Seducing The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 1) (28 page)

“There,” Sir Harry huffed. “Now, you shall stay put until we reach Hampton Park. And no more nonsense, Isobel. Make no mistake, you will learn to obey me.”

Isobel kept her face turned away from him and stared out the window. Her heart ached unbearably, her stomach seized in dread. Escape would be impossible, now. He would be watching her every move.

She heard a little thump on the roof of the carriage, and then a faint yowling sound. Were they to be attacked by creatures of the night as well? Nothing would surprise her on this terrible journey.

How could she face a life as Sir Harry’s plaything? How could she bear the brutality that he would surely inflict on her for his own corrupt pleasure? If she knew Beckett was alive, she could endure any suffering, if there was any chance they would be reunited.

But without that hope, what was there to live for? No one had seen Beckett resurface after he’d fallen into the water. Everyone considered him dead.

Part of her refused to believe that he was really gone. Was it just a refusal to accept her grief, or could Beckett be alive? Could he have made it to shore on his own after falling from the rigging?

Or was her bleak fate with Sir Harry making her fall into madness?

Chapter 27

Beckett sat on the damp ground, thankful that his trousers had already been ruined from his plunge into the ocean. It was one less thing he had to worry about.

After the pirates had fished him out of the water, they’d landed their rowboat on shore and held him prisoner there. He’d been looking down the barrel of a pistol for at least a half-hour, since. None of the pirates would tell him why they’d rescued him, only that he would be wise not to give them any trouble.

Since the odds were against him, he obeyed their orders—for the present. The fact remained that his wife was in the clutches of a despicable villain and that he was determined to rescue her.

Not even an armed band of pirates would keep him from doing that.

Another boat appeared out of the darkness. As it neared shore, the pirates leaped out and dragged the boat up onto the sand.

Beckett watched as the men approached. Instantly, he recognized the white-haired captain at the fore.

“Lord Ravenwood,” Captain Worthington said, his teeth glinting in the golden moonlight, “may I be the first to congratulate you on cheating the Grim Reaper.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Beckett said. “I’m rather delighted by it, myself. I must thank your men here for fishing me out of the drink and keeping me company. And while I would love to stay and chat, I’m afraid I have rather important business to attend to.”

“As do I, my lord,” Worthington replied. “Some of it concerns you, and of course your lovely wife.”

“Save your breath,” Beckett warned. “If you plan to kill me now, I wish you luck. Your men may have me outnumbered, but I will most certainly be taking you with me.”

“My dear Lord Ravenwood, you misunderstand,” the captain said smoothly. “I came to offer my help, for a price of course.” He motioned for the pirate guarding Beckett to lower his pistol.

Beckett stood slowly, considering the man’s words. “Go on.”

“My crew and I would be happy to help rescue Lady Ravenwood,” he said, “in exchange for a generous reward.”

“Why the change of heart?” Beckett asked. “You were willing enough to let me hang. Now you want to play the gallant hero?”

“Lennox hired me to do a job,” he replied. “It was nothing personal, I assure you. Now that I have fulfilled my obligations to him, I am free to offer my services to whomever can pay.”

Beckett considered the man’s offer. It would certainly be useful to have Worthington and his men along. Money was no object for him, at least now.

“You have a deal, Worthington,” Beckett said. “Shall we say, a thousand pounds to your bankers after we safely retrieve my wife?”

They stepped forward and sealed their agreement with a firm handshake.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Worthington said with a nod. “I have a carriage waiting up the road, and the horses are fresh. We’ll be at Hampton Park before long, I’ll wager.”

“Lennox will be surprised to see you again,” Beckett said, following Worthington to the roadway. “Not to mention
me
.”

“So he should,” Worthington said, chuckling. “He’s an odious excuse for a man.”

“He is, at that,” Beckett agreed, getting into the waiting carriage. “Now let’s go and stop him before he puts his odious hands upon my wife.”

* * *

“Just stand there and perform the marriage, you idiot!” Sir Harry snapped at the parson, who seemed a trifle uneasy about the scene unfolding in the huge drawing room.

“Please!” Isobel implored. “You must help me. I am here against my will. I do not wish to marry this man!”

The little cleric eyed Isobel with uncertainty, then addressed her captor. “Forgive me, Sir Harry, but it would seem that the bride is voicing some objection.”

“Don’t listen to her, Parson,” Sir Harry said, dismissively. “She is nervous, that’s all.”

“I’m not nervous,” Isobel protested. “I’m mortally opposed to being in the same room with this man, let alone becoming his wife. I’d rather be fed to an ill-tempered tiger.”

The parson frowned.

“A lovers quarrel,” Sir Harry explained.

“It is not a lover’s quarrel, sir,” Isobel countered. “He has me here against my will.” She raised her wrists so the parson could see her bonds.

“Oh, my,” he said, glancing at Sir Harry. “It is most unusual for the bride to be bound in such a way, my good man. Most unusual, indeed.”

Sir Harry glared at the parson with a dangerous expression, and said, “My fiancee has just suffered a great loss. She has been beside herself with grief. The doctor has ordered her to be bound thus for her own protection.”

“That is not true!” Isobel cried.

“You see?” Sir Harry said. “She is beside herself, as I explained. Not that it is any of your concern. I wish to marry the girl, to bring some joy back into her life. Surely, you will allow me to do that by marrying us sometime between now and the next century?”

“Oh, yes.” The parson nodded, still seeming unsure. “Of course. The poor girl. Where was I, then?”

“You weren’t anywhere!” Sir Harry spat. “You haven’t even started.”

“Oh…of course. Now, let’s see,” the parson said, slowly turning the pages.

Isobel looked away. It was no use. This country preacher would not help her. He would do as Sir Harry ordered, no matter what she said.

“Oh, give me that, you buffoon!” Sir Harry said, grabbing the book and flipping through the pages. “Here! Now, read it.”

The two pirates Sir Harry hired stood by the wall, acting as witnesses. Stranger bridesmaids she had never seen.

As Isobel waited for the parson to say the words that would seal her fate, she absently looked around the drawing room. This place, where she had enjoyed so many quiet evenings with her parents, would now be the setting of a nightmare.

Suddenly, something caught her eye in the corner of the room…a movement in the shadows. Was she imagining things?

“Ahem,” the parson said, clearing his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here, today…”

The parson stared at something behind them, his expression changing quickly from confusion to fearful disbelief.

“Oh, what on earth is the matter, now?” Sir Harry demanded.

“How unkind of you,” a familiar voice said from the doorway, “not to invite a man to his wife’s wedding.”

Isobel turned, slowly.

Beckett.

Alive!

And standing in the doorway with Worthington and his pirates.

“You!” Sir Harry hissed, staring in shock.

“Yes, me, Lennox,” Beckett said, stepping fully into the room, his powerful frame poised for action. “Very much alive, and very intent on reclaiming my wife, if you please. And even if you don’t please.”

Isobel felt life pouring back into her heart, coursing through her veins in a flood of joy.

Beckett was alive! And though it seemed impossible, he had come for her as he’d promised.

Isobel moved toward her husband, but Sir Harry grabbed her arm and whirled her in front of him. He whipped something off the table beside them. With one hand, he covered her mouth and with the other he held a letter-opener poised to stab her throat.

Beckett aimed a pistol at her tormentor, regarding him with ice-blue eyes. “Let her go, Lennox.”

Sir Harry backed toward the wall, taking Isobel with him.

“I said release her,” her husband ordered, his voice commanding. “There’s nowhere for you to go, Lennox. There is only one exit to this room and as you can see, it has been blocked. You’re surrounded and outnumbered. You can’t win.”

Sir Harry’s mouth curved into a menacing grin as he said, “I may be surrounded and outnumbered, Ravenwood, but I’m still going to win. If I can’t have Isobel, no one will—including you!”

Sir Harry pushed back against the wall and the secret door opened. He pulled Isobel through and shut the portal behind them, bolting it quickly. They were plunged into pitch blackness.

Isobel heard pounding on the door and Beckett’s muffled voice fading away as Sir Harry dragged her through the dark, narrow corridor. She struggled and kicked at him but he grabbed the bonds that tied her wrists and pulled her behind him. Isobel was forced to keep up or be dragged across the ground.

“You’ve lost, Sir Harry. Do you hear?” Isobel said, trying to catch her breath. “You’ve lost!”

He stopped short and Isobel slammed into him. In the pitch blackness, she heard his awful, menacing voice as his hand encircled her throat. He pushed her up against the wall.

“I have lost nothing!” he spat. “It is not yet over, I assure you. Just because your husband has risen from the grave doesn’t mean he can’t go back there just as quickly. The detestable man is like a cat with nine lives! But I assure you, my darling bride, his luck is about to run out.”

Isobel gasped as she felt something furry move past her leg. A rat? Oh, what did it matter when she was in the hands of a madman?

Sir Harry took hold of her bonds again.

A strange, otherworldly cry echoed through the passageway, and Sir Harry yelled in surprise.

Isobel shrank back against the wall, paralyzed with fear.

But something was attacking Sir Harry. He cried out for help, and she heard his arms flapping uselessly as he tried to fight off his assailant.

Isobel could hear the mysterious presence hissing as it bounced off the walls near her. But it never touched her—it only seemed to want Sir Harry. He screamed pitifully for mercy. From the sound of it he was being ripped to shreds.

The attack continued. Sir Harry cried out, each sound more desperate than the last. Finally, she heard him sink to the ground, whimpering like a wounded animal, and the assault was over.

Would she be next?

Isobel stood against the wall, unable to move.

“Isobel?” she heard Beckett’s muffled voice call from far away.

“Here! I’m here, Beckett!” she cried.

“I’m coming, Isobel,” he said, the sound of his voice growing closer.

She only hoped the ferocious creature wouldn’t attack her before Beckett arrived. To be safe, she crept further away from where Sir Harry lay.

Light bounced across the floor, her eyes searching the shadows. And then—

Beckett.

His strong arms circled around her and held her close, finally putting an end to the nightmare.

Isobel heard boots trample by in the dark corridor and knew it was the pirates going to see to Sir Harry. But she didn’t care.

She didn’t care about anything but this moment, and this man, and the love that threatened to burst her heart open with its beautiful power.

“I—I feared you were dead,” she whispered, as tears filled her eyes.

Beckett held her in front of him, and she stared through the lamplight into the brightest, bluest, most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.

“I would have been as good as dead, if I hadn’t found you again, Isobel,” he said.

Beckett’s warm mouth covered hers and he kissed her with such fierce passion, Isobel wondered fleetingly if they might shock the pirates. But she didn’t care.

She was in the arms of the man she loved, and nothing else mattered.

Nothing ever would.

“Ahem,” someone said.

Beckett broke the kiss and they both looked at Worthington, who stood with arms folded and an amused grin on his face. “My apologies for interrupting your reunion, Ravenwood. My lady. But there is something I think you should see,” he said, moving to where Sir Harry was lying.

They came closer, and Isobel couldn’t stop a gasp from escaping her.

Sir Harry lay on his side, seemingly unconscious. His clothes were torn and bloodstains marred his shirt. His face and hands were covered in scratches and cuts, all of them bleeding. It looked as if someone had taken a knife to him.