The Marriage Bargain (21 page)

Isobel curled her arm through his. They strolled down the wind-swept beach in silence. From the corner of his eye, he noticed her looking up at him questioningly.

“You seem rather preoccupied,” she said.

He kept staring at the sea, as if in its depths he would somehow find his answers. “You are most observant, my dear. Being an artist, that is quite natural for you, I’m sure. I am indeed, preoccupied.”

“What is it, Beckett?” He heard the concern in her voice. She touched his arm tenderly, just like a loving wife would.

“I expected to hear from Alfred by now. And I must confess, I am concerned for his safety, especially since we are not ruling out the possibility that Lennox could have learned our location.”

He felt Isobel stiffen.

“And… there is something else that I must speak to you about.” He stopped, turning her to face him. He looked down into her warm brown eyes, and suddenly wished he hadn’t. It would be more difficult now, having let himself glimpse the beauty there. “This has gone too far, Isobel. And we must put a stop to it.”

“What has gone too far? I don’t understand.”

“This. This sham of a marriage that we are starting to pretend is real. And we must stop it, now. Before one of us gets hurt.”

She held him with a steady gaze. “One of us? Oh. Me, you mean.”

He swallowed. She was not going to make this easy, was she?

“Yes. I suppose I do.”

“Because you feel nothing. That is why you make love to me every night with such passion it threatens to turn us both to cinders? Because you feel nothing?”

“I didn’t say that I felt nothing. Only that we have been playing at a dangerous game. And we would be deluding ourselves if we continue.” He looked out over the water in a bid to escape Isobel’s accusing expression.

“I’ve been looking ahead to our eventual return to England,” he continued. “We shall have to discuss your settlement, et cetera. And depending on the situation at home—whether or not you’ll be required for appearances at court or that sort of thing—you may accompany me or go to Hampton Park directly, as you like.”

“Is that what you want?”

Beckett fought the tightness in his chest. “Of course it’s what I want. It is what we agreed upon. And though we have proven to be suitable bedmates and do not lack for conversation, we must remember the terms of our arrangement. This is a marriage of convenience. It is not, and never shall be, a love-match.

And that suits me splendidly.”

Her eyes flashed, dark and dangerous. “Now I know why you never sought a career on the stage, my lord. You are a very poor actor.” Isobel turned on her heel, but Beckett seized her arm and spun her back to face him.

“What is that supposed to mean, madam?”

“I mean to say that you are liar, my lord. Yes, you heard me. A liar. This marriage doesn’t suit you at all.

That is why you are trying to deny the truth of it.”

“I am doing nothing of the sort. I am merely trying to remind you of the arrangement we made—”

“What are you afraid of?”

He tried to mask his shock. “Afraid? I am not afraid.”

“Oh, yes you are. It’s a strange thing, Beckett, but in my experience, a man doesn’t run away from something unless it’s got him scared witless.”

His stomach clenched like a fist. Good God, but the little chit could irk him! Didn’t she know that he was doing this for her own good? It seemed he would have to make it very clear to her.

“What do you want from me, Isobel? You want me to profess my love to you?” He gripped her shoulders and pulled her closer, as if that would make her understand. “I gave you fair warning when we struck this bargain. Love would have no place in our marriage. I have held true to that. I have kept my promise. And I can’t help it if you haven’t.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, Beckett.” Her voice sounded strained. “You’re trying to push me away—to make it easier on yourself somehow. So you won’t have to risk anything!”

“Why would I do that when there is nothing to risk?”

He saw the shock in her eyes—the hurt. But she did not look away. She took a deep breath, and went on.

“Of course, you are right. There is nothing to risk for you. But for me… I know that I am not supposed to love you. It is regrettable—but I do. And though you have said you don’t want my love, I cannot simply end such feelings.”

Beckett cleared his throat, as it had somehow become thick.

So, he had her love, did he? The one thing that he could never trust in, never accept, never believe in. He had believed in love once, and found it to be a trickster, a sprite—playing on the weakness of the human heart. He would not be fooled by it again.

“I am sorry to hear it. And I am sorry if I gave you false hope that I might one day return the sentiment.

Even if I could love a woman again—it could never be you, Isobel. How could I love a woman I can never fully trust?”

Isobel closed her eyes and stepped back as if he had struck her. She took a moment, then opened her eyes to look at him again.

“You have a right to say that. It’s true, I did lie to you before. And perhaps that will always stand between us. But there is something I want you to know. I want you to understand that even now, hearing these hurtful words coming from your lips—lips which have kissed and loved me in the night—even now my feeling for you is still as strong. It is still there.”

Her eyes burned brightly with emotion as she spoke. “You are in my heart. You are there every moment.

I cannot get you out. Do you not think I have tried? But there is no cure. You are my heart.”

Beckett fought the urge to take her into his arms and crush her to him. “A pity.”

He thought she might slap him, then. In fact, he wished that she would. But she just looked up at him with her sable eyes. The hurt and anger he saw swirling there was more painful than any blow she could have given him.

Isobel turned and stalked away. In her haste to leave, she stumbled over a rock and almost lost her balance.

Beckett stepped quickly to help her, but she shook him off.

“Leave me alone!”

“Isobel—”

“Don’t touch me.” Her voice held an edge of warning.

“Let me help you, please.”

“No. You’ve helped me quite enough, I think.” She headed up the little hill, Beckett following behind.

Oh, why did his heart pound painfully in his chest—as if it were actually punching him from the inside out?

She stopped short, turning around to face him. “If you want to push me away, that is your choice. But make no mistake, Beckett. It is I who pity you.”

He stopped and let her walk on alone, shocked that he was the one trying to recover from their interview, instead of the other way around.

Isobel’s indomitable spirit astounded him. So, she would not be frightened off by his attempts to hurt her.

If only she could understand that he was pushing her away for her own sake! Surely, she would come to see that.

He looked up ahead. Where was she? He couldn’t see her anymore. Trying to catch up, he broke into a run and dashed down the path to the road. He came around the trees, and his heart froze at the sight before him.

There, in the middle of the road, Isobel stood surrounded by pirates.

Isobel ran down the path, eyeing rocks upon it with the thought of stopping to hurl a few at Beckett. But that would only prove to him that he’d hurt her. And she would rather eat broken glass than embarrass herself further.

He’d had every right to say what he did. Love hadn’t been part of their arrangement. But she had fallen in love with him, anyway. Though she’d known it was foolish, she’d nurtured the fragile seed of her love, hoping that one day Beckett would feel the same. But all hope was lost now.

He would never, ever love her.

She burned with hurt and anger. She wanted to kick herself! How could she have let herself fall for a man who was nothing more than a good-looking block of ice?

She heard Beckett calling from somewhere behind on the path. Isobel picked up her pace. She didn’t want him to catch up with her now, because if he put his arms around her and tried to comfort her she would let him.

Isobel turned onto the road and ran headfirst into someone rather tall. She looked up and saw a huge man with shaggy red hair and a beard that had been twisted into braids. He looked down at her and smiled. He was missing several teeth.

A thread of fear shot through her and she turned back toward the path, but it was blocked by three other men who looked just as scraggly and menacing as the one in the road.

Isobel’s heart raced as the realization hit her. Pirates!

“Hello, my dear.” A silky voice floated from behind her. She knew that voice. But it couldn’t be!

Isobel turned and her stomach lurched.

Sir Harry Lennox walked toward her, looking for all the world like a gentleman just stepping out of a London club. His eyes were dark and glittery, and a smile snaked across his thin lips. “Happy to see me?”

“Can’t you tell?” She made her voice sound hard and fearless.

“No? And after all the trouble I went to in order to find you.” Sir Harry eyed her reproachfully. He grabbed her arm and jerked her towards him. “You’ve led me a merry chase, my dear, and I intend to make you pay for such foolishness. In very interesting ways.”

“You’re a murdering swine. Let go of me!”

Annoyance flashed in Sir Harry’s eyes. “I advise you to behave, my dear. We are, after all, in public.”

“Isobel!” Beckett shouted. Isobel turned to see her husband at the end of the road being overpowered by Sir Harry’s men.

“Ah, the dutiful husband has made an appearance, I see.” Sir Harry smirked. “How considerate of him.”

Isobel screamed.

One of the pirates punched Beckett in the face and Isobel saw his head snap back. He staggered, but stayed on his feet, even broke free to land a punch of his own in the man’s face. But then the others had him and the bellowing pirate struck Beckett over and over in the stomach.

“Please, don’t hurt him anymore.” Isobel cried, but Sir Harry just laughed.

“Don’t hurt him? But my dear, I intend to kill him.”

Isobel felt the color drain from her face and forced down the nausea in her stomach. She looked at Sir Harry, beseeching him with her eyes. All this time, she’d thought she had the courage to face this man when the time came. But seeing Beckett being beaten made her courage drain away like blood from a wound. “Please… I’ll do whatever you say.”

“You’ll do whatever I say anyway.” Sir Harry looked quite unconcerned. “And when I do kill him, you will watch every moment of it. Bring him here, Fergus!”

Isobel stared helplessly as the men dragged Beckett toward them. Her husband was hunched over, obviously in pain from the blows to his stomach, and Isobel had to struggle to remain in control as they approached. One of the other cutthroats held Isobel while Sir Harry stepped away from her.

Fergus, the pirate whose nose had been bloodied by Beckett’s punch, grabbed her husband’s hair and wrenched his head back. Isobel’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a cry. Beckett’s eye was already swelling, and blood dripped from his mouth.

He glared at Sir Harry and his voice rasped with pain. “If you touch her, I’ll—”

Sir Harry smashed his fist into Beckett’s face. Isobel screamed again as her beloved finally crumpled to the ground. Sir Harry bent down toward Beckett and put his hand to his ear.

“Sorry—you’ll what, old chap? I didn’t quite catch that.” Sir Harry lifted Beckett’s head, and seeing no response, let it drop. “The man’s at a loss for words, it seems. Oh, and just so you know. I do plan on touching her.”

“I’ll kill you first!” Isobel cried, struggling hopelessly against the pirate who held her. She stared down at Beckett’s lifeless form and felt her heart break.

Sir Harry reached out and touched her face.

“Still my little spitfire, I see. Just as I liked you.”

Isobel lunged at him with an unknown strength, breaking free of her captor’s grasp. She dug her fingernails into Sir Harry’s face as they both toppled to the ground. Isobel screamed in rage, thrashing and clawing at him like a wildcat. Sir Harry let out a yell as Isobel drew blood.

Her foe struggled for breath as the men pried Isobel off him. Slowly he stood up, looking quite unsteady on his feet. He tried to straighten his dishevelled clothing. Reaching up to touch his face, he stared with disbelief at the blood that stained his fingers.

“I hope I’ve left you a nice scar, you loathsome blackguard!” Isobel spat.

“You will pay for that, as well. Very dearly indeed.”

“As you will pay for your crimes.”

He cocked one eyebrow. “We’ll see.”

Motioning to the men, Sir Harry led them down the road and onto another path. Soon they reached a secluded cove that Isobel didn’t recognize. A large rowboat waited for them in the clear water, its front pulled up onto the pink sand like the nose of a sleeping dog.

The pirates dumped Beckett into the end of the boat as if he were no more than a sack of potatoes. Two of them lifted Isobel in and she decided not to struggle. There was no question now of attempting to escape. Beckett was unconscious and she had to stay with him. Sir Harry climbed in and the last pirate pushed them off and took his place at one of the oars.

Isobel twisted around to watch Beckett, who lay crumpled on the bottom of the boat. The sight made her heart tighten with wretched pain.

Isobel stared out at the turquoise sea and watched the shoreline recede. Suddenly, she thought she was going to be sick.

This couldn’t be happening! Now, Beckett’s life was in danger because of her. Perhaps there was a way to change Sir Harry’s mind. Perhaps she could convince him that Beckett should live. She knew that she’d do anything—submit to any vulgarity that Sir Harry wished to inflict upon her—if it would save her husband’s life.

They neared the pirate ship, and Isobel felt the hopelessness of their fate like a great stone in her gut. She closed her eyes and prayed.

The rowboat came alongside the ship and a rope ladder dropped down next to them. The pirates clambered up the ladder, as agile and quick as monkeys. One of them, the big red-haired man, hoisted Beckett over his shoulder and climbed up easily despite the extra weight.