by Bobbi Smith
“Christopher and I are moving back home with my family in the morning. I refuse to live this way any longer.”
“And what way is that?” Michael asked softly as he slowly placed his glass on the desktop, then took a menacing step toward her. He expected to see her flinch before him as she always did, and he was surprised when she held her ground.
“In fear and terror, but not any more. You’ve hurt me and Christopher for the last time. I’m not the same naive little girl you married. I’ve learned a lot.”
“Obviously you haven’t learned enough,” he said in a deadly tone. “Perhaps it’s time I remind you of the lessons you seem to have forgotten. The first one being that you are my wife and you will do exactly what I say.”
Fear filled Elizabeth. Her instincts told her to run, but she knew there was no backing down . . . not now, not ever again. She fought against the strangling grip of terror and lifted her head a little higher in defiance.
“No. Never again. The fact that I’m still your wife is a mere technicality. There was a time when I thought you were the most wonderful man in the world, but not any more. You’ve killed any love I ever had for you. I’ve made an appointment with John Hayden, my father’s attorney, and—”
“You’ve what?!” Michael reached out and grabbed her by the arm, his fingers digging painfully into that tender flesh.
“I’m going to see Mr. Hayden tomorrow and direct him to take whatever steps are necessary to obtain a divorce from you.”
Her announcement stunned and enraged him. “There will be no divorce!” he snarled, snaring her other arm and giving her a vicious shake.
Elizabeth fought back, twisting with all her might. The fact that she actually resisted him caught Michael off-guard, and she managed to jerk free of his bruising hold.
“I’m leaving you, Michael!”
“Like hell you are!”
“You can’t stop me!” She saw the ugly look in his eyes and started to back toward the door.
“Oh, yes I can. You’re not going anywhere!”
“You don’t love me, and you don’t love Christopher! The only thing you’ve ever cared about was my money! Well, you’re not going to get your hands on it! I won’t let you!” Elizabeth was afraid to take her eyes off him now. She realized, too late, that confronting him had been foolish. She should have left him without a word of warning. If she had, she would have been safely in the circle of her family’s love and protection before he’d discovered what she was doing. Now . . .
“Elizabeth.... come here!” he seethed, his expression growing even more savage.
The look on his face broke what little control she had, and Elizabeth pivoted, ready to flee the room. Michael anticipated her move, though; and in a rage, he lunged at her and caught her. He jerked her back to him.
“I’ve invested too much time and effort in you. You’re not going anywhere!”
“Let me go!”
“Never!” Michael hit her, a violent blow that sent her head reeling.
“No! No!” Elizabeth was wracked with pain. He’d never hit her this hard before, and panic unlike anything she’d ever known filled her. “Don’t!” She struggled to break free, to get away, but it was too late.
Michael was livid. She would obey him or else! Too much was at stake here! He drew back to strike again; and, in that moment, Elizabeth realized she was fighting for her life. In desperation, she kicked out at him, making contact but not kicking him hard enough to escape.
Outraged that she would dare strike at him, Michael backhanded her with all his might. Elizabeth tumbled backward and fell, striking her head with a sickening thud on the sharp edge of the bookcase behind her. With a groan, she slid to the floor.
Michael waited, staring at her limp form, slumped against the bookcase. There was no remorse in the pitiless gaze, only unbridled fury
How dare she think she could leave him? How dare she? As she lay unmoving, a cold realization dawned on him. She might be dead . . . His eyes suddenly shone with amoral excitement. Dead . . .
A cruel, almost satanic smile lifted his snarling mouth. If she were dead, all of his problems would be solved. Yes, he concluded, his darling wife could leave him, but only through death.
Michael’s lethal logic drove him on. With his darling wife deceased, he would gain sole custody of Christopher and so have a free hand with the Windsor money when the time came. Kneeling beside her, he felt her pulse and discovered that it was erratic, but still beating. It annoyed him that she wasn’t already dead, but there would be no stopping him now. He knew exactly what he had to do.
After checking the darkened main hall to make sure no one was around, Michael gathered his unconscious wife in his arms and silently carried her from the study. Never before had he been so glad that the servants’ quarters were located in a separate building at the rear of the house. Christopher was the only other person home, and Michael knew he did not awaken easily.
Pausing at the foot of the staircase, Michael studied its steep angle with satisfaction. It didn’t take him long to make his decision. His wife was going to suffer a terrible, tragic accident on the steps. In the morning, when her body was found at the foot of the stairs, everyone would think she’d fallen. No one would suspect foul play, for no one but Elizabeth knew that he’d come home tonight.
The stairs seemed endless to Michael as he climbed them carrying Elizabeth’s dead weight. He had to stop twice to catch his breath before he finally reached the top. After steadying himself, Michael turned and surveyed the foyer below. It was a long way down and that suited him just fine. With all the strength he could muster, he lifted Elizabeth as high as he could and then threw her violently down the stairs.
Michael was filled with perverse pleasure as he watched her body careen down the steep steps. Tumbling like a broken ragdoll, Elizabeth crashed heavily against the railing and then continued her deadly descent until she landed at the bottom.
Michael stood silently at the top of the staircase watching Elizabeth for signs of life. Quietly descending to the entryway, he once again knelt beside her to check her pulse. This time there was none. She was dead, her neck broken during the fall. His deadly plan had worked. A distant memory of Helene came to Michael then, and arrogance filled him. He’d gotten away with murder twice now. His smile broadened with self-confidence at the thought.
Returning to the study, he silently toasted his handling of the situation then tossed off the rest of the liquor. Ever cautious, he wiped out the glass and put it away, then extinguished the light. After taking one last look around to make sure there was no trace of his presence remaining to incriminate him, he left the house.
As he made the trek back to his office, Michael practiced what he would say when he was finally informed of his wife’s tragic accident. He knew he had to be convincing. He could not risk bringing any suspicion upon himself. He would make it a point to mourn his beloved’s death openly for there could be no leaving this time. Like it or not, he had to stay in Philadelphia until Christopher inherited. After that, he would find a way to rid himself of the child so he could enjoy the fortune that would be his.
The thought was a pleasant one, and Michael was still smiling as he settled in at his office to await the terrible news he knew would come in the morning. The night had been a long one, but it had been very profitable indeed.
Chapter Three
Evening shadows were deepening as yet another carriage drew up before the Marsden house. The traffic of friends and acquaintances had been steady that day as all came to offer their heartfelt condolences to the family and express their shock and horror over Elizabeth’s untimely passing.
Such an immense outpouring of sympathy and caring would have impressed most families; and Angel, Sarah, and Blanche were touched and deeply appreciative of those who’d cared enough to come. Michael, however, could hardly wait for the day to end. Though he’d remained faithfully beside his wife’s coffin in the parlor playing the grieving husba
nd to the hilt, his thoughts were far from mourning and misery. While outwardly he appeared sad, in actuality he’d spent most of his time watching Angel and planning a strategy to get the blonde beauty into his bed. He found the fantasy quite a pleasant pastime in the midst of all the tears and irritating sympathetic small talk.
“Michael?”
At the sound of Angel softly calling his name, Michael excused himself from the elderly couple he’d been speaking with. He hurried to join her where she stood in the parlor doorway with Christopher, one arm protectively around the boy’s shoulders.
Christopher had been the one to discover his mother lying dead at the foot of the stairs the day before; and when Angel had arrived on the scene, he’d been distraught. It had taken her hours to quiet him, and she’d been hovering over him ever since, wanting to ease his sorrow.
“What is it?” Michael asked, coming to put a seemingly loving hand on his son’s shoulder, too. In the process he oh-so-accidentally brushed Angel’s hand with his.
“Christopher’s tired, so I’m going to take him upstairs and put him to bed.” At Michael’s “accidental” touch, Angel quickly dropped her arm away from the boy.
Angel’s shifting away from him had not gone unnoticed, and it piqued Michael’s desire for her even more. He was not a man who took “no” for an answer. He glanced down at his son, letting his gaze drift innocently over the swell of Angel’s breasts beneath the dreary black of her mourning gown as he did so. “It’s been rough for you, hasn’t it, son?”
“Yes, sir,” Christopher answered numbly. He did not look up at his father, but actually stepped just a little bit closer to the protective warmth of his aunt.
“Well, you go on upstairs now. A night’s rest might do you a world of good,” Michael agreed, glad that the miserable, crying brat would be out of his way for a while. It didn’t matter one bit to him that Christopher had made the grizzly discovery. Concern for his son’s happiness had never been a priority with him.
“Yes, sir.”
“Angel . . .” Michael spoke again, when she started to turn away. “I want to thank you for all you’ve done for us. You’ve been so helpful. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” Michael lifted his hand to her shoulder in what looked to be a gesture of simple affection.
His touch sent a wave of revulsion through Angel, and she could hardly wait to get away from him. “There’s no way I could have done any less for my sister and her son.”
“Well, I appreciate your being here for us more than you’ll ever know,” he replied, his gaze trapping hers.
Angel detested this man, and she had to fight to keep from shuddering at the look he was giving her. She wanted to scream at him that she wasn’t there for him, that she was there for Christopher—the boy was the only one who mattered to her now. But she didn’t. She nodded and moved away, ushering the boy toward the stairs.
Michael paused there in the doorway long enough to enjoy the view of Angel’s gently swaying hips as she mounted the steps. He felt a familiar tightening in his loins and wished he were the one she was taking up to bed instead of his son. He had a heated vision of her body beneath his, her long, slender legs locked around his waist as he ... With an effort, Michael tore his thoughts away from that exciting image. He told himself to bide his time for all good things come to those who wait.
Michael was feeling nearly invincible as he returned to the parlor. Not one hint of suspicion had been cast his way over his wife’s tragic “accident,” and he was firmly convinced that no one could stop him now. No one! All he had to do was keep Christopher happy for a few more months, and the money would be his!
It sounded easy enough, but Michael couldn’t help but grimace inwardly as he remembered how hysterical the boy had been when he’d returned home to the death scene the previous morning. It had been a relief to have Angel, Sarah, and Blanche already there, for they’d saved him from the tiresome duty of having to comfort the crying child. He’d had a hard enough time pretending to be distraught himself without having to worry about Christopher, too.
There was a knock at the front door and the servant answered it.
“Good evening, Miss Warner. Come in.”
“Thank you.”
At the sound of that very familiar voice, Michael looked up to see Mary Ann entering the house. He returned to his place near the coffin and watched as she went first to Blanche and Sarah to offer her sympathies. After a few minutes, she left them and came straight to him.
Michael found himself mentally comparing Mary Ann’s dark-haired beauty to Angel’s pale loveliness and decided that Mary Ann was definitely lacking. If it came down to a choice between the two women, he had no doubt about which one he’d choose. The thought surprised him, for a little over twenty-four hours before he’d been looking forward to continuing his affair with Mary Ann. Now.... he mentally shrugged his indifference to the idea. It didn’t bother him at all that his wife was not yet in her grave. He’d never allowed Elizabeth to interfere with his more carnal pleasures after Christopher had been born.
“Michael.” Mary Ann said his name in a whisper. “I’m so sorry. I know how devastating this must be for you.... Elizabeth was such a good friend to me.”
“Thank you,” he replied. He knew she had no idea of what had really happened, and he wanted to keep it that way.
“If there’s anything I can do for you . . .” She lifted her gaze to his, her double meaning clear.
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Mary Ann, but there’s really nothing anyone can do. It’ll just be a matter of time.”
“I understand.” She pressed his hand. “Take care.”
“We’ll try.”
Mary Ann started to leave, but encountered Angel on her way back from putting Christopher to bed.
“Angel, I’m glad I got the chance to see you before I left. I’m so sorry about Elizabeth.”
“Thank you, Mary Ann. It was good of you to come.”
“I couldn’t stay away. It’s all so tragic. How’s Christopher?”
“It’s been very difficult for him,” she replied. “You know how close they were. He loved her dearly.”
When they had finished speaking and Mary Ann had departed, Angel moved across the parlor to join her sister and aunt. She felt someone watching her and glanced around to find Michael’s eyes upon her, his expression unreadable. Angel felt uncomfortable, so she quickly sat down beside Sarah on the sofa and angled her back toward her brother-in-law so she wouldn’t have to look at him.
Damn, but Angel is lovely! Michael mused. He knew the man who won her was going to be very lucky, and he planned to be that man. Though she pretended to dislike him, he knew that animosity added passion to a relationship. Michael contemplated the tempting possibilities as he greeted yet another acquaintance.
“Have any trouble with Christopher?” Sarah asked Angel, her brown eyes dark with concern.
“I got him in bed, but when I closed his door he started crying again.” Great sadness showed in Angel’s face, and her heart ached. “How could this have happened? Why did he have to be the one to find Elizabeth?”
“I don’t know. What’s terrible is there’s nothing we can do except be there for him.”
“I know.” Angel sighed heavily. She knew she hadn’t yet felt the full magnitude of the pain of her sister’s death. Since rushing to the house yesterday morning and arriving in time to see the doctor pronounce Elizabeth dead, she’d felt as if her entire being were encased in ice. Angel knew one day she’d have to face the agony, but right now she was glad for the numbing protection.
More visitors arrived, and Sarah and Blanche went to speak with them. Angel was glad for the distraction and took a moment longer on the sofa to pull herself together.
“Miss Windsor . . .”
Angel looked up to find George Martin, the undertaker, standing beside her. She rose to speak with him. “Mr. Martin, how kind of you to come.”
“I just wanted yo
u to know how very sorry I am about your loss. Your sister’s death is such a shock. It always saddens me when someone young dies senselessly.”
“Perhaps it’s true what they say—that only the good die young,” Angel observed, feeling old beyond her years.
“Indeed. Elizabeth was a lovely young woman.”
“She was very special.”
George looked sad. “It’s such a shame, and she was so badly bruised. Why, if I hadn’t known about the fall, I would have wondered how they’d all happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, some of the marks on her body even looked a little like hand marks, but then . . .”
At his words, Angel went even colder inside. What little color she’d had in her face drained away.
Seeing her distress, George immediately apologized. “I’m sorry, Angela. I shouldn’t have mentioned these things to you. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No.... no, it’s all right.” Angel let her gaze slide to where Michael was standing, deep in conversation with a business acquaintance. Could he have hurt Elizabeth? Would he have dared to harm her? Her mind was racing at the horrifying possibility, and she paid little notice when George took his leave of her.
“If you’ll excuse me, Angela. I must offer my condolences to Michael.”
“Of course.”
“Angel?” Sarah appeared beside her after speaking with another visitor. “I just learned the strangest thing.”
“What?” Angel forced herself to pay attention to what her sister was saying.
“I was talking to Mr. Hayden, and he told me that Elizabeth had made an appointment to see him today.”
“She wanted to see father’s lawyer?” Angel was startled by this news. “What for?”
“She told him it was important, but that she didn’t want to say any more until she was in his office.”
“That’s strange.”
“I know, but I can’t help but think that it couldn’t have been too important or she would have mentioned it to us.”
