Ruined by a Rake by Erin Knightley Page A

realized it as well; I was right there when he finally gave his word.”
    He had agreed? He had given Eleanor’s mother his word, only to break it the moment it suited him? Anger flared to life deep within her, heating her blood and searing her resolve. She thought of Nick, standing up for her in his own convoluted way, now being subjected to her uncle’s fury.
    This wasn’t his fight—it was hers. It was past time Uncle Robert was subjected to her wrath, not the other way around. Hadn’t Nick just shown her how strong she could be? “I have to go,” she said suddenly, unable to sit idle for even one more moment.
    “Wait.”
    She stopped at the authoritative tone in the older woman’s voice. “Yes?”
    “I understand now why rescue was necessary in the case of Lord Henry. But I still don’t know why Nick decided he was the one to do it. Are not the two of you adversaries?”
    And there was the crux of the matter.
    An unfamiliar longing wrapped around her heart as she thought of him and what exactly he was to her. What they were to each other. “Oh Aunt, I’ve been so stupid. All this time we bickered and argued, but yet all along . . . it’s been him. It’s always been him. The one who drives me mad, who makes me want to throttle him, but who always challenged me. Always looked to me as an equal.” She swallowed as a new truth assailed her with the force of an exploding firework. “I can’t bear the thought of being without him.”
    “So you didn’t mind his kiss?”
    Heat scorched her cheeks, but she looked her aunt straight in the eye. “I loved it. And I love him.”
    Aunt Margaret’s mouth dropped open in surprise, even as her eyes misted over. Nodding crisply, she rose to her feet. “I’m coming with you. And next time,” she said , tossing a shawl about her shoulders before linking arms with Eleanor, “do feel free to come to me when my brother makes an arse of himself.”
     
    ***
    Nick stood rigidly still, absorbing the ramifications of his own stepfather’s words. His commission. His livelihood—his very identity. These were to be the price for Eleanor’s freedom.
    So be it.
    Though dread filled him like rising flood waters, there was no regret. No remorse at all. She was worth any price, as far as he was concerned. “Ah, the relief you must feel to finally wash your hands of me. See now? I did you a favor after all.”
    “Too bad such a thing didn’t happen a decade ago,” his stepfather retorted. “You have ten minutes to be gone from this house before I have you thrown out.”
    Nick nodded once in acknowledgement, then turned and strode for the door. As he reached for the knob, the door swung open, and Eleanor nearly bowled him over. He jumped back, regaining his balance even as he lost his breath. His heart soared at the sight of her. Her face was a mask of determination, her chin held high and her eyes flashing like fire-lit bronze. His beautiful, glorious warrior—God how he loved her.
    Malcolm started to protest, but she sliced a hand through the air, silencing him. She marched straight past Nick to the desk, Aunt Margaret following behind her. “How dare you, sir. You made a promise to my mother, and she’s barely gone a year before you break it? What kind of man are you?”
    Malcolm’s face went as red as the scarlet curtains behind him. “How dare I? How dare you , bursting in here like some sort of lowborn, mannerless chit. Margaret, escort our niece to her room. I will deal with you both later.”
    “I do believe I’d like to hear what the girl has to say, dear brother. Eleanor?”
    Well done, Aunt Margaret ! Nick stared in shock at his normally impeccably-mannered aunt. And he wasn’t the only one. From behind his desk, Malcolm sputtered in outrage, unable to even come up with a proper response.
    “Thank you, Aunt,” Eleanor said primly before returning her full attention to her uncle. Her spine was ramrod straight, her chin lifted and her shoulders back.