Andrea Kane (7 page)

“I don’t care if he is royalty, Father, it doesn’t change the way I feel!” Now Kassie was shouting as well.

“The way
you
feel!” Robert thundered, making the very walls shake. “I don’t give a damn about the way you feel! Who did you think would marry you, Kassandra? Who would rescue you from this horrid life of yours?” He seized her shoulders. “Your beloved duke? Is that what this is all about? Did you actually believe that His
Grace,
the Duke of Sherburgh, would be the one to take you from all this misery?”

“Leave Braden out of this, Father.” Kassie winced at the pressure he was placing on her shoulders.

“Braden, is it? Well, my dear, you are a bigger fool than I thought if you believe that
Braden
would ever think to marry you. I saw the way he looked at you. What’s on his mind has nothing to do with marriage.” He shook her hard. “Does it, Kassandra?”

Kassie felt a flash of fear shoot up her spine at the wild fury in her father’s eyes. “I don’t know what you mean, Father.” She squirmed to free herself.

“No?” He stared down at her as if he were seeing someone else. “I believe you know
exactly
what I mean. Tell me, have you lain with him already? Have you given to that bastard what I have promised to someone else?” He shook her violently. “Tell me, damn you. Tell me.” With one hard push he sent her staggering until she was backed up against the wall.

Ignoring her sharp cry of pain, Robert seized her chin, glaring accusingly into her frightened eyes. “You have, haven’t you?” he bellowed, relentless now in his frenzy. “Haven’t you?”

“No, Father,” Kassie managed, utterly terrified. “I haven’t even seen Braden.”

“Liar!” He flung her across the hall and watched her crumple to her knees. Then slowly, menacingly, he stalked her, dragging her to her feet. “You think I don’t know what’s going on right under my nose? Do you think you can continue to make a fool of me and never pay the price? Do you, Elena?” He drew back his hand and struck her, hard, across her face.

Kassie cried out, tasting the blood of her lip. “I’m not Elena, Father,” she sobbed. “I’m Kassandra. Mother is—”

“Slut!” He struck her again, knocking her to the floor. He picked her up and stared into her tear-streaked, bruised face, seeing features identical to those that haunted his soul. “How many times will you betray me? How many times will I look away?” He wrapped the fingers of one big hand around Kassie’s slender throat. “Not this time, Elena. No, not this time. This time you will pay. This time will be the last time.”

Panic rose like bile in Kassie’s throat. She felt Robert’s grip tighten, squeeze, cut off her breath, her very life, until nothing mattered but survival. Calling upon her last surge of energy, Kassie brought her knee up hard, slamming with all her strength into his groin.

She heard his primal roar of pain as he released her, but she did not pause. Her body racked with hysterical tremors, she flew down the stairs, ignoring the sharp pain in her ribs, and raced out the door. Percy, who had been cringing in the hallway, bared his teeth and snarled at the disoriented man, then tore off after his mistress.

The night air was cool upon Kassie’s wet face. The ache in her side worsened with every step, but she could not, would not slow her pace. She raced along the beach, but she didn’t linger there, for tonight the beach held no solace for her agony. Shuddering sobs shook her small frame; her heart and her body were numb with pain and fear.

But her mind was clear. And she knew just where she had to go.

If you need me—ever, at any time—I will be here for you. Don’t forget that.
Braden’s words repeated over and over, a litany in her mind.
I will be here for you
. …
I will be here for you
. …

“T
HANK YOU FOR A
superb morning ride, Star. You have far more energy today than I.” Braden stroked the sleek mahogany neck of the high-spirited Thoroughbred beside him.

“That is not surprising, considering how little sleep you got last night.” Charles’s dry retort came from the stable doors, where a young groom was inching forward hesitantly to cool down the temperamental horse. It was a well-known fact that only His Grace was a fine enough horseman to control Star’s turbulent nature.

Braden watched Star being led off, noting with satisfaction that the spirited stallion was neither winded nor peaked from his brisk romp—a good sign for a healthy horse.

Charles walked toward Braden, taking in the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Did you go to bed at all? You look miserable,” he informed him.

Braden grinned wryly. “Thank you. And yes, I did go to bed, but I did very little sleeping once I got there.”

“You are still preoccupied with thoughts of Miss Grey.” It was a statement rather than a question, and Charles watched Braden’s face for a reaction.

He got one. Braden’s jaw tightened, and his eyes grew stormy. “Yes, I am concerned about Kassie,” he admitted in a flat tone. “I’m damned uneasy about her living alone with that … drunk.”

“I’ve been by the Grey cottage several times this week. Twice I saw Miss Grey running about with her pup, but I saw no evidence of her father on either occasion. Nothing appeared to be amiss,” Charles replied.

“Appearances are often deceiving, as you well know,” Braden responded coldly. He raked his fingers through his dark hair in frustration. “I know better than anyone what it is like to survive in the midst of hostility. I did it for many years.”

Charles nodded. “I know you did,” he said quietly. How well he remembered a young boy who never cried, yet never understood why he was resented by his mother and father. A mother who was too self-centered to care for anyone and a father who was too embittered to forgive the very person who had caused the unbreachable barrier in his marriage. “I know you did,” Charles repeated, laying a gentle hand on Braden’s shoulder.

Braden regarded Charles soberly, remembering all the times that he had sought solace in these stables from this kind and caring man who had filled such an important void in Braden’s life. It was a debt that Braden could never repay.

“Why don’t you try to get some rest?” Charles suggested, walking beside him toward the house. “It is barely past dawn.”

Braden shook his head. “I’m too restless. I think I’ll contact my shipping company to see when the new Arabian will be arriving. I’m eager to see if she is as splendid as I have been told.”

Charles started to reply, but at that moment loud voices and sharp barking erupted from Sherburgh’s entranceway. As the mansion came into view Braden could see Perkins, the elderly Sherburgh butler, adamantly refusing entrance to a small, disheveled waif. Beside them a brown and white flash of fur was leaping and barking frantically in between nips at the butler’s heels.

“What the …” Braden sped up his pace, calling out as he neared the front stairs. “Perkins? What is the problem?”

Distress evident on his always-composed face, the uncharacteristically harried butler turned to Braden.

“Forgive the disturbance, Your Grace,” Perkins began, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief, “but this … young lady”—he cast a disdainful look beside him—“insists on speaking with you. I have repeatedly told her that the servants’ entrance is around back, but she refuses to listen …”

Before he could finish his sentence the young lady in question turned in Braden’s direction, limping painfully down the stone steps, the outraged beagle beside her. “Braden?”

Braden felt as if he had been punched in the stomach.

“Kassie?” He barely heard Charles’s shocked gasp from just behind him. In ten long strides Braden was at the foot of the stairs, reaching out to help Kassie down to him. The bottom of her gown was shredded, her face was tight with pain, and her cheeks were tear-streaked. Ugly bruises marred her chin and neck, and her soft lower lip was swollen and covered with dried blood. “Oh, my God,” he breathed, framing her face in his hands. “Kassie.”

He drew her against him, cradling her protectively in his arms. He felt her flinch at the contact and mistook her discomfort for fear of his touch.

“Sh-h-h … relax. It’s all right now. Everything is all right.” Relief washed over Braden in waves as he felt the tension leave Kassie’s small, slender body. Over her head he glared at the stunned butler.

“Could you not see that she is hurt?” he demanded in a furious tone.

“Well, actually, no, Your Grace, I could not,” the horrified butler stammered. “What with all the commotion, and that animal”—he flashed a dark look at Percy, who had miraculously quieted down—“carrying on, I could not see … that is, I didn’t know. …”

Braden bit down on his anger. After all, it was not Perkins he wanted to choke to death with his bare hands. “It’s all right, Perkins. I understand. Now, I want you to go inside and send for Dr. Howell. Then, see that a room is prepared for Miss Grey. She will need hot water for a bath and some clothing as well. I don’t care how you manage it, just do it. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Grace … perfectly.” His dignity restored, the elderly man withdrew into the house.

Braden could feel Kassie trembling against him.

“Where are you hurt, sweetheart?” he murmured softly, afraid to carry her inside and inadvertently worsen any of her wounds.

She didn’t answer, but her fingers dug into the front of Braden’s shirt. He eased her back against his arm, touching her bruised face with a gentle hand.

She winced, looking up at him with tormented eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “but I didn’t know where else to go.”

He shook his head emphatically, pressing his fingers to her lips to silence the unwanted apology. She flinched at the contact, and Braden’s eyes went almost black with rage.

“Did your father do this to you?” he demanded.

Automatically she opened her mouth to defend Robert, then closed it again. She could no longer find excuses for her father’s violent, irrational behavior. She nodded.

Braden cursed explicitly, feeling a murderous fury flow through his veins. He fought to control it. Losing his temper would do Kassie no good right now.

“Can you walk?” he asked her instead.

She nodded again. “I think so. It’s just my side.” She took a deep breath and shuddered. “The pain is so sharp.”

“Her ribs.” Charles ground out the words, his expression one of shocked outrage.

Braden nodded. Slowly, easily, he bent down and lifted Kassie in his arms. She let out a small whimper but leaned against him gratefully.

“It wasn’t this bad … but I’ve been running for so long.” She gave him a wan smile. “I had no idea Sherburgh was so far inland … at least by foot.” She glanced down at Percy, who had begun barking again as soon as Braden had lifted Kassie from the ground. “Hush, Percy,” she soothed. “We are among friends.” The dog quieted but walked loyally beside his mistress while Braden carried her into the house. Charles followed close behind, should his assistance be needed.

Braden carried Kassie into the drawing room and placed her down upon the settee. Charles hurried over with several extra cushions to place beneath her head.

“Is that better?” Braden asked her softly, brushing strands of dark hair from her pale face.

Kassie nodded, struggling to hide her pain. “I’m fine,” she assured him.

“Tell me what happened.” It was a command.

Kassie swallowed hard, wishing to forget the details that had led to her unorthodox appearance on Braden’s front steps. But she knew he had a right to know.

“I overheard my father and … another man talking,” she began, lowering her eyes.

“What other man?” Braden demanded at once, tensing as he awaited Kassie’s reply.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “They were behind closed doors, and their voices were too muffled for me to hear distinctly.” She raised her chin, looking directly into Braden’s concerned, tender gaze. “But my father intended for me to marry him. In fact, he was in the process of selling me for the impressive sum of seventy thousand pounds.”

Disbelief registered on Braden’s handsome face. “Your father
sold
you to this man?”

Kassie nodded gingerly, wanting to sink into the sofa and die. “Yes. That was the agreement. And my father expected me to comply with it, no questions asked.” Her lips quivered. “I know it is my duty as a daughter to obey him, but it just seemed so cold-blooded, so horrid. I couldn’t bear the thought.”

“And you told your father that?”

Kassie licked her dry, swollen lips. “Yes. When he was alone I told him. He flew into a rage, said some horrible things.” She squeezed her lids shut, desperate to block out the memory. “Then he hit me. I tried to reason with him, but he was out of control by then. He had been drinking, and …” Her voice trailed off.

“Then what happened?” Braden asked.

“He became totally irrational, and more violent than I have ever seen him.” She opened frightened, damp eyes and fought back the tears. “I was afraid … I think he would have killed me.” Her voice was almost inaudible. “So I ran. I had nowhere else to go. You said that if I ever needed you—”

“And I meant it.” Braden took both her small, cold hands in his large, warm ones. “I promise you, Kassie, he will never hurt you again. Never. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” she whispered, staring up at his hard, furious expression. “What are you going to do?”

“The first thing I am going to do is have Dr. Howell examine your injuries. Then I will pay a visit to your father.” At her frightened expression he shook his head. “Trust me,
ma petite.
All will be well.”

Braden turned away from her, unable to hide the ferocity of his reaction. For a brief second his blazing eyes met Charles’s hard blue stare. The older man looked more shaken than Braden had ever seen him. But that was understandable, for the idea of physical abuse would be abhorrent to Charles. And violence such as this, inflicted upon a beautiful, innocent young woman, was an abomination.

With a shudder of revulsion Charles looked away. “I will see if the doctor has been sent for,” he said quietly, then he turned and left the room.

“Braden?” Kassie’s soft voice pulled at Braden, forcing him to turn back to her, his brows raised in question. “I did not mean to be so much trouble.” She struggled to sit up. “Coming here was not right. I should have …” She broke off as a spasm of pain shot through her. Shakily she lowered herself back down to the settee.