'I shall tell the truth, Henry, however it may hurt you.'
'I won't have it!' Henry's voice rose to a scream. 'I'd planned to save you, Mother, but not now.' He half turned and raised the gun as she started to walk towards him. 'Stand back or I fire!'
Lucia did not falter. 'Give me the gun!' she insisted.
India saw his finger tighten on the trigger. All their lives hung by a thread and she had nothing to lose by taking action. She gave a piercing shriek and threw herself into Isham's arms.
'If I am to die, it shall be in your embrace,' she cried dramatically. To her own ears it sounded like a line from a bad play, but she could think of nothing else to do or say. To appeal for mercy would be useless.
'Take the guns!' she hissed. Shielding him with her body she transferred the weapons to his hands and threw her arms about his neck. Then she closed her eyes, waiting for the shot that would smash her spine.
'A touching scene!' Henry was laughing openly, but at least she had diverted his attention from his mother.
Still keeping them covered, he drew aside the curtains with his free hand, allowing the light to stream across the lawn. 'Now!' he shouted to the crowd.
It was his last word on earth. A single shot rang out and Henry fell to his knees.
As his mother ran towards him he made a last attempt to raise the pistol. Then he crumpled to the ground.
Chapter Thirteen
India was transfixed with horror as Lucia cradled her son's body in her arms. Then she released herself from Isham's grasp and ran to the grieving woman.
There was silence in the room, but from the crowd outside she heard a collective sigh, as though a rising wind had stirred a field of corn. She felt the panic as clearly as if she had been among them. Weaker spirits had already begun to drift away, but the dispersal turned into a rout as a troop of dragoons raced towards them at full gallop. She closed the curtains to shut out the shouting and the cries of fear, but Lucia had not moved.
A look was enough to convince her that Henry was already dead. She seized Lucia's hands and tried to draw her away.
'No, let her mourn!' Isham said very gently, as he raised India to her feet. 'My darling, are you hurt?' He gathered her to him and held her close.
India was shaking uncontrollably. 'No! Oh, Anthony, did you have to shoot to kill?'
'I did not fire at all, my love. The shot came from outside.'
'But why? I thought they were his friends.'
'Henry had taken off his mask. They must have thought him one of us. It would have been difficult to tell. He was silhouetted against the light.'
'Thank God that it was not you. We could not have lived with that.' India sank into a chair, feeling that her legs would not support her. She was too shocked for tears.
'You are ill!' he cried in anguish. He lifted her on to his lap. 'What have I done to you?'
India raised a hand to stroke the haggard face. 'I love you,' she said simply. Then her eyes closed and she plunged into whirling darkness.
When she came to herself India found that she was tucked up safely in her own bed, with her hand caught in a firm clasp.
'Anthony?' she murmured. She could not see too clearly, as the candle by her bed was shaded and the room was filled with flickering light from the dying fire. Yet she could not be mistaken in one so dear to her. His nearness was a comfort, and she reached out to touch the smooth cloth of his coat.
'Thank God!' When he raised his head to look at her she could see that his eyes were wet. 'I thought I'd lost you.'
'Don't distress yourself, my darling. I fainted, that is all. It was a foolish thing to do.'
He shuddered. 'Not nearly as foolish as when you tried to shield me with your body.'
'I...I wanted to give you the guns.'
'You took a dreadful chance.' He covered his eyes with his hand. 'When the shot rang out I thought he'd fired.'
'Don't think about it! We are alive and that is all that matters.'
He shook his head. 'No, it isn't! If it takes a lifetime I'll try to persuade you to forgive me. I don't deserve you, India, but I wanted you so much.'
India stroked his cheek. 'There is nothing to forgive,' she murmured. 'Letty told me that you loved me, but I would not believe her.'
'How could you? I never even told you of my love. I let you think that we had entered into some disgusting bargain, and succeeded only in disgusting myself. I must have been mad to offer for you as I did. I deserve to be horse-whipped for my insolence.'
India chuckled. 'You might have been hoist with your own petard. Suppose that Letty had accepted you, rather than myself?'
An unwilling smile crept into his eyes. 'There was no danger of that, my lovely witch. I had studied you more closely than you know. You would not have let your sister make the sacrifice.'
India pretended to frown. 'True! The sacrifice was great, I must admit. After all, who would want a man who pandered to his wife's every whim, fought her family battles for her, saw to her comfort, and showered her with gifts?'
'But it wasn't enough, was it? That you must also admit. Sometimes I thought that you hated me.'
'Sometimes I did, but that feeling did not last. I grew to love you, Anthony, but by that time I felt it was too late. I believed that you would never learn to care for me.'
He kissed her then, gently at first, and then with growing passion as she clung to him, returning the kiss with interest. Her senses reeled as she was swept away on an overwhelming tide of rapture, secure now in his love.
This was what she had dreamed of all her life—not for a union that was just an animal coupling, but for a true marriage where trust, affection and respect played just as large a part.
He released her only to look long into her eyes. In his own she could find no trace of doubt. She raised her fingers to his lips, tracing the outline of the firm mouth as she begged for more.
He kissed her again, but these were gentle caresses, alighting at the corners of her lips, moving to her eyelids and finally to the tip of her nose. They were as light as the flutterings of a moth.
'I should let you rest,' he told her ruefully. 'This must have been the worst day of your life.'
'Oh no, the worst time was when I thought that you would never grow to love me.'
'I never stopped, my darling. I loved you at first sight. My problem then was how to win you.' Tenderly, he pressed a kiss into her palm. 'I was a clumsy fool, India. I curse myself when I think of how I've wasted these past weeks, and then...to put you in such danger!'
'That was Hot your fault,' she told him quietly. 'How could you have known that Henry was behind these so-called "accidents"?' Then she remembered Lucia. 'Oh. his mother! Where is she, Anthony?'
'She's resting. The doctor has given her a sedative, and Nan is with her.'
'You found the servants then? I sent them to the cellars. They were not to come out until they heard my signal.'
Isham laughed. 'My voice was enough for Tibbs. I bellowed loud enough to bring the walls down.' His eyes were teasing as he looked at India. 'What a strategist you are! Wellesley has much need of you. He could have done no better himself.'
India shook her head. 'I don't believe I'll offer him my services. I was so very frightened without you. You were away so long.'
'I went to ask for troops, my love. You see, I had been warned of a possible attack.'
'But by whom? You did not tell me...'
'Not all the local men approve of rioting, my dear.' He sat on the bed and slipped an arm about her shoulders. 'I didn't want to alarm you. I had intended to be back with the troops much earlier, but there were formalities... I had not guessed that you would be in serious danger, thinking only that we might suffer broken windows, or lose a barn or two. I was assured that they meant no harm to women.'
'What will happen to them now?'
'I won't seek vengeance against the starving. Most of the men will escape, but if any are taken I'll do my best to speak on their beha
lf.'
'And the murderer? He who killed Henry?'
'We may never know his name.'
'Poor Lucia! Will this mean a dreadful scandal, Anthony? It would break her heart.'
'I think not. Strangely, his own plan has prevented that. His death will be blamed upon the mob. I can't imagine that he mingled with them openly. More likely he was always masked, so none would know his name.'
'Then thank heavens he removed that mask before... before...'
'Don't,' he said softly. 'The dragoons will find nothing amiss. To them he will be Henry Salton, a brave man killed in defence of his family. The charges I mentioned to you are certain to be dropped.'
'I am glad of it for your sake, and also for his mother's.' India had been toying with the buttons of his shirt. Now she slid her hand through the opening and began to stroke the smooth skin of his chest. She heard a sharp intake of breath and then he caught her wrist in an iron grip.
'Don't try my fortitude, India! I'm not made of stone. When you touch me I forget my worthy resolutions.'
'And what were those, my lord?'
'You know them well enough. I swore that you should not be my true wife until you came to me of your own free will.'
India's smile was demure. 'You feel that I am resisting your advances?' She released her hand and continued with her stroking. In that moment Isham had told her why he had pulled away from her so hurtfully. Then her gentle fingers encountered a slight puckering of the skin.
Curious, she opened his shirt further to reveal a long scar, white against the tanned skin, running from his shoulder to his waist. It was clearly the result of a sabre cut.
'Oh, my darling, how you must have suffered!' She pressed her lips against the scar.
Isham held her away from him. 'India, this is not the time,' he said thickly. 'You are not yourself. These last few hours must have been a torment.'
'They were indeed. One moment was worse than any of the others, in fact.'
'When was that?' He gathered her to him, encircling her with his arms, as if to protect her from any further hurt.
'It was when Lucia asked me if I was with child. To deny it was torment.'
Isham sat very still. Then he slipped a hand beneath her chin and raised her face to his. 'Seductress!' he said softly. 'Wife, you are a shameless hussy! You are not even blushing.'
'You asked for the truth,' she whispered. 'I cannot blush to tell it.'
'You are sure?' He looked deep into her eyes.
'I was never more sure of anything in my life. I love you, Anthony. I want to bear your sons.'
His mouth came down on hers, and in that lingering kiss all their misunderstandings vanished like snow in summer. India's senses began to reel as his lips became more insistent. She clung to him as if her very life depended on it.
He released her at last, rose to his feet, and walked across the room to lock the door.
'Anthony!' Her soft cry brought him round to face her.
India was standing by the bed. As he watched she tugged at the ribbon fastenings of her nightgown. The fine silk whispered to the ground. Then, proud and confident, she walked into the arms and the heart of the man she loved.
The Reluctant Bride Page 20
