Lessons From a Scandalous Bride

  Logan gazed at her. He wasn’t sorry. None of them had any business storming her room in the middle of the night.

  She continued, “It wasn’t my intention . . .” Her voice cracked, and she shot him a glance. Some of the spark returned to her eyes, and he surmised that she had just reached the same conclusion he had. “What are you all doing in my bedchamber?” Her indignant gaze swept over everyone.

  “Good question,” he murmured, swinging his gaze toward Hamilton.

  The triumph in Hamilton’s eyes only glowed brighter. “That’s right,” he announced with a haughty shake of his head. “I’ve seen you staring after each other like two hungry dogs. I knew you were lovers and sought to prove it.”

  “We’re not lovers,” Cleo hissed with a stamp of her foot. “This was a mistake.”

  “Oh, it was a mistake indeed,” Libba declared. “One that you shall never live down. I don’t care if your sister’s a princess or your father’s as rich as Croesus. Nothing will see you out of this mess. All will shun you. I shall see to it!”

  Something indecipherable passed over Cleo’s face, and then, in a blink, it was gone. She was all coolness, immune to Libba and anything or anyone else. Inhaling, she turned to the group, her words calm and even. “I’ll leave in the morning.”

  “You’ll leave now,” Libba ordered, her voice cutting.

  Cleo angled her head, holding up a hand in supplication. “I’ve no means to reach Town. We traveled here together, remember?”

  “You think I care?” Libba glanced to her cousin as though seeking support.

  Hamilton nodded. “You’ve abused my hospitality. You’ve crushed the hearts of my cousin and dear uncle.” He motioned to Thrumgoodie, who continued to gaze at Cleo in the manner of a wounded puppy. “How you make it home is of no concern to me.” He flicked a scornful glance at Logan. “I’m sure your champion here shall see to your needs.”

  Cleo looked at him in horror and he knew exactly what she was thinking—the same thought running through his mind.

  They were a full day from Town.

  She shook her head. “You cannot be serious.”

  Hamilton answered her by turning his back on them. “Come, uncle, let’s see you back to bed. You don’t look well.”

  Thrumgoodie did indeed look unwell. As Hamilton began to guide him around, the old man suddenly grabbed his chest and collapsed into a pitiable heap. Soft little mewls fell from his colorless lips.

  Cries filled the air as everyone surrounded him. Logan looked heavenward with a sigh. Things were already bad enough, but if the old man died there would be no way Cleo could survive the ruin of this night.

  He glanced at her.

  Hands pressed to her cheeks, she watched the unfolding debacle in horror.

  “Look what you’ve done!” Libba shrieked amid the din. “You’ve killed him! You killed him!”

  Almost idly, he wondered if Cleo would finally accept his suit. After all, no one else would have either one of them now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Thankfully it was a full moon.

  She could see several feet in front of her—enough at least to avoid the ruts and dips in the well-traversed road. The dark air shimmered with a pearlescent glow. It was almost like someone had draped a veil of silver netting over the night. She was glad she wasn’t alone . . . and then mad at herself for feeling glad that he was here with her. The wretch. He was responsible for this entire mess. If he hadn’t shown up in her chamber . . .

  She stifled a snort at the thought. Disgust for her behavior filled her. What? She couldn’t have exhibited a little self-control? She couldn’t have resisted his kisses and caresses? She couldn’t have protested as he lowered her to the bed? Her eyes stung as the faces of her siblings filled her mind.

  Her stepfather wouldn’t wait much longer. Certainly not long enough for her to start over and find a new beau. Blinking, she fought back the wash of tears. It wasn’t over. She’d still find a way to save them all. What choice did she have?

  She increased her pace and ignored the steady clomp of hoofs behind her. Or at least she pretended to ignore them. She heard every thumping step. Every vibration over the hard ground. She even imagined she felt the hot fan of the horse’s breath at her neck. That might have been her fanciful imaginings, but she didn’t imagine the sensation of Logan’s stare drilling into her back.

  He could have ridden ahead—as she urged him to do—but he walked his horse behind her. Infuriating man.

  She switched her valise from one sweaty-palmed hand to the other. She’d left her small trunk behind and simply packed the essentials for her trek to the neighboring village. The essentials were more than enough. More than she’d owned when she’d been living at home with her mother a year ago. They’d make do until she reached her father’s house.

  “Tired?” his voice rang out in the night.

  She whirled around. “It’s the middle of the night and I’m walking down a country road—no thanks to you. Tired doesn’t even touch upon my sentiments.”

  In the pale glow of the moon, his expression held blank. He merely stared down at her from where he sat atop his mount, his reins loose in his hand. The impatient beast pawed at the ground.

  “So you’re not tired?” he inquired in a maddeningly even voice.

  With a growl of frustration, she whirled back around and continued tromping down the road.

  “You’re welcome to ride my mount.”

  She ignored the offer. Again. She was too furious to accept any help from him. He’d ruined everything. She could hardly even manage conversing with him without losing her temper. Best she held her tongue.

  They continued for a few more moments before he spoke again. “At the very least, I could attach your valise to the side.”

  She swung around again, dropping her valise beside her on the ground. “Why are you following me?” She motioned to the road stretching into the darkness ahead of them. “You’ve a means of transport. Please. Go on your merry way. Don’t let some misguided sense of honor keep you traipsing after me.”

  Moonglow washed over the hard lines of his face. “I’m not leaving you alone on this road in the middle of the night.”

  She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, now you’re full of chivalry?”

  He angled his head at her. The pose sent a small frisson of alarm through her. He looked decidedly dangerous in that moment—certainly the most dangerous creature out in these woods.

  “I didn’t hear any complaints from you earlier tonight. You didn’t even try to send me from your room. In fact, I recall very little was said once you pounced upon me. I must not be so objectionable.”

  She flinched at the truth of his words. “Trust me . . . you are beyond objectionable.” She splayed her hands widely in front of her. “There is no word to describe just how objectionable I find you.”

  He didn’t look amused. “Go ahead and have your little temper tantrum, Cleo. I’m not leaving. You might as well hop up on my horse and save your feet the ache. We’ll reach the village faster.”

  “What is this ‘we’? Understand me when I say there is no ‘we.’ ”

  “Damn but you’re stubborn. When are you going to see there’s but one choice for us now?”

  She gazed at him uncomprehendingly. Then she looked around her as if the answer lurked somewhere in the dark night. “What choice?”

  “You’re thoroughly compromised. The shock of which nearly killed your fiancé. Your only hope is to legitimize us. There will still be talk. No way to quell that. But perhaps you can show your face on the streets of London without being cut direct from every acquaintance to cross your path.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Not that we’ll be here very often. Your family can visit—”

  “Have you gone mad?” she interrupted his narrative of their imaginary futur
e, fighting against the sudden prickly tightness in her chest. There had to be another choice.

  “I’m quite sane.”

  “Was this your scheme?” Gall rose up hot and swift inside her. “Why did you come to my room tonight? Did you arrange all this?” She swept an arm wide.

  “Arrange what? The two of us stuck on a road in the middle of the night?”

  “My ruin?” she bit out. “Did you plan all this . . . very convenient that everyone should know to walk into my room—”

  “I received your note!” He fished a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket.

  “I didn’t send you any note.” She took several steps forward and snatched it from his hands. She squinted through the gloom to read the scant words. “I did not write this!”

  “I surmised as much. After the fact, of course.”

  She shook her head. “Who?”

  “Hamilton, of course. How else did he know to show up in your room with Thrumgoodie and Libba in tow?”

  Of course. It should have occurred to her sooner. “Hamilton must have been thrilled to see his plan work so brilliantly.” She laughed brokenly.

  “What do you find so amusing?”

  “We gave them quite the display, did we not?”

  Logan was silent for a long moment. The night hummed around them. “It’s obvious we’re drawn to each other . . . the attraction is there.” Her pulse skipped faster. “You. Me.” His voice stroked over her, as deep and endless as the star-studded sky. “It would not seem a horrible alternative.”

  She nodded, but the motion made her head ache. It would be both horrible and wonderful. She swallowed thickly. If only the wonderful part did not ultimately lead into the horrible. She’d revel in his bed, in his arms. She felt that in her bones. But then the loss would come. The pain. The sorrow. And yet if she could save her family in the process, stop another brother or sister from dying, it could be worth it . . .

  Still unconvinced, she backed away from him in a slow step.

  He stared at her with grim understanding. “Yet you still refuse.”

  She moistened her lips. “Attraction isn’t everything. It’s scarcely anything. I’ve seen sensible women lose their head over attraction. The price they paid was too high.”

  “I’m offering honorable marriage.”

  “She was married, too. Still is,” she returned quickly, unable to keep thoughts of her mother at bay. “That only ended up trapping her, keeping her chained and bound forever.”

  “She?” His eyes glittered. “You’re speaking of someone specific? Your mother?”

  Cleo tightened her lips. She’d said too much. She was not inclined to unburden her personal history upon him. Upon anyone, for that matter.

  “Well,” he finally said. “Whoever she was, she certainly made a lasting impression.”

  With a sigh, Cleo picked her valise back up and handed it to him.

  He hesitated only a moment before taking it from her and attaching it to his saddle.

  No sense torturing herself. As he said—the sooner they reached the village, the sooner they could acquire accommodations. And the sooner tomorrow would arrive . . . and she’d be on her way to Town.

  She could tuck herself away in her father’s house and figure out what she was supposed to do now that her plan had been obliterated. She came up with a new plan to save her family—a plan that did not include him.

  Once she was settled atop his mount, he led the horse down the rutted road.

  “How much longer?” she asked after a few minutes.

  He sent her a sideways glance. His lips curled ever faintly but he held silent.

  “Now you won’t speak to me?” she demanded, looking down at him. “Very adult of you.”

  “Be quiet,” he snapped, his head suddenly cocking to the side.

  She pulled back her shoulders, her hackles quivering. “Don’t you dare speak to me—”

  He reached up and covered her mouth with his hand. She felt her eyes go round in her face.

  His eyes glittered up at her. Shaking his head, he motioned with his free hand for her to dismount. She nodded. After a heavy pause, he slipped his hand from her face. Hunkering down, she slid from the horse.

  Once she faced him, he pressed his face close to hers and whispered in her ear. “I don’t think we’re alone.”

  At these words, her eyes strained, looking left and right into the crowded press of trees. She could see nothing beyond their dark trunks and moon-soaked branches. No movement. No sign of life. Just an utter stillness that went beyond what was normal. And suddenly she realized it was too still, too quiet. The air tightened in her lungs.

  He thrust the reins into her suddenly shaking hand and fumbled for a moment with the satchel attached to the saddle. She saw the glint of a knife’s blade before he tucked it out of sight.

  “Wait here,” he instructed in a voice so low she barely heard it.

  She grabbed his wrist as he began to move away, practically lurching at him. “You’re leaving me,” she whispered.

  “Wait beside the horse.” He peeled her fingers from around his wrist.

  She stared uncomprehendingly after him as he crept away, the large shadow of him disappearing into the trees. Was he really leaving her alone when there might be brigands lurking in these woods?

  Her fingers clenched around the reins. She looked nervously to the left and right. Feeling inconspicuous—and foolish—standing in the middle of the road, she began walking, one foot falling after the other, crackling upon twigs and leaves covering the road.

  Her eyes scanned the yawning stretch of road ahead, and the bowing trees that pressed in on either side of her. And yet the world was still oddly quiet, motionless.

  Snap.

  She stopped. The sound was close. She glanced at the horse, wondering if the noise had come from him. Her fingers nervously patted his velvety nose as she glanced around again.

  She bit back the urge to call out for Logan and lifted her foot to continue—only to stop. She swallowed. Her eyes straining into the murky gloom.

  The sensation of someone close, just behind her, raised the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.

  She spun around to find two leering men upon her. Gasping, she stumbled back. One of the men grabbed the reins. The horse whinnied and sidestepped at the fierce tug.

  It was as if they’d materialized from air. One was as skinny as he was tall, while the other was squatter, solid as a boulder, his eyes sunken and mean-looking.

  “Ah, looky,” said the skinny one, sweeping her with his gaze and flashing a rot-toothed smile. “A fine bit of lady, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not alone,” she blurted.

  “Aye, that’s right. Where’d your man go?” He peered into the trees before calling out in jarring tones, “Come out wherever you are! We’ve got your little dove here.”

  Nothing. She strained to listen for Logan, but not a sound greeted this.

  “Maybe he heard us and decided to look out for his own neck and leave her,” the squat one volunteered.

  Rot-tooth sneered at his comrade. “Well, it’s true you make too much noise, Dixon. Like a herd of elephants you are.” Satisfied with his insult, he sniffed and turned his attention back to Cleo, assessing her with a calculating look. “I don’t think he’d forget her. Not a fine lady like her.”

  Cleo took a step back, hoping that was true. Where was Logan? Rot-tooth waved a pistol, motioning her to come closer to him.

  Instead, she moved back another step. And another, contemplating how quickly she could mount Logan’s horse without getting herself shot.

  She didn’t get very far before Rot-tooth yanked her against him. She was instantly assailed with the aroma of unwashed body. She struggled, only falling still when she felt the cold tip of the pistol press against her temple.
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  She closed her eyes in a slow, agonizing blink. Unbelievable as it seemed, she felt only regret faced with this moment that could be her last. Who would help her family now?

  She suddenly wished she had allowed Logan more liberties. If she was about to die, the reasons for not tasting the passion he offered her seemed suddenly insignificant.

  Before she could contemplate that further, Rot-tooth’s voice ripped through the night. “We have your woman. Unless you want to see her in pieces all over this road, you’ll step out now.”

  She bit her lip until she tasted blood. Was Logan even out there? Her stepfather wouldn’t have stuck around for her mother . . . she didn’t even know if Jack would have remained in such a situation. Would any man? She didn’t have much experience with noble or honorable men—especially when self-preservation was involved.

  “He’s gone,” she declared, turning her head to look back at the villain, and then stopping when he dug the pistol deeper into her head.

  “I don’t think so,” he replied.

  “Maybe he did leave her, Ansel.”

  “And leave his woman? His horse?” Ansel shook his head and turned to face Dixon, lifting the pistol from her head as he did so. She exhaled a breath of relief to feel the weapon removed from her face, even if only temporarily.

  “I don’t think so,” Ansel continued.

  The air whistled, and she felt the sudden rush of something launch past her, just inches from her shoulder.

  Ansel’s grip on her arm vanished and she was free. His body dropped to the ground with a thud. She looked down and choked on a gasp at the sight of the knife imbedded deeply in his shoulder. He choked and made incoherent sounds, twisting his head to look in astonishment at the butt of the knife jutting from his shoulder.

  Dixon cursed and fell down beside his friend. “Ansel! Gor, Ansel! You’ve been stabbed!”

  “I know that!” Ansel cried, his face a contortion of pain and panic.

  Shaking her head, Cleo jumped to action and scrambled for the forgotten pistol. She located it on the ground several feet away. Snatching up the weapon, she grasped it in her hands and pointed it at the unsavory pair.