men’s wives away. Do they, Kathleen?”

Maybe the servants wouldn’t come. But Kate wasn’t the sort to cower and wait. She was tired of feeling scared, of cowering and waiting for help. She grasped the ends of his cravat and twisted, hard. The cloth scraped against her hands. He choked, and pulled his hands away from her involuntarily. He scrabbled at his neck, grabbed the ends of the cloth she’d ripped loose and pulled it off.

Kate skittered sideways.

He glared at her. “You goddamned bitch.”

“I told you to get your hands off me.” Kate’s heart was pounding.

He raised his arm in threat.

What she said next wouldn’t matter—not to him, she didn’t think, because a man who would hit a woman didn’t need an excuse. But it mattered to her that she not placate him, that she not give him even that much power over her. She balled her hands. “Get out of my house.”

His fist flew. She just had time to turn away, to keep from getting the brunt of the blow against her mouth. His hand smashed against her neck as she turned. For one second, she was so numb, so surprised that he’d actually done it, that she didn’t even feel anything. Then she felt the stinging ache of it.

He grabbed her elbow and tried to pull her around. Kate ground the heel of her shoe into his boot. He yelped—a decidedly unmasculine sound—but wrenched her arm. A shooting pain traveled up her shoulder, and she bit her lip.

“Where is my wife, Kathleen?”

His breath felt clammy against her ear, and she shook her head.

He only yanked her arm again, harder. “I said, where is my wife, Kathleen?”

Kate pressed her lips together in defiance. There was nothing Harcroft could do to make her divulge that information. Every violent impulse he indulged now he would visit on Louisa a thousandfold if he found her. Harcroft would eventually have to leave her house. But if Kate spoke now, Louisa would be stuck with her husband for the rest of her life, however long—or short—that might be. Kate would not speak. Harcroft pulled harder, and the shooting pain burst into stars.

“You think you understand,” Harcroft ground out into her ear. “You don’t know anything. I love my wife. You’re completely wrong. I just want to keep her safe.”

“You should be careful,” Kate said as distinctly as she could manage with her cheek planted against the wall. “I’m a woman. I’m quite delicate, and I think I might faint if you continue.”

“Some women,” he spat, “have delicate sensibilities. Then there are women like you—false serpents in human form, who tempt real women to go astray. Where in God’s name is my wife?”

His fingers gripped her arm; Kate could feel his nails press into her skin, cutting through the fabric at her wrist. She took a deep breath and shoved ineffectually at him with her free elbow, but he didn’t move.

“If I pull back your arm,” he said cruelly, “eventually, it will pop out of its socket. In the process, it will cause you excruciating pain. I should hate to cause pain to anyone.”

“Even if ‘anyone’ happens to be a serpent in human form?”

“I am,” he said, “essentially a gentle, unassuming creature.”

He sounded as if he really meant it. She held her breath and stared at the wall he’d pressed her cheek into. And then she laughed. She laughed even though she knew it would enrage him. She laughed, even though she knew he would follow through on his threat and wrench her arm from its socket.

She laughed so that Harcroft would know that no matter how hard he hit, or how badly he hurt her, he could not win. That she would not be the weak, sniveling creature who waited on help to arrive, who dithered before obstacles until it was too late.

And he needed to know that now, because if she scraped and begged before him, sniveling for mercy, he would just visit his wrath upon her all the harder.

“You aren’t stronger than me,” she said. “Not with all your muscles. No matter how hard you strike me, you aren’t stronger than me. And that must make you furious.”

His eyes glittered with all the fury she’d anticipated. His hand tightened on her wrist; she rose on her toes as he turned her arm. She kept that smile on her face, flattened against the wall, her eyes clenched tightly shut. She didn’t dare let him see how much he hurt her.

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And then Harcroft gave a pained cry of his own, and that wrenching pressure on her arm vanished. Kate turned in time to see Ned lift him by the lapels of his coat and slam him against the wall.

“I told you,” Ned said, his voice gravelly, “I told you to leave my wife alone. But no. You didn’t listen.”

Harcroft waved his legs furiously in the air, but he was as ineffective as a beetle overturned on the pavement, struggling to right itself. “No, I told you,” he squeaked. The whine of his voice seemed impotent against Ned’s dark anger. “I told you I would find my wife by any means necessary.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Ned said in a dark voice. “You’ve driven away the woman you believe you deserve, and so, in the absence of having your own wife to do violence to, you’ve chosen mine.”

“I—”

“To think,” Ned continued, “there was a time when I actually respected you. When I first came back to England, I took pity on you. When you told me Louisa was missing, I felt sorrow. I have no idea when or how your wife disappeared. I was out of England, as you know. But as matters stand, if my wife helped Louisa escape you, she has my full, unmitigated support. If I had been here, I would have stolen her away myself.”

Oh.

Even with her arm tingling, Kate felt a sudden rush of warmth and safety at those words. He meant them. He did.

“You can’t mean that. You can’t mean to foster such suborning. It will lead to chaos, if women make decisions—”

“I should hardly think so,” Ned said. He didn’t seem to be getting tired, holding Harcroft against the wall with one hand, but he gave the man a shake for good measure. “I don’t see the fabric of my life eroding, just because my wife happens to have a brain in her head. In fact, it’s actually one of her most attractive qualities. If you’d allowed your wife to make a few decisions of her own, instead of trying to control her with blows, perhaps you wouldn’t be here.”