Rogues Gallery (35 page)

"So once again I am a pawn in another man's plots," she said, her voice wavering. She bit at her lip, but still it trembled.

"No," Gabriel rasped. "You are no pawn."

"Yet you stole Edmund's intended bride for yourself."

"Marisa, I cannot deny this, much as it grieves me to do so."

Gabriel marched around the edge of the pool, coming to a halt at her side. She stepped back a pace, her chin lifting slightly, as if warning him to come no further.

He bit back an oath, pressing on with the confession he'd hoped to never utter. "At one time I believed I could heartlessly seduce you, to have revenge against Edmund."

She gasped, a combination of outrage and shock on her face. Gabriel inhaled an uneven breath at the wounds he was inflicting, on both of them, but he had to make her understand his reasons.

"He had stolen everything from me, and since I could not bring him to justice, I decided on another way to make him suffer. I cared only for vengeance, and chose you to aid me in that quest."

"How you must have enjoyed dancing attendance on me, when I was so willing to aid your schemes." Marisa flushed, no doubt remembering their numerous sensual interludes, as well as her eager participation. "All my pitiful pleas for rescue—"

"But I abandoned that plan, long ago."

"How long ago?"

He took her hands in his, expecting her to resist. Instead, she stood stiffly, but not leaning in closer as she usually did. His stomach lurched at the realization she was treating him as she always did Edmund—distant, yet polite—not as the husband she adored.

"Angel, I discarded the notion of revenge nearly as soon as I crafted it. I did not want to. In truth, I fought with myself numerous times. But I fell in love with you. And once I did, I tried to stay away, but I could not. Nor could I leave you to become Edmund's bride."

Her expression softened, slightly, and Gabriel felt a flicker of hope in his breast.

"So you no longer need vengeance?"

"No," he answered truthfully. "I need only you."

Marisa searched his face. For proof of his sincerity? Evidence of his trustworthiness? He prayed she could see his immense love for her in his eyes, in his entire being, in the depths of his soul.

"I want to believe your words, Gabriel. But how can I? You have given me so many reasons not to."

"I understand your fear." He lifted her hands to his lips, depositing the briefest of kisses, the spark of optimism flaring. "But just look to my actions, angel, and you can decipher the truth."

She studied him for several long moments. "You knew you were taking your uncle's bride," she finally said, a sharp edge to her voice he had never heard before. "There can be no doubt as to that action."

Gabriel nodded. "Yet if I had only sought revenge, I would not have wed you. Nor would I have rescued you from the chapel the day Edmund planned to marry you."

"After our wedding night." She flushed anew, but did not look away. "Another irrevocable act."

"Yes. One I will always treasure. I asked for your promise that night, which you gave willingly," he reminded her. "I asked you to remember that I love you, no matter what."

"And perhaps that was merely a part of your scheme. To make me fall in love with you, to more easily thwart Edmund's plans."

"No," he said, more harshly than he intended. "No. Marisa, I made you my bride because my heart insists on having you, and only you. Your love, your heart, everything you have given me, is much more precious than revenge."

His heart beat with desperation as she gazed at him. He had been robbed of so much in his life, but Marisa's love was the one thing he could not bear to lose.

She sighed and then finally pulled her hands away from his, wrapping them around her waist instead. "Gabriel, I have trusted you, times without number. When I wanted to know why you shared Edmund's name, you would not tell me, yet still I believed in you. To my detriment, it appears."

"Angel," he pleaded.

"I have even entrusted you with my beloved aunt's future, because of my faith in you." She struggled to keep her voice steady. "But you have played me false, many times over."

"No."

"Your actions prove your deceit, to further your plot for revenge. I cannot love a man who so willingly betrays my trust, as you do."

"Marisa," he cried out, "I have tested your faith in me, many times, and I shall spend the remainder of my days atoning for that crime. But I have never betrayed it. I do not betray it now."

"Then what is your plan for Edmund?" she demanded. Despite her rigid stance, her eyes were filled with wary optimism, waiting for proof of his trustworthiness. "For us?"

Gabriel spun away, his fists clenched with frustration. He wanted nothing more than to provide Marisa with the reassurance she craved. But she could not begin to comprehend the depth of Edmund's depravity, or Gabriel's fears of what Edmund planned for her.

If Edmund were to capture Marisa, there was no doubt he would torture her for her betrayal—and the resulting public humiliation he had suffered. Gabriel shuddered at how Edmund would gleefully force his nephew to suffer through every vengeful act too.

He would never allow Edmund to come near Marisa, let alone destroy her.

Yet how could he reveal that her future wellbeing depended on Gabriel killing another man? His only blood relative? How could she still love him after such a confession?

He could not risk it. He had no choice but to shield her from the terrible knowledge of what he must do to protect her, to ensure she continued to draw breath each day.

"I would ask you to trust me, Angel."

"You dare ask this of me?" Marisa laughed, but it was filled with bitterness. "Again?"

Gabriel's jaw tightened. He had no idea how to restore her fragile trust, after a lifetime of it being so ill-used by others. Yet he desperately needed to reclaim her innocent belief in him.

"Marisa, I love you."

"Those words are a seducer's tools of trade," she retorted.

Gabriel dragged in a heavy breath, watching the disillusionment take hold in her expression.

"Does it even matter what I say?" he finally asked, heartache making his voice raw. "Would you believe any words I utter now?"

"No, likely not," she said, her shoulders sagging. "Not anymore."

He reached a hand to her, but Marisa shook her head and backed away, hurrying to distance herself from him. She raced toward the camp, stopping once to look at him over her shoulder.

Her woe-filled eyes branded him the worst of all men: one who continued to betray her needs for his own selfish goals.

Gabriel cursed as sorrow and anger pierced his soul in equal measure. In trying to protect Marisa, he had lost her for good. He grabbed a handful of stones and hurled them into the pond, watching them sink, along with every one of his dreams for the future.

Seconds later, utter hopelessness swamped him, stopping his breath in his throat.

After all these years, Edmund had finally succeeded in robbing Gabriel of everything he loved.

"Marisa, why do you walk so fast? You said we were going for a stroll."

Marisa halted to give her aunt a chance to catch her breath. Though she would have preferred to take one of the horses, speeding their departure, she could not take the chance of alerting anyone they were doing anything more than meandering about the abbey grounds, as was their custom each evening.

She planned to be a great distance away by the time Gabriel returned from the grotto. She did not want to remain any longer in the place that had been the site of immeasurable enjoyment, although the ecstasy she thought she and Gabriel had shared had been entirely one-sided. She had been the vehicle of pleasure for a man who had sworn to avenge himself against his own uncle, but not until he had had his fill of her.

And did his best to ensure she carried his child.

Marisa placed a hand to her stomach. Was there to be another child caught in these plots and schemes of vengeance? Was there no end to the treachery in which she had been an unwitting pawn?

She extended a hand to her aunt and helped her to step across a fallen oak tree. Her heart swelled with emotion as she gazed at Aunt Althea's face, intent with her purpose.

"Come, we must hurry," Marisa said around the knot of tears in her throat. She could not permit Althea to stay there a minute longer than necessary, not when she deserved so much more for her years of devotion.

Aunt Althea held her side, breathing deeply several times. "Why must we hurry? Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes," Marisa answered, clasping her aunt's hand and tugging in an effort to speed her along the darkened path. The moonlight did little to illuminate the trail, so Marisa held her lantern aloft, to aid in picking their way through the brush. She could not let her aunt come to harm now, not when freedom was so close at hand.

"But where are we going?"

"I don't know for certain yet," Marisa answered, wishing she had more options available. She was weary from the unending search for sanctuary, fatigued from the need to protect her heart against the intrigues that surrounded her. "Somewhere far from here."

"Marisa, I do not want to leave. I want to stay here."

Aunt Althea dug in her heels, surprising her niece to no end. Marisa had never suspected her aunt possessed a will so strong. She knew her father would have been astonished to see this side of her.

"We cannot stay," Marisa said. "It is impossible to remain here."

"But I am very fond of Jamie," Althea confessed, "and I want a chance to discover if he returns my feelings." She blushed as if she were a schoolgirl, but her voice was adamant when she repeated, "I am going to stay."

Aunt Althea turned to make her way back to the camp. Marisa grasped her wrist, stopping her from taking more than one step.

"No, you cannot go back."

"Why not?"

"It isn't—" Marisa shook her head. "You must trust me on this."

"Please," her aunt whispered.

Marisa's heart sank when she saw the sadness appearing on her aunt's face. "Surely you cannot be happy here, Aunt Althea."

"Oh, but I am," she said, her face beaming once more.

Marisa could not argue with such undeniable evidence. However, in order to assure Aunt Althea's future wellbeing, Marisa would be forced to shatter the happiness the woman enjoyed at that moment. Her heart clenched, but she had no other choice. Her safety was paramount to Marisa, and it always had been.

A branch snapped behind them. Marisa's nerves were in such a state that she almost jumped out of her half-boots. Her heart pounded faster than she could ever remember, except for those delicious moments Gabriel had spent pleasuring her.

She glanced around but it was next to impossible to see if anyone was nearby. Still, it was a reminder that they could no longer tarry, for Gabriel might even then be trying to thwart her escape.

He was keenly aware of her determination when it came to fleeing an unwanted marriage.

Her heart lodged in her throat. Much as Gabriel's confession had wounded her, she was unwilling to compare their nuptials to what she might have had to experience with Edmund.

"Aunt Althea, we have no time to lose."

"No, Marisa! No, I will not go."

Marisa almost wished she were battling her father since she stood a better chance of winning such an argument. "But you have to go," Marisa insisted. "I am doing this for you."

Aunt Althea took Marisa's face between her hands. "You may believe you are doing this for me. But for once I want to do what I think is best for me." Her face crumpled. "I had a chance once, but my brother said—"

"What?" Marisa asked, her heart racing, not sure she wanted to hear the answer. She knew just how much her father was capable of, particularly where his own sister was concerned. "What did Father say?"

Aunt Althea's expression clouded over. "I cannot remember very much. I recall being so happy about my betrothal, and telling my brother the news." She squinted as if it would aid her in viewing the long-distant events she described. "And then a terrible pain. He told me later I had hit my head. I became too sick to marry the young man. But your father permitted me to stay, to assist in your upbringing, even though I could not think as quickly as I did before."

"Oh, Aunt," Marisa whispered, unable to breathe for several moments.

Unaware of Marisa's horror, Aunt Althea's smile was a loving one. "I was very glad to stay with you, Marisa, because I didn't have a child of my own. I never could have one."

Aunt Althea had sacrificed so much for Marisa, more than she had ever suspected. Her father had condemned Althea for the injury he himself had inflicted on her. Had Marisa not been motherless, he would not have become so enraged at the thought of Althea deserting him to become a bride, leaving him to raise a willful daughter he did not have the first notion how to handle.

Yet Aunt Althea had cheerfully devoted her life to making her niece happy, providing Marisa with the only love she'd known as a child. Even though love had been stolen from her aunt, she had continued believing in its existence, filling Marisa with tales of chivalry and romantic love throughout her childhood.

"I have loved you and taken care of you, Marisa," Aunt Althea continued in a proud voice, "and I am certain you are safe and happy, with Gabriel. I can have my own happiness now."

Marisa learned a great deal about love in that moment. For Aunt Althea, love had involved sacrifice, a life-long one. How could Marisa make her forego it any longer?

"I too want you to have your happiness," she told her aunt. "You deserve it more than anyone I know."

She placed a kiss to her aunt's cheek, her eyes closed against the sharp pain of defeat. She had lost both Gabriel and Aunt Althea in one day. At least she knew with certainty she was giving her aunt what she desired. Gabriel craved something Marisa could no longer deliver to him—her trust—no matter how badly he pleaded.

"Let me return you to Jamie then," Marisa said, her voice choking on unshed tears. "But I can only take you to the edge of the camp, and then I must leave."