The Scarlet Bride

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  “I know.” She touched her neck and winced, imagining her last moments on earth as the life was choked out of her. “I should flee to Scotland or America, where they can never find me. It would simplify things for all of us.”

  He took her hands. “If you run, then you will never be free.” He squeezed her fingers. “That is why I need to know every detail about Westwick. The more I know, the better prepared I will be to implement my plan.”

  “And that is?” Laura didn’t like the intense look in his eyes. Her stomach tightened painfully.

  “To find and capture Westwick’s killer.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Laura paced at the garden gate, her gray skirt and petticoats swishing around her legs. The hours since midnight had been dreadfully long. All night, she’d had the uneasy sensation of being watched and made several trips to the window to peer out. As expected, there were no eyes staring back from the darkness.

  Still, the feeling—and Simon’s desire to hunt the killer—melded together to leave her restless. She hadn’t slept a wink after he left, and even the delicious food served at breakfast had tasted unappealing on her tongue.

  Worried, that’s what she was. The killer had had no qualms about murdering a peer. He wouldn’t think twice about murdering Simon to keep his secret.

  A hackney rolled slowly down the alley. Laura stepped through the gate, and the driver pulled to a stop.

  Simon alighted and helped her inside, his expression grim.

  “I thought a man of your stature would travel in grander style. I was hoping for gilt trim and velvet squabs,” she quipped, trying to overcome the knot lingering in her stomach. The jest fell flat. The second the door to the hackney thudded closed behind her, she rushed ahead: “You cannot risk your life to save mine. I’ll not allow it!”

  Simon smiled cynically. “You have little faith in my abilities, love. I’m disappointed.”

  The coach jerked into motion. Laura scowled. “I know you can rescue damsels and fight footmen with great skill. My issue is with a killer who would just as willingly kill you as brush lint off his coat.”

  His face turned stony. “I’ve fought men for both sport and entertainment. I can handle a cowardly killer who would stab a man in the back.”

  Why were men so stubborn? “You mistake my argument. I know you are strong and manly and capable of vast strength,” she snapped. “My worry is that you may not see him coming. He managed to enter the earl’s town house, kill him, and exit without capture. As you said, he is cowardly, like a tiny dog that nips your heels and darts away before you see his intention.”

  Simon watched her through narrow slits. “Who said he snuck into the town house? Have you considered that the killer was an invited guest?”

  This took her aback. She slumped against the squabs. Had the culprit been staying under the roof with her? Did she know him? Was he one of the many faces that had come to bid for her?

  Another notion came to mind. It was hard to fathom that Westwick hadn’t been killed over his own evil deeds but for another unrelated reason. It was something she hadn’t thought about until now.

  Laura pressed a hand to her forehead. “Could this murder be about me?”

  “I’ve considered it. Perhaps the man became obsessed with you and knew he hadn’t the means to play Westwick’s game. He decided to forgo the auction, kill Westwick, and kidnap you, saving himself from the chance of losing you to a higher bidder.”

  Bile burned up her throat. “Is that possible?” She closed her eyes. “I’m a simple country girl, not the sort to inspire men to kill to possess me.”

  Simon stared. “Men have gone to war over women,” he said. “You are beautiful, Laura. To those men, you were a mystery, an unattainable prize. I’m sure Westwick kept you sequestered before the auction to entice them further. There were likely several men frenzied enough to kill to have you.”

  A headache pulsed in her temples. “Westwick had only allowed the men a glimpse or two of me, from a distance and in shadow. At the time, I’d thought he was protecting his prize until the bidding concluded.”

  “Westwick wasn’t a stupid man. He knew the minds of men.”

  “I was terribly naïve,” she said softly. “I should have known.”

  He leaned forward and placed a hand on her knee. “You were an innocent. He stole you from your sheltered life and forced his will on you. When he tired of your spirit, he decided to sell you. How could you know the depths he would go to break you?”

  The earl had tried to break her, with fists and words, many times. She was less attractive, less intelligent, and less seductive than any woman he’d ever met. And when she’d remarked that he was welcome to find comfort elsewhere, she’d been backhanded for her impertinence.

  “He was evil,” Laura said. “The earl’s handsome face hid a black soul. His companions hated him as much as they were drawn to him. The staff feared him, scattering like sheep from a wolf whenever he ranted about even the smallest mistake.”

  “He took advantage of your naïveté,” Simon pressed again. “Your father should have sent him away.”

  “My father was ill,” Laura countered protectively. “But it wouldn’t have mattered even had his wits been sharp. He wouldn’t have seen the darkness in Westwick. He thought the best in all people. He was nearly giddy to have snagged a peer for his daughter.”

  Simon touched her hand. “I know you met Westwick through your cousin. Tell me how it happened exactly.”

  She saw where the questioning was going. He wanted to learn all she knew about the man to help with his investigation and wouldn’t be dissuaded from his course.

  “You will use my memories to hunt the killer.”

  “I will hunt him with or without your help,” Simon assured her. “The more I know, the more I can be prepared for any eventuality.”

  Laura sighed. “There is nothing I can do to change your mind?”

  “Nothing.” He grinned wryly. “I have a need to dust off my chain mail and ride my magnificent steed into battle for you. Surely you will not keep me from my knightly course?”

  She wanted to argue that she could take care of herself. However, Simon wasn’t the sort of man to stand in the background when a woman was in trouble. Their history proved it. So she steeled herself to relive her nightmare and looked down at her cupped hands.

  “I was returning a picnic basket to my cousin’s cook when he stepped out onto the path in front of me. The look in his eyes made me uneasy. When I tried to pass, he took my arm. I threatened to scream but he only laughed and released me.” She sighed. “That evening he came to the cottage, full of charm, and spoke to my father about what a match between us could provide me. Within hours I was betrothed.”

  “Your father didn’t ask your opinion on the matter?”

  “He knew he had no more than a few days left to live. He was so weak. After he died, I would have no one.”

  “Westwick knew how desperate your situation would become,” Simon agreed. “The bastard.”

  Laura sighed. “The next afternoon we were wed at Father’s bedside. We spent our wedding night in the woodcutter’s cottage to be close to Father. Westwick wanted to stay at an inn. That night was the only time he ever gave in to my wishes.” She turned her eyes away. “I was miserable. I begged the earl to let me stay with Father during his last hours. Instead he dragged me off to London with only a brief good-bye.”

  Her throat tightened and she swallowed. “The first beating was two days later, after I’d heard of Father’s death. Westwick despised my tears and punished me for failing to stop weeping when he commanded. That was also the night he told me our wedding was false.”

  “The bastard,” Simon muttered. His jaw clenched.

  For the first time, Laura realized that Westwick was lucky to be dead. There was something nefarious happening behind those icy blue eyes. Simon Harrington was clearly contemplating murder.

  Simon saw wariness on Laura’s face and strug
gled to settle his temper. It was a difficult task. He couldn’t soothe her when he wanted to kill the already dead Westwick.

  Beating a woman for grieving? His blood pumped hot through his veins. In spite of this, he managed to unclench his fists and jaw.

  He braced himself. “Tell me everything.”

  As the coach rumbled through the streets of London with no particular destination, Laura emotionlessly told him everything she knew about Westwick. Unveiled was a tragic play: his opium abuse, his gambling, his common street prostitutes, all of which he flaunted under her nose.

  “He thought I would be inflamed with jealousy over the women.” Her mouth twitched and her eyes took on a wicked gleam. “I pretended hurt and anger, playing his game. Truthfully, they gave me a reprieve from his attentions. So the more he thought he’d hurt me, the more he sought them out. It meant less time I spent in his bed.”

  Simon smiled. “He never could tame his courtesan.”

  At the statement, she smiled back. “Had the auction gone through, he would have broken me. I couldn’t allow that to happen. I had to be free.”

  The coach turned into Hyde Park. Simon had paid the driver well to keep driving until he indicated otherwise.

  “I remember a story about a Frenchman who tamed tigers. He put on a show in Paris. One day a tiger, tired of the whip and the cage, turned on the man and killed him.” Simon cupped his hand on her face. “You cannot tame a wild thing. It was his fatal mistake.”

  She looked sidelong at him. In her eyes was an invitation he couldn’t misinterpret.

  He dipped his head and kissed her, her lips soft and pliant beneath his. She moaned. Simon tangled his hand in her hair, and she opened up to deepen the kiss.

  She was so sweet, so strong, and so beautiful.

  When he ended the kiss, she smiled softly. “I will never tire of your kisses.”

  Simon grinned. “I do like to please.”

  Her smile turned pensive. She glanced out the window as a well-sprung coach and four passed at a fine clip. “What a pair we are. A courtesan”—she turned back to him with an apologetic shrug at his scowl—“and a future earl. Had we met under different circumstances, you might have asked me to dance or to take a turn around a drawing room, under the watchful eye of a chaperone, of course. You may have kissed my hand or asked my father if I could take a drive in your carriage.”

  “I’m not fond of chaperones,” he offered. “You cannot steal kisses while they hover.”

  Her lovely gray eyes sparkled in the dim coach. “Of course, as a poor squire’s daughter, I would have been beneath your notice in a room full of fine noble ladies.”

  “It is impossible to think you could be in any room, no matter how crowded, and not catch my eye.”

  “You were born to make a prudent match, Simon, with a woman like Lady Jeanette. Once you tire of this desire to save me from my ills, you will convince her to marry you and forget me. That is how it should be.”

  Laura was right. This was not his future. Though he knew he couldn’t rest until she was saved from a hangman’s noose, anything beyond was not possible. She’d never consent to be his mistress indefinitely, and he needed Lady Jeanette to help Brenna make a match with Lord Abbot.

  She reached out to touch his hand. “Simon, please forget about catching the killer. Miss Eva will help me flee somewhere far away where I can begin a new life. Eventually, the murder will be forgotten.”

  “And a killer will go free,” Simon countered bitterly. “I cannot allow it. There may be future victims. How can I know if a man who dances with Brenna or takes tea with my parents or sits across from me at White’s isn’t a killer?”

  “Simon, please,” she beseeched. “Let the Runners do their job. I cannot bear the thought of you in danger.”

  He scowled and withdrew his hand. “The Runners are singularly focused on Sabine. They will not look elsewhere when they have their suspect set in their minds.”

  Laura slumped back, defeated. “You are a stubborn man.” She ignored his frown. She fell silent as they passed out of the park. She hated the idea of Simon running around London, digging into dark alleys and under piles of refuse for clues. But it was her next thought that brought her head up. The solution was right at hand.

  She crossed her arms. “How will you know where to start your investigation? The men at the party have not come forward as witnesses. They will be one in their silence. To admit their presence could make them suspects.”

  From his expression, she knew she’d hit her mark.

  Satisfied she’d stopped his investigation before it began, Laura smiled slyly. “Only I have seen them. Several anyway, and I will not put you in danger.”

  Simon met her eyes. “I have ways of getting the information from you.” He kissed her again.

  She smiled under his lips, then drew back. “You can seduce me senseless, and I will still keep my secrets. You must find a way to both assuage my fears and allow me to play a part in the investigation. It will help if I know you will not do anything foolish.”

  “I never do anything foolish.”

  Laura expelled a quick unbelieving laugh. “You attacked a pair of burly footmen to save me. You have risked the wrath of both your cousin and Miss Eva to befriend me, and you seduced me against all your reservations. Now you want to hunt down a murderer? And you tell me that you do not act foolishly?”

  He leveled a frown at her and backed out of reach. “I would not consider saving you foolish,” he said, his voice tight. “As for the latter, I am disappointed over your certainty that I am to end this caper…dead.”

  Realizing that no man wanted to be seen as less than strong and virile, she shook her head. “I spoke out of turn. I know that you can vanquish dragons and save damsels from locked towers with your manly sword and steed. But you are a man of honor. Murderers work from a different set of rules. This man will not hesitate to plunge a knife into your back. He has done so before.”

  “Westwick was unaware of the danger.”

  Laura flinched under his anger. She had certainly botched things up. She might well have called him a milksop or a whey-faced ninny.

  Knowing there was only one way to redeem herself, she stood and pulled down first one shade, then the other. With a face full of apology, she climbed into his lap.

  “I do want you to save me from the hangman, Milord.” She clutched his shoulders and pressed a kiss on his neck. “I need you to use your brute strength and cunning to find him and see him punished.” She kissed his chin before moving to the other side of his neck. “I will be very grateful for your assistance in the matter.”

  His hands slipped up to cup her bottom. “You are mocking me.”

  “Never.” She tugged at the buttons of his coat. “It has been a very long time since a man offered me his protection. I fear I am unused to such chivalry.” Once his coat was open, she pressed her breasts against his chest and stared into his eyes. “I will give you the information you seek under this condition.” Laura skimmed her lips over his. “I will be involved in the investigation.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Simon eased her back by the shoulders and frowned. “What exactly do you mean by ‘involved’? I thought you were against me endangering myself. Suddenly, you want to put yourself in danger, too?”

  Laura pursed her lips. When she’d made the stipulation, she hadn’t put any thought into where her involvement would take her. She only knew that she didn’t want to hide away and let Simon take care of her. She’d had the strength to survive captivity with Westwick. She’d have the strength to follow the trail of the real killer, wherever it led.

  “My life is already in danger. As long as a possible hanging looms over me, I cannot really start a new life.” She paused and smoothed his shirt. “I know the faces but not the names of the guests. I need to be where society congregates to put the two together. Once we uncover the identity of some of the auction invitees, you can confront the men to see what they know.” />
  She thought he’d refuse outright but knew that unless they could get the servants to speak to him, she was the only other witness to what happened in that house.

  Hopeful, she continued, “Merchants and slavers also came to bid. Finding those men will be harder and more dangerous. If we keep to men of society, then the danger will be minimal—unless one of them is the killer.”

  It took a moment for his response. He stared at her mouth. His eyes softened. “Do you promise not to get yourself into mischief?”

  “Certainly.” She smiled innocently. Simon’s left brow went up. He looked down to where her hands rested on his chest. She could feel the strength of his heartbeat.

  His mouth twitched. “Why do I feel like I’m being led to the guillotine?” His hands caressed her bottom.

  Laura made a face and tried to focus. It was difficult to keep her mind clear when he misbehaved.

  A sensual assault rippled through her body. “What a dismal image. We should think of something else less grim.”

  Simon grinned. “I can imagine a few more pleasant things to concentrate on.” He gently squeezed the rounded flesh. Her fingers flexed on his chest. In a moment, he’d have her on her back and panting with need. It was proving difficult to keep to her vow of chastity.

  “You could charm a nun out of her habit,” she said soberly.

  “I only want you.” He nuzzled her neck. “I wish I’d never let you seduce me. I cannot think while knowing what delights can be found under your clothing.”

  At his growl, she giggled. “Would it help you to know how much I appreciate your restraint?”

  “Not in the least.” He slid his mouth up to her ear. She wriggled as he tickled her skin. How easy it would be to let him love her as she wanted. But she was still an innocent squire’s daughter in spite of all that she’d suffered with Westwick. She’d taken her one night with Simon, a gift to herself. The next time she went to a man, it would be in their marital bed.