The sick feeling that had been rolling around in Robert's stomach all evening exploded with blinding terror. He ran from the room, taking the steps on the servants' stairs three at a time.

And then he heard the screams.

Victoria. If he failed her now…

Robert couldn't even complete the thought.

Victoria refused to resign herself to her fate. She fought like a madwoman, clawed like a cat. She knew that her actions only made Eversleigh angrier, but she could not allow herself to be raped with nary a protest.

But he was strong. Much stronger than she was, and it wasn't difficult for him to hold her down while he tore at her clothing. He lifted his hand from her mouth to yank at the neckline of her gown, and she seized the opportunity to scream. Loud.

“Shut up, you bitch,” he hissed, twisting her head sideways and forcing her cheek into the pillow. Victoria bit his hand.

“Goddamn, you little whore!” he yelled. He grabbed another pillow and jammed it over her face.

Suddenly Victoria couldn't breathe. Good Lord, did he mean to kill her? Her terror increased until she thought she might go mad. She kicked and scraped, but she couldn't see a thing, and she was growing weaker.

And then, just when the world began to turn black around the edges, she heard a splintering crash, followed by a cry of rage unlike anything in her comprehension.

Eversleigh was abruptly lifted from her, and Victoria immediately threw the pillow aside and scrambled off the bed. She ran to a corner, her lungs burning with every breath and movement, but she had to get off that bed. She had to.

The room filled with noise. Something crashed, someone yelled. There was a sickening sound that could only be flesh against bone. But Victoria didn't look up. She couldn't even open her eyes. All she wanted to do was block out the terror.

Finally, however, she forced herself to face her demons, and when she did she saw Robert. He had knocked Eversleigh to the ground and was straddling him, beating his fist mercilessly into Eversleigh's face.

“Robert,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank God.”

Robert made no indication he'd heard her. He just kept pummeling Eversleigh.

“Robert,” she said, louder this time. She was still in a daze, and she couldn't stop shaking, and she needed him.

But Robert was beyond communication. He said nothing, just grunted and yelled, and when he finally looked up at Victoria, there was something wild and primitive in his eyes. Finally, still straddling the now unconscious Eversleigh, he paused for a moment to catch his breath and said, “Did he hurt you?”

Her mouth opened a fraction of an inch, but she couldn't say anything.

“Did he hurt you?” Robert's eyes burned with rage, and Victoria realized in that instant that if she said yes, he would kill Eversleigh. She shook her head frantically. It wasn't a lie. Not really. Eversleigh hadn't hurt her. Not in the way Robert meant.

Robert dropped the unconscious man and rushed to her side. He crouched down beside her and touched her cheek. His hand was shaking. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head again.

“Victoria, I—”

He was interrupted by a groan coming from the middle of the room. Robert cursed under his breath and then muttered a quick “Excuse me.” He stalked back to Eversleigh, picked him up by his collar and the seat of his pants, and tossed him into the hall, where he landed in a crumpled heap. Robert closed the door gently and made his way back to Victoria's side.

She was shaking violently, the tremors rocking her entire body. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn't make a sound. Robert felt panic rise up within him anew. What had that bastard done to her?

“Shhhh,” he crooned, having no idea what he would say that could make her feel better. “Shhhh.”

“Robert,” she gasped. “Robert.”

“I'm here, my love.” He reached down and picked her up. Her arms wrapped around his neck with surprising swiftness. She was grasping him frantically, as if letting go would mean the very difference between life and death.

He moved to the bed, intending to sit down and hold her until her shaking subsided, but she suddenly bucked in his arms. “Not the bed!” she said desperately. “Not there.”

Robert looked down at the tangled sheets and was sickened. When he'd burst into the room, Eversleigh had had a pillow over Victoria's face. She could have been killed.

The thought was like a punch in the gut.

Robert looked around the room. It was sparsely furnished, so he sat down on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed. He held Victoria silently for several minutes.

Finally she looked up, her eyes entreating. “I tried to fight him,” she said. “I did.”

“I know you did, Torie.”

“He was too strong.” She looked as if she was trying to convince him of something that was very important to her. “He was stronger than me.”

“You were wonderful,” he said, trying to ignore the tears that were pricking at his eyes.

“But he put a pillow over me. And then I couldn't breathe. And I couldn't fight.” She began to shake anew. “I didn't want to let him…I didn't want it. I swear I didn't want it.”

He gripped her shoulders and turned her until they were nose to nose. “This was not your fault, Torie,” he said fiercely. “Do not blame yourself.”

“If you hadn't come—”

“But I did.” Robert settled her back into his arms and held her tightly. It would be a long time before she stopped shaking, a long time until Eversleigh's face was no longer imprinted on her brain.