by Wilde, Tanya
“Hell,” Simon continued, “We’ve kidnapped members of the ton, surely we can disappear for a few months to steal a baby.”
Belle laughed, wiping at her tears. “Steal a baby?”
“Or adopt, whichever you prefer.”
Hope blossomed in her heart. “But it must be a boy, heir and all that,” she teased back.
His hand came to rest on her cheeks, his green eyes bright with love, “So you will marry me, Belle? Without me having to chain you to my side?”
Belle nodded, not certain she could say the word “yes” without bawling all over him. “You are hopeless, do you know that?”
“Only when it comes to you, my love. Usually, I’m just boorish.”
Belle choked back a laugh. “So you finally admit you are a bore. It’s about time.”
They stood there grinning at one another when someone started to clap, a slow rhythmic sound.
“How very charming.”
The voice dripped with sarcasm, chilling Belle to the bone.
They whirled in unison.
A few feet away stood their worst nightmare, and he had a pistol leveled at Belle’s heart.
“I’m afraid I am going to have to cut this little elopement short.”
Simon stepped in front of Belle, shielding her. “Over my dead body.”
“Gladly.”
Belle pushed past Simon, fear gripping her heart. “No! Wait! Do you want to cause a spectacle?”
De Roux paused, then gave a single nod. He motioned with his gun to their carriage. “Get in. Both of you.”
Simon’s strong arm circled her waist and Belle leaned into him, her face pale. How had they forgotten about the danger? Entering the carriage, they were followed by the despicable excuse for a human being, who smiled with cruel joy as he sank down across from them.
Belle regarded him warily, aware of Simon’s stiff form beside her. The gun was still leveled at her heart.
“We can discuss this like men with honor,” Simon said, rather snappily.
De Roux tilted his head to the side. “Honor. Such a hair-splitting little word. Do I possess any honor? It is your hope, I presume, that I do. Yet, you’ve seen the pain I inflict firsthand and still you appeal to something that clearly does not exist.”
“So you are without honor, then?” Simon asked.
Belle heard the disgust in his voice.
De Roux shrugged. “There is honor in truth, I suppose, and you have seen mine.”
“Your truth is death,” Belle snapped.
“Yes,” he growled. “A truth you’ve managed to outrun up until this moment, but no matter, now I shall be the one to do the talking, though it will be over both your dead corpses.”
“What did I ever do to you?” Belle whispered, rather snippily.
There was a slight shifting of the carriage as the driver climbed on his perch. A muffled “Ready milord, milady?” could be heard.
De Roux lifted a hand to rap on the roof of the carriage.
Belle inhaled a breath to scream, but Simon gripped her hand and squeezed hard.
Oh right, there was a pistol pointing at her heart.
Fine, then.
She shot De Roux a look just as the carriage started forward, causing her to rock her back on the seat. “All I did was take back what you stole.”
De Roux’s laugh was a harsh cackle. “With your little act, you branded me a traitor to my country, princess,” he spat at her.
“How is that even possible? I was nothing but a foolish girl you fooled. And quite effectively, too,” Belle muttered bitterly.
“All my contacts knew of your pedigree—”
Pedigree?
“—and they all knew I was successful in obtaining the information. So when I arrived without it, suspicion arose. They believed I took a liking to you. Then, someone clever enough to recognize the sensitivity surrounding my empty-handed return, whispered accusations, rumors into the right ears.”
“I still do not understand why that would matter?”
“Your family has been embroiled in service to your crown for centuries,” De Roux growled.
Belle’s face slackened in shock at that. But that would mean father had been a spy, as well. “I know nothing of this.”
“I don’t believe you. It was you!” he roared. “Who else could it have been? I’ve run through every possible option, it could only have been you.”
“You believe I was the one that started the rumors? But that’s ridiculous! How could I accuse you of anything if I didn’t know anything?”
“You knew to steal my parchment!”
“I was suspicious that night. And my suspicions proved correct. But I had no idea why. I suspected you were not who you claimed to be, but I had no proof. Not till your accent slipped.”
Simon gripped her hand in warning, but she ignored it. This man actually believed her to be a spy. How absolutely absurd. His vendetta, however, made much more sense in light of this recent knowledge.
“I am not a spy.”
He waved her declaration aside. “You are a clever little liar, but I’ve figured you and your brothers out.”
Quinn and Bradford.
Her heart sank.
“My brothers have nothing to do with this.”
Simon gripped her arm tightly, warning her to keep her mouth shut.
De Roux truly wasn’t in his right mind. Any doubt she may have harbored that he acted out of some misplaced sense of revenge over her betrayal vanished. He did not want revenge because she’d stolen his papers. He wanted revenge because he thought she outwitted him at his own game.
“Oh, you would prefer I believe that, wouldn’t you, Lady Belle? Not to worry, they are next on my list.”
Not if I wrap my fingers around your neck first.
“But first, I will have the pleasure of killing you and your lover while you know that your brothers are next. How does that feel?”
Simon squeezed her hand yet again. She spared him a glance and nearly gasped. He was beyond tense. Whether it was in anger or fear, she couldn’t say, but he looked simply murderous. His other hand was fisted at his side and his jaw was clenched so hard that veins popped out of his neck. His shoulders were bunched in suppressed fury and his eyes were narrowed to slits. To put it plainly, he looked like a barely-restrained bear, ready to attack. But with the pistol aimed at her heart, he would not take the chance.
Belle’s worried gaze returned to De Roux.
Hell’s bells.
They needed a miracle.
Chapter 23
That miracle came in a very unlikely form.
Simon’s grip on her hand was starting to hurt; the tension in the carriage was unbearable and the cruel edge to their captor’s smile wasn’t aiding her rising panic. Belle did not know how long they’d manage to go on like this. She refused, however, to die at the hands of this man.
It could be possible to jump him, but with Simon’s tight grip on her hand, she imagined he’d yank her back at even the slightest movement. He held onto her almost as if he expected her to act rashly. This, of course, did nothing to stop her from plotting an escape anyway.
Then, to their surprise, the carriage suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Had it not been for De Roux’s snarl of “What the devil!” Belle would have believed this to be their end.
De Roux rapped on the roof. When nothing happened, he shot them a glare, menace in his eyes. “No matter, this will have to do.” He swung open the door and stood to exit the carriage, his pistol never wavering from Belle. “Get out, slowly. And do not motion danger to the driver or I’ll shoot him dead,” he hissed.
Belle swallowed down her terror. She’d be damned if she cowered in fear. If Death came knocking at her door, he’d be met with bravery and foolish behavior. Yes, there would certainly be some of that. But something unexpected happened then, something so unforeseen that Belle would look back on it in marvel for years.
Belle had started to rise, half crouched t
o exit the carriage when Lord Beaverstoke suddenly appeared behind her stinky-breathed terrorizer. Before the surprise could even register on her face, the funny-looking lord wacked De Roux over the head with a piece of wood.
As De Roux crumbled to the ground, blood dripping from the side of his head, his pistol went off. Belle and Simon both glanced up at the gaping hole in the carriage roof before settling their shocked eyes back on the collapsed figure.
With a flash of movement Lady Lucinda appeared in the fray, snatching the weapon from De Roux’s clutches and pointing it, unwavering, at his head.
“Lady Belle! Lord Westfield! Are you both all right?” The lady’s voice penetrated their shocked daze.
Belle shivered when Simon’s unsteady hands tightly gripped her waist. “Belle, are you hurt? Tell me you’re not hurt.”
Belle plopped down on his knee and took his face in her hands, murmuring, “I am unhurt, truly.”
His shoulders dropped with relief. “It’s over then.”
Belle nodded, glancing at Lord Beaverstoke. He stood over the body of the man who’d tormented Belle for so long, his glasses askew on his nose and a satisfied smile coating his face.
She shook her head in disbelief. However unlikely, Lord Beaverstoke and Lady Lucinda had saved the day. It seemed rather impossible for it to be over so quickly without a fight, without begging or without any climax really—yet, here they stood, free and unharmed.
Belle glanced at up Simon, noting he also gazed in incredulous fascination at the couple who’d saved them.
“Thank you,” Simon murmured. “Your bravery saved our lives.”
Lady Lucinda beamed. “We could not sit by and do nothing—especially after we saw you being held at gunpoint. So we decided it was our duty to rescue you.”
“How on earth did you manage it?” Belle asked, relieved yet still a bit dubious.
Lady Lucinda glanced lovingly at her heroic lord. “Well, we rode out on our horses to gain some ground on you, then we stopped the carriage by flashing notes at the driver—he had no idea what was going on, mind you! Seems when he was inside the Inn, a gentleman, or rather this person,” she shook the gun at De Roux’s prone form, “had explained that you two were ready to continue northward and he simply did so when he returned and heard your signal for departure.” Lady Lucinda turned towards their driver. “Isn’t that right, sir?”
The driver nodded at Lady Lucinda before sheepishly turning towards Belle and Simon. “My apologies milord, milady. I ’ad no idea bout the bad business.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Belle responded, for none of it was the poor man’s fault, after all.
“So!” Lady Lucinda exclaimed, garnering their attention once again, “In any case, when the carriage stopped, we rescued you! A grand plan, was it not?” Lucinda cried with excitement, waving her arms around with a flourish.
“Careful dear,” Lord Beaverstoke admonished, taking the pistol from her with gentle hands.
“Oh! Right!”
Belle managed a small smile for their rescuers. “Thank you, Lady Lucinda, and you, Lord Beaverstoke. I will forever be in your debt.”
“Oh, no need to thank us, it was quite fun! More fun than I would have thought for an elopement.”
Lord Beaverstoke gave a single nod.
“So, what ever are we going to do with him?” Lady Lucinda asked, waving a hand the weasel on the ground.
“Tie him up and hand him over to the authorities?” Lord Beaverstoke suggested.
Simon shook his head, his arms tightening around Belle. “We cannot take the chance that he might escape.”
Belle stared at De Roux. He had nearly succeeded in killing her three times, not including this attempt. She should have enlisted Lord Beaverstoke’s aid from the start, she mused.
“Please tell me we are not traveling with him back to London?” The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.
She did not wish to be near the man. He could be dragged there, tied to the end of a rope attached to a moving carriage for all she cared.
Simon’s face skewed up in disgust. “No, sweet, we will leave him here for your…” he cleared his throat, “the others to find. They are not even an hour behind us if my estimations are correct.”
Belle raised her brows at how Simon knew that fact, though she trusted the information. She was surprised at how close he had been cutting his kidnapping of her, though—Bradford would be furious—but nodded, pleased with the idea that they could leave De Roux here for her brothers to handle. Anything was better than journeying with the man who had caused her countless of pain.
Lord Beaverstoke glanced around. “I suppose we can tie him to a tree just off the path and gag him.”
“But what if he gets away?”
“Trust me, Lady Lucinda,” Simon murmured, the edge of his voice laced with menace. “He will not get away. I will make sure of it…assuming I can find some rope.”
“Got some rope ’ere, milord,” the carriage-driver supplied.
“Hold for a moment,” Belle murmured as she hopped from the carriage and crossed the distance over to the unconscious Frenchman. She stared down at his still form, narrowed her eyes and kicked him hard in the side. “May you rot in hell, Edgar De Roux.”
Simon came up beside her, resting his hand on the small of her back. “It’s over. He’ll never harm you again.”
She nodded, unable to form a reply. Now that he lay on the ground helpless, she felt nothing but pity for him—pity he did not even deserve. It occurred to her that now that he was finally taken care of, her brothers would return home.
Happiness sprouted up inside of her, like a little seed that had been long dormant.
Simon, Lord Beaverstoke and the driver all set to work trussing up De Roux like a Christmas chicken and securing him to the tree. She and Lady Lucinda watched in relative silence—relative, as there was only so much quiet the bubbly Lady Lucinda could tolerate. Rope wound around the French spy from the neck to the ankles and a gag was secured around his mouth. Then Simon punched him in the jaw a few extra times for good measure.
He made his way over to her.
“So,” Simon murmured in her ear, his warm breath caressing her skin. “What happens now?”
Belle tilted her head to reward him with a small smile. His hair was disheveled and the worry she’d come to expect in those beautiful eyes was replaced by serenity. He stood calmly before her. Gone was the man who had shadowed her every step out of concern. In his place, a man patiently awaited her judgment—his fate—with nothing but love in his gaze. He was leaving the decision up to her.
Belle envisioned her life with him, which wasn’t hard since she’d done it countless of times in the past, but this time instead of envisioning the resentment and hatred that may grow at her inability to bearing him an heir, she envisioned more love and happiness growing with each passing moment.
Her smile widened. “I do not know, I suppose it’s past time to return home and welcome my brothers back.”
His face fell. Shoulders drooped.
A slow, teasing chuckled escaped her and she winked at him.
With a growl, he snatched her by the waist and pulled her tightly against his chest. “It’s considered rude to tease your future husband.”
“What? Aren’t we going to have an unbearably long engagement first? How utterly disappointing, I rather enjoy the sound of calling you, my fiancé.”
He groaned. “An hour, that is all you get.” Then his eyes turned pleading. “Please do not make me wait. I don’t think I can survive it.”
“My brothers will come back now that the despicable creature is taken care of. And I have missed them so.”
Belle could tell Simon was about to retort with some snappy comment when Lady Lucinda interrupted, “If I can make a suggestion?” They both turned their heads to look at her. “Lord Westfield can always take up residence with you instead of the other way around. That is what Lord Beaverstoke will be doing because he
has eight sisters! And there is just so much room at…”
Belle frowned at Lady Lucinda, already muting the lady’s incessant babbling in her mind. What an odd creature. Yet, not a terrible plan. Though she could tell Simon thought differently.
“They are more than welcome to come live with us,” he muttered, quickly adding, “for a few weeks.”
Belle leaned back to gaze into his determined eyes. “I’ve missed my brothers and they’ll want to spend time with me, too, Simon.”
“Then your brothers can visit, sweet, but I’m not taking up residence with them.” He shuddered at the thought. “Why are we even discussing this?”
“Because you know how much I enjoy stirring up trouble—and my brothers are even worse.”
He snorted and then murmured in a low voice so that only she can hear, “They cannot be that spectacular. Why Lord Beaverstoke succeeded in minutes where they failed for years. I will take my chances.”
“You are incorrigible. You kidnapped me without their knowledge! They are chasing us even now. They will not like it.”
“If I asked their permission, then it wouldn’t have been a kidnapping, now would it?”
She burst into laughter at that. “Who knew you were so fond of trouble, Simon Tremaine?” Belle threw herself into his arms. “But I like trouble. So marry me and be done with it.”
A low growl of approval rumbled in his chest and he lowered his head—
“Oh, I know!” Lady Lucinda chirped just as Simon was about to touch his lips to Belle’s. “We can have a double wedding!”
Their heads whipped around in something akin to horror, but they managed to quickly mask their expressions.
A double wedding?
With Lady Lucinda and Lord Beaverstoke?
Oh dear.
“That is a splendid idea, my dear. We’ve caught a villain together, so it is only natural that we get married together.”
This was by far the strangest couple Belle had ever encountered.
“Yes, it is a grand plan, is it not?” Lady Lucinda replied.
What could she possibly say?
Belle glanced helplessly at Simon, who appeared more amused than averse. He caught her gaze and lowered his mouth to her ear. “They did save our lives,” he whispered.
