Fairest Of Them All (34 page)

“I’ve come for my wife.”

I’ve come for the woman.

Before Holly could recognize the echo from the past, Eugene had seized the back of her gown and heaved her up on the window ledge. The window was much narrower than the one at Gavenmore, but there was ample room for her slight form. Her head swam as blue sky and green earth threatened to reverse.

“Would you care to come up,” Eugene called out, “or shall I send her down?”

Austyn hesitated for an insulting moment “I’ll come up.”

“Excellent! I’ll have my men escort you.”

The devilish note in Eugene’s voice alerted Holly, but she did not dare betray herself. All she could do was bite baGk her scream of warning and wince in sympathy as the pike came down on the back of Aus-tyn’s head, sending him crashing off his mount to the cobblestones.

Austyn’s lips curled in a dreamy smile. He was reclining in a meadow of purple heartsease, his head pillowed against the plush warmth of Holly’s bosom. Her fragrant curls tickled his nose as she leaned over and began to plant tender kisses along his brow, crooning praise for his valor in those dulcet tones of hers.

“Wake up, you bumbling oaf!” A torrent of cold water struck him full in the face.

His eyes flew open to discover Holly looming over him, her charming little face puckered not in a kiss, but in a scowl. He also discovered she was holding an empty basin, he was sitting in a puddle of spreading water garbed only in his hose, his wrists were manacled to the wall behind him, and by the slant of the sun’s rays pounding their way without mercy into his throbbing head, ‘twas no longer morning, but early afternoon.

A dark crescent of a moon intercepted the sunbeams as Eugene de Legget bent over to peer into his face with solicitous concern. “I offered to rouse you myself, sir, but your wife begged to do the honors.”

Austyn’s gaze flicked from Eugene to Holly. Her glittering eyes flared in unspoken warning.

Austyn shook his head like a great shaggy mastiff, sending droplets of water flying everywhere. Holly recoiled, dropping the basin and screeching in outrage.

“ Tis the only way that shrew could rouse any man,” he pronounced, curling his upper lip in a smirk.

Holly planted her hands on her hips, smiling a smile of acid sweetness. “Oh, I doubt that most men are as difficult to rouse as you, sir. Nor so easily expended.”

“Why should a man rouse himself to satisfy a woman whoil do naught but lay beneath him like a cold herring?”

Eugene patted water from his brow with a kerchief, gazing from one to the other of them with unabashed fascination. “Would that be a live herring, sir, or a dead one?”

“Oh, dead, most certainly. At least a live one would have flopped a bit now and then.”

Holly snorted with scorn and tossed her curls, her haughty beauty at its peak. “Not live or dead, but frozen with distaste at your clumsy fumblings.”

“Frozen indeed. I feared you were going to give Master Longstaff a fatal case of frostnip.”

“Master Longstaff! Ha! Don’t flatter yourself.”

Austyn summoned up a feral snarl with little effort, his narrowed gaze promising revenge for that snippet of sauciness.

Eugene stepped between them, plainly fearing they were on the verge of flying at each other’s throats and depriving him of his own diabolical pleasures. “If you loathe your wife as much as you claim, Gaven-more, why have you come rushing so gallantly to her aid?”

Austyn did not have to fake his icy sneer as he turned his attention to Montfort “For the same reason I came rushing so gallantly to wed her. Gold. How long do you think her father will let me keep that dowry if she gets her witless self killed? And I’ve earned it, by God, for being forced to endure the lash of her barbed tongue all these weeks.”

Holly leaned around Eugene and stuck out that luscious, pink tongue at him. Austyn shifted in the puddle of water, wishing he hadn’t chosen such an inopportune moment to recall the delicious torments it was capable of inflicting.

To hide his consternation, he gave the manacles a violent tug, as if he’d like nothing more than to wrap them around his wife’s elegant neck. The right manacle rewarded him with a tantalizing inch of give.

He ceased his struggles as Eugene drew a small silver dagger from his belt “Allow me to put your mind at ease, sir. You’ll be heartened to know that I’ve no intention of murdering your beloved bride.”

The blood rushed from Austyn’s pounding head, leaving him dizzy with relief.

Eugene tested the blade against his thumb, then smiled tenderly. “ Tis you who disgraced my good name before the crowd at the tournament and ‘tis you I’m going to kill.”

Holly’s horrified gasp nearly betrayed them, but she recovered quickly, clapping her hands with childish glee. “Oh, joy! And I had feared I’d be stuck with the lummox for all eternity.”

Even Eugene eyed her askance at that bit of bloodthirstiness. “Remind me to sleep with the candles lit when I take you to my bed, dear.”

Austyn began working the right manacle back and forth with excruciating slowness, but increasing desperation. If he could just coax a few more inches of slack into the chain before Eugene came to finish him off ... “If you’re fool enough to bed that witch,” he said, “you’ll soon be begging someone to gut you in your sleep. I’d almost prefer death to a lifetime of hell spent listening to her nag.”

Holly lunged for him, her fingers curved into claws. “Give me the dagger and let me at the wretch!
Ill
put him out of his misery.”

Eugene grabbed her around the waist “Not so fast, love. Wouldn’t you rather make him suffer?”

“What did you have in mind?” Austyn growled. “Forcing me to swive her again.”

“Only in your dreams!” Holly retorted.

She fought back a shiver of revulsion as Eugene’s grip mellowed to a mocking embrace. “On the contrary,” he said, rubbing bis cheek against her temple. “I thought you might like to watch while I did the honors.” His eyes never left Austyn’s as he slid a hand upward from her waist to cup the underside of one of her ripe breasts.

Holly’s gaze was also riveted on her husband’s face. She dared not even breathe. She knew a single visible flinch, one whispery thread of the whimper caught in her throat, would be the ruination of them both.

Austyn’s face, so quick to mold itself to a scowl of anger or to dimple in delight, did not betray even a flicker of emotion. Twas so still its unholy beauty might have been set in mortar.

He raked her with a contemptuous glance, coldly dismissing the sight of Eugene’s hand kneading the softness of her breast. Straining against the manacles, he flexed his arms and yawned like a big, sleepy bear. “Suit yourself, Montfort. Just don’t forget to wake us both when you’re done.”

Stiffening with rage, Eugene gave Holly a shove. She stumbled to one knee, but was too awash in triumph to feel a drop of pain.

“The two of you deserve each other,” Eugene snarled. “A shrill harpy and a merry cuckold. You’d be enough to milk the joy out of dipping a virgin in boiling oil.”

Holly grinned, savoring his petulant rage. But her smile faded as he marched resolutely toward Austyn, brandishing the dagger. “If you only knew how much I loathe wasting a quick, clean death on the likes of you . . .”

Austyn began to struggle against his chains in earnest, his forearms bulging with the effort He shot Holly an imploring look. She knew him well enough to recognize ‘twas not a plea for assistance, but a desperate decree for her to stay her hand.

Holly had no time to seek a weapon. No time to scream or mumble a frantic prayer. Eugene whipped the dagger back, aiming its blade at her husband’s heart. Ducking beneath the baron’s elbow, she threw’ herself across Austyn, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face against the consoling warmth of his chest as she awaited the plunge of the knife between her shoulder blades.

Except for the thundering of Austyn’s heart beneath her ear, the chamber went as silent as a tomb. Then a breathy chuckle coaxed the hairs at her nape to tingling life. Still clinging to Austyn’s waist, she turned her head to find a sneer of gloating triumph fixed on Eugene’s lips. She could almost feel his invisible snare tightening around her throat

“How perplexing. You claim to care nothing for your husband, yet you’ve proved yourself willing to die for him.” He tapped the hilt of the dagger against his chin. “Let no one say the baron of Montfort is not a romantic at heart. I shall reward your noble sacrifice by letting him live.”

The tears poised on Holly’s lashes spilled down her cheeks in a torrent of relief. Austyn rubbed his chin against her curls, the only show of solace allowed him.

“live, Gavenmore,” Eugene said, mesmerizing them both with the virulent softness of his voice. “Live knowing that every time you look at your wife, you’ll remember her on her back with her legs spread wide for another man. live with the fear that she secretly relished my attentions, that she writhed and moaned not in pain, but in ecstasy. Live with the doubt that the babe she’ll bear nine months from now may not be the true Gavenmore heir, but only the sniveling bastard of a man you despise.”

Through a mist of dawning horror, Holly felt every muscle in Austyn’s body go as rigid as steel. As Eugene pressed the blade of the dagger to her throat and tore her away from him, he bucked against the chains, bellowing with rage and anguish.

Holly thrashed and kicked and flailed, no longer caring if she incited Eugene to murder her. She would rather die than force Austyn to endure what to a Gavenmore man would truly be a fate worse than death. The tip of the blade bit into her throat.

“Holly, look at me!” Her husband’s roar of command was so irresistible that even Eugene stopped dragging her along to gape.

Austyn’s gaze burned with a sweet, holy fire. “Listen to me, angel,” he said fiercely. “Don’t make him hurt you. Do whatever he wants.” He blinked furiously to clear his eyes of tears. “Your life is of more value to me than your virtue. Hell never touch what I adore in you. You will always be pure and lovely in my sight”

“How revolting!” Eugene spat

Holly’s knees crumpled beneath a staggering siege of love. Her husband’s generosity had left her with no choice but to offer him a sacrifice of her own.

She drove her elbow hard into Eugene’s codpiece. As he dropped to one knee, grunting an oath, she broke from his grip and stumbled toward the window.

She scrambled up on the ledge. The wind tore at her hair and molded her gown to her legs just as it had on that summer afternoon at Gavenmore when the beauty of the day had reminded her that despite its hardships, life was too precious to forsake without a fight. She refused to look down at the cobblestones below.

Instead, she whirled to face the tower, smiling through a veil of tears at the man whose faith had given her the courage to continue the battle.

“No,” Austyn whispered, riveted by his wife’s tender smile. “Oh, God, please, no . . .”

“Don’t be a fool, you bitch,” de Legget snapped, clambering to his feet. But Austyn knew he was never going to reach her in time.

Austyn strained at the manacles with all of his weight, panic numbing him to the rivulets of blood trickling down his wrists.

Eugene lunged for her. Time lurched to a halt as Holly touched her fingertips to her beautiful lips, then backed off the narrow ledge, disappearing into thin air.

Austyn roared Holly’s name. Fueled by an inhuman surge of agony, he ripped the manacles from the wall in an explosion of mortar. Eugene had time to do little more than emit a strangled cry of surprise before a free length of chain whipped around his neck with a nasty crack.

Austyn lowered the baron’s limp form to the floor, then charged to the window. Bracing his palms on the ledge, he sucked in shuddering gasps of air, keeping his eyes squeezed shut until he could work up the courage to look down at the cobblestones below.

“Austyn?”

At the tentative whisper, his eyes flew open in horror. The cheerful blue sky mocked his grief. Dear God in heaven, he thought savagely, was he to be allowed no interval of mourning before the ghost of his beloved wife began haunting him?

“Austyn!”

The second plea sounded both more corporeal and distinctly more annoyed. Austyn slowly lowered his gaze to discover Holly tangled in a curtain of ivy a mere arm’s length below the window. One of the vines snapped off in her hand, eliciting a very mortal squeal.

Trembling with disbelief, Austyn stretched out his hand. She seized it, the desperation of her grip assuring him that she was no ghost He shouted with jubilation as he hauled her against him in a fervent embrace. They went tumbling to the floor of the tower in a breathless tangle of arms, legs, laughter, and tears.

She nuzzled her lips against his throat, as if starved for a taste of him. “I thought you were going to leave me dangling out there all day. I had no idea if the stuff would hold, you know. If you’d have dawdled any longer, I’d have gone splat on the cobblestones like one of Winnie’s fig puddings.”

“Nag, nag, nag,” he murmured, kissing her lovely brow, her precious ears, the tip of her impertinent nose.

“I just knew that if I provided you with a sufficient distraction, you could best the wretch.” She splayed her palms against his chest and smiled up at him adoringly. “I had nothing but the utmost of faith in you.”

Austyn sobered. “And I in you, my lady.” He smoothed back her windblown curls, searching her face—a face that had become dear to him for far more than its striking beauty.

Their lips brushed and lingered in tender accord. As they drew apart, gazing deep into each other’s eyes, a golden haze claimed the tower. Austyn might have taken it for nothing more than sunshine striking the motes of mortar drifting through the air were it not for the gentle ripple of laughter that echoed in their ears.

He and Holly clutched each other, their eyes widening with dawning astonishment as the shimmering outline of a woman appeared before them. The wheaten silk of her hair danced around a face so exoti-cally beautiful it made Holly feel no more comely than a troll. She tightened her possessive grip on Austyn’s arms without realizing it