“He has won me,” Sophie insisted.
Leath interpreted that in the worst possible sense. A sense that Cam, unfortunately, suspected was true. “You bastard.”
Leath lurched free of Cam and raised a fist to slam Harry to the ground. The concentrated power in the gesture promised murder. Pen must have seen it too. With the reckless courage Cam knew so well, she darted between the two men.
“James, watch out!” Sop
hie screamed, but it was too late.
Fist thudded on flesh and Pen stumbled.
“Pen!” Cam pitched forward to catch her.
He went down on his knees, hitting the uncarpeted floor with a painful bang. He hardly cared. Pen looked as pale as she had when he’d accused her of betrayal. He cradled her against his chest and bent his ear to her lips. Was she breathing? Over the thunder of his heart, he couldn’t be sure.
Panting, he glared at Leath. “You are a dead man.”
Leath regarded Pen in horror, hands held stiffly open at his sides as if he couldn’t bear the thought of them wreaking further harm. “My God, man, why did she do that?”
Harry hovered at Cam’s shoulder. “Cam, for pity’s sake, tell me she’s all right.” ’
Cam clutched Pen more tightly. “Pen, darling, say something.”
Dear heaven, don’t let her be seriously hurt. With shaking desperation, he pressed her to his chest. She couldn’t die. He wouldn’t let her.
But as he stared into his wife’s waxen features, his show of arrogance disintegrated. Instead, all he had was a wounded heart. And blind terror that she left him forever just as he discovered that he couldn’t live without her.
Chapter Forty
This was like that delicious moment of forgetfulness when she’d awakened in the phaeton. Pen didn’t want to move in case it was a dream. Or in case Cam pushed her away again.
Then red-hot pain sliced through her head and she groaned. Recollection crashed back. Leath had hit her. If Cam held her, it was noblesse oblige. She began to detest that phrase.
“Pen, Pen, say something.” Cam’s voice, yet not Cam’s voice. Or at least not how she’d last heard him. Then he’d spoken like he hated her. Now he sounded like he cared. Perhaps she should ask Leath to hit her again.
“Pen, I’m so sorry,” Harry fretted somewhere behind Cam. “This is all my bloody fault.”
“Yes it is, you damned idiot.” Even that lacked the bite of Cam’s earlier remarks. “Pen, please…”
“I’m… I’m fine.” It wasn’t true, but pride was a powerful motivation. She opened dazed eyes. Cam, Leath, and Harry crowded her, sucking up all the air. She tried to move, although the slightest twitch made her head feel likely to fall off.
“I’d give the world to relive the last minute.” Leath kneeled beside her. “Your Grace, how can I beg your forgiveness?”
“Get away from her,” Cam snarled, his grip making her wince. “Name your seconds.”
“Haven’t we had enough violence?” Pen asked shakily, struggling to sit straighter in her husband’s arms. Fighting the pounding in her head, she forced out a plea for good sense in a choked voice. “It seems we’re all family or destined to become so. Can’t we discuss what’s happened calmly and kindly?”
Cam’s arms tightened protectively. “Pen, don’t try to talk.”
“No, I must say this.” She looked at Leath. “Do you really want to shoot Harry?”
Leath scowled at Harry. “Yes, I do.”
Sophie spoke and to Pen’s surprise, she didn’t sound young or silly. “That’s too bad, James. Because I’m marrying Harry Thorne, whether here or in America. In Outer Mongolia for all I care. I love him.”
“You’re not old enough to know what love is.” Leath turned from Pen to Sophie almost with relief. She didn’t mistake how appalled he’d been at hitting her.
“Yes, I am. You think I’m not because you’ve always looked after me.” Sophie smiled at Harry, who still stared at Pen as though expecting her to expire any moment. “Now Harry and I will look after each other.”