Her Wicked Marquess

by Stacy Reid

  Unexpectedly, someone grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop. She stumbled and with shock stared up at David. He must have dashed immediately after her. “Let me go,” Maryann hissed, appalled at the man’s gall.

  “You are coming with me.” He dragged her quite violently, and she gripped her fan and smacked him across the face.

  He whirled around, and his hand lifted to slap her.

  “Do you dare?” Nicolas’s voice snapped through the hallway like an icy blast.

  She glanced up, surprised to see him there. He must have left the room as soon as they did. He looked at her, and something unreadable touched his gaze for a fleeting moment.

  Arianna spilled from the room, running toward them, her gaze only for Nicolas.

  “Don’t you come closer,” David snarled, reaching into his pocket.

  The cock of a pistol had Maryann’s heart lurching.

  “Let her go,” Nicolas said, his eyes and tone calm and absolutely concentrated on his former friend.

  Confusion rushed through Maryann. “What is going on?” she demanded shakily.

  David dragged her with such strength, she pitched forward, a pain wrenching up her arm. They spilled inside the crowded ballroom, and Maryann slapped him again with her fan, uncaring of the scandal it would cause. A murmur swept through the throng as they drew the attention of several people.

  David pushed her away and lifted his weapon to point it beyond her shoulder. She whirled around to see Nicolas and Arianna entering the ballroom. The spectacle of a man with a gun pointed on another gentleman soon swept the area, and even the orchestra stopped playing. The crowd parted, backing to the walls and exits away from the men. At least one lady swooned to the floor, but she was ignored as those remaining stared fascinated.

  Neither David nor Nicolas seemed to care they were the recipients of so many avid stares. Maryann carefully shifted away from David, wanting to be out of his range of madness.

  “Do not move, Lady Maryann, or I will shoot you,” he snapped.

  She froze, her heart twisting. Nicolas stepped forward and David swung the gun at Arianna. The stillness that blanketed the room felt perilous.

  “You may not believe this,” David said shakily, his eyes wild. “But I am damn glad you are alive, Arianna. I was young and foolish…I had been drinking when I asked you to be my mistress and…I did not react well to your rejection. It has haunted me for years.”

  Arianna’s hand fluttered to her chest, and a wounded look entered her eyes. “We were best friends,” she said softly. “And you broke that bond of friendship and trust.”

  “I am damnably sorry!”

  Nicolas’s stance was coiled readiness, the coldness in his eyes one Maryann had never seen. She tried to discreetly glance around the room for anything that could be made use of as a weapon, but all she saw were ladies and gentlemen frozen in horror as they watched the tableau unfold. None thought to interfere or perhaps look for a weapon. The damn useless fools.

  “You are not going to let me off, and I do not accept that,” David snarled. “And I want to hurt you how you’ve hurt me, Nicolas. I am going to put a bullet in a place that you will never recover from.”

  Maryann faltered at the change that came over Nicolas. Gone was the mien of icy indifference, of cold rage. To her shock, she realized he appeared frightened. She wanted to reassure him she would not allow him to lose Arianna twice, but he was not looking at Maryann, but at David. Arianna was staring at Maryann, her eyes wide with shock and glistening with tears.

  “I know she is the most important thing to you,” David said snidely.

  Maryann watched Nicolas swallow, shaking his head in a movement that was almost vulnerable. Then he looked at her, a pleading look of torment in his beautiful eyes. Confusion rushed through her, and she stepped haltingly toward him.

  It was then she noted David had taken the pistol away from Arianna and pointed it dead center at Maryann’s heart. Shock and confusion blasted through her in icy waves, and she gripped her fan until her palm burned.

  “Do you think me a fool?” David murmured with malicious spite. “I know the most important person to your entire world is her—Lady Maryann Fitzwilliam. And her loss will torment you, drive you mad with grief…it will kill you.”

  There was a ripple through the crowd, and Maryann saw her father stiffen, his eyes going wide before his expression shuttered. And her mother reached up to grab her husband’s arm as if to steady herself against a blow. Crispin had paled, and a perilous hush had fallen over the ballroom as if they had just perceived the raw extent of the danger.

  In two strides, David was before her, and he pressed the point of his gun directly against her stomach. Maryann felt faint as a bitter taste of fear coated her tongue. She swung her gaze to Nicolas, and her knees weakened at the raw agony on his face.

  “Please, let her go; she has nothing to do with this. You can leave. I will not come after you. This I vow upon my life and honor,” Nicolas said.

  Fury flashed in David’s eyes. “No,” he snapped tightly. “You’ve been a right thorn in my side these last few years. We have been friends since we were toddlers, but that meant nothing to you because you still made steps to ruin me!”

  I’ve made moves against the wolf.

  Oh God. David was the wolf. And from the conversations she’d had with Nicolas, the Earl of Marsh was a good friend. This was the man Arianna had loved, and he had betrayed her.

  “I stayed by your side helping you take down the men who hurt Arianna, hoping to redeem my honor, but you would not let me.”

  “You were the leader of those very men.”

  “I have been your friend for years, and I was hoping…” David’s chest lifted on a ragged breath. “I was hoping that should you learn of my hand in everything, you would allow that our friendship was more important than what happened. But you ignored our bond of brotherhood as if it meant nothing to you. She is nothing but the daughter of servants and we…we have been friends since we were small. The best of friends! And you dare to place her before me? You dare to judge that one moment of mistake against a lifetime of friendship? A fleeting moment ten bloody years ago and you have the nerve to still hold it against me!”

  With his free hand, David thumped his chest. “You damn well hurt me, and I am going to hurt you now by taking the single most important person in your life. Her loss will cripple you in such a manner, you’ll never recover to chase after me, will you? And it will also soothe this hatred in my heart for you. You took my peace for years. I’ll damn well take yours, too.”

  Maryann’s hands shook. “You are wrong,” she said shakily. “He…I am not the most important…”

  Her voice died at the look of disbelief on David’s face, and as if someone else controlled her, she turned and stared at Nicolas. It was then the pieces fell together in her mind, that he had been right on their heels in the hallway. He hadn’t lingered with Arianna but must have pushed her aside immediately to chase after them…

  To protect her.

  And now Maryann could read everything in his face that was so normally shadowed and inscrutable—stark fear and so much love.

  “Nicolas?” she sobbed, pressing a hand over her heart.

  Still he did not look at her; all his attention, his readiness was pointed at David. But that man had a primed pistol pressed against her hips. There was no room for an attack.

  “David,” Nicolas said, “you are right. Lady Maryann is the lady most important to me.”

  Behind him, Arianna closed her eyes as if pained, but then she swallowed, opened her eyes, and squared her shoulders.

  Nicolas took a step forward. “I love her. She is my everything.”

  A few people in the crowd gasped.

  “My heart is laid upon the ground…and you have the power to stomp on it and cripple me,” Nicolas said,
his voice throbbing with undefinable emotions.

  Maryann stared at him, her heart a shivering mess. He was declaring himself in such a way before everyone. And it was not for David’s benefit. He wanted her to know beyond a doubt what she meant to him, and with a jolt of fear she realized he dreaded not saving her in time.

  “David,” Nicolas continued. “I want you to understand something.”

  The hand that stabbed the gun harder against her body trembled.

  “You have one chance to do damage and escape. That is not achieved by harming Maryann. You turn that pistol to me and do the damage where it will have the most effect.”

  “No,” she cried out, raw fear filling her.

  David laughed. “The most damage will be with her. You will be broken.”

  “Yes,” Nicolas said with icy promise. “And there is nowhere you can go to escape what I will do to you. Arianna was the girl I loved in my youth, and even then I loved her as a friend more than anything else. And you see what I did to those who hurt her.”

  Nicolas took another step closer. “Lady Maryann is the woman I love with every fucking emotion in my soul. Can you comprehend, you fool, what I will do to you should you harm a hair on her head?”

  More gasps and a ripple of whispering went through the crowd, but nothing distracted Nicolas’s hawkish and remorseless regard from David.

  Anguish cast her love’s expression in a savage mien. “Can you imagine the hatred I will have for you should you take her from me? Do you imagine I would be content with hunting you to the ground? You threaten everything you hold dear, my good fool. Your mother…”

  David paled, his eyes widening with disbelief.

  Something dark and dangerous flashed in Nicolas’s gaze. “Your three sisters. Your cousins. Your mistress. They will all stand guilty for your crime, and they will repay life with life.”

  The violent promise was like a solid blow to the center of her chest. A fierce swell of intangible emotion ripped through her and left her shaking. A loud thud sounded as someone fainted, and to Maryann’s shock, a smile trembled on her mouth. In his eyes, she saw the absolute truth. She felt breathless and terrified as she stared at Nicolas.

  “I love you,” she said tenderly, her eyes wet with tears.

  A tiny, almost indecipherable smile touched his mouth, but he never took his regard from David.

  “Pointing the gun at me is your best option. Stopping me is your only choice. Harming her will be your irrevocable downfall. All I want is her by my side—you can simply walk away.”

  Silence throbbed in the room like a wound. And then in one smooth motion, David turned the gun on Nicolas and fired.

  Two sharp retorts, echoing closely behind each other, filled the large ballroom.

  Maryann’s scream mixed with the others in the room. Red bloomed on Nicolas’s pristine white shirt and she hurtled toward him as he stumbled to lean weakly against the wall.

  Uncaring of who might be watching them, she pressed her hand to the wound high on his shoulder, trying to contain her fear. “Nicolas,” she gasped, shaking. “Oh God, please!”

  Hands pulled her away, and she glanced up to see her father. “Papa,” she cried, hating that she felt so frightened. “What are you doing?”

  “Go with him,” Nicolas said.

  And it was then she noticed Viscount Montrose was by his side. And the screams behind her were from Lord Marsh’s sister. David had been shot, and himself lay on the floor bleeding.

  Maryann glanced around to see Crispin discreetly taking a pistol from Arianna where she held it against the folds of her skirts. He took her hand and they slipped away in the chaotic noise rising in the ballroom.

  “I am coming with you,” she said to Nicolas. “And you cannot stop me.”

  “You will do no such thing,” her father said tightly.

  “Go with your father,” Nicolas said, swaying, sweat beading his face. “Now, Maryann.”

  Her father bundled her away from the scene of the greatest scandal to possibly ever rock the ton.

  …

  A few hours later…

  “That man is the most odious creature; whatever was Lord Rothbury thinking to declare himself to be in love so violently and so publicly!” the countess cried with excessive passion, wearing a hole in the plush carpet on the drawing room. “You are ruined.”

  Maryann stood by the window, still clothed in the gown she had worn to the ball. The dawn broke, and pale sunlight touched on the flowers in the gardens. She pressed her hands against the chilled windows, desperation worming in her heart.

  Are you well, Nicolas? What if he had died and she was not by his side?

  “That man was willing to die for our daughter,” the earl said with soft contemplation. “I have never seen anything as courageous.”

  “I will not have my daughter marry that wretch, if that is what you are insinuating!”

  “My dear,” her father interposed, “I believe the violence and profound nature of his declaration suggest they might need to marry sooner than later. Such a love is not borne alone from walking in the park or reading poems to each other.”

  “Good God, Philip, whatever are you about?” her mother asked in shocked accents. “Marry sooner than later?” She sucked in a harsh breath. “You do not mean—”

  Her words faltered as if she couldn’t bear to utter the scandalous suggestion.

  Maryann slowly turned around from the windows. “Mama, Papa,” she said with a small smile. “I must leave. I cannot stay here a moment longer.”

  “Wherever are you going?” the countess demanded.

  “To see for myself that Lord Rothbury lives.”

  Her mother swayed. “My dear child, after the exceedingly scandalous spectacle you created in the ballroom last night, screaming his name and sobbing and promising to love him forever? You intend to call upon him? Have you no consideration for your good name?”

  Maryann blushed and lifted her chin. “I shall return home in a few hours. If it will relieve your worry, I do not intend to walk up to his home and knock. I will break in very discreetly.”

  Her mother glanced at the earl, who silently watched her.

  “Whose child is she?” the countess cried. “Where are her parents? We did not birth this…this…” The words stuck in her throat, threatening to choke her. Her mother swooned quite dramatically, and her father caught her against his chest and bore her to the sofa, ringing the bell for smelling salts.

  Maryann gripped the skirts of her gown and hurried from the drawing room. She spilled into the hallway and faltered. Nicolas stood there, looking very pale. Despite this, his tall frame was one of powerful, lithe elegance. His dark hair was perfectly groomed, and his beautiful golden eyes ensnared her.

  How wonderfully alive and beautiful he looked.

  Relief blossomed through her and a love so fierce her throat went tight, and tears sprang to her eyes. She rushed toward him as he swayed, slipping her hands around his waist and holding him to her. If he should fall, she would tumble with him to the floor, but Maryann felt as if she would never let him go again.

  “Why are you here? You were shot only last night,” she said softly, brushing her finger over his jaw. He did not object to her tender ministration but leaned even farther into her touch. “I was coming to you, Nicolas.”

  “I had to come to you…to let you know I love you. You must know.”

  Alarm and joy suffused her in equal measure. “Are you dying?”

  “No. I didn’t want you to linger in any doubt even for a moment about how much you mean to me. I love you, Maryann.”

  “I know you do,” she said achingly. “I love you, Nicolas, with my entire heart.”

  He cupped her cheeks between his large hands, bent his head, and crushed her mouth beneath his own.

  “Marry me,” he
said against her mouth.

  “Yes.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  She laughed. “I want a large wedding. We are the most scandalous couple of the ton. I will not disappoint their thirst for a grand spectacle, and our wedding will be the grandest.”

  “Ah, I suspect this has been your dream? A large wedding?”

  “I have always hungered for a family of my own,” she said softly. “A husband who will not cage me but love me completely. And you do, Nicolas, you do. But I think I just might be happier eloping with you.”

  He smiled and took her mouth in a kiss of possessive tenderness.

  A throat cleared loudly, and Maryann pulled her lips from his, blushing. It was her father. Nicolas did not release her from his embrace but rested his chin atop her head.

  “I believe you called, Lord Rothbury, to make a formal offer for my daughter’s hand?”

  Nicolas cleared his throat. “That I did.”

  “Offer accepted,” the earl said, and then went back into the drawing room to his wife.

  “Sneak me into your room,” he suggested.

  Maryann giggled against Nicolas’s chest, happiness bursting inside her heart. “It astonishes me you think you will ever be able to enter my room again before marriage,” she said with a laugh, leading him to the smaller parlor. “I am calling for our physician.”

  “No need. I was tended to well.”

  They entered the smaller parlor and went over to the large armchair by the open windows. He lowered himself onto the cushions and tugged her into his lap. She peeled back his jacket slightly and stared at his padded shoulder.

  “You promise the doctor’s report was good?”

  His head dipped in a slight nod. Maryann slipped her hand around his nape and rested her forehead against his.

  “Arianna is alive,” she whispered. “I am so very glad she is.”

  “I gather Crispin saved her and protected her these last few years. I have not spoken to her as yet, but I am also extremely glad she lives,” he said gruffly.

  Maryann smiled, understanding his world had narrowed to her. He had only pushed from his bed to reassure her. Piercing emotions tore through her with the power of the fiercest storm. “Is David alive?”