He shoved Quin out of the way, but the man followed.

"And how did you know, Quin?" Hugh asked in a seething tone.

Quin didn't bother pretending he didn't understand what Hugh spoke of. "Grey told me. Said you were…in love with her."

Who else had Grey told? Who else pitied the big, lumbering Scot his obsession with the exquisite Jane?

He stormed around the folly.

"Here, Jane?" Freddie asked, his voice breaking as he glanced around. "You want me to kiss you here?"

Nodding, Jane leaned forward. "There's no one to see us." She cupped his neck and tugged, and finally, he met her, brushing his lips against hers.

No, kissing was not new for them. Whatwas new was Jane's recognition that his kiss felt as good as someone reassuringly patting her cheek. Last night, the feel of MacCarrick's big, hot hand surrounding her own hand had aroused her more than this.

Dismayed, she kissed Freddie more deeply, clutching his shoulders to provoke more from him, desperate to convince herself she could live with only this for the rest of her life. Even as she went through the motions, she remembered the books she'd read—the lascivious ones that weresuppressed —and she knew there was more than what he was giving her. There was passion and aching and longing. Just not withhim —

Freddie's body flew away from her.

Jane stared up in shock. "Hugh?" His wild eyes raked over her, his black hair whipping across his cheek. His jaw and fists were clenched. He shot her a disgusted look, then turned toward Freddie, looking for all the world like he would kill him.

Jane could do nothing but gape as she rose unsteadily. Freddie was stunned as well, struggling to get to his feet.

"No, MacCarrick!" Quin snapped, barring his way. In a lower voice, he said, "You could easily kill him."

"That's the goddamned idea," Hugh grated.

The next moments seemed to go so slowly. She watched, as if from a distance, Hugh shoving Quin far to the side. Freddie made it to his feet—just in time to catch Hugh's fist. Blood spurted from his nose as he went hurtling back.

Quin caught Hugh's arm behind him; Jane screamed and ran to Freddie. She grabbed him under his arms and tried to lug him to his feet, darting nervous glances over her shoulder. Freddie was big, yet Hugh's one blow had sent him flying.

"You'd best get out of here, before the constable shows up," Quin warned. "Don't know if you're aware, but you just broke the nose of a well-respected earl."

Hugh's look of hatred only seemed to deepen.

"You have to get Jane out of here," Quin insisted. "You hurt her more than you know with this insanity."

Hugh flung Quin off so readily that Jane realized he could have done so at any time, then he lunged forward, seizing her elbow to drag her away from Freddie.

This morning, Hugh's touch against her neck had been so gentle that she had scarcely felt it. Now his massive hand clutched hard, squeezing.

"Obviously, Quin's been spying on me," she said, her tone strident. "But what in the hell areyou doing here?"

When he didn't answer at once, she pried at his fingers, trying to get back to Freddie. She gave Hugh's hand a withering glare when her efforts failed to loosen his grip. "I want to make sure you didn't kill him!"

Quin said, "He's fine, Jane. I'll stay with him, but you need to go."

"I won't do it—" She broke off with a gasp as Hugh dragged her along the walk toward her home, uncaring of the morning pedestrians staring or scrambling out of the way.

"Hugh, unhand me this instant!" she hissed. "What in the devil has gotten into you?"

"I ask you the same." Out of sight of the folly, Hugh stopped to grasp her shoulders, his hands shaking. In the minutes before, he had seen nothing but a red haze over his vision, felt nothing but the need to rip the man limb from limb. He knew what he must look like, but Jane stood her ground, chin up.

"Who is he?" Hugh bit out, trying not to notice that her lips were swollen. "Why're you kissing some man there for all to see?"

Formeto see.

"His name is Frederick Bidworth,Lord Whiting."

Naturally, she'd be kissing a peer. One who'd never seen Hugh coming because he'd been too drugged by her kiss.

"And he's not justsome man to me," Jane continued. "How can you react like this, when I was just at a courtesans' ball? This is mild! You told me I was a grown woman just last night!"

That was before he was expected to marry her. Before there was the possibility that he was to take her under his protection. Now everything felt different.

"Why are you behaving this way, Hugh? I demand an answer. Now!"

Because I wanted to kill him for touching you.The first man he'd everwanted to kill. "Because the daughter of a close family friend was being compromised." Not a lie, an understatement. When she began to deny it, he said, "You ken he should no' have been risking your reputation by kissing you in the park."

"It's not as though any of this concerns you!" Her face tightened into a glare. "I do not have to explain my actions to you! This is none of your business."

"No? Perhaps no'yet ," he said, making her frown at his words.

He knew that he was wrong to behave this way, but the idea of marriage to her, no matter how far-fetched, was like an opening wedge freeing every possessive instinct inside him. When he'd seen that bastard kissing her, a thought was seared into his mind:Mine. He's taking what's mine.

On the walk to the park, Hugh had been trying to determine what his move should be, wanting to make a cold, shrewd decision and ignore the fact thateverything within him burned to possess her.Is the sacrifice to marry her or not to marry her? he'd asked himself with damned near each step.

Now he was so furious that there was no reasoning. All he knew was that he never wanted Bidworth to touch or kiss Jane again.

Hugh knew a fine way to ensure he couldn't.

Back inside the town house, Hugh yanked her into Weyland's office, ignoring her gasp and furious glare. "See it done, Weyland," he bellowed to the unperturbed man. Had Weyland known Hugh would find Jane in a compromising position? Of course. Weyland knew everything. And Hugh was responding just as predicted, being manipulated. "Just see it done."

"Consider it so." Weyland nodded solemnly. "Why don't you go round and pack a case, son, make anypurchases you'll need? I'd like to speak with Jane privately."

Hugh strode out and shut the door, but listened for a brief moment.

"Papa," she began, "how can you stand by and let him treat me like this, manhandling me and ordering me? If you knew what he just did to—"

"I can and I must," Weyland interrupted, "because Hugh's about to be your husband."

"Have you gone mad? Married to Hugh MacCarrick?" Her sharp laughter grated. "Never! Never, on your life."