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Page 38 of A Virgin for the Ton’s Wolf (Ton’s Wolves #4)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

R age unlike anything he had ever known filled Hudson. It flowed molten into his veins, demanding blood.

The sight of Scarlett, pale, frightened, and in pain was far worse than the memories of his mother suffering at the hands of his abusive father.

He would kill the bastard who dared to lay his hands on her and with great pleasure.

“Ah, look, my dear. Your loyal dog has finally arrived,” Lord Colton sneered. “But how could he hurt me when I have you in my grasp?”

Hudson was going to tear the cur apart limb from limb. And then he would feed his carcass to the wild animals that roamed the woods. There would not be a piece of him left to bury once he was done with him.

But before that, he must rescue Scarlett.

Her wide eyes met his. He saw the fear in those brilliant blue eyes, and his heart clenched. But there was a fierceness in them that Lord Colton had also underestimated—just as he had underestimated every magnificent bit of her.

When the Marquess’s grip relaxed by an infinitesimal degree, his fierce little cat let out a battle cry as she dragged her fingernails all over his gloating face.

Lord Colton let out a howl of pain and rage as he covered his face with his hands.

“You filthy woman!” he spat.

It was enough for Scarlett to wrench herself free of his hold, and she hurled herself at Hudson with a choked sob.

His arms came up to hold her shaking form. “Shh, little cat. It will be all right. Allow me to take care of it for you.”

He ran his fingers tenderly over her face, taking in every bit of her. Relief flooded him when he realized that aside from being shaken, she was largely unharmed.

He pushed her behind him and faced Lord Colton. The man had lost all semblance of the handsome gentleman he loved to present himself as. Scarlett’s nails had gouged deep marks into his face, leaving four red trails that stretched from one temple to the opposite jaw. A fraction of an inch to one side, and she might have taken an eye out, too.

Hudson smiled proudly at her handiwork. His wife was a ferocious warrior, and Lord Colton had underestimated her for the last time.

As her husband, it was only right that he finished what she had started.

“Come here, Colton.” He crooked his finger at the wounded Marquess. “Show me how you fight—or do you only attack hapless women half your weight?”

With a scream of rage, Lord Colton hurled himself at him.

Hudson smiled coldly.

Scarlett had witnessed how Hudson could move with understated grace. His long fingers, callused from his years on the battlefield, were strong and gentle at the same time as he patiently chipped away at marble.

She had watched as he clenched those same fingers into fists as he sought to control himself in her presence. Had felt them stoking her pleasure to impossible heights.

As he crooked one of them at the Marquess as if he was summoning a dog to heel, she saw the lethality that lay dormant in them as well.

When Lord Colton rushed at him with a loud cry, she watched as he calmly drew his fist back and then struck with blinding precision, his fist hitting the Marquess’s nose. She heard the sickening crack of bone, but there was no time to feel queasy, as Hudson had already begun to move.

He rocked on the balls of his feet, his fists raised to his eyes. His eyes were narrowed in cold concentration.

This was no longer the calm Duke of Wolverton. She was seeing Hudson the warrior, the one who had seen the horrors of the battlefield and lived .

Lord Colton stumbled on his feet and rushed at Hudson once more. Again, Hudson’s fist struck out with lethal accuracy, hitting the man squarely in the jaw so that his head snapped to the side.

“Get up, Colton,” he ordered in a soft voice. “Show me how a real man fights.”

The Marquess cried out and hurled himself at him, but his steps were unsteady. His eye was already swollen, and blood was dripping from his nose. It was a miracle that he could still see Hudson’s figure.

Hudson’s last fist knocked Lord Colton solidly to the ground. Scarlett softly touched his arm and dropped her hand just as Alexander and the others walked in on the scene.

“Good God!” her brother gasped when his eyes landed on his bloodied best friend. “Is he still alive?”

“Barely,” Hudson answered dryly, shaking his wrist. “Call the constable and have him dispose of this cretin.”

Alexander nodded shakily. “Right away.”

Scarlett watched as her brother rushed away from the scene. He looked as if he was about to lose his dinner.

As she smiled at the thought of her brother retching on the pavement, she felt herself swallowed up into a fierce embrace.

“I feared I might have lost you,” Hudson whispered hoarsely in her ear. “I could not help but think that Daniel was right—if I lost you, then all the regrets in this world would never be able to make up for it.”

She looked up at him, and his face became hazy from the tears welling up in her eyes. “I knew you would come. I tried to hold him off as much as I could, but he was so strong…”

“Shh…” he murmured into her hair. “You are safe now. I will make sure that he will never be able to harm you—or anyone else—ever again.”

She nodded and buried her nose in his chest, but then he pulled away from her, his eyebrows knitted in concern.

“Are you sure you are unharmed?” he rasped. “Does your neck hurt? Your head?”

She smiled and cupped his face in her hands. “I am perfectly fine, husband, and it is all thanks to you.”

It was only at that moment that she felt the tension leave his body. Scarlett feared that if he found even the smallest injury on her, he would mop the floor with Lord Colton all over again.

“I am tired,” she sighed, leaning against his chest.

He nodded. “Come. I shall take you home.”

He scooped her up into his arms with ease, and she squeaked in surprise, her arms looping around his neck instinctively.

“Naughty Wolf,” she admonished him with a smile.

“You have not exactly been on your best behavior either, little cat,” he retorted in a low voice.

She laughed softly and rested her head on his shoulder. “Let us go home, husband.”

The manor was awash in light when they arrived. An array of servants stood just outside the door, led by the faithful butler.

Hudson alighted first from the carriage, but when Scarlett stepped out, he immediately lifted her into his arms.

“Hudson!” she squeaked. “Put me down. The servants can see!”

“I truly hope they can so that none of them may spread such falsehoods again,” he said sternly, his voice carrying to the group gathered at the door.

The butler stepped forward and bowed to them. “I sincerely apologize for my oversight, Your Grace. Had I been more prudent, you would not have come into harm’s way.”

Scarlett looked at him kindly. “It was not your fault. She… chose to obey someone else. Even if she had been faithful to me, Lord Colton still would have found a way.”

“You have a generous heart, my love,” Hudson told her. “I would tell you that it is a weakness, but my admiration for it is so great that I cannot rightly call it a character flaw.”

She smiled up at him. “Then consider it one of my defining characteristics and leave it at that.”

“How could I simply leave it at that when I love every little thing about you?”

The servants ducked their heads, some of them shifting on their feet in discomfort as their masters displayed their affection openly.

A love match in the ton was rare. An openly adoring husband even more so.

And here was one, standing right before their very eyes. The Wolf, wrapped around his beaming wife’s little finger.

It was astounding. Impossible.

“The Duchess has suffered a fright,” Hudson announced to them. “Have a bath drawn in my bedchamber.”

There was a flurry of murmurs. He even caught his wife’s raised eyebrow, but he did not care if they found it unusual. He had nearly lost her to the madness and obsession of one man—he would not be so unwise as to squander the opportunity that had been given to him.

“Your bedchamber?” she teased as he insisted on carrying her to his rooms. “My, but you certainly made a statement there.”

He set her down, letting her feet gently touch the carpet as he ran his hands over her. He might have said that he had no other purpose save for ascertaining that she had not been injured in any way, but he could not help lingering in certain places—particularly in those that coaxed a light sigh from her, a fluttering of her pulse.

A parade of maids brought in pitchers of hot water and poured it into the massive tub. Another came in to scent it with oil and petals. When the bath was ready, they stepped aside, their heads bowed dutifully.

“Leave us,” Hudson told them softly.

When the door closed behind them, he led Scarlett to the tub, undressed her, and gently began to wash her.

“Hudson,” she murmured, placing a hand over his. “You do not have to do this.”

Oh, but he did. He needed to reassure himself that she was unharmed. That he had not been too late.

“I will make sure that Colton never walks free again,” he swore to her, his voice hoarse with emotion. “For what he did to you, death would be much too simple.”

Scarlett sighed. “I would be happy to see him spend the rest of his life in prison.”

He nodded. “I will make certain of it. And then after that…” He took a deep breath. “After that, you may return to Southford Estate, if that is your wish. You are my Duchess in truth now. No one will dare question what you do.”

“You mean for me to leave ?” She balked.

“I will not force you to stay with me, little cat.”

“You will not force me, or you do not want me?” she retorted bitterly.

He looked at her in surprise. “My dear Duchess, you do not need further proof of how much I desire you.”

“Really?” She slapped angrily at the water, sending it splashing into his face. “How am I supposed to believe that when you push me away at every turn? Before this, you were content to ignore me. Now, you are returning me to my family like—like something you bought and no longer desire!”

He laughed harshly, his hand coming up to the back of her neck as he brought his forehead to hers.

“Woman, have you gone mad? There is no one I desire more than you.”

He pulled her in for a kiss that consumed them both, one that would leave no room for any doubt of how much he desired her.

Her arms came around him, dripping wet and splashing water in their wake. He did not care if his clothes were soaked through—that would be his valet’s problem.

All he cared about was her lips moving against his, the taste of her dancing on his tongue as she opened up for him so sweetly.

“I love you,” he told her, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so damn much, Scarlett, that I would willingly cut off my arm if you needed my hand.”

She wrinkled her nose and laughed. “I love you, too, morbid imagery and all.”

He groaned and nipped her bottom lip. “You are going to be the death of me, little cat,” he murmured against her mouth. “And I cannot think of a better way to die than at your sweet hands.”

And he meant it—all of it.