“Artemis.”
She simply reached out and covered his hand with hers to turn the key and push open the door. Artemis started to enter the room, but Maximus was damned if he’d let her go in first. He might not be able to stop her from seeing her lunatic brother, but he could protect her at the very least.
He ducked his head and went inside ahead of her.
The cellar was very quiet. The brazier still glowed with the embers of the coals and a single candle flickered, casting light on the man in the cot. He was still, lying on his side, facing away from the door.
Maximus approached cautiously. Artemis might think her brother harmless, but he’d been found with the bloody bodies of three of his friends. A man capable of that was capable of anything.
He was within a stride of the bed when its occupant reared up like a sleeping giant awakened. Maximus had been aware that Viscount Kilbourne was a big man—he’d carried his dead weight out of Bedlam after all—but somehow Kilbourne seemed to have gained bulk along with his senses. His shoulders were as broad and thick as those of a smith, his head shaggy with untrimmed hair. His beard had grown, and now Kilbourne looked like nothing so much as a green man. Something big, feral, and ancient that haunted gloomy woods and knew not the language of men.
Maximus had thought the tales of the murder scene exaggerated, but the beast before him looked quite capable of tearing a man’s head from his shoulders.
“Apollo.” Artemis started around Maximus.
He caught her arm and drew her to his side.
She shot him an irritated glance.
The one her brother gave him was much more murderous. He stared at Maximus’s hand tight about his sister’s wrist and then raised angry eyes to meet Maximus’s gaze. Maximus was relieved to see that Kilbourne didn’t share his sister’s eye color. His eyes were a muddy brown. The madman opened his mouth and made a choking sound before closing his lips. A low rumble came from deep in his chest and it was a moment before Maximus realized that Kilbourne was growling at him.
The hairs stood up on the back of his neck.
“Let me go to him,” Artemis said, pulling against his grip.
“No.” One thing to let her into the room when he thought her brother still weak. Quite another to let her near this animal.
“Maximus.” Both Craven and Kilbourne swiveled their heads to stare at her when she used his Christian name. She ignored them. “You may come with me, but I will touch and talk to my brother.”
Maximus swore beneath his breath, earning himself a disapproving stare from Craven. “You are the most stubborn woman I know.”
She merely stared at him with an implacable look that would’ve done justice to the most severe of society dowagers.
He sighed and turned to the madman. “Show me your hands.”
Maximus half-expected no response at all, but Kilbourne immediately shoved his great paws in front of him.
Maximus lifted his eyes to the animal’s and saw sardonic anger in the muddy brown.
Not such a beast after all then.
“I am Wakefield,” Maximus said directly to the man. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. On the request of your sister I took you out of Bedlam and brought you to my own house.”
Kilbourne lifted one eyebrow and glanced about the long, low cellar.
“You’re under the house,” Maximus said. “I was forced to take you out at sword point. The governors of Bedlam would very much like to have you back.”
Kilbourne’s eyes narrowed speculatively, then he looked at Artemis.
“You’re safe here. He won’t make you return to Bedlam,” she said. Maximus felt a tug on the grip he still had on her arm. “Will you?”
He didn’t dare take his eyes off the viscount. “No. My word of honor: if you’re committed to Bedlam again, it won’t be from any action of mine.”
The sardonic expression had returned to Kilbourne’s eyes. He hadn’t missed the implication that Maximus thought him quite capable of doing something that would have him apprehended and returned to the madhouse.
Another tug on his hand and a reproachful “Maximus.” Her next words were for her brother, though. “You can trust him, darling. Truly.”
Kilbourne didn’t take his gaze off Maximus, but he nodded. He took a breath and opened his mouth. A terrible, wrenching noise issued from Kilbourne’s lips and Maximus’s eyes widened as he realized.
“Stop!” Artemis tore herself from his hand and hurried to her brother. “Apollo, you must stop.”
Kilbourne grimaced horribly, his hand clutching his throat.
“Let me see.” Artemis placed her small hand on his great paw. “Craven, would you be so kind as to bring us some water, wine, and a few cloths?”
“Right away, ma’am.” The valet turned.
“Bring foolscap and a pencil as well,” Maximus said.
Craven hurried from the room.
“Darling,” she crooned to the monster, and Maximus couldn’t stop the stab of jealousy, even if it was her brother. “You must let me have a look.”
The great paw dropped.
Artemis drew in a sharp breath.
Even from his stance behind her, Maximus could see the black bruise stamped upon Kilbourne’s throat.
It was in the shape of a boot.
She turned to look at Maximus, her beautiful gray eyes stricken.
He took her hand again, this time to comfort rather than to restrain. Kilbourne watched with narrowed eyes as his sister curled her fingers about Maximus’s hand. For a madman he seemed uncommonly aware.
Artemis turned to help her brother to lie down upon the cot. He might’ve regained consciousness, but he obviously was still injured. She smoothed the blanket over his chest and murmured softly to him as they waited interminably for Craven’s return.
It seemed like hours later when Craven reentered the cellar, bearing the requested items.
Artemis immediately took one of the cloths the valet held and dipped it in the jug of water he’d brought. She wrung out the cloth and laid it on her brother’s throat, her movements exquisitely gentle.
Maximus waited until she was done before handing the pencil and paper to Kilbourne.
The man looked at him, then propped himself on one elbow to scratch out words on the paper.
Maximus bent to read the bold, scrawled hand:
When can I leave?
APOLLO WAS ALIVE. That was the main thing, Artemis reminded herself late that afternoon as she trailed Phoebe from shop to shop. Even if he still—distressingly—couldn’t talk, even if Maximus seemed to think her darling brother mad—despite her protests and Apollo’s own quite sane manner this morning—at least he was safe.