“Did I do this?” Nate’s fingertip feathered over my cheekbone as his brow knitted intently.

“Do what?”

“There’s a bruise blooming and it looks swollen. Did you hit your face on the headboard? Was I too rough?”

My hand went to my cheek and I looked away, unable to meet his eyes. I had all but forgotten about the slap from his mother, and we’d been too nervous, covered in mud, or lost in ecstasy for him to notice sooner.

“It’s nothing. I just, uh… I fell a little earlier. Too much champagne.” Based on the way Nate looked down at me, he didn’t believe me any more than Kristian had.

His jaw clenched. “Who hit you?” he demanded.

“Hit me?” I tried to laugh it off. “I just told you, I fell.”

“You really are a shitty actress, Holland.”

“I’m not lying,” I insisted, not wanting to cause any waves in his family when their tolerance for me was already so tenuous.

“Tell me who the fuck it was.” He shot out of bed and unzipped his bag, pulling out a pair of jeans and slipping them on.

“Nothing happened, Nate. I’m fine. Please just come back to bed.”

Pressing his lips together, he shook his head. “No.” He pulled a white T-shirt over his head, then buttoned his jeans.

“What are you even doing?”

He shoved his feet into his shoes. “Since you won’t tell me, I’m going out there to get to the bottom of this. No one, and I mean no one touches my wife.”

“Nate!”

Grabbing the key card, he stalked out of the room, slamming the door of our suite behind him

Shit. If his family didn’t hate me before, they certainly will now.

I had been expecting an empty bed when I woke up the next morning. I’d sat awake for hours, biting my nails, anxious about what was going on with Nate and his family. I didn’t want to be the source of any more animosity between them, and finding out his mother had slapped me wasn’t going to sit well with him, nor would it sit well with her or his brothers—they’d think I dobbed when I’d done the exact opposite. Eventually though, I must’ve fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes, light was streaming into the room and a warm body was pressed against mine.

“Morning, duchess.” His lips pressed against my naked shoulder, his arm wrapped around my middle.

“What happened last night?” I asked, slipping my fingers between his and bringing them to my lips. It was then that I noticed his knuckles were bruised. “Oh, Nate,” I whispered, kissing the damage. “What did you do?” I turned quickly, half expecting to see a swollen eye, but his face was as perfect as ever. I felt awful, especially considering who might’ve been on the receiving end of Nate’s fist.

“Nothing that wasn’t needed.” He leaned in and kissed me, inhaling deeply as he pulled me against him. “But what I really need is you.”

I placed my hand against his firm chest. “Please tell me you didn’t hit your mother.”

He stopped kissing me. “What?” he asked against my lips.

My heart leapt into my throat. “What?” I responded, pulling back and trying to act dumb. He obviously didn’t know she was the one to hit me.

“My mother?”

“What? I didn’t say anything about her. That would be odd to talk about your mother while we were kissing, right?” I sat up and laughed. “Should I call down for some breakfast? I’m starving.” I reached for the bedside phone, but he leaned over me and placed his hand on mine, stopping me.

“My mother is the one who did that to you?”

“Who… who did you think it was?” I squeaked, glancing down at his bruised fist.

“Abbot and Kristian backed up your story. This is from punching the wall.”

“W-why did you do that?”

“As a warning.” He narrowed his eyes, studying me. “I told them it would be their faces beneath my fist if I found out they were lying to me.”

I pulled back the sheet, the dressing scene from the night before playing out again in front of me. But this time I needed to stop him. “No, Nate, please. Please don’t go and hit your brothers. I lied. They just told you what I told them. Please, they already hate me. Don’t give them a reason to hate me more.”

His pants were on, but his fly was still open when he paused and pointed at me. “They knew. I could see it in their lying fucking eyes. And that woman.” He ground the last word out through gritted teeth. “How fucking dare she.”

I jumped out of bed and pressed myself against the door. “Don’t do this,” I begged. “It wasn’t her fault. I goaded her. I said horrible things because I was drunk. Please, Nate, I beg you. Drop it. Please. For me.”

His jaw worked from side to side as he stood there, taking in my naked version of a human barricade. The moment I saw his shoulders relax, I knew some of the anger had left him. He walked towards me until we were toe to toe, then lifted his hand, cupping my cheek as he leaned down and kissed me. “Duchess,” he whispered. “I can’t let any of them get away with hurting you. It doesn’t matter why it happened. It’s the principle. I chose you, and they need to respect that choice.”

My shoulders sagged. “I really wish you’d drop this.”

His thumb moved against my cheek. “I can’t.” He pressed his lips against my forehead. “Now, get dressed and make sure everything is packed. I’m getting you out of here as soon as I get back.”

“Where will we go?”

“Home.” Stepping away, he grabbed the rest of his clothes. “Lock the door after me,” he instructed, his knuckles brushing lightly against the cheek that had caused the problem.

“Promise me you won’t hit any of them,” I whispered, gripping his wrist before he walked out the door.

He pressed his lips together, his eyes focused where his fingers touched my skin as he shook his head. “Go take a look in the mirror, and then tell me why I shouldn’t be angry.”

Padding across the carpet, I entered the bathroom, the tiles cool against my feet. Nate flicked on the light that illuminated the mirror. “Oh God,” I gasped, not quite expecting what I saw. There was a dark misshapen bruise spanning the apple of my cheek, but that wasn’t what had shocked me. My eye was also bloodshot, with one big blotch in the lower right corner and lots of angry little spider veins shooting off it. Bitch!

“No one touches my wife,” he growled. Then he turned around and stalked from the room.

That time I didn’t even try to stop him.