Page 63 of His Mistress, His Muse, and Other Madness
“Theo!”
He pulled his fist back for another hit, and a manacle-strong hand wrapped around his wrist.
“Don’t,” Cordelia pleaded.
“Why not?” he growled. “I saw him pin you to the wall. He was trying to scare you. Worse, possibly.I saw hisfist.” The last four words a growl.
“No!” Bradley cried. “Listen to the woman.”
Theo tightened his grip.
“Yes.” Cordelia’s grip tightened, too, and even if it had been soft as a lightly-tied velvet ribbon, it still would have stayed him. “And worse no doubt. But I escaped. Rather clever of me, in fact, to tumble off that bridge.”
“Do not make excuses for him.”
“I’m not. I’m horribly glad you’ve pummeled him. But let Pentshire exile him now. That is the best punishment. Don’t you think, my lord?” She wasn’t talking to him. Something in the changed pitch ofmy lordtold him that.
“Just so, Lady Cordelia,” Pentshire said. The sound of boot steps on gravel wrested Theo’s concentration from Bradley’s mottled face.
Pentshire wore a grin so wide one would have thought he’d hired Theo and Bradley for his personal entertainment. “Let him go, Lord Theodore, so I can kick him out.”
Theo’s fists did not wish to comply, but the hand around his wrist would not let go, so Theo did, shoving Bradley into the dirt as he stood and turned to Cordelia. His jacket swallowed her, and she clutched it close to hide the muslin molded to her form. The sight of her, proud but drenched, made him want to pummel Bradley once more, but she lunged for him, wrapped herself around his arm and pulled him close.
“I’m in need of a change of clothes, my lord. Will you escort me inside?”
As they passed Pentshire while he helped Bradley to his feet, the earl put a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll see him to the gate as soon as he’s packed his belongings. His muse may stay if she likes and have free passage home at the end of the party.This man’son his own.” The earl raised his attention to the faces in the window and those gathered outdoors. “If anyone here prefers Bradley’s questionable company to that of my other guests, please do feel free to accompany him off the grounds.”
Theo grunted, guiding Cordelia round toward the house. Words did not come easily at the moment, with each breath a difficulty. Not words of gratitude, not words of worry. He knew one goal—get her upstairs and dry and warm.
Silence reigned within the house, a proper companion for the soft shadows, and only the sound of their footsteps on stone echoed in the staircase. At the top of the spiral stairs, he threw open the door to her bedchamber and released her arm. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
She nodded, then shook her head and closed the door between them. Cordelia’s silence unnerved him. He missed her usual chatter, even the sort (especially the sort) she designed to tease him. What thoughts bogged down her voice? He needed to know.
But first, he needed new clothes. It did not take long to strip and dress and shake the water out of his hair with a square of linen and take up watch in the hallway once more, waiting for her to invite him in.
He shouldn’t have to wait. They’d not waited for one another the past five days. They’d come to one another easily and as they wished and been welcomed with open arms. But she’d seemed too fragile when he’d pulled her out of the moat, and he’d been so enraged to see her pinned, to watch her fall. Something had snapped inside him, and he could not repair it. He’d be forever broken.
No. Nonsense, that.
He knocked on her door. “Cordelia?”
The door swung open, and she stormed through it, wagging a finger in his face. “If you are not careful, not only will you ruin your own chances to achieve your goals for coming here, but you’ll ruin mine as well. If you’re always growling at everyone like a rabid dog, no one will come nearme, and if no one comes near me, how am I supposed to convince them to support my school? Hm? Beating Bradley to a bloody pulp certainly did not endear his friends to you.”
Damn. She had a point. “You’re right.”
“Oh.” She dropped her finger. “I’d not expected that. Lovely.” She stepped to the side, stretching her arm toward the room. “Do come in, then.”
He did, and when she closed them in together, he said, “I was frightened. I was afraid I wouldn’t get to you soon enough. I had no idea whether you could swim or not. My sister Maggie can, but then, we did not have a conventional upbringing.”
“I can swim.”
“Your hair is wet.” It hung in dark copper ropes down her back, wetting her new, dry gown, leaving murky green spots on the light-green muslin.
“Observant. I must start a fire in the grate and dry it there before I return downstairs.”
“I’ll help.” He snatched the tinderbox from the mantel, knelt by the grate, and soon had a fire blazing there.
“Thank you.”
