Whirlwind Wedding

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  "You're welcome." Elizabeth looked at his handsome, serious face and her heart broke into tiny pieces. Dear God she loved him so much. "I… I would do anything for you."

  The unguarded words slipped past her lips and she cringed as the budding warmth she'd detected in his expression iced over.

  "Anything?" A humorless laugh escaped him. "If that weren't such a blatant lie, it would be positively amusing." He crossed to the door and opened it. He hesitated as if deciding whether to say something more, but after several seconds, he simply walked into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

  Elizabeth drew a deep breath and pressed her hands to her churning stomach. Her husband clearly thought he'd dismissed her.

  Her chin lifted with determination.

  Her husband clearly didn't know everything.

  Austin strode from the town house, mentally congratulating himself on his hasty departure. He'd scribbled quick notes to his mother and Miles stating he'd been unavoidably called away to France. Regret pricked him at the way he'd left Elizabeth, but he hadn't had a choice. If he'd stayed in that room with her for another moment he would have said or done something he'd regret. Like dropped to my knees and begged her to love me.

  An impatient sound escaped him and he forced himself to push thoughts of her aside. He had to concentrate on the task at hand. On his trip to France. On finding Gaspard. And hopefully William. He had to stop thinking about Elizabeth.

  The footman opened the coach door for him. Austin placed his foot on the step and froze.

  Elizabeth, garbed in her peacock traveling suit, sat in the coach.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

  She raised her brows. "I'm waiting for you."

  "If you wish to speak with me, you'll have to wait until I return. I'm leaving immediately."

  "Yes, I know. And the sooner you settle yourself, the sooner we can depart."

  "We?" A bark of incredulous laughter escaped him. "We are not going anywhere."

  Her chin raised an inch. "I beg to differ. We are going to France."

  Anger shot through him. With a curt nod he dismissed the hovering footman. Leaning into the carriage, he said in a tightly controlled voice, "The only place you are going is back into the house. Now."

  "Do you truly think that is for the best?"

  "Yes."

  She nodded thoughtfully. "It seems like a dreadful waste of time to me. You see, if you make me leave this coach, you will be further delayed by having to remove my luggage. And then I shall have to arrange other transportation to Dover."

  His lips collapsed into a tight line. "You will do nothing of the kind."

  Determination fired in her eyes. "Yes, I will."

  "The hell you will. I forbid it."

  "I shall go just the same."

  He barely smothered the vicious oath that rose to his lips. Damn stubborn woman. "Elizabeth, you are not-"

  "How is your French?"

  That gave him pause. "My French?"

  "According to Caroline, you understand the language but can't speak it well enough for anyone to comprehend."

  Even while he mentally consigned his sister to perdition, he couldn't deny the truth of her words. His French was atrocious.

  His lip curled. "And I suppose you're fluent?"

  She shot him a beaming smile. "Oui. Naturellement."

  "And who taught you French?"

  "My English mother, who studied the language as all English young ladies do." Her smile faded and her eyes turned imploring and determined at the same time. "Please understand. I cannot let you go alone. I promised to help you, and help you I shall. If you refuse to take me with you, I shall be forced to travel to Calais on my own."

  He could tell by the tilt of her chin and the fierce resolve in her expression that she would do as she threatened unless he planned to tie her forcibly to a chair. And even if he did he didn't doubt that Robert, Miles, Caroline, or even his own mother would untie her. Damn it, the entire bloody family would no doubt accompany her to France.

  Knowing he was defeated but not liking it one bit, he climbed into the carriage. Without waiting for the footman, he slammed the door shut himself, then signaled the driver to depart.

  Chapter 22

  The damn woman was impossible to ignore.

  He wouldn't have been able to ignore her if they'd been in a huge ballroom. The confines of his coach nearly undid him.

  All his senses were intensely aware of her. Every time he inhaled, her gentle lilac scent filled his head.

  In desperation, he closed his eyes, praying he'd fall asleep, but his prayers were in vain. Instead images of her danced behind his eyes. Images that nothing could erase.

  What would it take to wipe her from his thoughts? From his heart? His soul?

  He opened one eye a slit. She sat across from him, reading a book, and appeared cool and composed, a fact that rankled him. Clearly he was the only one who was suffering.

  He slammed his eye shut and held in a grunt. By damn, he was determined to suffer in silence. Even if the effort killed him.

  The coach ride nearly killed her.

  Elizabeth exited the coach in Dover and stretched her cramped muscles. The journey had been sheer torture. Five hours of pretending to read a book she could not even name the title of. And all the while Austin had sat across from her, sleeping.

  She would have gladly welcomed sleep, but she could barely sit still, let alone close her eyes. She spent the entire journey staring at her book, her heart desperately trying to convince her mind to accept the offer Austin had made weeks ago-to be lovers in ways that would not result in the conception of a child.

  But as much as her heart begged her mind refused to listen. It would only take one slip in control-control that somehow eludes me when he takes me in his arms-and I couldfind myself with child. And I know that child's fate.

  An icy shudder ripped through her. As much as her decision hurt, she could not subject Austin to the torment of their daughter's death.

  Austin stared at the innkeeper. "I beg your pardon?"

  "There's only one room, your grace," the elderly man repeated.

  He truly had to fight the urge to pound his fists upon the stone walls. Damn it, what else could go wrong? But even as the question entered his mind he banished it. Better not to ask.

  And no point taking his frustrations out on the innkeeper. It wasn't the elderly man's fault that his inn was full. After issuing instructions to the footman to deliver the necessary baggage to the available room, he allowed the innkeeper to lead him and Elizabeth up the stairs.

  The room was small but cheerful, the space nearly wholly occupied by a comfortable-looking bed covered with an intricately embroidered cream coverlet.

  "There's fresh water in the pitcher, your grace," the innkeeper said. "Will you need anything else?"

  Austin pried his attention from the bed and the wealth of thoughts it inspired. "Nothing else, thank you."

  The innkeeper left, closing the door behind him. Austin watched Elizabeth fiddle with the ties on her bonnet. She looked at him and offered an uncertain half smile.

  "This is a… tad awkward," she said.

  He approached her, his eyes riveted on hers. "Awkward? Why is that? We're man and wife."

  Crimson stained her cheeks. "I cannot share a bed with you."

  "So you've said. But unfortunately there is only one bed. And two of us."

  "I shall sleep on the floor," she said in what he believed she intended as a confident voice, but the slight tremor gave a clear indication that she was rattled.

  Good. She was not as calm as she appeared. He'd just spent five miserable hours, and the notion that she might be miserable as well cheered him considerably.

  He took another step toward her. Her eyes widened a bit, but she stood her ground. Another step closer and he detected her sharp intake of breath. Two more strides and he stood directly in front of her. Her golden brown eyes flickered with apprehe
nsion, but he grudgingly had to admire her spirit in not backing away from him. But damn it, he longed to shake her composure. As she'd shaken his.

  Lowering his gaze to her mouth, he whispered, "It isn't necessary for you to sleep on the floor, Elizabeth."

  "I'm afraid it is."

  "Because you don't trust me not to seduce you?"

  "I trust you," she whispered. "It's myself I cannot trust."

  The ache in her voice snapped his gaze back to hers. He studied her, the vulnerability glimmering in her eyes, the need and desire shadowing their golden depths, and his breath stalled. He sensed she was trying desperately to hide it, but the evidence was there in her eyes. She wanted him. Desire shimmered from her like warm sun rays, beckoning him.

  He lifted his hand to touch her, but curled his fingers into a fist and resisted the powerful urge. Her eyes told him he could seduce her, but he couldn't endure the pain of having to let her go again. Of hearing her say afterward that she planned to leave him. As much as he wanted her, her betrayal still hurt too much.

  Turning from her, he walked to the window and dragged his hands down his face. It occurred to him that Elizabeth's visions were a double-edged sword. On the one side, they'd helped lead him to Gaspard who would in turn hopefully lead him to William.

  But her premonitions had robbed him of his marriage. His wife. The chance for a future filled with happiness. And children. They'd left him with nothing but anger, pain, betrayal, and a heartache so deep he didn't know if he'd ever stop hurting.

  He heard her crossing the room and he turned around freezing when he found her standing no more than a foot away from him. She appeared equally startled by this sudden nearness, and equally riveted in place. He had only to reach out to touch her… to take one step forward to hold her in his arms. His brain ordered him to move away, but his feet remained rooted to the spot as if someone had nailed his shoes to the floor.

  He could see every pale gold freckle on her nose, every soot-colored eyelash surrounding her beautiful eyes… eyes he didn't want to look into because they'd fooled him too many times. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he immediately recalled the sensation of her soft lips crushed beneath his, parting to accept the thrust of his tongue. Desire slammed into him and he clenched his hands, forcing them not to reach out. Damn it, he had to get out of this room.

  "You sleep in the bed," he said, sidestepping around her. "I'm going downstairs for a drink. I'll find somewhere else to sleep."

  She flinched, then stared at him. "It is not necessary to flaunt your… sleeping arrangements in my face."

  He paused with his hand gripped on the doorknob. "I beg your pardon?"

  "Naturally I don't expect you to remain celibate for the remainder of our marital union, but I'd appreciate your discretion."

  An emotion he could not decipher glittered in her eyes. He made her an exaggerated formal bow. "I see. Your generous willingness to share me overwhelms me, and should the occasion arise, I shall endeavor to be discreet. However, for tonight it is my intention to sleep in that chair"- he inclined his head toward the wing chair in the corner-"but first I want a brandy." Or two. Three was not outside the realm of possibility.

  He left the room, closing the door behind him, then drew a ragged breath into his lungs.

  Bloody hell, he suspected an entire bottle would probably be necessary.

  The packet docked in Calais late in the afternoon and Austin and Elizabeth were the first to disembark. He set out to arrange transportation to Marck and immediately realized what an asset Elizabeth was. She conversed in flawless French with the stable owner and ten minutes later they were presented with a handsome curricle pulled by two matched bays. God only knows what would have been brought had he been the one to order the transportation.

  At once grateful and irked Austin climbed onto the leather seat. Before he could reach down to assist Elizabeth, the stable owner helped her climb onto the seat. Austin noted the admiring warmth in the man's eyes and sizzled a glare at him. Bloody hell, he needed to master the French phrase "stop staring at my wife, you bastard." Clearly unfazed the man merely grinned then sauntered away.

  Grabbing the reins, Austin set the curricle in motion and turned his thoughts to the mission that lay ahead. They would arrive in Marck in approximately an hour. If all went well, he'd locate Gaspard and finally get answers to the questions plaguing him-about the blackmail notes and perhaps even William's whereabouts.

  They hit a rut in the road and his shoulder bumped Elizabeth's. Stealing a sideways glance at her, he noted that she appeared pale and her hands were clenched. There was no way in hell he was going to bring her along on his meeting with Gaspard. The man was dangerous. He'd have to find an inn at which to leave her. He suspected she wouldn!t like it, but-

  She grabbed his arm. "Austin."

  Turning, he saw genuine fear in her eyes. "What is it?"

  "We must hurry."

  Alarm edged down his spine at the urgency in her tone. "Why?"

  Pressing her fingers to her temples, she shook her head. "I'm not sure. It's not clear. But he's close by. And I know we must hurry." Her face turned chalky pale. "Please. It's a matter of life and death."

  Austin nicked the reins, setting the horses off at a gallop.

  Elizabeth held on tightly to her seat as the curricle raced down the path. Fleeting images flashed in her mind, none of them clear, but all of them dark and menacing.

  "When we reach the village, I'm leaving you at an inn," Austin said his face tense from concentrating on driving the speeding curricle.

  She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, he reined the horses to a halt. They stopped before a fork in the road. Trees lined both paths. They looked identical.

  "Damn it." Austin raked a hand through his hair. "Which way?"

  Elizabeth stared alternately at both paths, but felt nothing. "Help me down."

  He looked at her for the space of two heartbeats, then jumped to the ground to assist her. The instant her feet touched the ground, she ran to the fork. Drawing a deep breath, she knelt, closed her eyes, then placed her hands on the ground.

  Images slashed through her mind and she forced herself to relax, to try to get a clear picture. It took several minutes, but when the vision appeared, it was crystal clear.

  And devastating.

  She saw herself. Bleeding. Losing consciousness. Dying.

  Dear God, what was she going to do? If she told him what she'd seen, he would never allow her to go with him. He would insist upon bringing her to the village-and the time spent doing that would mean they'd be too late.

  She knew someone was going to die.

  But she also knew that if she went with him, she probably would not come back alive.

  Opening her eyes, she stood and turned to face him. "We need to take the left fork."

  Chapter 23

  Austin closed the distance between them in a single stride and grabbed her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing. I-"

  He gave her a hard shake. "Don't lie to me. Your face is deathly white. You're frightened. What did you see?"

  "We must take the left fork. We'll find him there."

  "I'm not bringing you-"

  "If we don't leave now, we'll be too late." She pulled herself from his grasp and ran toward the curricle. "Please. Hurry."

  He caught up with her and grabbed her shoulder. "Too late for what?"

  She fought the urge to panic. "Someone is going to die. I don't know who. I only know we're wasting time. Time we don't have." Realizing she needed somehow to reassure him of her safety, she said "I'll remain in the curricle, or I'll hide in the woods. I'll do whatever you think best, but we must go now."

  He didn't hesitate any longer. He quickly assisted her, then jumped into the driver's position. With a sharp flick of his wrists, he set the curricle in motion down the left path.

  A quarter hour passed before Elizabeth saw it. Grabbing Austin's arm, she pointed. "Look."


  He brought the curricle to a halt. In the distance, a thin plume of gray smoke floated above the trees. "Looks like it's from a chimney."

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. "Yes. A stone chimney. It's a cottage." She opened her eyes and looked directly into his. "It's Gaspard's, Austin. He's there."

  His face hardened. Without a word, he jumped from the vehicle. When she made a move to follow, he pinned her in place with an icy stare. "Don't move."

  Snatching the reins, he led the horses and curricle off the road and into the woods, positioning them so that they were fairly well out of sight, yet facing the road.

  He came alongside the vehicle and looked up at her. "You're to remain hidden here. If I haven't returned in an hour, I want you to drive to the village and check into an inn. I'll find you."

  Fear gripped her. "Are you mad? I won't leave-"

  "You said you would do whatever I asked."

  "This man is dangerous."

  Steel glinted in his eyes. "So am I."

  "He's armed."

  "So am I."

  Fear turned her skin clammy. Her alarm must have shown on her face, because he reached up his hand to her. Without hesitation she clasped it between both of her own. And prayed.

  He squeezed her hand. "I'll be fine, Elizabeth."

  She couldn't speak around the dread clutching her throat, so she merely nodded. Withdrawing his hand from between hers, he left, running between the trees toward the plume of smoke.

  She pressed her palms together to retain the warmth his skin had left on hers and watched him disappear from view.

  I'll be fine, Elizabeth.

  "Yes, you will," she whispered. "I intend to see to it."

  The instant he was out of sight, she climbed down from the curricle. She had no weapon, but perhaps…

  Reaching up, she pulled her medical bag from the seat. Opening it, she withdrew a pouch and slipped it into her pocket. If she could get close enough to Gaspard to throw the peppery herb mixture into his eyes, he would be temporarily blinded. It wasn't much, but she couldn't let that stop her. If she didn't act, and act now, someone would die.