Sir Clive jumped back, swearing, one hand clamped to his mouth, the other lifted as if to hit her. ‘You little bitch!’ he mumbled.
‘Don’t you dare touch me again!’ Anusha hissed at him. ‘If I had a knife—’
‘If Miss Laurens had a knife she would doubtless castrate you, Arbuthnott. So be grateful that I am merely going to break your jaw.’ It was Nick, smiling, green eyes glinting in the torchlight.
‘The little baggage led me on. And as for you, Herriard, I’d like to see you try to lay a finger on me.’
Anusha swallowed and gripped the stonework behind her as Nick’s smile changed subtly into something lethal. ‘I was going to break your jaw. For that I am going to throw you over the balustrade.’ He moved fast, caught the still-spluttering baronet off-balance in a twisting grip against his hip, and tipped him over the edge. There was a crash, a chorus of feminine shrieks and the sound of swearing.
‘Oh, I say!’ Nick leaned over, his voice full of exaggerated concern. ‘Are you all right, Arbuthnott? I told you not to stand up there to watch the fireworks.’
‘Bloody hell! I’ve got thorns in my ar—’
‘Not in front of the ladies,’ a man said below. ‘Come on, Arbuthnott, let’s get you out of there.’
Nick turned. ‘That has punctured his dignity.’
She found it was difficult to speak. ‘Thank...thank you. I thought you were going to kill him.’ Tears were threatening to choke her, she realised. Where had her courage gone?
‘Did you want me to kill him?’ Nick asked. ‘Did you expect me to call him out?’
‘To duel? That is what you mean?’ She swallowed hard. ‘No, of course not. It was just foolishness.’ What is wrong with me? And him? He still looks so angry?
‘He called you a baggage. What the blazes were you doing up here with him anyway?’ So that was what was wrong with him—he was angry with her. As though it were her fault! What hypocrites men were. ‘Well?’ he snapped. ‘What was it? Were you looking for another man to pleasure you, like a cat on heat?’
The injustice of it stung like a whiplash. Anusha tried to be angry, but all she felt was utterly miserable. She had been frightened, confused, she had needed him and he had come. And now he thought she had encouraged that man?
‘How am I expected to know there would be no one else up here? It is all shocking and strange...all these men, being expected to flirt with them...strolling about, arm in arm down there,’ she stammered. ‘Do I tell one of Lady Hoskins’s guests to his face that I do not trust him?’
Nick spun on his heel and stalked away to the other side of the terrace, his shoulders rigid. She sank down on a low bench and felt the tears begin to slide down her face. It was too much. I love you and I cannot have you and now you think I am just a...just a...
He turned as abruptly as he had left her. ‘I am sorry. I apologise. You are quite right and I am not angry with you. I am angry with myself.’
‘It is—’ She tried to say all right, but her voice vanished in a sob. It was not all right, it never would be. This was the reality: she loved him, she could not have him and she would have to marry some other man who would not understand her, a man she could never love.
‘Hell!’ He strode across the terrace and fell on his knees beside her. ‘Anusha—he hurt you?’ He took her hand, but she tried to shake him off.
‘No,’ she managed. ‘You did. I am so unhappy. I can’t be brave any more, Nick. I do not want to be here, I do not understand the rules, I do not want to marry some suitable man and now you...you hate me. And...’
‘No.’ His fingers tightened on her wrist. ‘I don’t hate you, Anusha. It will be all right, you will become accustomed to this life and then you will meet a man you can like.’
* * *
Nick winced at the inadequacy of his own words. He was spouting platitudes and she knew it. You hate me. God, that hurt. But not as much as she is hurting. ‘I was frightened for you and it made me angry—you must be used to that by now.’
She ignored his feeble attempt at a joke. Nick had never seen her like this, almost defeated.
‘Anusha, please.’ He hated this. Every instinct told him to protect her as he had tried to do ever since they left Kalatwah and all he had done was to reduce her to abject misery. How to stop her crying? He had never managed it with Miranda. ‘Anusha. Oh, hell.’ Nick pulled her roughly into his arms, crushing her against his jacket front, against gold braid and buttons. ‘Come here and don’t you dare cry.’