Page 109 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

“You bastard,” Ned raged. “You miserable excuse for a man! I should wring your blasted neck and rid the world of a worthless cur.”

Harold whimpered and clawed at Ned’s fist to no avail.

“I know your kind,” Ned said with disgust. “Ye are a bully, willing enough to torment those who cannot fight back, but a coward when it comes to a real fight. Carrington is the same. Ye may tell him to come and face me, if he dares, but if I ever… ever set eyes on ye again, I’ll end your miserable life, my word upon it.”

Ned shook him again, his voice dropping to something low and feral. “I’ll come for ye when ye least expect it, and I’ll make sure ye die like the maggot ye are and feed what’s left to my pigs. Ye will not trouble my wife again and ye may tell Carrington I’ll come for him too, if he thinks to plot to take what is mine from me. If I ever hear either of ye breathe a word against Grace or do anything, anything, that upsets her, I’ll make ye wish ye had never been born.” He tightened his grip on Harold’s cravat and her brother gasped and gaped, his eyes bulging. “Have I made myself clear?”

For a moment he released his hold, enough that Harold could nod and gasp something that seemed like acceptance of Ned’s terms.

“Don’t forget it,” Ned warned, “Or I might feel the need to visit my brother-in-law with some of my friends and remind ye of everything I just said.”

“W-Won’t forget,” Harold gasped, terror in his eyes. “Swear it.”

“Damn right,” Ned said giving him another little shake. “And ye will take care the filth ye brought with ye today are dealt with, and sent back to whatever hole in the ground they crawled out of.”

“Y-Yes.”

Ned released his hold and Harold fell from his grasp to land in a heap at his feet. For a long moment, Ned stood staring down at him, clenching and unclenching his fists, his desire to hurt Harold more than he already had so palpable that Grace held her breath.

Harold trembled and covered his head with his hands and began to cry, and Grace watched as Ned took a deep breath and turned away in disgust.

She ran to him and he held her in his arms, held her tight and safe as he kissed the top of her head.

“Let’s go home, love,” he said.

They did as Grace had proposed that morning when they returned to the farm, and she hurried to light the fires while Ned saw to the horse and checked on the other animals. By the time he’d finished and come in, she was sitting in his bed wearing nothing but a smile. Ned could hardly draw a breath as he paused in the doorway to stare at the sight of her, his beautiful wife. Her golden hair fell in lush waves and glimmered in the warm light of the fire and the single candle that burned on the nightstand. Her skin glowed too, the generous curves of her breasts making his mouth water far more than the tray she’d set before her, loaded with bread and cheese, a jar of pickle and some apples. Nonetheless, his stomach growled as he realised he’d not eaten since they’d breakfasted at The Stag.

“A picnic in bed?” he said, feeling his heart lift at the sight of her as desire blazed a path to his manly parts with the force of a lightning strike. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Well, it was your picnic downstairs that inspired me,” she said, tugging back the covers on his side of the bed and patting the mattress invitingly. “So I can’t take all the credit.”

He grinned at her and made short work of shrugging out of his clothes, marvelling at the way she sat naked and unashamed before him, and delighting in the pleasure she took in watching him undress.

Ned slid beneath the covers, and pulled her to him, desire rising like a tide as her silky skin touched his. He kissed her slow and deep, but she laughed and pushed him away.

“Eat first,” she insisted. “I could hear your stomach complaining when you were still downstairs.”

He huffed and protested, and she stuffed a piece of cheese into his mouth.

“Eat, you stubborn creature,” she said, laughing as he chewed and swallowed and then lunged for her, pretending to take a bite from her shoulder.

“I’d rather eat this tender flesh,” he murmured, kissing a path up her neck.

She sighed and tilted her head to allow him to continue.

“I’ll be the dessert,” she offered, and then Ned heard her stomach growl too.

“Ye only had to say ye were famished,” he remonstrated, and she smiled and kissed his nose.

“I know, but this way was more fun.”

They cleared the tray in no time at all and, once Ned had removed it from the bed, Grace leant back against his chest with a happy sigh.

“That’s better,” she said.

Ned held her, quiet as he remembered the moments before her brother’s thugs had attacked them. He remembered everything she’d said about how happy she was, how she loved him and looked forward to their lives together, and about how he must not imagine he knew what it was she wanted or needed better than she did. He stroked the golden tresses that tickled his chest and remembered the rest of it too, and frowned.

“Gracie,” he said, trying to puzzle out what she’d meant to say before her brother had tried to ruin everything. “What did ye mean before, when ye spoke of Sarah?”