“I’m taking you upstairs,” he told me, the hard planes of his handsome face firm with resolve. “You’re hurt. I’m going to carry you.”

I didn’t want him to touch me. I wanted to crawl out of my own filthy skin.

But I didn’t try to fight him when he gathered me up in his strong arms and cradled me against his chest as though I weighed nothing. I closed my eyes against the shame that rolled over me in a searing wave and clutched my torn dress together at the bodice.

“What’s going on?” A stranger’s voice asked. I peeked through lowered lashes and recognized Gabriele, my guard from earlier today and one of the witnesses at our sham wedding.

“Alberto Ricci is in the library,” Luca said, cold and controlled. So unlike the heated, half feral way he’d snarled at my cousin. “Make sure he finds his way onto the street. He’s not welcome in my home.”

Gabriele glanced at me, taking in my torn dress and stinging cheeks, which must be red from where Alberto had slapped me. He seemed to understand the basics of what had happened in the library solely by looking at my disheveled state.

“I’ll take care of it,” he confirmed to Luca.

“Ask Lorenzo to make our excuses to our guests. My bride is unwell.”

Gabriele nodded, and Luca resumed our progress toward the stairs, carrying me up to our bedroom in tense silence. His muscles rippled around me with barely suppressed violence, but he handled me as carefully as though I was made of glass.

We entered the bedroom, and he softly pushed the door shut behind us, like he knew that I would jolt if he made any sudden noises. He crossed the room to the enormous leather armchair in the corner and sat down with me in his arms. He settled me over his lap, keeping a gentle hold on me. I realized that my skin was frigid, and I shivered against his warm body. His big hands ran up and down my arms, soothing away the goosebumps.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again,” he swore, tone low and dark. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time to stop him.”

I blinked up at him and found his ochre gaze focused on something I couldn’t see, something far off in the distance. Anger simmered in the depths of his eyes, was apparent in the granite set of his jaw. And there was something like pain in the harsh slash of his mouth.

“You stopped him,” I murmured, unsure why I was drawn to absolve my monstrous husband.