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Long buried images flooded his mind. Bolton complaining about tenants, shrewish women, and gambling losses. His father, stumbling around the green-baize table, bemoaning the death of his wife and the lack of sympathy shown him by his father, the earl. And then there was the problem of Zeke.

Caden shook his head to clear the memory. It stuck like a red-wine stain on a white linen shirt.

Jaw clenched, he joined Bolton’s party of one. To the barman’s look of inquiry, he gave a gruff, “Ale. ”

A moment later, a frothy-topped stein appeared before him on the polished bar.

As if suddenly cognizant of Caden’s presence, the baron leaned onto his elbow, angling his body toward him.

A nearly overwhelming compulsion to smash his fist into the man’s face threatened to overwhelm Caden’s good sense. Bolton deserved that and worse for what he’d nearly done to Anna.

But he did not have the luxury of indulging his need for vengeance. Not now. Not yet.

The older man’s thick brows arched, as if he recognized Caden’s malevolent intent and found it vaguely intriguing. “Do I know you?”

Caden couldn’t bring himself to speak for fear of what would come out of his mouth.

A slow smile curved Bolton’s thin lips. “By God, you’re one of Thurgood’s boys. I’d recognize you lot anywhere. You have his look—right down to that shiner. He had more than his share of those.”

He scrutinized Caden, eyes narrowing in thought.

“You’re not the heir, though. The younger, I think.

” He snorted. “Your father didn’t have your flat stare down, that’s for certain.

If he had, he might have occasionally bested me at cards.

” Bolton chuckled. “Name’s Bolton. Believe I met you when you were a lad. ”

Caden wrestled his anger under control. Barely. “I believe so.”

“I tell you, Bolton, when I look in my eldest son’s eyes I see my father, the stingy prick who won’t give over the title and funds rightfully mine.”

“That’s a bloody crime, Thurgood.”

“Mark me, Ezekiel’s just like him. Looks at me like I’m dirt.

Then there’s this one.” He aimed his cue stick and a fond smile at Caden.

“Makes me proud. He’s got my joie de vivre , my charm.

Already he can talk a penny off a miser, and no female alive can resist him.

When he’s a man, he’ll be just like me.”

With a ruthless effort of will, Caden banished the long-ago memories. The present needed his full attention. So far, he was doing a bang-up job.

Bolton’s brows furrowed, as if he didn’t know what to make of Caden’s somber attitude. Finally he shrugged and took a large swallow of brandy.

“What brings you to York?” Caden asked, striving for a conversational tone.

“Heading for a house party. You’re not by any chance on your way to one?”

His hands clenched into fists. He slid them into his trouser pockets. Soon, he’d deal with Bolton. “Leaving one.”

“In this weather? Get caught with the wrong man’s wife?”

If he only knew. “Matters at home require my immediate attention.”

“Pity.” The baron’s eyes turned sly. “By any chance, leaving Femsworth Manor?”

Caden issued a nod. “As it happens, yes."

“Rumor has it the Dowager Duchess of Wentworth’s a guest.”

He pretended to consider the question. “I did make her acquaintance, briefly. The lady keeps to herself.”

The baron nodded with greasy satisfaction. “I hear tell she travels with a young companion.”

He drew the snifter to his mouth and downed the remaining liquid with one toss of his head.

Caden’s blood boiled with renewed rage. Sweat trickled down the center of his back .

“Another,” Bolton barked at the barman. “And one for my friend. Tonight is a night for celebrating.”

Caden slashed a hand at the barman. He’d accept nothing from the bastard. He grasped his stein of ale so tightly his knuckles turned white. “What are you celebrating?”

Bolton smirked into his full snifter. “A long awaited return on investment.”

He referred to Anna, of that Caden had no doubt. Return on investment . Damn it, how would marriage to her benefit Bolton financially? All he knew for certain was that the baron had attempted to cement the legality of his marital claim by doing the unthinkable with the woman Caden—

His mind went blank, and time seemed to stop.

With the woman he what?

Acid burned in his gut. Seeing Bolton had his mind—and body—in a tailspin.

He could sort everything now by simply wrapping his hands around the man’s neck and squeezing the life out of him. But if someone stopped him, or if someone didn’t and he wound up in irons, who would protect Anna? He’d made so many mistakes with her already. He would not foul this up, too.

He pushed his half full stein toward the barkeep. He had the answer he sought. He’d get Anna to safety. Then he’d deal with Bolton.

***

The chamber door gave a soft click. Anna came fully awake, though she didn’t move so much as a muscle. She lay still on the mattress, bedsheets pulled to her nose, listening .

She’d nodded off after lying in bed staring at the plaster tiled ceiling, waiting for Caden to return. She had no idea how much time had passed, but based on the notable lack of heat in the room, and the absence of light behind her her eyelids, the fire in the hearth had long since died.

Rustling noises sounded near the door. Then one boot heel thumped the wooden floorboards, and he gave a low curse.

After a moment she heard his soft footfalls and the faint brush of his trousers as he padded toward the basin, sans boots.

Fabric whispered as he stripped. Her mouth went dry imagining that supple, bronzed skin, bared. Water splashed oh-so-quietly, then she heard a scrubbing sound as he washed. Something warm and decadent pulsed in her belly.

He crossed the room. A scraping noise sounded within the grate, followed by loud pops as embers ignited in the hearth. Soon light flickered behind her closed eyelids and warmth dispelled the chill.

The armchair creaked in protest as Caden, presumably, settled in for the night.

She rolled onto her back, sheets rustling, mattress squeaking, her eyes pinched shut.

He had to have heard her. Did he study her even now? Her heart thudded hard in her chest as she waited for him to say something.

He huffed out a muffled, disgruntled sigh, shifted his weight, then nothing.

Seconds ticked by. He either hadn’t heard her move, or didn’t care that she might be awake.

She opened her eyes, suddenly, unaccountably vexed. Before she could stop herself, she said in a too-loud voice, “You don’t—”

Caden gave a yelp of surprise.

“—have to sleep sitting up.” She giggled and said more softly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He grunted, noncommittal. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” she lied, then cleared her throat. “There’s plenty of room on the bed for both of us. You must lie atop the cover, of course.”

He made no comment.

“Caden?”

“Go back to sleep,” he growled.

Her heart sank for reasons she chose not to examine. “Are you angry with me?”

“No,” he clipped out.

She sat up, and fingered the long braid she’d tied her hair into before slipping into bed.

He’d positioned the armchair to face the hearth, putting his back toward her. His thick hair gleamed in the firelight. Gads, but his shoulders were broad. They barely fit in the chair.

“You can’t be comfortable there.”

“I’m fine.” His subsequent shift belied his words.

“Stubborn to the end.”

He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Leave it, Anna. Trust me. I’m fine here. I don’t imagine I’ll sleep tonight, regardless.” Raw emotion underscored his words.

Her insides twisted. Something was eating at him. Was it what she’d shared earlier? The complications she brought to the table? Or was it the earl? She licked her lips, considering, then flung off the bedcovers and slid her legs over the side of the mattress.

His head jerked in her direction. The silhouette of his profile limned in the low firelight revealed a severe frown. “Anna?”

She recognized both wariness and a warning to stay back in his tone .

Undeterred, she crossed the room to face him, her backside absorbing the delicious heat of the fire.

Sprawled atop the armchair, long legs outstretched before him, he glared at her. He wore his thick silk robe. Loosely belted, it exposed a large amount of naked torso. He had refrained from removing his black trousers, but had taken off his boots and stockings, leaving his well-shaped feet bare.

In the stuttering light of the fire, the hard lines of his face combined with the blueish stain above his brow, gave him the look of a privateer of old, or…the Robinhood of their childhood grown to manhood.

His blue eyes glittered like cut glass. “Anna, go back to bed.”

“What’s happened, Caden? Something has. I feel it.”

He laughed without a trace of mirth. “What’s wrong? Aside from everything?”

She lifted her chin as guilt assailed her. “I see. You’re upset because of me. Because of the position I’ve put you in. I…never mind.” She started back toward the bed.

Quick as a snake, his big hand darted out and grasped her wrist.

“Anna,” he whispered harshly. “I’m not upset because of you.”

He released her and unfolded himself from the armchair. The silk tie of his robe unknotted and the lapels gaped. He brought himself toe to toe with her and grasped her shoulders.

Her heart raced—from his nearness, his touch, the scent of warm male skin teasing her nostrils. “If not me, then what? I know something’s put you in a mood. Something’s different since you stepped out of this chamber.”

Silence stretched between them, punctuated by the snapping logs in the hearth. She longed to wrap her arms around him, to press her cheek to his bare chest, but she resisted .

It was all well and good for Caden to rescue her, to take on the role of Prince Charming to her Princess—now as when they were children. But him, admit a weakness or need? Ha. The charming, laughing, oft-times irascible Caden would not give up his cavalier veneer easily.