Constantine had proven herself very adept in the art of subterfuge, but that didn’t mean Callum liked her so near his cousin. But he had to admit, the plan seemed to be working. The first night Ross had been wary but obviously intrigued by Constantine’s invitation to join her in Callum’s absence. Ross had not given any useful information, though. The second night was much the same, which had frustrated both Callum and Constantine greatly, but something seemed different tonight.
Callum frowned, trying to unravel what it was, when Ross suddenly moved from his seat across from Constantine to beside her on the settee. She’d been hinting that Callum had not consummated their marriage yet, and Constantine tensed visibly—to Callum, at least—when Ross set his hand on her leg. Callum reacted with ferocious instinct, moving to part the curtain, but Beckford stayed him and shook his head.
Callum knew what was different now. Ross was tired of talk, and he wanted Constantine, perhaps even thought to make her prove what she’d said to him about not loving Callum.
Wait,Beckford mouthed.
Callum knew he should. It was likely the only hope for justice, but he didn’t know how long he could restrain himself, how far he could let his wife take the charade, before his control snapped.
Ross slid his hand up Constantine’s thigh, taking the emerald silk of her gown with him to expose her leg. Callum wanted to sever Ross’s hand.
“If you’re lonely,” Ross said, “I can help you take care of that need.”
Callum was going to damn well help Ross to his grave.
Constantine deftly caught Ross’s hand, which was inching toward her inner thighs, looking calm, though her chest rose with a deep breath. “I want you, too,” she said, “but how can I give myself to you when I’m wed to Callum? It wouldn’t be right.” She bit her lip, his little actress. “I wish Callum had never returned from wherever he was.”
Ross smirked. “So you don’t believe I had him put in an asylum?”
Constantine snorted. “Of course not! But if you could send him away for good…” She trailed her hand to Ross’s chest.
“Hmm…” Ross said. “Convince me how much you want me, what you would do to be with me and not him, and maybe we can think of something.”
Before Callum realized what she was going to do, Constantine’s hand was between Ross’s legs, and when she squeezed his cousin, he groaned. Callum’s control snapped. He tried to jerk out of Beckford’s grip only to find Beckford’s arm around his neck and the man’s mouth near his ear. “One more minute. Give her one more minute.”
“I think it’syouwho should convincemeyou could rid me of my unwanted husband before I show you what I can give you and just how much pleasure it will bring you,” Constantine purred.
Good God, his wife was a siren.
“One taste,” Ross said, sounding drugged.
When her mouth covered Ross’s, Callum saw red. He ripped Beckford’s arm from his throat, his hand coming to the curtain when Constantine abruptly pulled away from Ross and said, “How would you get rid of him for me, Ross? I think it might be impossible.”
“No, my dear,” Ross said, his tone smug. “It’s very possible. I promise you that. But this time, I’ll kill him.”
“This time?” Her eyes widened. “You mean, hewastelling the truth? I don’t believe you. You’re simply trying to seduce me.” She gave a rich, husky laugh, the one that belonged to Callum. He had never wanted to kill Ross more than in that moment.
And then Ross proceeded to brag about exactly how he had planned Callum’s disappearance before. “But like I said, this time—” Ross suddenly grasped Constantine and hauled her onto his lap to straddle him, which made Callum’s blood singe his veins “—I’ll kill him. I underestimated him, but I won’t do so again. And then we will be wed, so there is no need for us to wait. Take off your clothes for me.”
Even as Callum yanked the curtain apart, Constantine spoke. “I think not, Ross. The only man I will ever give myself to is my husband, and the only woman you’re likely to ever see naked again where you’ll be going is in your dreams.” She scrambled off Ross, giving him her back and turning toward Callum, who was already cutting the distance between them, even as Beckford, Valentine, and Carrington poured out from their hiding places.
But in the moment that they were all moving toward Ross, he bent and reached for his ankle, and Callum’s mind bellowed a warning.
A pistol. His cousin had brought a pistol.
Callum roared as fragments of conversation and planning before this moment came to him.Check for a pistol and a knife,they’d agreed, which was why she’d put her hands on his chest. But the ankle… They’d bloody well forgotten there could be a pistol at his ankle.
Constantine’s smile faltered as a boom exploded around Callum. His shout merged with her scream and the other men’s calls of warning. Time moved in slow motion as Callum lunged toward her, knocking her down and falling on top of her to protect her.
More shots were fired, and he rolled, coming up with his body shielding Constantine. His cousin was falling backward, hands at his chest as blood spread across his white shirt. Callum looked to the other side of the room to find Beckford gripping his smoking pistol, a hard look in his eye. The thud of Ross’s body hitting the floor resounded in the air, though Callum swore he felt as if it had been him who had hit the floor.
Suddenly, Constantine’s face floated above him. “Don’t you dare try to die on me.”
The room spun for a moment, but he gritted his teeth, even as he broke out in a cold sweat and struggled to sit up. Hands reached for him, and he yelled out, “Good God, Val. Let go my bloody arm!” Fiery pain was racing up the limb and a glance down told him why. He’d been shot.
In front on him, Carrington rose from his crouch before Ross and caught Callum’s gaze. “He’s dead.”
“Damnation,” Constantine said, surprising him. She scowled. “I wanted to see him hanged for what he did.”
