Rogues Gallery (36 page)

Aunt Althea took Marisa's hand and held it between hers, as she had so many times when Marisa was a child. "Why are you leaving?"

"I am leaving because—"

Marisa was not certain she could answer the question. At first she had meant to ensure her aunt's wellbeing, but it turned out her aunt found joy in remaining where she was, with a roughened rogue who cared for her.

She also sought to escape a marriage based wholly on deceit. She grieved for what her husband had endured, for even though she too had been betrayed by loved ones, and endured the anguish of losing a mother at a tender age, Gabriel's suffering certainly outstripped hers.

Yet she also mourned the happiness ripped away from them because of Gabriel's unrelenting need to avenge himself.

Her heart continued its heavy pounding. Marisa imagined the surrounding stillness was listening to each beat, waiting with Aunt Althea for Marisa's answer as to why she was fleeing.

"I am not happy here," Marisa said.

"Oh, but you are," Althea cried. "I have never seen you more joyous, ever since Gabriel appeared at the church." Her face puckered into a frown. "Gabriel will be so sad if you leave. He loves you so much."

"I am afraid he cares for something more than me," Marisa replied.

"No, he does not," her aunt answered with unyielding confidence.

Marisa sighed, her entire being weighted down with sadness. How could her sweet aunt understand that Marisa had been nothing but a pawn in Gabriel's schemes, a dreadfully willing one at that.

Aunt Althea scowled, as though she had unearthed another distressful memory. "You are not returning to Lord Westbrook, are you?"

"No," Marisa said, with a shake of her head. "I am not going to him."

"I am so glad. I did not like him very much. Why were you going to marry him?"

If Marisa could do nothing else for her aunt, she could protect her from the knowledge that she had been in harm's way, betrayed once more by her own treacherous sibling. Marisa had been willing to make the sacrifice, and would do so again, but Aunt Althea did not need to know any of that.

"I was protecting someone I love," Marisa answered. "Someone I did not want to suffer any harm—"

All at once realization flooded her senses, and her knees nearly buckled. Gabriel was no longer plotting revenge against Edmund. No, he was hellbent on protecting Marisa, just as she had been so intent on shielding Aunt Althea from her father's retribution.

She had been so blinded by her lifelong fear of betrayal, she could not see Gabriel's actions for what they were, a genuine desire to protect her, even though he had begged her to do so. She had thrown his heartfelt pleas for her trust in his face, never once considering the sorrow it caused him, all because she insisted on viewing his every deed as faithlessness.

Marisa spun, grabbing Althea's arm, and headed back in the direction of the abbey. She tried to keep her voice calm, not wanting to alarm her aunt. "We must hurry, or Gabriel, and Jamie, will worry about us."

If Marisa had been Gabriel's means of revenge, he would have deserted her at the church. After divulging to the congregation that she was no longer a maiden, he could have abandoned her to face her father's wrath, and Edmund's rage. But Gabriel had taken her with him, unwilling to leave her behind, knowing if he did so Edmund would exact his own punishment for the public humiliation Marisa had caused him.

The very punishment Edmund was likely plotting now. Only he would ensure Gabriel suffered as well. She shivered. If Edmund would attempt to murder a child who stood in his way, what would he be willing to do now when he believed he had lost everything?

Marisa nearly cried out at the unnecessary agony she had caused her husband. She struggled to remain patient with Althea's slow pace, wanting instead to hurry to Gabriel, to shower him with her love, to demonstrate she had not lost her faith in him.

Marisa stepped forward, eager to leave her crippling fears behind her, ready to commence a loving future with Gabriel.

She halted, unable to move because of the knife at her throat.

"I have been so worried about you, my dear," Edmund drawled, as if speaking to a bothersome child who had wandered away from home.

He pulled her back against his chest, his arm circling her waist like a snake. His other hand gripped the knife handle, keeping the tip of the blade against her throat, ensuring she could not put any distance between them.

Marisa shivered, even though heat radiated from Edmund's entire body behind her. She had to keep his attention away from Aunt Althea, giving her aunt a chance to flee to Jamie, and, hopefully, Gabriel.

Another man stepped out of the darkness, his burly form blocking Althea from dashing down the path. He carried a coil of rope in his roughened hands, and his coarse face remained impassive as he waited for direction from Edmund.

Marisa swallowed and felt the blade catch on the lump of dread in her throat. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, praying for deliverance from this madman. Their safety depended on some form of divine intervention, yet until it arrived, Marisa knew she must devise something.

Marisa opened her eyes, doing her best to signal her aunt to remain calm, silently pleading with her not to panic.

"Marisa!" Althea cried, wringing her hands at the sight of her niece in mortal danger. "I want Jamie. And Gabriel. He should be here too."

"Gabriel?" Edmund lowered the blade.

Marisa leapt forward, her hand stretched toward her aunt, but Edmund grabbed her arm, yanking her tight against him once more. She shuddered at the evidence of his arousal against her backside. The sharp edge of the knife resumed its skimming across her throat.

"Do not worry, my dear," Edmund said, caressing her with his words, and his blade. "Gabriel is dead. He died years ago."

"Gabriel still lives, Edmund," she spat. She gripped the ring she still wore on her thumb, tempted to brandish it in Edmund's face as the proof it was. "You bungled the deed, and for that I must thank you. Now Gabriel is my husband."

"Shut up, you little bitch! I have quite lost my patience with you."

Edmund pressed against her, leaving her with no doubts what he planned as punishment for her multiple sins.

Marisa gritted her teeth, plotting how to keep her aunt safe from harm, so at least one of them could reclaim a happy existence.

"Come, we must return home," Edmund said. "When we have had the obstacle to our marriage eliminated, we shall wed with great haste."

"Eliminated?"

Icy dread raced down Marisa's spine. She was certain it was not a bill of divorcement he had in mind. She had to warn Gabriel, but she could not do so by crying out for him. Edmund would lie in wait, ambushing her husband, ending Gabriel's existence as he'd been unable to do years ago.

"I will not leave until my aunt is allowed to depart," Marisa said, her voice firm.

Edmund cackled, pressing the knife tip under her ear. "Have you forgotten you are in no position to negotiate, my dear?"

She knew she was nothing but a pawn to this man—a brood mare he had selected to bear his heirs. Gabriel had helped her escape such a fate, and in return, she had left him believing she no longer trusted his word.

She muffled a sob. She would gladly repent for that failing, if only it were not too late to make amends.

"Let my aunt go," she bargained, "and I shall come with you. Willingly."

Edmund's breath caught in his throat as he considered her offer. She fought off the rising nausea at what she was agreeing to, what she had struggled so hard to flee. She flicked a glance at Aunt Althea, her face wet with tears, and Marisa's resolve strengthened. She could protect her aunt, as well as Gabriel.

"Well, Edmund?" Marisa prompted, trying to bite back her disdain. "Have I your word?"

"You have grown quite disrespectful," he replied, spinning her around to face him, repositioning the blade tip below her chin. A slow smile appeared on his face and then he nodded once at the burly man behind her.

Marisa nearly sagged with relief. She waited to hear Althea running down the path, hoping she would not trip and injure herself in the dark. It would not take long before she reached the abbey, warning Gabriel of Edmund's treacherous plans. And then her husband would return for her.

"Marisa!" her aunt cried out, and then Marisa heard scuffling noises. Her heart raced, yet she couldn't twist to see what was happening, or the knife would slice her throat. She glanced at Edmund, sickened at the gloating expression he wore.

"Marisa!" her aunt cried again, but this time nearby. Edmund's henchman had bound Althea's hands behind her with the rope, and dragged her by the arm to stand next to Marisa. Her heart sank as she saw her aunt's shoulders heaving, her eyes wide with fear.

"Are we ready then?" Edmund asked, as though they were setting out for a carriage ride in the countryside.

Marisa knew she had been striking a bargain with the devil, yet she had foolishly hoped Edmund wanted her so much he would agree to her request. She wanted to rail out at the injustices perpetrated by this man, but it seemed she was as helpless as ever, and it angered her. He was the one guilty of the crimes she had charged Gabriel with committing.

"I am not leaving with you," she said. "Not until you release her."

Edmund swung his hand back as if to slap her, but Marisa did not flinch. Instead, she jutted her chin out, daring him to strike. Her defiance must have met with his approval, for his expression softened, and he caressed her cheek instead.

"Come, my dear. It grows late." Edmund pulled her toward him, convinced he had bent Marisa to his will.

He was not the first man to make that mistake.

Gabriel had never sought to overpower or coerce her. She could have wept at the harsh manner in which she had branded her husband faithless, when his only concern was her safety and happiness. She hoped his love for her remained strong, so he would know how desperately she needed his faith at that moment.

"Gabriel!"

***

G
abriel heard Marisa's cry, and his blood froze. He raced to the edge of the forest, hoping against hope she had not hurt herself. Had she tried to leave and stumbled, wrenching her ankle? He could not bear to consider any other possibility.

He heard Gilbey and Davy crashing through the branches behind him. He wanted to reassure them that she was a stalwart lass and was not in harm's way. Yet even though his brain worked to convince him Marisa was fine, his heart urged him to make haste. Her protection was his only concern, and once she was safe in his arms again, he would expend all his energy to persuade her of that notion.

He raced down the last hill, his heart pounding at a furious rate. He saw a scrap of material—Marisa's shawl?—fluttering on a limb, just as he came to a standstill. He grabbed the cloth, and in the next instant his heart almost shattered with despair. It was not Marisa's shawl, but the scarf he'd given her, the one with his crescent moon emblazoned on it.

"Gilbey," he rasped out. "Get Eclipse for me. Quickly, for I have no time to lose."

Gilbey's face was grave as he nodded once. Davy's eyes widened. They did not need to ask where Gabriel was headed, or why.

Gabriel knew once this night was over, Westbrook Hall would be his again.

He had only to ensure that Marisa would be alive to share it with him.

Gabriel opened the door to Marisa's bedchamber, unable to halt the trembling in his hand. His eyes darted first to the bed, afraid Edmund would be atop his angel's defenseless body, wreaking a revenge Gabriel had once plotted. But the bed was empty, and the coverpane definitely undisturbed. Relief swamped him, and he grasped the door latch to steady himself.

Where had Edmund taken her?

Gabriel had gone first to Edmund's apartments, but again there was no evidence either of them had been there. Gabriel's stomach knotted up. He was certain Edmund wanted to taunt his nephew, to retaliate for the public humiliation he had suffered. He also knew the madman's lusts would drive him to desperate actions, and he could not bear for Marisa to experience Edmund's vengeance any further.

"Oh!"

Gabriel spun around at the unexpected voice. His heart thudded with hope, but he saw in an instant it was not Marisa.

It had to be Daphne, though Gabriel's heart sank at her condition. At one time her dress had likely been the finest example of a lady's maid's costume, but now it was ripped in several places, nearly shredded in others. Her bottom lip was split, and her right eye sported a bruise that would take days to completely disappear. Strands of hair fell across her battered face, as if she had been dragged by the topknot before being dropped to the ground.

"Who did this?" Gabriel asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Lord Westbrook," she whispered, holding her arm close to her side. "He was not happy that his wedding was interrupted."

It shamed Gabriel that his uncle was responsible for such damage. It also frightened him what Marisa might suffer if he could not find her in time. He wanted to race out of the room, desperate to rescue his bride, but he could not leave the maid in such straits.

"Can you manage to sit?"

Daphne nodded, but the effort cost her. Her lips pinched as she lowered herself into the wing chair Gabriel had shared with Marisa so many times.

"I will have one of my men fetch a doctor for you." Daphne rested her head against the chair, smiling her gratitude at his words. "I must know where Edmund has taken Marisa. Do you know where she is?"

"He tried to kill me," Daphne said, her voice filled with disbelief. She closed her eyes, a single tear racing down her cheek. "I thought he cared for me."

"He tried to kill me too." Gabriel clasped her hand, squeezing it for reassurance. "A long time ago."

Her eyes shot open.

Gabriel nodded, his heart pounding with dread. "He will try to kill Marisa too. I must find her before he can harm her."

"He has taken her to the chapel."