The Perfect Wife (28 page)

Matt ignored the interruption. “She molded a group of fishermen and farmers, desperate men in those days, into an efficient operation.” He chuckled. “I’m still not exactly sure how she did it, but, even among my own men, I’ve rarely seen the kind of loyalty and fierce allegiance they accorded her.”

“I remember,” Nicholas murmured.

“At any rate, they adored her and worked hard both for her and with her. She was fair with them and honest—”

“Honest?” Sarcasm dripped off the word.

Matt cast him a cutting glance. “Honest. They did well, and when you came along, far too close for comfort, they closed down and went on with their lives, substantially better off than before.”

“That’s all well and good, Madison, but you’ve still failed to tell me why. Why did she do it?”

Matt hesitated, as if considering his words. He blew a long breath through his lips, apparently coming to some sort of decision. “I feel as if I’m betraying a confidence. Telling you things Bree has never wanted anyone to know.”

“I am her husband,” Nicholas said through clenched teeth. “Do I not have a right to know?”

Matt shrugged. “Probably. But Bree should be telling you this, not me—”

“Blast it, Madison,” Nicholas said sharply, “spit it out. Tell me what you have to say.”

“All right.” Matt paused, as if choosing his words with care. “How much do you know about her first husband?”

“About Stanford?” The question took him by surprise. Matt nodded. “What everyone knows, I suppose. He was a well-known rake when he married her, with a reputation for wild living and gambling. Together, they cut quite a scandalous path through society.”

“Did you know he was penniless when he died?”

The query struck Nicholas like a physical blow. “No, I did not.”

“It’s true.” Matt’s gaze burned with intensity. “He left her with nothing but a small child and a lot of very large debts. She never told anyone but me and Simon and one of the men who worked with her.” He shook his head. “I never did understand why she was so determined not to let the rest of the world know what a bastard her husband really was. Bree just said she owed him a measure of loyalty even in death.”

“I see,” Nicholas said slowly, so much of Sabrina’s behavior abruptly clear to him. “But what of her family?”

“She had little family—an elderly great-aunt who apparently had enough money for her own household and not much else.”

“Still,” Nicholas said stoutly, “there are other ways to earn one’s keep.”

“Are there, Wyldewood?” A sarcastic smile quirked Matt’s lips. “What? Think about it. She could become a governess. Take care of someone else’s children until the life and the spirit was wrung out of her. Or let’s see ... she could marry for money—”

“She did,” Nicholas said under his breath. Matt threw him a cutting glance, and a twinge of shame flickered through him at his comment.

“Or...” Matt’s gaze narrowed, his voice cool, controlled, without inflection, “she could have let a man take care of her, provide for her and her daughter. She could have become someone’s well-kept mistress, doxy, whore—”

“That’s enough, Madison!” Rage colored Nicholas’s words, and he clenched his fists to keep from striking the insulting American.

Matt stared silently, his expression considering, challenging. “The truth can be quite painful, can’t it? What would you have had her do?”

“I do not know.”

“You don’t seem to know much of anything tonight, do you?” Matt’s question went unanswered. “Do you know why this gold was so important to her?”

“She refused to tell me.”

“No surprise there. She wanted it for a dowry, for Belinda.” Nicholas opened his mouth, but Matt waved his words aside. “I know she didn’t need it now that she was married to you. She knew that as well. But it was important to her to provide for her daughter, to pay her own way.” He shrugged. “You and I probably can’t understand why a woman would be so fiercely determined to have her own resources. But then, you and I have never been abandoned with nothing left and no one to turn to.

“I’ll tell you something else, Wyldewood: Bree is an extraordinary woman. Her brains match her beauty. She has no lack of courage and strength and tenacity. I doubt that any man deserves such a prize.” He laughed shortly. “Especially not you.”

Nicholas’s mind spun with the revelation of Matt’s words. So much of Sabrina’s nature, her actions, made sense now. All his questions were answered. Save one.

“Were you and she lovers, Madison?” he said quietly.

“Never.” Matt heaved a sigh of regret. “Not that I didn’t try, mind you. But the affection we shared was far too much like family for anything more to develop. And I’m convinced, while many men pursued her in London, her amorous activities never went beyond an occasional embrace, a stolen kiss. It seems only one man ever had a lasting effect on her. Apparently, the thought of him haunted her for years.” Matt pinned him with a gaze hard and intense. “She kissed him in a cave and never even saw his face.”

Nicholas’s heart stilled. A knot settled in his gut. Matt’s words throbbed through his head. Silently, he turned toward the tent opening. He needed to be alone, to think, to make a decision that, for good or ill, would impact the rest of his days.

Matt grabbed his arm. His stern gaze locked with Nicholas’s. “Be careful, Wyldewood; be very careful. She was terrified of what would happen when you learned of her past. Bree truly loves you. I suspect she always has. If you lose her,” he shook his head, his manner almost pitying, “then you are indeed a fool.”

Nicholas shook off Matt’s hand and stalked out of the tent toward the river. Sand whispered across the desert floor. Horses nickered in the distance. The muted sounds of the night registered dimly in a distant corner of his mind, his head too full of Sabrina, of the past and the future, to pay more than a glancing thought.

He sank down upon an outcropping of rock at the river’s edge and gazed at the slow-moving Nile. The moon’s reflection ebbed and swelled in a rhythmic heartbreak, torpid, measured ... mesmerizing. The white-gold image shimmered and winked, and for a moment he let his mind drift with the water... peaceful and serene.

Serene. That was how he had thought of her when they met. As placid as the Nile and just as boring. An insistent memory tugged at the back of his mind. Hadn’t she seemed anything but boring in their first moments together? Wasn’t there right at the beginning a spark between them? A beckoning of desire? An odd sense of destiny? Of fate? Of recognition?

He thought back to the days of his ill-fated mission. How she and her men had let him get so close but no more. He remembered his shock at learning that his adversary was a woman and his grudging admiration at her skill and intelligence. His thoughts lingered on the inexplicable desire that grew within him, even as he searched for her until the fateful night when she kissed him and disappeared from his life.

Until now.

Were her crimes really that heinous?

A traitorous voice whispered in his mind. He had always believed so. But he had never before been able to place a face and a form to the image of his opponent. Never before had he stopped to consider the reasons for her behavior, the desperation that could drive even an honorable person to acts that, although illegal, could under certain circumstances be considered acceptable, even heroic. He had never given a thought to the strength and courage it must take for anyone, let alone a woman, to refuse to bow to circumstance and instead take control of her life.

Until now.

He shook his head in the hope of clearing the confusion of his thoughts. For so long he had held to his frustration and anger at his failure to capture her. Through the years his fury remained fresh, his determination unwavering, his goal clear.

Until now.

He stared blindly at the river, examining the past weeks spent in her company. He recounted every word, every gesture, every touch. Aside from her prevarication as to the exact nature of her business dealings with Madison ten years ago, he realized she had never lied to him. Not about them.

Still, he argued, what of honor? Did not his own sense of honor insist—no, demand—that he turn her in?

But was it honor or was it pride?

He bolted upright at the startling idea. Did honor compel him to atone for his failure, or was it simply foolish pride? His mission was a botched mess in his eyes alone. A failure because he was outsmarted by a mere woman. At the time his perceived inadequacy stung and threatened his self-respect. But here and now, did it still matter? Was pride so very important?

Through the endless night Nicholas sat beside the ancient waterway until the sun glowed on the horizon. With dawn he rose to his feet, stiff muscles aching in protest. He ignored the discomfort. He had not slept, and did not feel the need for rest through the lonely hours, his mind too busy wrestling with his own unresolved conflicts.

Now, at last, renewed spirit surged in his soul. The warmth of the sun washed over him, the new day bringing a sense of peace and resolve. It was as if a weight lifted from his shoulders and, with it, years of anger and disappointment.

There was no decision to be made; he had made his choice when he admitted to himself, and finally to her, that he loved her. The past was over and done with. He could face the future with Sabrina by his side.

He chuckled and turned toward the camp. Who would have believed that he would spend the rest of his life with the very woman who had bested him so long ago? A woman who, he had to acknowledge, was his equal in so many things and, in at least one instance, more than his match. It was an odd way to think of a woman. Any woman. His woman.

He headed toward her tent. He would take her in his arms and tell her that the past was behind them. There would be no recriminations. He would be magnanimous yet gentle. Firm but kind. He would graciously forgive her.

But would she forgive him?

The unbidden thought struck him in midstride, and his step faltered. His mind raced over what he had said to her. Words fired by anger, spouted in unthinking haste. What accusations had he thrown at her in his blind need to hurt her as much as he was hurt? Unease settled in the pit of his stomach. Surely she would understand that his charges came from the shock of discovery, nothing more. He picked up his pace.

A cry rang from Sabrina’s tent and Wynne burst into the clearing, a weeping Belinda two steps behind.

“Nicholas!” Wynne raced to him. “She’s gone, Nicholas. She’s left.”

“Whose gone?” Matt asked, instantly at his side. Erick joined Belinda.

Wynne gasped for breath, her eyes wide with dismay. “Sabrina. She’s gone.”

Fear squeezed his heart and he grasped Wynne’s shoulders. “What do you mean, she’s gone? Where did she go?”

“I do not know.” Wynne shook her head. “When we awoke Belinda found this.” She waved the letter under his nose. Matt snatched the note from her hand. “On the back.”

Matt scanned the page and turned an accusing gaze on Nicholas. “She’s gone, all right. This says she’s doing what she feels she must. It says—” his tone hardened—“she believes she has no choice. She doesn’t explain why. It also turns over ownership of her town house to Belinda, as a dowry.”

He glanced at the page again. “She sends Belinda her love and tells her not to worry.” Belinda broke into fresh sobs. Matt crumpled the note in his hand.

Shock rooted Nicholas to the spot. His chest tightened and he could not seem to breathe. “Does ... does she mention me?”

“No.” The single word was an indictment.

Panic surged within him. He would not let her go. He could not let her go. “We have to find her. Erick, get the horses. Madison—”

“Hold on, Wyldewood.” Matt grabbed his arm. “Let her be.”

Nicholas stared in disbelief. “Are you insane? This is not a country for a woman alone.”

“I said let her be.” The American’s grasp was firm, his voice commanding. “Bree can take care of herself.”

Nicholas wrenched out of his hold. “That’s ridiculous. Not even Sabrina can handle this. I cannot—” His eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. “If you know where she’s headed, where I can find her, you’d bloody well better tell me.”

Matt hesitated.

“Now,” Nicholas grabbed the front of Matt’s shirt. “Or so help me, I will kill you where you stand.”

Wynne gasped. “Nicholas!”

His gaze locked with Matt’s. “Make no mistake, Madison, this is not an idle threat.” For a moment neither man moved, neither backed down, neither gave an inch.

Matt expelled a long, pent-up breath. “I don’t know where in the hell she went.” Nicholas released his shirt and stepped back, running a weary hand through his hair. “But look, Wyldewood, she’s not stupid. She’s bound to head back to the coast, where she can find a ship.”

“Let’s go then.” Nicholas turned to leave, but once more Matt barred his way.

“I’d wager she left hours ago. There is no possible way to find her out here. Our best bet is to turn back toward Alexandria. We might well find her on the way. Or we could find her in the city.” Matt pinned him with a straightforward gaze. “There’s nothing you can do here.”

“Very well,” Nicholas said reluctantly. “As much as I hate to admit it, you are no doubt right.”

Matt nodded sharply. “Good. We’ll have the camp packed up and be off as soon as possible.”

Nicholas clenched his fists and struggled to stay calm, to control unfamiliar emotions that threatened to tear him apart. Never had anguish and fear and sheer panic faced him like this. He could not lose her. He would not lose her. Not again.

Matt stared at him with something akin to compassion or sympathy but said nothing. They both cared for the same woman, each in his own way. There was little left to say.

“I will find her, Madison.” Nicholas pulled his gaze from Matt’s and stared out over the desert, his voice quiet and intense.

“I found her once and I shall find her again. If it takes another ten years, if it takes the rest of my days, I vow, I will find her.”