Andrea Kane (28 page)

Suddenly the whole experience was more than Kassie could bear. Mortified, she felt helpless tears fill her eyes and spill down her cheeks. She turned away, unused to allowing anyone to witness her weakness or share her pain.

Charles placed gentle, work-worn hands on her shoulders. “It’s no sin to confide in a friend,” he told her softly.

Kassie fought for control. “I thought someone was following me,” she whispered. “I was so afraid.”

Charles stared off, taking in the peaceful grounds beyond, then shook his head. “There’s no one about, Kassandra. And no need to be afraid. Braden has assigned countless servants to watch Sherburgh at all times ever since you came to live here.”

Neither of them mentioned Robert, but his name was there nonetheless.

Kassie nodded. “I know. Thank you.”

Charles turned her to face him. “That doesn’t explain the state you’re in, both mental and physical. What’s happened?”

“Didn’t Braden tell you?” she asked in a small, defiant voice, drying her tears with the back of her hand.

Charles shook his head. “Braden was in no condition for conversation last night. He was searching Sherburgh room by room to discover your whereabouts.”

Kassie paled. “So all the guests know?”

“No,” Charles reassured her quickly. “Only the family and a few servants know you are missing. Braden wanted to protect you from unnecessary gossip.”

Kassie gave a harsh laugh. “Me? Or Abigail?”

“Abigail?” Charles’s brow furrowed. “Abigail Devon? What has she got to do with—” He broke off as Kassie dropped her eyes. “Ah, I begin to see the light. Something happened at last night’s party to upset you.” His astute gaze took in Kassie’s telltale flush. “Tell me,” he urged.

Kassie’s inner strength crumbled. Without a second thought she poured out the whole horrid incident. Charles did not interrupt until she had finished. Then he sighed. “Come, Kassandra. Let’s take a stroll, you and I. It is time you learned something more about your husband … and about
Lady
Abigail Devon.”

Intrigued, Kassie fell into step beside him, a now docile Percy following in their wake.

“Braden’s parents and Abigail’s parents decided that their children should wed.” Charles began without preliminaries.

“Wed?” Kassie echoed weakly.

“It was an arranged marriage, one that was applauded by Abigail and rejected by Braden,” he added quickly.

“But they were betrothed.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” He paused, taking Kassie’s chin in his hand. “You claim to be in love with Braden. You told me once that you wanted to understand him. Are you still willing to do that?”

Kassie swallowed. “Yes.”

Charles gave her a warm smile. “Good. I’ve told you of Braden’s parents, Kassandra. They were neither warm nor sensitive people. Braden is both. So he learned to bury these qualities inside himself at a very young age, to demonstrate them on few occasions and with fewer people.”

Kassie nodded. “Such as you.”

“Yes. As well as a few chosen friends. Especially one—Grant Chandling. The two of them were inseparable from their youth, more brothers than friends. They went to school together, grew from boyhood to manhood together. Between them there was mutual respect and trust, the two most important ingredients in a real friendship.”

Kassie felt a surge of renewed anger as she recalled Grant’s unwarranted advances during the ball. “I met the viscount last night. He was less than a gentleman with me,” she replied candidly. Her mind jumped to Braden’s curious reaction to Grant’s appearance at Sherburgh, and a puzzled frown clouded her lovely face. “It seemed to me that there was a great deal of tension between Lord Chisdale and Braden.”

“There is,” Charles concurred. “And with good reason.” He stared off into space, his words slow and purposeful. “Braden is a man of strong principles, Kassandra. While he has little faith in love and tenderness, he demands both integrity and honesty from everyone he deals with, especially his friends. Betrayal is not something he will tolerate.”

Kassie’s eyes filled with new tears. “Then how could he—”

He met her gaze. “He couldn’t. And wouldn’t.”

“But I saw for myself.”

“What you saw was a scheming, conniving woman determined to get back into Braden’s life. An ambition, I might add, that is doomed to failure. And no one knows that better than Abigail.”

Kassie’s eyes widened. “Why?” she managed.

“Because during their supposed betrothal Abigail was busy sampling the charms of every other man she fancied. She made her way through the ranks of the
ton
until her reputation was in complete tatters, yet she felt neither embarrassment nor remorse.”

Kassie gasped. “How could she?”

“Easily. Abigail is a spoiled, shallow young woman who is accustomed to getting everything she wants in life without regret or repercussion. If she craved variety, then variety it was.”

Kassie swallowed past the lump in her throat. “And eventually Braden found out?”

“Yes.”

“So he ended their betrothal.”

“No.”

Kassie started. “No?”

“No,” Charles repeated. “By then Braden didn’t give a damn what Abigail did or with whom she did it. He never actually committed himself to making wedding plans, but since there was no other woman in his life, he let the betrothal stand.”

“So as far as the world knew, they were to marry,” Kassie said quietly. She took a deep breath. “Then what happened?”

“Abigail took her indiscretions one step too far,” Charles replied soberly. “Three years ago Braden discovered her in a compromising situation with an unforgivable partner.”

“Who?” Kassie asked, but, God help her, she already knew.

“Grant Chandling.”

“Oh … Charles.” She closed her eyes, picturing the pain and the hurt Braden must have felt, not from the detestable woman he was expected to marry, but from his best friend. “How horrible for him.”

“It was the luckiest day of Braden’s life.”

Kassie’s eyes flew open, and she stared at Charles in amazement. It was not like him to be so uncompassionate. “I agree that it is best Braden found out about Grant’s faithlessness. But to call it the luckiest day of his life—”

“It was,” Charles insisted quietly. “For on that night Braden sought solace on a deserted stretch of beach along the sea. And there he met the most enchanting, loving young woman life has to offer. A woman who, in the months and years to come, will bring out everything his heart already knows but his mind cannot accept. A woman who, through her own wondrous gift of love, will teach him how to love in return.”

Kassie’s eyes filled with tears. “I love him so much, Charles,” she whispered in a small, shaken voice.

“I know you do,” he replied solemnly. “Now go home and show Braden.”

Kassie took both his hands, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his weathered cheek. “I will, Charles. I promise you, I will.”

Charles watched her go, knowing in his heart that the man she went to was already totally, hopelessly in love with his wife, needing only her gentle strength to show him how much.

Blinking back his own tears, Charles raised his eyes to the heavens. He was certain that somewhere, in a place far above them, another extraordinarily beautiful woman, a woman who was the image of Kassandra, was looking down upon them … and smiling.

“P
ERKINS! HAS THERE BEEN
any sign of her?”

Perkins had just returned to his post and now stood stiffly in the front hallway, his lips pursed, giving the disheveled, haggard-looking duke a cold, accusing look. “No, Your Grace,” he advised him. “None.”

“Dammit!” Braden slammed his fist against the wall in frustration. Since he had returned from the stream he had searched everywhere imaginable, and short of ransacking the guests’ quarters, he had left no stone unturned. Where on earth was that impulsive, independent wife of his, and where in heaven had she spent the night?

Braden stared at his butler’s tense, worried face, feeling the knot of fear inside him tighten as the nagging possibility that had plagued him for hours returned to haunt him.

What if Robert Grey had taken Kassie?

At this point Braden was prepared to ride to the Grey estate himself. And if Robert had Kassie, Braden would kill him.

“Have Star brought around, Perkins.”

“Excuse me, Your Grace,” Perkins replied, mortified, “but this is hardly the time for recreation. I shall not rest until the duchess is home safe.” With that Perkins turned and stalked off.

Braden stared after him in amazement. After countless years of faithful service his staid and proper butler had just refused to obey an order and, without words, had told Braden that he was as low as the serpent in the Garden of Eden.

And all because Perkins believed it was Braden who had hurt Kassie.

For the hundredth time since last night, guilt stabbed at Braden’s heart. Perkins was right.

He was heading out of the house to saddle Star himself when he collided with an overwrought Dobson.

“Yer Grace! Yer Grace!”

“Yes, Dobson, what is it?” Braden’s voice was taut with impatience. At that moment he cared about nothing but Kassie—not even his Thoroughbreds.

“It’s ’er Grace! I ’ear that ye’re lookin’ for ’er!”

Braden’s heart began to pound faster. “Have you seen her, Dobson?” Unconsciously he clutched the younger man’s shoulders in a vise grip.

“Yes, Yer Grace, I ’ave.” Dobson nodded emphatically.

“Well, where is she?” Braden demanded.

“I don’t know where she is right now, but an hour ago she was at the stables.”

“The stables.” Braden felt a surge of relief so great that it nearly brought him to his knees.

“Yes, Yer Grace.” Dobson extricated himself, his brows knit in concern. “And if ye ask me, she seemed awful upset about something.”

Relief exploded into irrational anger. “I didn’t ask you!” Braden bellowed. Stalking out the front door, he left the stunned groom standing alone, dazed. Braden was too furious to notice. He had endured just about enough of his staff’s blind loyalty to Kassie. Thinking of the hellish night he had just endured, Braden was livid, all his earlier tenderness and self-censure gone.

Now that he knew Kassandra was all right, he was going to kill her.

“She slipped inside a few minutes ago and is up in her bedchamber, Braden.” Charles stopped him just outside the entranceway door. “She is tired and disoriented, but unharmed. I believe Margaret is with her.” He darted a quick glance toward the second-floor landing. “Why don’t you calm down a bit before you go to her?”

Braden faced his friend with barely leashed anger. “Fine, Charles,” he replied in an ominous tone. “I’ll calm down a bit.” He turned abruptly and headed for the stairway, counting to ten under his breath to retain control. “And then I am going to find my wife and wring her beautiful neck!” He took the steps impatiently, then strode down the hall, a determined Charles at his heels.

“Fine, Braden.” Charles hurried ahead and planted himself firmly between Braden and the closed door of Kassie’s bedchamber. “But I think you should wash and change your clothes first. Perkins and Harding have already arranged for a bath to be brought to your chambers at once … to soothe you,” he added pointedly, gauging Braden’s reaction.

Braden stared, eyes blazing. Harding, too? Now even his damned valet had fallen under his wife’s spell!

Fighting the desire to go
through
Charles in order to get to Kassie, Braden hesitated, realizing that his friend was correct. He glanced past Charles at the closed door, then nodded tersely.

“All right, Charles. You win. I will take that bath and change of clothing.” His jaw clenched. “But after that
nothing
is going to keep me from talking to my wife. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly, Braden,” Charles responded, stifling a smile. He generally made it a policy never to interfere in Braden’s personal life. Yet when it came to Kassandra … well, some rules had to be bent, if not completely broken. Charles moved away from the door and headed toward the stairs. “Once you are yourself again I’m certain that Kassandra will be eager to talk with you.”

“I doubt that, Charles,” Braden responded in a derisive tone. “Truly, I doubt that.”

Precisely thirty minutes later Braden stepped from his bath and waved away Harding’s offer to assist him. “Leave me, Harding. I am perfectly capable of dressing myself. And I would like to be alone.”

Harding knew that tone and was more than happy to comply. With a quick “Yes, Your Grace” he was gone.

Braden briskly toweled himself dry. The warm bath had done wonders toward soothing his weary body but had done little to calm his rampaging emotions. In the last twelve hours he had experienced a myriad of feelings more intense than he had ever known. First possessiveness and vulnerability, followed by acute worry, self-accusation, bone-melting relief, and explosive rage. He was confused and drained, his nerves taut to the breaking point, furious with Kassie for doing this to him, more furious with himself for allowing it.

Behind him the door closed quietly.

“I said that I wished to be alone, Harding.” Braden tossed his towel onto a chair without turning around. “I meant it.”

“I’m certain that you did,” Kassie replied softly. “But I need to see you nonetheless.”

Braden turned abruptly at the sound of his wife’s voice. Droplets of water still clung to his broad chest and shoulders, glistened in his damp, dark hair. Kassie met his gaze, keenly aware of the sheer magnetism that emanated from her husband’s burning stare, the corded muscles that defined every inch of his totally bare, utterly masculine physique. He was magnificent in his nakedness, but what she sought penetrated far deeper than Braden’s powerful body, was buried deep within his soul.

She started forward, her gaze never leaving his, the silk of her pale peach dressing gown swirling about her ankles.

“Where the hell were you?” Braden’s cold, accusatory tone cut through her like a knife. Kassie flinched, but she didn’t slow her step.

“In the stables.”

“All night?” he demanded in a raw voice.