“We're just going to 'ave a bit of fun tonight,” he whispered. “You and me and—”
“I wouldn't try it,” drawled a voice Victoria knew all too well. “I don't like it when people touch my wife.”
She looked up. Robert was standing next to the man—where had he come from so quickly?—and had a gun pressed up against his temple. He wasn't wearing a shirt, he wasn't even wearing shoes, and he had another gun tucked into the waistband of his breeches. He looked at the drunkard, smiled humorlessly, and said, “She makes me a bit irrational.”
“Robert,” Victoria said in a shaky voice, for once desperately glad to see him.
He jerked his head to the side, indicating for her to move into the doorway to the inn. She did so immediately.
“I'm going to start counting,” Robert said in a deadly voice. “If the two of you aren't out of my sight by the time I get to ten, I'm going to shoot. And I won't aim for your feet.”
The villains started to run before Robert even got to two. He counted all the way to ten, anyway. Victoria watched him from the doorway, tempted to run back up to her room and barricade herself inside while he ticked off the numbers. But she found herself rooted to the spot, quite unable to take her eyes off Robert.
When he was done he whirled around. “I suggest you don't provoke my temper any further this evening,” he bit off.
She nodded. “No, I'll just be going to sleep. We can discuss this in the morning, if you like.”
He didn't say anything, just let out a low growl as they mounted the steps back up to their chambers. Victoria wasn't particularly heartened by this reaction.
They reached his door, which had clearly been flung open in haste. Robert practically dragged her through the doorway and slammed the door shut. He let go of her to twist the key in the lock, and Victoria took advantage of this opportunity to run to the connecting door. “I'll just be going to bed,” she said quickly.
“Not so fast.” Robert's hand closed around her upper arm and he reeled her back in. “Do you really think I'm going to allow you to spend the rest of the night in there?”
She blinked. “Well, yes. I rather thought you were.”
He smiled, but it was a dangerous sort of smile. “Wrong.”
She thought her knees might give out. “Wrong?”
Before she knew what he was about, he'd scooped her up in his arms and dropped her on the bed. “You, my devious friend, are spending the night here. In my bed.”
Chapter 15
You're insane,” Victoria said, jumping off the bed with amazing speed.
He advanced on her with slow, menacing steps. “If I'm not, I'm damned close to it now.”
That didn't reassure her. She took a few steps back, realizing with a sinking stomach that she was nearly to the wall. Escape did not look likely.
“Did I mention how much I enjoyed hearing you refer to me as your husband?” he asked in a deceptively lazy voice.
Victoria knew that tone. It meant he was furious and keeping it all inside. If she had been in a calmer and more reasonable frame of mind, she probably would have kept her mouth shut and done nothing to provoke his temper. But she was sufficiently concerned for her own welfare and virtue, so she snapped, “It's the last time you will ever hear it.”
“Pity, that.”
“Robert,” she said in what she hoped was a gentling tone. “You have every right to be angry…”
He laughed at that. Laughed! Victoria was not amused.
“Angry does not begin to describe it,” he said. “Allow me to tell you a story.”
“Don't be facetious.”
He ignored her. “I was sleeping in my bed, enjoying a particularly vivid dream…You were in it.”
Victoria's cheeks flamed.
He smiled humorlessly. “I believe I had one hand in your hair, and your lips were…Hmmm, how do I describe it?”
“Robert, that's enough!” Victoria began to shake. Robert wasn't the sort to embarrass a lady by speaking to her in such terms. He must be far, far angrier than she'd dreamed.
“Now where was I?” he mused. “Ah, yes. My dream. Imagine, if you will, my distress when I was awakened from such delightful slumber by screams.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing furiously. “Your screams.”
Victoria couldn't think of anything to say. Well, that was not entirely true. She thought of several hundred things to say, but half of them were inappropriate and half were downright dangerous to her well-being.
“I have never before pulled on my breeches with such speed, do you know that?”
“I'm sure it will prove a useful talent,” she improvised.
“And I have splinters in my feet,” he added. “These floors were not meant to be traversed unshod.”
She tried to smile, but found that her bravado was sadly lacking. “I'd be happy to see to your injuries.”
His hands descended upon her shoulders in a blindingly fast movement. “I wasn't walking, Victoria. I was running. I was running as if it were to save my own life. Except it wasn't.” He leaned forward, his eyes glittering furiously. “I was desperate to save yours.”
Her throat convulsed in a nervous swallow. What did he want her to say? Finally she opened her mouth and out tumbled, “Thank you?” It was more of a question than a statement.
He let go of her abruptly and turned away, clearly disgusted by her reaction. “Oh, for the love of Christ,” he muttered.
Victoria fought against a choking feeling in the back of her throat. How had her life descended to this? She was dangerously close to tears, but she refused to cry in front of this man. He had broken her heart twice, pestered her for a week, and now he'd abducted her. Surely she was allowed a small measure of pride. “I want to go back to my own bed,” she said, her voice small.