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Myrna scurried into the room, eyes wide, and took Cailin with desperate care. Davina’s gaze locked with Myrna’s, fierce and burning with her silent command.Get her out. Get her safe.

Myrna’s chin dipped in a small, tight nod. She clutched Cailin to her chest and turned from the room, her pace brisk.

“And close the fucking door!” he shouted.

Davina watched them disappear, her heart hammering, hope and fear battling in her chest.

Ian released her and slouched back into the chair. She exhaled, relief washing over her like a fleeting tide. Cailin was safe. For now. Her gaze flicked to Ian, and she cautiously turned toward the nursery door, taking a few tentative steps. When he didn’t stop her, she proceeded and turned the key in the lock.

“What are you doing?”

She turned on her heel and faced him. “After they settle Cailin, they’ll likely place her in the nursery,” Davina answered evenly, her voice steadier than she felt. “For privacy, milord.”

His brow arched at her address. “Milord, is it?” His grin spread, all teeth and malice, but that faded quickly. “Did your new husband teach you that? Does he prefer a submissive wife? Did you fight him as fiercely as you fought me?”

Davina’s gaze drifted to the window. Beyond the glass, under torchlight’s flicker, she caught a fleeting glimpse of her household slipping through the secret passage. Faces gaunt with fear, yet alive. Safe.

A tremor of fragile hope bolstered her spine.

Directing her gaze back to Ian, she forced her steps to be steady as she returned to the table and picked up a strip of meat from the tray. Her hand quivered, but her resolve anchored her. She offered it to him without a word.

Ian’s eyes darted from her hand to her face, then back to the meat. Slowly, he opened his mouth, taking it between his teeth like a beast accepting a morsel.

“Did you resist him?” Ian asked as he chewed, studying her through narrowed eyes.

She lifted the slice of buttered bread, held it before him, then nodded.

“That’s my girl.” Ian grinned, the familiarity of his cruelty slithering down her spine. “I think I’m beginning to like this chap.”

Her voice trembled as she pressed down her rising bile. “I don’t think Broderick would like you very much, though. In fact,” she added, her breath tightening, “he hasn’t even met you, and he already despises you. Probably more than I do.”

Ian’s smile faltered, suspicion flaring in his eyes.

The knife she’d hidden under the table was already in her grip.

Davina exhaled, releasing her fear with her breath.

The blade plunged into his gut smoother than she’d imagined.Shock rippled across Ian’s face as he grunted, his hand flying to her hand holding the knife buried to the hilt in his flesh. Blood poured over their fingers, dark and wet, as fury twisted his features into a mask of hate.

“You fucking bitch!” he snarled, seizing her in a punishing grip.

Pain lanced up her arm as he wrenched her hand free of the knife. Davina cried out, raising her other arm in defense just as his backhand crashed into her.

The blow sent her sprawling to the floor, breath knocked from her lungs. She hit hard, the world spinning wildly around her as she fought to rise.

Ian hunched over, groaning as he yanked the knife from his belly. Blood poured freely, soaking his shirt in dark, glistening waves.

“I’m going to gut you from cunt to throat,” he snarled, flinging the knife aside as if it were a toy. He wrenched his dagger free from the table, brandishing it with murder in his eyes.

Davina scrambled to her feet, but the knife he’d cast aside was too out of reach. She seized the iron poker from the hearth instead and brandished it like a sword, her chest heaving, rage and terror a storm in her veins. “Come on, you bastard!”

Ian laughed mirthlessly. “I knew I’d get a good fucking tonight. God, I love it when you fight.” He snarled and lunged, driving the dagger in a practiced thrust. Davina swung hard, the poker clanging against his weapon, deflecting the blow. He grunted but kept his grip firm. Desperation surged through her, and she aimed for the arm clutching his wounded belly. He caught the poker in his blood-slick hand, ripping it from her grasp with brutal strength.

Steel flashed as Ian slashed the dagger across her arm, and shescreamed, stumbling back, clutching the burning wound.

His laughter rumbled low, dark with menace. “I’m going to take great pleasure fucking you as I cut you up,” he growled, circling the room.

Davina bolted for the door, but Ian intercepted her. She dodged backward, then whirled and leapt across the bed. As she reached the edge, his cold fingers clamped around her ankle, dragging her back onto the mattress.