Lady Lissa's Liaison (To Woo an Heiress, Book 1)

by Randall, Lindsay

  “Us. Being together. Forever. I’ve purchased a special license, my dear. The two of us can soon be married—without fuss, without preamble.”

  “You are mad,” Lissa gasped.

  “I am not crazed,” Langford muttered, “not by far. I have, however, seen the light. You are enamored of Wylde, my lady. You have been since the beginning of the Summer Season. I do not fault you for that. I fault only Wylde for charming you into something so vile as a liaison—one he would ultimately end, leaving you with all the shameful repercussions.” He made a deep guttural sound, much like an animal growl. “Wylde always did have a way with females,” he added, “could make them feel that he was all they needed, was the only man they could trust. Damme, but how I detest Wylde and all he is.”

  Langford was past sanity, Lissa realized. And he was moving the horses too fast along the narrow roadway.

  “Take Harry and me back to my home, Langford,” Lissa demanded.

  “I can’t do that. I won’t.”

  Lissa felt her stomach turn over. Had she been alone with Lord Langford in the carriage she might have dared to throw herself out, onto the ground, leaving herself to a bone-crushing fate. But she wasn’t alone. She had Harry’s safety to consider.

  She looked down at Harry. Surprisingly enough, the boy winked. He obviously had a plot afoot in that fertile, six-year-old mind of his.

  Lissa shook her head, brows furrowing, warning Harry not to do anything foolish.

  Just as Langford neared his team to a spot in the road that ran adjacent to Gabriel’s river lodge, Harry shot to his feet, leaned against Langford, and let out a hideous wail.

  “What the blazes—?” yelled Langford.

  “Ooooh,” moaned Harry, clutching with his free arm at his stomach. He wailed again. “I—I’m going to be ill… lest you stop this carriage, m’lord.”

  “Sit down!” Langford yelled.

  “Can’t,” said Harry. “Ohhh, but I feel those kippers I ate coming back up. Here they come, ohhh—”

  Langford pulled at the reins, eventually hauling the horses to a halt.

  “Bother it all,” he muttered, jumping down and pulling Harry with him, “be sick in the weeds, will you, boy?”

  Harry was thrust forward by Langford with unnecessary force, but caught his footing fast enough.

  Lissa, realizing that Harry was merely playacting and thus offering the two of them a means of escape, quickly jumped down off the seat from the opposite side. Her muslin caught at the side of the carriage. She yanked the material free with a savage thrust, then rounded the back of the carriage and hurried to Harry’s side, catching his left hand up in her right.

  “Can you stand, Harry?” she asked loud enough for Langford to hear.

  “Ohhh,” groaned the boy, pressing against her skirts.

  Lissa did not miss his wink as he dared a glance up at her. “At the count of three?” he whispered. “We shall make a run for it, yes?”

  Feeling her heart in her throat at his bold, chivalrous and purely selfless act, Lissa gave a quick nod.

  Harry made a motion of keeling forward, pretended to begin to retch, and then, fast as he could, he darted away, Lissa following suit.

  “NO!” cried Langford. “Lissa, do not do this! Come back!”

  But Lissa wasn’t listening. Hand in hand with Harry, she scurried to the opposite side of the road, then dashed into the rough woodland.

  Too many brambles caught at her skirts, hands and face, and tugged at her hair. She kept going, though. She knew they mustn’t stop. If she’d read Harry’s mind correctly—which she guessed that she had—they were headed for Gabriel’s river lodge. Mayhap Harry knew something she did not and was now threading the two of them toward the safe haven of Gabriel’s protection. Perhaps Gabriel would be in the lodge and would deal with Langford.

  Lissa prayed it was so.

  Chapter 17

  The going became treacherous as Harry and Lissa neared the river lodge. The foliage thickened, becoming more cumbersome, the ground proving more uneven. Harry’s mad dash did not let up, though, and neither did Lissa’s.

  Her skirts were torn, threaded with prickers and needles, her face scratched for the second time that day. But she kept running. Harry, like a deer, harbored the agility to jump over every fallen branch, to sidestep and swerve around the most nettlesome brambles. The boy seemed to have a sixth sense as to where to lead or not lead, and Lissa blindly followed.

  “Lisha,” he called, “are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, sweetheart. Keep running!”

  Like one of Wellington’s finest soldiers, he guided them through the thick forest to the door of the lodge, then banged the thing open with a lift of the latch and a hearty push with his shoulders. He blasted inside the place, Lissa hot on his heels.

  “Gabriel!” she called out, unable to help herself. “Gabriel, are you here?”

  They stumbled inside to silence.

  No Gabriel.

  No help in the form of a white knight who might bring their dreaded follower to his knees.

  Harry, looking frightened for the first time that day, said, “Papa meant to come here, Lisha, I promise! He told me so himself. He came upstairs to tuck me in for a nap. Said he was going to meet you today. At the river lodge. That’s why I sneaked away when Miss Fabersham weren’t… wasn’t looking.”

  Harry moved deeper inside the lodge, clearly wishing he could conjure up his father.

  Of course! Lissa thought. Gabriel had doubtless sent word to her and had asked for her to meet him at his river lodge! Mayhap even his note was arriving at Clivedon Manor this moment. Where else should their private meeting take place than the spot where he’d first kissed her?

  Lissa slammed the door shut, her mind reeling. “Perhaps your papa shall be along shortly,” she said, breathless from their mad dash through the woods, and hoping she was correct in thinking Gabriel was on his way.

  She was just about to bolt the door when Langford banged it open. The whole of her body was vaulted backward. Lissa fell, her gloved hands scraping hard against the wood floor.

  “Get out,” she gasped, scurrying backward. “Leave us!”

  “Lissa,” said Langford, his eyes bright, his mind gone totally mad, “you do not know what you are saying. I have come to help you, not harm you.”

  “You are frightening to me. And to Harry as well. Leave us, Langford. I want nothing to do with you.”

  “Ahh, Lissa, my lovely Lady Lissa, you do not mean the words you speak.”

  “I mean them, Langford, more than you’ll ever know.”

  She moved back, felt the leg of the table, then hauled herself upward as she grasped onto that leg.

  Langford moved inexorably nearer. “I want only for us to wed. For the two of us to spend the rest of our lives together. You want it, too, Lissa. Admit it. You know you do.”

  “You’re wrong,” Lissa cried.

  The man seemed to hear nothing, to know nothing other than the want that flamed in his addled brain. “Enough toying with my emotions, my lady. All through the Season you kept my locket in your possession. What was I to think, eh? That you merely enjoyed wearing the piece? That you liked keeping it beneath your pillow, perhaps?”

  “I never kept the thing… it was only lost to me. Had I held it in my possession the afternoon after you pressed it upon me, I would have given it back to you!”

  “You expect me to believe that? ‘Tis Wylde who has twisted your mind against me. He has confused you, has caused you to think I am wrong for you.”

  “No!” Lissa shouted. “I have fashioned that fact for myself. The only pity is I did not come to the full realization sooner!”

  Langford pressed closer still. “Wylde isn’t the man for you. He never was… never could be. Come, Lissa, make the best choice. Be with me.”

  “Never! ‘Tis Lord Wylde’s suit I wish for, not yours.”

  Langford, sleek as a cat, suddenly vaulted against her body with su
ch force that Lissa cried out.

  Harry cried out, too. “Let her go!” he screamed. “Let my Lisha go!”

  Just then, there came a shadow in the doorway.

  “Papa!” Harry yelled.

  Langford whipped his gaze about. “Wylde.”

  “Aye, ‘tis me. Your worst nightmare come to life.”

  Gabriel, with his angling rod in one hand, stood in the doorway, a blaze of sunlight outlining his form and casting his face in shadow.

  Langford sucked in an audible hiss of a gasp, whirling both himself and Lissa around. His right arm snaked about her throat, holding tightly.

  “Unhand the lady, if you please,” said Wylde, rather chattily, as though he’d not just entered his lodge and found his son and Lissa held in the throes of a madman.

  “If I do not?” challenged Langford, closing his arm more tightly about Lissa’s throat.

  Harry, charging out from behind the table, raced in front of Langford. “If you do not,” he cried, “then my papa will cut you down with his sword… or—or he’ll challenge you to a duel at dawn! And you, sir, shall be no more than a black memory!” As if to punctuate his words, Harry sent one booted toe sharply against Langford’s left shin.

  Langford reacted by lessening his hold, and Lissa, seizing the moment, yanked away from him, reaching out for young Harry as she did so.

  But Langford was quicker. He lunged for Harry, scooped the boy up into his hold, then moved to the side of the room.

  “Langford, no!” Lissa shouted.

  Langford, his gaze on Gabriel, sneered. “Now what will you do, Wylde, now that I have your… son?”

  “Damn you, Langford,” Gabriel said lowly.

  Lissa realized that this moment between the men had nothing to do with her really, and everything to do with the age-old animosity between Gabriel and Langford. She looked at Harry, caught up in Langford’s arms, and knew the boy was afraid. And with good reason. Until now, Langford had never had total hold of him.

  “Let him go,” Lissa begged.

  But Langford’s crazed attention was centered solely on Gabriel now. “I’ve always hated you, Wylde. Even when we were at University together… I hated that your family name back then was more revered than my own, that the coffers you were destined to inherit were far deeper than the ones I would one day claim. I loathed that you could ride better, shoot better, and were more in demand with the ladies.”

  “Is that why you wooed Jenny?” Gabriel asked.

  “Partly. Mostly, actually. I’d thought, at first, that her father was a very rich man. But then I learned of the man’s sickness with gambling. The family was near ruin. That was the reason they were so eager to marry off their only child, the light of their eyes. And you, ever the gallant, were stupidly willing to erase their debts and marry their daughter.”

  Gabriel’s jaw clenched. “Jenny was indeed the brightest spot in their lives.”

  “Yes, and you’d have married the lightskirt whether she was rich or penniless, true to you or not. You were ever the white knight where your precious Jenny was concerned.”

  “She was my close friend,” Gabriel said. “My dearest friend.”

  “Ah, but she wasn’t true to you, not in the end. With but a few pretty phrases and small gifts, I soon had her looking fully my way—and I did have my way with her, Wylde, many times. That first time with her, I was very surprised to find that you hadn’t partaken of what she was so willing to give.”

  Gabriel looked as though he would like to snap Langford’s neck in half with his bare hands. “She was in love with you, Langford. She thought you loved her as well and would marry her. She believed in your lies.”

  “Not so worldly was she, our Jenny? Though a man would have been hard-pressed to think otherwise when she was flirting with him…”

  “Jenny was a lady, Langford,” Gabriel said very lowly. “Never say otherwise. The very temperament that led her father every night to the gaming tables was the same that drew Jenny to men like you. I believe it was something she inherited from him, a restlessness she knew not how to control. Damn you for taking advantage of her one weakness.”

  “There you go again,” sneered Langford, “ever charging to Jenny’s rescue. I am amazed you would do so in front of yet another lady, one you have followed too closely these past many days.” Langford nodded toward Lissa. “Is not the likeness amazing, Wylde? I thought the same when I first met her.” Langford turned his attention to Lissa. “Forgive me, my lady. You must be totally confused by our conversation about a woman long dead.”

  “I am not confused at all,” Lissa said. “In fact, a good many things are becoming quite clear to me.”

  “Do you know you could be Jenny’s twin?” Langford asked. “You’ve her fair coloring, her eye color… even the way you smile is reminiscent of her.”

  “Is that why you sought my hand?” Lissa asked. “Because I reminded you of someone you treated most shabbily?”

  “It was not me who left the lady alone at the altar, to cry in the face of all her guests,” Langford said violently. ” ‘Twas Wylde who did the deed!”

  “Only because Jenny asked that I extricate her from her promise of marriage with me,” Gabriel said. “She came to me the night before what was to have been our wedding day. She told me she’d fallen in love with another man… and that she was carrying his seed. But she knew her parents wanted her to marry me, that she would break their hearts if they thought she’d turned her back on their desires for her and their chance to settle all their many debts…. So she asked me, as her dearest friend, to try and help extricate her from the web she’d created. I told her I would do what I must to see that her good name was not tarnished, would offer her a way out so that she could go to her lover and eventually marry him instead. I had no idea that you were that man, Langford. Not then.”

  “Ah, so you played the noble savior, leaving your love alone at the altar, and allowing Society to believe you were a beast of a man. How you must have rued that decision when Jenny’s loving parents soon sent her away, to the north of England.”

  “Damn you, Langford, they sent her away because of what you caused to grow within her, and you know it! You know, too, that she wrote endless letters to you, begging for you to come and claim her and to be with her on the day that drew ever nearer. And when that day came, and her parents fostered out the very creation of her love for you, you still did not go to her. And so she cut her own wrists rather than live without you and the shame you thrust upon her. You’ve her blood on your hands, Langford, not me.”

  Lissa looked at Gabriel, her heart in her eyes. So this was the true tale behind all the rumors about him… this was how he’d earned the label of the Heartless Lord Wylde. No wonder he’d become a recluse, wanting nothing more to do with people who thought him a friend. And Harry… Harry was the product of Jenny’s love for Langford! Harry was the child Jenny had borne and then her parents fostered out. Doubtless, Gabriel had gone in search of the infant, had found him, then brought him to live alongside the Dove.

  Lissa felt a wave of strong, pure emotion wash over her. How very true and pure and good Gabriel was—and to think she’d doubted him at times. Never, ever would she doubt him again!

  She whipped her attention to Langford. “Let the boy go,” she said, her voice holding a warning tone. “Do it. Now.”

  “Not just yet, I’m afraid. I need a safe exit back to my carriage. His presence will assure me of that.”

  “You are beneath contempt, Langford.”

  “And you, my lady, are a perfect fool for choosing Wylde and his brat over me. We could have had a beautiful future together. With your fortune and my energies, our life together could have been very sweet indeed.”

  “Do not think you will step one foot out of this lodge with my son,” Gabriel said.

  Harry cried out as Langford savagely yanked him upward in an even tighter hold.

  “Move!” Langford yelled to Gabriel. “Or else.”


  Gabriel moved to one side of the doorway, having no other choice. “I’ll get you free, son,” he promised as Langford moved past them.

  Harry gulped, then smiled nervously.

  Langford gripped the boy tighter. “Do not assume to overtake me, Wylde. If you do, I’ll make the boy pay for your foolishness.”

  As Langford was talking, he was also moving to the doorway. Lissa saw Harry send her a wink over Langford’s shoulder, trying to tell her with that small sign that he had not run out of ideas. As soon as Langford got to the doorway, Harry wriggled in the man’s tight hold, managed to set himself sideways, then flung out both his arms and his legs to the side. His small hands grabbed hold of the door jamb on one side, his toes finding a sturdy latch at the other side. “Hook him, Papa!” Harry shouted.

  Gabriel lifted his angling pole, then sent a perfect cast directly at the back of Langford’s head. His huge hook—the very same he’d used to catch Lissa’s trout the night before—sank into the skin at the back of Langford’s head. Gabriel expertly lifted his angling rod, setting the hook deep.

  Langford let out a howl, instinctively letting the boy go and reaching to snatch the offensive hook from his head.

  Harry managed to right himself as he fell, landed on his rump, then scooted to his feet, dashing back, directly into Lissa’s open arms.

  “Oh, Harry,” she cried, enfolding him in a warm hug.

  “I’m okay, Lisha. Truly.”

  Gabriel, seeing his son safely with Lissa, wound in his line as he walked toward Langford. He pushed the man out of the lodge, not caring that a yelping Langford stumbled down onto the flagstones.

  “Get it out!” Langford begged. “You’ve pierced my brain, I swear! I’ll go to the constable about this, do you hear?”

  “I hope you do,” Gabriel growled. “In fact, I’ll lead you there, with my line. How’s that sound? Or perhaps I’ll just make fish feed of you, dumping you into the Dove to be gone forever.”

  “Please,” Langford wailed. He dropped to his knees beside the wildflowers outside the stoop, yanking at the offensive hook, but the more he tugged at it, the deeper it embedded itself in his skull. “Take it out,” he begged again, more pathetically this time.