He continued. “First of all, no one is to know of the abuse. I don't want her

embarrassed. If anyone asks, please say we were struck with a mad passion for

each other and could do nothing other than marry as quickly as possible. It's not

a lie, you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Mackenzie agreed. Mrs. Bristol nodded again.

“And then, I want you both to gossip like never before. Tell everyone who will listen how very… passionate our marriage is. Soon, I will take her out for a

while. Mrs. Bristol, there is a bloodstain on the bed. You understand what this means.”

“I do,” the woman replied, her plump cheeks turning pink even as her lips curved into a smile. The skin around her blue eyes crinkled.

“It is vitally important that everyone know it was there. In fact, if you would

be so kind as to save the sheet without cleaning it, it might be beneficial. But you must tell everyone how very… physical my wife and I are together. There can be

no doubt, in the interests of her safety, that our marriage is completely legal. Can I count on you both?”

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Bristol said, and Mackenzie agreed easily.

The uncomfortable conversation finished, Christopher dismissed the two and

flopped gracelessly on the sofa. At last, he'd accomplished his goal of ensuring

Katerina's safety, and now, he suddenly felt overwhelmed by the events of the last twenty-four hours. As the adrenaline faded, his mind cleared.

Dear Lord, I really married Katerina. What was I thinking? He had been caught up in a frenzy of protectiveness towards this young woman, but to what

personal cost? He desired her, but he barely knew her. And now she's my wife, my utterly irrevocable wife. Perhaps this impulsive act was not the only way to save her, but try though he might, he could think of no other. In order to preserve

her, he had sacrificed himself; his future, his ability to choose a wife later, when he was ready. If she never healed, if she remained wary and damaged, or worse,

went mad, there would be no recourse.

But then he remembered all their brief encounters. How sweet she is, how eager to be loved, to be touched. She even enjoyed being bedded. There was

every chance that, in time, her natural, passionate nature would emerge, and she would be a perfectly adequate wife.

He imagined making love to her in the future when her back was better, her

bruises faded and when she was no longer sore. She'd done well all things considered, and it would be better the next time. A slow smile spread across his

face.

A knock sounded at the door; actually, a loud hammering.

Christopher hurried over, not wanting Katerina's rest to be disturbed. Easing

the door open a crack, he found himself face to face with a thickset, olive-skinned man whose silver-streaked black hair had been slicked into submission

with copious pomade.

“Can I help you, sir?” Christopher asked coldly.

“Where is she?” The breath issuing from the interloper smelled strongly of liquor.

Christopher made a face at the unpleasant aroma and drawled rudely,

“Whom do you seek?”

“Don't pretend you don't know,” the stranger snarled, the sounds of Italy heavy in his voice. “You have my daughter. I want her back.”

Christopher's jaw clenched with icy rage. He leaned insouciantly against the

door frame and challenged the other man with a sneer. “No.”

Signore Valentino's face turned red. “I'll have the law on you.”

“Go ahead,” Christopher offered, examining his fingernails. “You no longer

have any legal right to her.”

“What?” The dark face contorted in rage.

“We're married, Katerina and I. She's safe from you.” Christopher met the dark angry eyes with a bit of his own ill will.

The other man's eyes shifted nervously. “Safe? What do you mean?”

“I saw what you did to her,” Christopher said, letting more of his anger show,

“but you'll never hurt her again.”

A vein in Valentino's temple began to throb. “Did that lying little whore say I

did something to her?”

Christopher wanted to hit him. His fingers itched with the urge, but he forced

himself to hold back. “To the best of my knowledge she's never lied; someone did something terrible to her. And as for her being a whore, not likely. She gave

me her first kiss. Her virgin blood is staining my sheets as we speak. So, you see,

Signore, Katerina Valentino no longer exists, only a very satisfied Mrs. Bennett.

Good day to you.”