The Anatomist's Wife (29 page)

I gaped at him in horror.

“I needed to know whether she really carried my child. And I was curious whether it
was a boy.”

Lady Stratford choked on a sob behind me.

“Besides . . .” Stratford’s mouth curled into a chilling smile. ”It all worked out
rather well for me in the end. Ripping that bastard from the womb made Mr. Gage believe
that the motive was the child. It helped to convince him that my wife was to blame,
since she wanted a child so badly and she couldn’t have one herself.” His tone mocked
her.

His eyes returned to me, narrowed in anger. “Everything was working out so well, until
you
decided to go searching for more evidence. You couldn’t leave well enough alone.”
I shrank beneath his glare. “What was it that made you doubt my lady wife’s guilt?
Couldn’t believe a delicate, well-bred creature would be capable of such a thing?”
he sneered.

I flicked a glance at the approaching boat, gauging its progress. It still seemed
so far away.

“No,” I replied, keeping my voice even. “It was, in fact, the very same reason you
believed we would suspect her in the first place—her desperate longing for a child.”

He scowled, clearly not liking my answer, and began to turn his head back toward Gairloch.

“You were the one watching me today,” I accused, frantic to keep his gaze away from
the approaching vessel. The snap of the wind and the slap of the waves against our
hull drowned out the sounds of the other boat’s pursuit, but I knew it was only a
matter of time before Lord Stratford heard them.

His stare slid back to mine. “I’ve been
watching
you for quite some time. Since the night I returned to the castle to find Mr. Gage
leading you and Lord Westlock back from the chapel. I knew then that you had been
asked to assist him, and your actions since then have only confirmed my suspicions.”
He shook his head as if in scolding. “You should have listened to my letters.”

I tensed. So
he
had written them. But of course he had. That seemed rather obvious now. “Was it you
in the servants’ stairwell?” I couldn’t resist asking. I wanted to know just how many
of today’s ominous occurrences had been real and how many figments of my imagination.

I could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “What do you think?”

I scowled. “What were you planning to do? Hit me over the head?”

“Perhaps. You’re far too resourceful, Lady Darby. First you took the dogs with you
on your little walk and made it impossible for me to get close to you without raising
an alarm. Then you eluded me on the stairs.” My muscles tightened as he gestured with
his gun, reminding me just how quickly he could end my life. “When Faye mentioned
that you had been in Lady Godwin’s chamber today, I knew you were looking for something,
and I couldn’t risk having you find evidence to implicate me. So when I saw you cross
the stable yard toward the carriage house, I knew it was my chance to finish you both.”
His gaze slid over each occupant of the boat, and he grinned. “It has worked out amazingly
well. Perhaps I should thank Cromarty’s mare for dropping her foal last night. At
the time, I cursed it for preventing me from getting to my lovely wife and her maid,
but since waiting has dropped
you
into my lap, Lady Darby, and provided me with a wonderful scapegoat, I cannot be
cross.”

I gasped. “You intend to blame me.”

His smile turned smug. “Whom do you think they will blame when you and Celeste have
disappeared and my wife’s body washes up on shore with a bullet through her heart?”

My hands tightened around the oar.

“Tut-tut,” Stratford scolded me, aiming the pistol directly at the center of my chest.
“No sudden movements with that, Lady Darby. My gun is liable to go off.”

I gritted my teeth, wanting to snarl at the man. How dare he threaten my life and
plot to ruin my reputation, and that of my family, once and for all. What would Philip
and Alana, and my nieces and nephews, have thought if he had succeeded? What would
Gage? Would they have continued to believe in my innocence? Or be forever shamed by
my memory?

I felt an absurd surge of relief that his plans were not to come to fruition. It was
obvious now that the other boat was pursuing us, and whether or not I survived this
ordeal, they would know I had not orchestrated it. Neither I, nor my family, would
be blamed.

I was so absorbed by my conflicting emotions that I failed to act quickly enough when
Celeste gasped, obviously having caught sight of the boat. Stratford turned his head
to see it. By this point, I could clearly see the prow of the ship slicing through
the water toward us, closing the distance fast. My heart surged in my chest. I wanted
to reach out and smack the foolish maid.

Stratford growled and leaned forward to yank the oar from my grasp. “Damn you!” He
grabbed hold of the bindings around my wrists and pulled me toward him.

Crying out in pain, I tumbled to the floor, purposely trying to evade his grasp. A
man shouted from the other boat.

“You saw them coming, didn’t you?” Stratford released the rope to tug on my arm. “Get
up!”

I struggled against him, even though it wrenched my shoulder terribly, for I knew
that if he managed to pull me to my feet, he would use me as a shield. Stratford had
no more than two bullets in his double-barreled pistol, and without me for leverage,
they would be nearly useless against the four or five men in the other boat. He might
shoot two of them, but he would never get away. I cringed at the image of Gage or
Philip taking those bullets.

“Get up,” Stratford snarled.

And then I saw it. Poking up out of his right Hessian boot was the knife—the blade
he had used to cut the rope. The weapon I suspected had actually been used to slice
Lady Godwin’s throat and abdomen. I glanced up to find Stratford’s gaze focused on
the men in the boat, and reached out to grip the knife handle clumsily between my
bound hands. As he jerked me upward, making the muscles in my shoulder scream in protest,
the blade slid cleanly from its sheath.

Stratford whirled me around in front of him, wrapping his arm across my shoulders
and pressing the cool muzzle of the gun against my temple. “Stop right there. You,
too, darling.”

I closed my eyes, terrified for a moment that the pistol would go off. When my pounding
heart did not stop beating, I cautiously opened my eyes to see Lady Stratford standing
in the back of the boat gripping Celeste’s oar. Her icy eyes glimmered with fury.
Her gaze met mine and briefly dipped to the knife between my palms, letting me know
she had seen it. She did not give me away.

“Drop it,” Stratford ordered.

She tossed the oar into the bottom of the boat with a clatter.

Stratford whirled me around to face the water and the other vessel now inching toward
us. “I said stop right there. Or I’ll put a bullet through her skull.”

I sucked in a breath and forced it out again. The world around me seemed suddenly
fuzzy, and I knew I had to stay conscious if I was going to survive this ordeal. Passing
out was not an option. I had to calm my rampaging heart. The bite of the chain of
my mother’s pendant against my skin from where it snagged between Stratford’s arm
and my body helped to sharpen my senses.

“Let her go,” I heard Gage order harshly. I blinked open my eyes to find him aiming
a pistol toward me. I knew that it was meant to be pointed at Stratford, as was the
gun held by another man standing in the boat, but I could not help feeling unnerved
to have three weapons pointed at me.

“I think not,” Stratford answered calmly—too calmly, for my taste. “Not unless you
want her brains splattered all over this boat’s stern.”

My stomach pitched violently at the threat.

Gage’s face tightened, and his gaze dipped to meet mine. I almost wished he hadn’t,
for I could see genuine fear shining in the depths of his eyes, and I had a terrible
suspicion it was for me. It was not the least reassuring. “What do you want, Stratford?”
he asked the earl.

“That’s a dangerous question,” Stratford replied, his words gusting past my ear as
the boat rocked beneath our feet. “How about instead I settle for telling you what
is going to happen next.” Against my hair, the muscles of his cheek pulled upward
in a nasty smile. “You, Lord Cromarty, and the others are going to head back to Gairloch
Castle while the ladies and I continue on our way.”

Celeste sobbed.

“And if we don’t?” Gage challenged.

“Then Lady Darby dies, here and now.”

I stiffened, knowing his threat to be real.

Philip murmured something behind Gage, who shushed him. “How do we know you won’t
harm Lady Darby if we do what you say?”

“You don’t.” Stratford sounded amused with himself. “My way, there’s a chance she
might survive. Your way, there isn’t.”

I closed my eyes, swallowing the bitter lump of fear in the back of my throat. There
was no way out of this without using the knife. It was ironic to think that only four
days ago, I had assured myself that even though I had never held a knife, I would
be able to wield one if the need ever arose. Well, that need was now.

If they let him go, Stratford intended to kill us no matter what he told Gage. I was
certain of it. And if they refused, he would shoot me and at least one more person
before likely being shot in turn. Either way, I would die. And I didn’t want to. Not
yet. Not like this. Not when I had wasted so much time hiding. I finally felt brave
enough to live again, but if I did nothing now, I might never have the chance.

I blinked open my eyes to look into Gage’s beautiful pale blue ones. He looked so
frightened, so uncertain of what his next course of action should be. And I could
lift that burden from him. I only hoped that if something went wrong, he knew how
much he meant to me, how much I cared. How much more than a shallow golden lothario
I now saw when I looked at him.

“What will it be?” Stratford demanded, tightening his arm across my chest.

I knew what I had to do.

The knife felt awkward and slippery between my hands. I struggled to rotate it without
dropping it, cutting myself, or tipping off Stratford to its presence. Gage’s eyes
dipped, catching the movement, and widened with a look of absolute horror. He shook
his head slightly, telling me to stop. But I would not heed. I could not heed.

Offering up a silent prayer, I shifted my arms to the side. “There
is
one other way, you know?” I felt Stratford shift so that he could look down at me,
but I only had eyes for Gage. “My way!” The last emerged as more of a grunt as I drove
my hands backward with all my might, sinking the blade deep into Stratford’s abdomen.
Warm blood coated my fingers, and the sickening squelch of torn flesh rent the night
air.

Stratford howled and knocked me off balance as he reached down to grip the knife.
A gun fired, and another answered. I tumbled forward, and unable to catch myself,
I plummeted over the side of the boat into the icy water.

The bitter cold drove the air from my lungs, and a stabbing pain in my side momentarily
made the world go dark. When I opened my eyes, I could no longer see the faint light
of the moon or tell which way was up or down. The sodden weight of my skirts wrapped
around my legs. I panicked, kicking wildly, trying desperately to propel myself in
the direction I thought was up. My lungs burned and my eyes stung from the salt water.
I tugged and thrashed, trying to loosen my bindings, but they would not come undone.
I could not break free.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

T
he world around me went quiet, and a tingling sensation washed up over my skin. I
couldn’t kick anymore. Then something warm touched my shoulder and wound its way under
my arm. I couldn’t tell whether it was friend or foe, but it was pulling me along
behind it, I hoped toward the surface. My mind began to darken, blurring at the edges,
and I struggled to remain conscious.

When my head broke the surface, I gasped, pulling in as much of the cool air as my
lungs could hold. It sawed in and out of me, sharp and sweet, ambrosia on my tongue.
The haze around my vision began to fade, and my hearing returned with a ringing in
my ears accompanied by the sound of slapping waves. Too weak to do anything myself,
I leaned into the warmth behind me and just breathed. My chest burned, and my side
ached terribly, but I was breathing. I was alive.

I blinked open my eyes, trying to understand, and peered up into Gage’s face. “Kiera,”
he panted, his chest heaving from the exertion it must have taken to pull me to the
surface. “Were you hit? Are you bleeding?” One arm held me tightly to the solid heat
of his chest while his other hand moved quickly over my limbs and torso.

“I don’t think so,” I mumbled, having difficulty feeling anything at the moment beyond
the warmth of his body and the tingling cold of the water. Even the throbbing in my
side, and on my cheekbone where Stratford had struck me, seemed muted. My eyes drifted
shut, too tired to stay open. “W-what about y-you?” I stammered.

His fingers combed through my hair, probing my scalp for lacerations. “I’m fine. But
we’ve got to get you out of this water.” I could hear the worry in his voice. “Over
here,” he called. “I’ve got her.”

I heard the rumble of voices and the slap of oars in the water and opened my eyes
to see one of the boats moving toward us. Gage’s hand cupped my jaw, and I flinched
when his thumb brushed across the bruise on my cheekbone from where Stratford had
struck me. His eyes hardened, and a muscle twitched in his jaw as he turned my face
toward him so that he could view the contusion better.

“Is S-Stratford . . . ?”

“Dead?” he finished for me. “Yes. And if he wasn’t, I would wrap my fist around his
throat and choke the life out of him.”

A stronger wave rolled into us, splashing into my face. I blinked and blew the water
from my mouth, tasting the salt on my lips. “And L-Lady Stratford and her m-maid?”

“They’re safe.”

“And Philip?”

Gage’s eyes warmed. “Cromarty,” he yelled, never taking his eyes from me.

“Yes?”

At the sound of Philip’s voice, I relaxed even deeper into Gage’s arms. I wished my
arms were unbound. I wanted to wrap them around his neck.

Gage lifted me higher against his shoulder, as if reading my mind. “Kiera wants to
know whether you’re alive?”

If I’d had the energy, I would have narrowed my eyes at the inappropriateness of his
humor.

“Kiera, I’m still breathing,” Philip hollered back, his voice tinted with relief.

I turned into Gage’s shoulder and pressed my forehead against his cheek. He was so
warm, so nice. I inhaled deeply. And he smelled so good—musky and briny, albeit a
bit fishy. But I didn’t care about that as long as he held me close like this.

Gage’s fingers wrapped gently around my nape and pulled my head back. I resisted at
first, not wanting to leave the cozy nook in his shoulder, but I didn’t have the will
or the energy to fight him.

“Kiera,” he murmured. “Kiera, I need you to open your eyes.”

I sighed and forced them open, knowing that the concerned tone of his voice should
mean something. I just didn’t know what.

“Kiera, I need you to stay with me.”

I tried to nod, but I couldn’t seem to make the muscles in my neck work.

“Kiera.” His callused thumb brushed over the pulse at the side of my throat, making
it flutter. “Can you stay with me?”

I smiled, and his eyes softened with a tenderness that made me feel pleasantly fuzzy
inside.

His warm mouth pressed to my forehead and then my nose. And then, with a sweetness
of sincerity, to my lips. My heart stuttered in my chest, and a shiver worked through
my frame. When he pulled back, my teeth began to chatter. I wished he would put his
warm lips back on mine.

Light suddenly pierced the darkness around us, and I blinked and shied away, blinded
by the source.

“There they are,” I heard Philip call out. “A little farther to the right.”

My eyes adjusted enough to see Philip leaning over the prow of the dinghy, holding
a lantern. The small craft pulled up alongside us, and he handed the light to someone
behind him and reached out to pull me aboard. With help from another man and Gage,
he was able to hoist me up onto the boat.

Philip helped me sit on one of the benches and settled a blanket around my shoulders
while Gage pulled himself back onto the boat. “Kiera, are you hurt?” Philip asked,
leaning down to look in my eyes.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. Now that I was seated, my side throbbed. I twisted, trying
to gesture to it. Philip’s gaze dropped, and I knew that something was wrong. But
I couldn’t seem to care. I just wanted to lie down, to close my eyes. It took too
much effort to stay upright.

I heard him call Gage over, and the two men studied my side, all the while forcing
me to stay seated.

“Kiera, we need you to keep your eyes open,” Gage told me.

I shook my head.

“Kiera, you
have
to keep your eyes open.”

I shook my head again, confused why he was asking this of me.

He shook me and called my name, but it seemed so very far away. I couldn’t understand.
I didn’t want to understand. And then there was nothing.

•   •   •

I
woke to the sensation of fingers brushing through my hair, and for a moment I thought
I merely dozed. That I was still floating in the water with Gage’s strong hands probing
my head for wounds. But the ground below me was far too steady, and my body was much
too dry and warm. Oh, how toasty and warm I was. I breathed deeply. The scents of
lavender and chamomile were so much lovelier than the briny loch water. I blinked
open my eyes to find my sister staring down at me.

“Hello, dearest,” she murmured softly. Tiny teardrops flecked her lashes.

I glanced around me, trying to absorb the fact that I truly was lying in my bed in
my room and not being tossed about in the choppy loch. Sun streamed in through the
windows behind Alana, and birds chirped outside.

“What happened?” I asked, pushing up on my elbows. I sucked in a sharp breath through
my teeth as pain shot up my left side.

She leaned forward to push me back down. “Stratford’s bullet grazed your side,” she
replied, answering the most apparent interpretation of my question.

“He shot me?” I gasped in confusion.

She nodded. “You lost a great deal of blood, but the bullet did not lodge in your
side or cause any injury to your tissues or organs. The physician assured us you wouldn’t
suffer any permanent damage.”

I wrinkled my brow, trying to remember when Stratford had fired at me. “It must have
happened when I fell into the water,” I decided.

Alana fussed with my pillows. “That’s what Mr. Gage said.”

I stilled her hand and forced her to look me in the eye. Her mouth tightened with
emotion, and I pulled her head down next to mine, wanting her close. She wept tears
I could not yet summon but knew would come later—tears of relief and loss and frustration.
For now, I could but hold my sister close and share what comfort I could, soaking
it in as well.

Her tears quickly spent, she sniffled and lifted her head, searching the nightstand
for a handkerchief. She sank back in her chair and dabbed at her eyes. “Forgive me,”
she mumbled through her stuffy nose.

I squeezed her hand. “There is nothing to forgive,” I replied, and rushed on before
she could protest. “Now tell me what happened? How did I get back to the castle?”

“Mr. Gage carried you.” Her eyes darkened with remembered fear. “You were unconscious
and so very cold.” She swallowed. “We all feared the worst.”

I recalled hazily the moments in the water before they pulled me into the boat—the
extreme fatigue, the warmth of Gage’s body, the kiss—but my memory faded to almost
nothing after Philip settled the blanket over my shoulders. To be honest, I wasn’t
even certain whether any of the events I recollected after falling into the water
actually happened. I stared up at the deep cobalt blue of my canopy. I wondered if
I would ever know whether Gage had actually kissed me.

“So they brought me back to the castle and you summoned the physician?”

She nodded. “I sent for him as soon as I heard Philip and Mr. Gage had gone looking
for you. I know you don’t like Dr. Gunn, dear, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“It’s all right,” I tried to interject.

“We wouldn’t let him bleed you. I know how archaic you believe that procedure.”

I squeezed her hand, cutting her off. “Alana, it’s all right. I understand. Whatever
he did could not have been so bad. I’m still alive, am I not?” I tried to joke.

She frowned. “Yes, well, it was a near thing. If Gage and Lucy and I had not gotten
you warm so very quickly it might have been too late.”

My chest tightened hearing the distress in her voice. “I’m sure. I’m sorry. I suppose
I shouldn’t jest about such a thing.”

“No. You shouldn’t.” She turned away to fuss with the items littering the top of my
nightstand. She handed me a glass of water and ordered me to drink, which I did gladly.

I peered over the rim of the glass at her. “You’ve emerged from the nursery,” I said,
remembering her self-imposed exile. I’d promised Philip I would coax her down from
the fourth floor, but I hadn’t exactly intended to do so in such a drastic manner.

“Yes, well, somebody has to look after you. I had a terrible premonition all day yesterday
that something bad was going to happen to you.”

“Alana,” I scolded gently.

She waved her hand at me. “I know, I know. There’s no way I could have known it would
come true. But I shouldn’t have locked myself away like that just because I was afraid.
Especially when I knew you needed me.”

“Your children needed you, too.” I couldn’t stand for her to take any of the blame
upon herself for what had happened to me. “Besides, I should have at least told Philip
where I was going,” I reluctantly admitted. “Even if I thought he might try to stop
me.”

“Well . . .” she folded her arms across her chest “. . . don’t admit that to Philip.”

I stared at her in shock, and her face creased into a reluctant smile. I started to
laugh, but the movement pulled at the wound in my side too much.

Alana reached over to help settle me more comfortably. “The man can be insufferable.
And you’re right, he would have stopped you, and then where would we be? Or perhaps
a more pertinent question: Where would Lady Stratford and her maid be? At the bottom
of the loch, I’d wager, instead of Lord Stratford.”

“Is he really?”

She nodded her head once sharply in satisfaction. “Sir Graham shot him straight through
the head. He toppled out of the boat, and the search parties have yet to find his
body.” She shrugged. “We might never find it.”

“Who is Sir Graham?”

“Sir Graham Fraser.” She took the glass from my hand and poured me another drink of
water. “He’s the procurator fiscal from Inverness. He met up with Mr. Gage on the
road from Drumchork yesterday evening.” She handed me the cup. “They must have arrived
not long after Lord Stratford kidnapped you. If they had ridden into Gairloch but
a few minutes earlier, they might have encountered Lord Stratford leading you three
ladies from the carriage house.”

I dismissed the comment, knowing it would do no good to dwell on what-ifs.

“They found poor Beowulf and Grendel drugged near the door to the stables.”

“Oh, no! Are they all right?”

“Never fear. The brutes are already recovered. Though I suspect they’ll be a bit more
cautious of taking food from a stranger in the future.”

I wasn’t so certain of that. The two wolfhounds were rather fond of filling their
bellies. “How are Lady Stratford and Celeste?”

“Resting. Both relatively unharmed, just a bit shaken.”

That seemed a huge understatement, especially in Lady Stratford’s case. It wasn’t
every day that your husband framed you for murder and then tried to kill you. But
I didn’t argue the point.

“And the guard?” I asked more hesitantly, remembering the odd positioning of his body
in the doorway to the storage room.

Alana’s eyes dropped. “Dead.”

My chest tightened in sorrow. “Did he have any family?”

“A mother and sister in the village. Philip has offered to pay for the funeral and
provide the mother with a pension. He also promised the sister a position here at
the castle when she’s old enough.”

“That’s kind of him.”

Alana shrugged. “It was the least he could do.”

I nodded and sipped my water.

We sat silently for a moment, both contemplating the deceased footman and his family,
I presumed. He was heavy in my thoughts, as was the realization that I had stabbed
Lord Stratford. I knew that in the end it was the bullet that killed him, but it still
troubled me to know I had harmed another human being, no matter how necessary it had
been or how much he had deserved it. I flexed my fingers. How strange it had been
to feel the blade sink into human flesh after watching Sir Anthony do it so many times.
No matter what I had claimed only four short days ago, the experience had not been
even remotely the same, and I had not been prepared for it.

Misunderstanding the alarm and uncertainty tightening my features, Alana leaned closer
to squeeze my hand. “Oh, dearest, it’s over,” she assured me. Her brilliant blue eyes
softened with affection. “Stratford is dead, and we’re all safe. Because of you.”
She smiled, and I tried to grin back, but I knew the effort had not been very successful.