This was how to keep her from guessing his shameful secrets. All he need do was keep her in bed.
A noise brought Grey awake. He was momentarily disoriented. Where was he?
Then he felt the warm body next to him and realized where. With Beatrice. Inherhome. Which meant he’d fallen asleep. And so had she. Judging from the light coming in the window, it was early morning. Damn, damn, damn. Long past time for him to go.
He would have leapt from the bed except that in that exact moment a sound registered in his sleep-drugged brain: that of a gun being cocked.
“Get up! Now!”
Holy hell. Grey knew that voice. And this was not going to end well.
Beatrice roused beside him. “What’s happening?”
“Your lover is about to die, my dear sister,” Wolfe said in a voice of such deadly calm it sent alarm down Grey’s spine. “You should probably bid him farewell.”
“Joshua?” Beatrice sat up in bed and clutched the covers to her breasts. Thank God that sometime in the night, they’d climbed under the bedclothes. “Joshua, put that thing away!”
Grey stifled a curse. He’d intended to be gone before now, if only to preserve her reputation in front of her brother until he could make her a legitimate offer of marriage. But the murderous glare Wolfe was giving him meant Grey would probably pay for that oversight with his life.
Wolfe ignored Beatrice. “Howdareyou?” he growled at Grey. “She’s my sister, for God’s sake!”
Before Grey could even muster a defense for what was indefensible, Beatrice spoke. “Ichoseto be with him. Why do you care? You’re not here most of the time anyway.”
Grey groaned. The last thing she should do is provoke her brother with reminders of how he’d failed her.
And Wolfe clearly felt it, for he lowered the muzzle of his rifle to Grey’s head.
“Stop that!” she said. “I wanted him here.”
Wolfe’s expression showed his uncertainty. “But Beatrice . . .”
“Go,” she told Grey in a low voice. “I’ll deal with him.”
Grey wasn’t about to allow that. Rising from the bed, he faced Wolfe down, unashamed of his nudity. “Beatrice and I are going to marry,” he said, realizing the rightness of it the minute the words left his mouth.
That took Wolfe aback. But only for a moment. “You can’t marry her.”
“The hell he can’t!” Beatrice cried.
“He’s engaged to someone else, duckie,” her brother said with a tenderness that gave Grey pause. Until the rest of his words registered.
Grey walked over to where his drawers were and drew them on. “I’m not engaged to anyone.”
Wolfe tossed a newspaper onto the bed. “No? TheTimessays differently.”
Picking up the paper, Grey skimmed what turned out to be an announcement of his betrothal. He swore under his breath. “This is a lie.”
“Is it?” The major glanced at his sister. “It states that your lover is engaged to marry a woman named Vanessa Pryde.”
Grey scowled at the major. “I’m not betrothed to Vanessa or anyone. She’s my cousin. I have no intention of marrying her.”
Beatrice snatched the paper from him. As she read it, her face fell. “That’s not what this says.” Lifting her heartbroken gaze to him, she wrapped the sheet around herself and left the bed.
Damn his aunt! Clearly the bloody woman had decided to take matters into her own hands, since Grey had resisted all attempts to yoke him to Vanessa.
“I swear on my father’s grave that it’s a lie,” he told Beatrice as he pulled on his clothes. “Neither Vanessa nor I wish to marry each other. But my aunt is trying to force the issue because she thinks I would never stand Vanessa up and thus destroy my cousin’s reputation. The only woman I wish to marry isyou.”
“Why?” she asked. “You haven’t wished to marry me before.”
