by Eliza Knight
“Like a bet?” she managed to ask, though her voice sounded very far away. Bets she knew well. Bronwen despised gambling—that was behind the demise of her parents. She took a sip of tea in hopes it would ease the lump in her belly that was slowly swelling and spreading itself through her limbs.
Was everything a lie? The way Euan had charmed her, toyed with her since the moment she’d entered his house. The confession of love…begging her to be his wife. The taking of her virginity to trap her. Had he actually meant it when he asked her to marry him, or was that all part of his massive scheme to win a bet and his inheritance? And to think that Maggie and the rest were in on it. Bronwen’s chest felt as if it were going to explode, and every breath became painful. Before, her face had felt cold and bloodless. Now heat rushed there as her anger and disappointment rose. She’d known it was too good to be true.
How stupid could she have been? To think that man of noble blood, a man as handsome and well off and wonderful as Euan, would love her. That his sisters would want to be her friend.
She was going to be sick.
“Aye, exactly like a bet. And I’m going to win.” Hector flashed a grin that said as much and also promised not to be pleasant about it.
Despite her vision blurring and her body going numb, she could still utter words, however weakly. “How so?”
Hector’s grin widened, taking on the look of a demented wolf. “Because ye’re going to marry me.”
Bronwen dropped her fork with a clatter on her plate and sat back, her spine flattening to the chair. Had she heard correctly? This man was insane if he thought she was going to marry him. That was a mad scheme and never going to happen. Now that she knew the truth about Euan, she’d be remedying their false engagement. “I beg your pardon, sir? I will no’ marry ye, nor anyone else.”
He looked a little surprised to hear that, as if he’d been expecting her to announce her engagement to Euan was off, and she’d gladly take up with him instead. Thirty minutes ago, she might have proudly boasted her betrothal, but now she knew too much.
“As I said, lass, I know who ye are.” Hector’s gaze darkened ominously, and all the smiles were gone from him now, however sinister they’d been. No more laughter. All the cruelty she’d seen lurking beneath the surface laid itself out for her to see. “When I found out about ye, I looked into your past. No’ too many Bronwen Holmes in Edinburgh, especially matching your description.”
His gaze fell to ogle her breasts in a way that made her feel undressed and unclean. Not at all the way Euan had appreciated her. God, but she’d been so stupid. Last night, she’d thought she was special. In love. Going to be cherished for the rest of her life. But Euan had said as much when he first met her, and so had his sisters—he could charm the stockings off of any woman he wanted. And she just so happened to be the closest and easiest target. From the beginning, he’d not taken their lessons seriously, had made only noncommittal noises about finding a bride, but had worked hard to court her.
But Euan’s treachery was not the point right now. Currently, she needed to deal with this man who knew too much about her.
“Seems as though ye’ve got a few men on your tail that want something from ye. I’ll pay them off.” Hector’s voice drew her back. Was he the reason they’d found her at the ball?
She pressed her spine so hard into the spindles of the chair that she was doubtless going to have bruises to mark the occasion. The lead lump in her belly was now a ball of fire, and she kept having to swallow to keep herself from casting up her accounts. Euan had lied to her. A lot. Confessed his love to her, heard her confession to him in turn. And it was all a lie. A ruse to get money, property. A way to get things. And this man knew about her, her parents, the brutes that were after her.
She’d been a pawn, again. And now this man would make her one too.
The family she sought, a future where she wouldn’t be used, had all been a big fat lie. A challenge in a long string of conquests for Euan. And now for his cousin. The pain in her chest was unbearable, as if she’d been stabbed repeatedly in the heart. Almost as excruciating was that his sisters, whom she’d let in and loved in turn, had also lied to her.
She wanted to run. To excuse herself from the table. Slip out of the house and back to her cousins, asking for help one final time. But this man knew too much. If he knew who she was, he would know her cousins, and the way evil dripped on him like water in the rain, she was certain he would make her pay through them.
More so, though she’d thought those brutes wouldn’t find her in this imposter’s guise, they had—and likely at this foul man’s behest. What happened to her last night in the alley had likely been Hector’s doing. But why? Was he trying to ruin Euan’s chances? If he were willing to have her attacked in the streets, there was no telling the lengths he’d go to.
But Euan had saved her, Bronwen’s heart lamented. There had to be some feeling inside him if he was willing to put his own life in harm’s way for her. Perhaps he’d only done that because she was already his mark. And he didn’t want to lose a bet.
Then why make love to me? To trap her further, she supposed.
“I can see your mind whirling, lass, and ye need no’ trouble yourself so much. What I offer is genuine and true.” His face was serious now and a little kind. Well, not kind. Pity was what she saw. “I will offer ye a safe home, and ye’ll be well cared for. After all, ye’ll be the reason I get what I want, what I deserve. How could I no’ cherish ye?”
Cherish her… Bile rose in her throat at the idea of him touching her. Doing anything to her. This was not what she wanted. Hector would make her his broodmare. This was a nightmare.
He picked at something between his two front teeth. “There is one stipulation that we’ll have to work on.”
“What stipulations?” She frowned.
“Love is a tricky thing, is it no’?” he said, ignoring her question. “I will love that ye helped me, and ye will love that I helped ye. Thus, we will be loving each other. I think it works.”
This was preposterous, what he was suggesting. She had visions of herself lying in bed while he pawed at her, of him locking all the doors so she could never escape. Never, ever, ever would she let that become her fate. “Nay, sir.” Her voice was quiet at first, but standing up for herself, she gathered some steam, and her next words were filled with more conviction. “I do no’ think this works at all. I will no’ be going with ye.”
Hector let out a long-suffering sigh and shook his head at her as if she were a wayward child who’d said she wouldn’t eat her peas and not a grown woman who’d refused him marriage and breeding. “I thought that might be what ye said about it.” He snapped his fingers.
The two criminals who’d attacked her in the alleyway—the very same bastards who had chipped her tooth—came through the doorway, large grins on their faces. The shock made her gasp, and her hand went to her throat. Both men bore the marks of Euan’s handling.
How in Hades had Hector gotten these ruffians to come with him?
“I think ye’ve met my friends before,” Hector was saying, but his words sounded as though they were far away.
The two men smiled at her, the Ts in their beards bending. Bronwen’s gaze snapped back to Hector. Was he somehow involved Prince and The Trojan?
She was too paralyzed by fear to move. The worst of her nightmares seemed to be coming true.
The men took up the space behind Hector, and she tried hard to swallow around the eggs threatening to rise in her throat.
“If ye know what’s good for ye, and for that of the six lasses upstairs, ye’ll come with me willingly,” Hector said, his fingers steepled in front of him as he stared her down.
Bronwen didn’t say a word, stunned into silence. Her mind whirled about what could happen to the Irvine sisters if she didn’t agree to go with Hector. Maybe if they waited for a little longer, somebody would wake up and come into the dining room. Save her. Euan had taken on the two men before; he cou
ld do so again. And one of the footmen could pounce on Hector.
But like every morning that she arose early, breakfast was laid out for her with not a servant in sight. Just as she liked it.
“Ye’re hesitating,” Hector mused. “Must say I’m surprised. If ye had no interest in saving your own skin, I thought their lives precious enough for ye.”
Bronwen tossed her head, pretending she didn’t care for the sisters at all. But she was resolved. She’d go with him and then figure out a way to escape. That way, the lying Irvines were safe, at least. They might have deceived her, but that didn’t mean she was going to betray them. “But if what ye said was true, they lied to me.”
“Or they did no’ know.” Giving an inkling that maybe Euan’s sisters were in the dark, Hector pushed back in his chair and stood. Lord, but she’d much rather believe that about them than the opposite. “The time to decide is over. And let’s be honest. I was no’ going to let ye decide anyhow. Get up.”
16
Euan woke with a start, realizing first that he was alone and second, where he was. He smiled into the morning sun, not having slept this late in ages. But the woman he was going to marry, his Bronwen, had been a dream come true. He rolled to the side, reaching for her, his hand sliding over the bare sheet.
She was gone.
Euan frowned, leaned up on his elbow and glanced about the room, expecting to see her lounging in the window seat as he knew she liked to do. However, the room was empty, save for her lingering floral scent. The sheet was not yet cold, though it didn’t completely retain her heat, which meant she couldn’t have been gone longer than an hour.
Climbing from bed, he pulled on his shirt, belted on his kilt and walked barefoot from the chamber down the hall to his room, where he’d prepare for the day. He guessed she’d woken early, as she normally did, and was taking breakfast. Though he would have liked to join her, he understood she had certain habits.
Muffled voices sounded below, and it wasn’t until he’d closed his door that he stiffened, realizing the sound had been that of a female and a male.
But not any male—it was his cousin Hector.
How the bloody hell had he gotten into the manse? The staff would never have allowed him entry, which meant he had to have broken in somehow.
Euan threw his bedroom door back open and raced down the steps in search of the voices. The dining room was empty, evidence of meals having taken place left only by the napkins and soiled plates on opposite sides of the table. Two places.
A string of curses blasted through his brain.
Bloody hell! This was bad. Very bad.
Dear God, Hector better not have done anything to her. Euan raced to the parlor, also finding it empty, and then ran smack into Martin.
“My laird, ye’re no’ dressed.” Martin stared down at his bare feet. “Is your valet ill?”
“Where is Hector? Did he take her?” Euan demanded, ignoring the butler’s questions. There was no time to worry about his clothes.
Martin gaped, alarmed now. “I have not seen them,” Martin said, at the same time two footmen stumbled around the corner from the dining room, looking as if they’d been roughly handled.
“They’ve just left,” one of them called out, breathlessly.
Martin rushed to the front door and wrenched it open in time for Euan to see the driver alighting to his post and taking the reins in hand.
“Stop!” Euan shouted, and the driver looked over his shoulder and then narrowed his eyes—one of which had been blackened.
In an instant, he recognized the bloke as one of the heathens from the alleyway who’d attacked Bronwen. This was no ordinary visit from Hector. And at that moment, Euan realized this went so much deeper, with nefarious roots that threatened to yank them all under.
Understanding the urgency, Martin had called for several footmen to come out. Even though the driver tried to snap the reins for the horses to ride on, three footmen leapt before the horse, stalling his progress. One settled the horse while the other two yanked the driver from his perch, holding him down on the gravel.
The door to the carriage burst open, and another thug barreled out, the second one from the alleyway. Good God, Bronwen had been captured by his cousin and the men she’d been running for her life from?
Every part of him ached for her. What betrayal she must have felt at his promises of protection…and this was what she’d gotten from him. Complete failure. Twice. The men she’d been terrified from and his criminal cousin who must have something to do with what happened to her in the past. There was no other explanation as to how these arseholes would do his bidding.
Bare feet planted in the gravel drive, and ignoring the pain of the stones cutting into his skin, Euan braced for the man’s attack. The villain ran at Euan as if he was going to take him through the wall of the house. But Euan was ready and side-stepped at the last second, feeling the wind gush past him as the brute lurched headlong toward the ground and tried to catch his footing.
The bastard whirled on Euan, muttering expletives as he launched into another attack. Only this time, Martin grabbed him from behind, putting a hold on the man’s neck. He might have been a butler, but when Euan wasn’t sparring with his friends, he sparred with Martin.
The arsehole’s face turned purple as he spewed obscenities in Euan’s direction until Martin squeezed a little tighter, cutting off his string of nastiness.
“My laird, I must apologize,” Martin was saying. “I never saw any of them come in, else I would have stopped him.”
“I’m certain Hector wanted it that way.”
With two of the footmen holding the other ruffian down, Euan ordered the third footman to get the magistrate. This time he wasn’t leaving these men out in the open to harm again. Clearly, they’d already left the area when the magistrate searched for them the night before. They’d be arrested now and held in prison for their crimes, of which he was certain there were many.
Now it was time to deal with the real monster.
Euan returned to the coach, wrenching open the door to find his cousin Hector backed into a corner, Bronwen beside him. Hector had his arm around her shoulder and the glint of a blade pressed to her throat. Good God…nay!
A slice of pain gutted Euan at seeing her in such a precarious situation. Her eyes were wide with fear but also with anger. Lips twisted in a rage, she looked ready to spew venom not only at Hector, but at Euan too. And he couldn’t blame her. It had been his idea for her to come to Edinburgh. The promises he’d made were total rubbish in her eyes—and in his. But he wasn’t going to fail her now.
“Remove that blade from Miss Holmes’s throat,” Euan said calmly, hoping she’d not yet divulged they were to wed. At least he could keep her safe from his cousin. Knowing about their betrothal would give Hector a bigger incentive to end her life.
There was a gleam in Hector’s eyes that Euan had never seen before. Pure malice. He’d known him to be unlawful, arrogant, conceited, rude, selfish and downright cruel most of their lives. But this…this was bordering on something different. Maniacal.
In a flash, Euan seemed to understand a lot more of what was at work here than he would have ever guessed. Hector was the creditor for Bronwen’s parents—responsible for their deaths. And now he’d come to collect payment in the form of Bronwen. It would seem the criminal activity his cousin had been involved with went a lot deeper than Euan had thought. Good God… when Bronwen mentioned her parents had been involved with gambling, that they’d been murdered for their debts, he never had thought that his own blood could be involved. He’d been so busy protecting his sisters from Hector, he’d never even thought that Bronwen might need protection from the bastard too.
The fact that she and Euan had become acquainted was pure coincidence, and he was certain, very convenient for Hector.
“Back away and shut the door, Euan,” Hector said, his voice coming out in biting clips. “And the lass will no’ be harmed. Let my men up off the gr
ound, and we’ll be on our way.”
“I’m afraid I can no’ do that.” Euan kept his tone calm, even, and his gaze on Bronwen’s steady. “Let her go, and I’ll consider letting ye go without consequence.”
Of course, that was a total lie, and if Hector were as smart as Euan thought he might be diabolical, then he would know it too. Still, it was better than the alternative.
Hector shook his head slowly. “She belongs to me, cousin,” he hissed. “Afraid there’s no negotiating that.” He yanked her a little closer to him, but miraculously, Bronwen barely flinched.
Hector had always wanted what was Euan’s. What a boon it must have been to realize the very woman who owed him money was the same one Euan had under his protection—and might have guessed he had feelings for her given last night’s events. The bastard would not have been able to resist taking her. Hector had been so intent upon having her for himself that he’d been willing to break into Euan’s house to get her.
Euan had to hold himself back from ripping his cousin to shreds as that would only put Bronwen in further danger.
“The magistrate is on the way,” Euan said, as smoothly as he could when he wanted to rage. “Ye’ll no’ be able to get out of here with her. Your men are down, and before ye have a chance to go three feet, I’ll have ye under my boot.”
Hector laughed cruelly. “Oh, pity how little ye understand, cousin. But ye’ll never guess who does know things now? This lass here in my arms.” Hector pressed his nose to her hair and sucked in a heady, lascivious breath, his eyes practically rolling in the back of his head. “My bride.”
A sharp stab of anger pierced behind Euan’s eyes. He braced himself, pressing his hands flat to the outside wall of the carriage to keep from reaching in and grabbing Hector, which would possibly harm Bronwen in the process. God, what he wouldn’t do to get his hands around Hector’s neck right now.
