Silent Revenge

by Laura Landon

  “Dear God! No!” he cried, knowing only he and God heard the anguish in his voice. Jessica heard nothing. She would not open her eyes to hear anything.

  Simon fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him. “Jesse,” he said again, brushing her forehead and cheeks with his lips. “Open your eyes for me, sweetheart.” He heard only the slightest catch from her throat.

  George came in with two lanterns burning brightly. He stood behind Simon, and when he lifted the lamps high in the air, the small room glowed like the middle of day. Simon ignored the vile curse the driver whispered when he saw Jessica’s face.

  “There are some blankets in the carriage. Get them. And some water.”

  “Right quick, my lord. Oh, right quick.”

  George ran out of the room, and Simon turned his attention back to Jessica. There was an icy feel to her flesh as well as a bluish tint to her lips. She’d been in this cold, damp cell for three days without a cover or blanket. Simon could tell she was chilled to her bones.

  “Jesse, please. Open your eyes, sweetheart. Everything is fine now. I’ve come to take you home.” Simon wrapped his hands around her fingers and lifted her hands to his face.

  He gently kissed the palms of her skinned hands and the insides of her wrists where he could tell a rope had been tied. There was a slight moan from her lips, but when he looked, her eyes remained closed. Then he placed her hands to his cheeks and covered them with his own, letting the heat from his face warm her flesh.

  He’d asked so much of her. He’d married her for revenge, and used her wealth to gain back his inheritance. He’d forced her to face the ton, and risk society finding out she was deaf. And…

  A cold rush of devastation stole the breath from his lungs. He’d broken the only promise he’d made to her. His promise to always keep her safe. His promise to protect her from harm. From Tanhill.

  Simon looked down at the cuts and scrapes and bruises and fought the agony tearing at his insides. He had failed. He hadn’t kept her safe. Even though the marks on the outside would heal with time, Simon doubted the pain he’d caused on the inside would ever go away.

  When he could hold back his emotions no longer, he buried his face in her bruised hands and wept. Rivers of tears, kept at bay for so long, rushed to the surface, flooding in torrents of grief and guilt and regret.

  Violent sobs racked his body as Simon wept for all the pain and suffering he’d caused and seen and endured. For the bitter feelings he’d harbored against his father and the woman who’d been the cause of his father’s death. He wrapped his arms around Jessica’s fragile shoulders and held her to him while he wept for dear little Sarai, who’d given nothing but love to all around her during her short life.

  And for the woman in his arms, who had loved him enough to put her faith and her trust in him, asking nothing in return except for his protection.

  Simon’s shoulders shook, and a heavy hand twisted his breaking heart. Hot, wet tears streamed down his face. He’d failed her. When she’d needed him most, he’d failed her. Tanhill had almost killed her because of him. If it hadn’t been for the greed of a man called Frish, Simon still wouldn’t know where Tanhill had taken her.

  Simon barely heard her whimper in the small, confining cell, but when he lifted his tearstained face, her eyes were open.

  She tried to speak, but she didn’t have the strength.

  “It’s all right, Jesse. I’m here now. You’re safe. Colin is dead. He can never hurt you again.”

  She moved her fingers to touch the tears streaming down his cheeks.

  “I love you, Jesse. I love you so much. Please believe me. I love you.”

  Jessica moved her head slightly and leaned against him. He held her close until George came with blankets and water. Simon took the water first and held it to Jessica’s lips. She tried to swallow, and the water came back up in a choking cough. Simon held her close until she could breathe again, then dipped his handkerchief in the water and held it to her lips.

  Jessica sucked on the cloth, swallowing one drop of water at a time until she could speak. “I knew you would find me,” she whispered, her eyes filled with tears.

  Simon nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Yes. I found you.”

  “I was so afraid.”

  “I know, sweetheart. So was I. But everything’s all right now.”

  Simon wrapped a blanket around Jessica’s shoulders and then cupped her cheeks in the palms of his hands, tipping her face upward. “I love you, Jesse. I could not survive if anything happened to you.”

  Jessica nodded, and big, wet tears rolled down her cheeks. “I love you, Simon.”

  Simon pulled her to him and kissed her parched lips. He vowed he would never let anything happen to her again.

  He picked her up in his arms, and George tucked another blanket around her before Simon carried her up the stairs. Jessica nestled her head beneath his chin, exactly where it belonged.

  “Bathe and dress these people,” Simon bellowed to the woman who had answered the door. “Someone will be here in the morning to get them. Pray the authorities do not file charges against either of you for their mistreatment.”

  Simon carried Jessica out of the hellhole where Tanhill had condemned her to die and sat with her on his lap while the carriage took them home. He remembered the hatred that had spurred him to take her as his wife. The need for revenge that had motivated his every action.

  Vengeance against Tanhill had come with a terribly high price attached to it. Simon looked down at Jessica lying in his arms. He’d almost had to pay it.

  Epilogue

  Simon walked into the room and sat in the huge wing chair he’d had brought up to Jessica’s workroom. He still smelled of the sea and the outdoors, having just come from a long day at the docks, but he knew she wouldn’t mind. She never did, but welcomed him as if she’d been waiting all day to greet him. No matter how hard his day had been, she could make him forget every worry.

  It still amazed him she was the famous designer the ton clamored to have create their gowns. He could not believe she had been able to keep her secret from him.

  He could not believe she was still able to keep her secret from the ton. They had been married more than a year, and no one even suspected. That was the only secret he didn’t mind keeping from the world. That he loved his wife very much was something he wanted to shout to everyone in England.

  There had been times right after he’d taken her out of that hellhole when he’d doubted she was strong enough to survive. Times he’d feared her stepbrother had the power to reach out from the grave and cause them more pain and suffering. But no longer.

  “What are you working on?” he asked when she looked up from her drawings. He would never cease to be amazed by what one of her smiles did to him.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Simon moved so he could look at his wife’s newest creation.

  “No, Simon. I don’t want you to see it yet. Wait until it’s finished.”

  Simon sat back in his chair and crossed the ankle of one leg over his other knee. “Very well, Jesse, but don’t expect me to tell you I like it if I don’t.”

  “When have you ever lied to spare my tender feelings?” she said, lifting her eyebrow in a teasing manner.

  “Just last week.” Simon tried to hide the smirk on his face and look serious. “When I saw the horrid purple gown you put on Lady Westawald. You should have been ashamed of yourself.”

  “That was not my fault, and you know it. I told Madame Lamont not to let the countess choose purple or pink, but she could not talk her out of it. There was nothing wrong with the gown, Simon. It was the color that made Lady Westawald look like a ship capsized at sea.”

  Simon laughed and looked at the growing number of designs hanging on the wall. She was truly a marvel.

  He looked at her lush, ruby lips and held himself back from going over and kissing her. Their kisses were only the beginning t
o what usually happened when he came to watch her work. She complained that she couldn’t create when he was here, but Simon only smiled and breathed a sigh of satisfaction. He thought he’d done some of his best work in this room.

  She looked up at him, fidgeting with the pencil in her hand. “Melinda stopped by this morning. She and Collingsworth are having a special dinner next Friday and want us to attend.”

  Simon studied the frown on his wife’s face. “And this has you concerned?”

  Jessica looked down at the papers strewn on her desk and made a few more lines. “She is extremely excited. The famous pianist, Franz Liszt, will be there. He’s in England on tour from Weimar, and has consented to perform a number of his Hungarian Rhapsodies.”

  Simon waited until she looked up. “And this bothers you?”

  “All of society knows I cannot hear, Simon. Will they think me a fool if I attend?”

  Simon held out his hand. “Come here.”

  He waited until she stood before him, then pulled her into his arms and nestled her on his lap. “No one will think you a fool, Jesse. They will admire you as they have from the moment they found out about your deafness. There is not one of them who is not impressed by your intelligence and ability to read lips.”

  “But I will not hear a sound the maestro makes.”

  “Then tell them you did not come for the music but to see Liszt in person. Rumor has it the Hungarian pianist is quite the ladies’ man.”

  “Would you be jealous?”

  Simon leaned down to kiss her. “Without a doubt,” he said, tracing the satiny skin of her cheek with the back of his finger. “I had to wait far too long to find you, and I

  am not about to let some womanizer carry you off with a sweet song.”

  “I don’t think you have anything to fear. What musician would want to compose beautiful songs for someone who could never hear one note of their music?”

  “I would,” Simon said, “if the someone in my heart were you.”

  “Oh, Simon. I would give back all the gowns I have ever created to hear the sound of your voice, or your laugh, or your sighs. I would give everything I have to hear you say you love me.”

  Simon cupped his hands around her cheeks. “Just because you cannot hear the words, doesn’t make them any less real. I love you, Jesse. I will always love you.”

  Simon leaned down to kiss her. Their kisses were always passionate and giving, and the need they shared always went beyond touching. Tonight what they shared was even more demanding. Simon kissed her again, holding her close and touching her tenderly. This was the prelude to a wonderful symphony. Simon kissed her again. And again.

  “No,” Jessica gasped, the breath rushing from her body in gulps. “I want to finish my design first.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now.” Jessica jumped off Simon’s lap and rushed to the desk.

  Simon dropped his head back on the chair. Right now he would give anything if Jessica could hear the moan that came from his body when she left him like this. It was torturous agony, and she was the cause of it.

  He gave her time, then walked over to the desk and stood there. “Are you done?” he asked when she looked up at him.

  “Close enough,” she said, making a few quick lines. “Here.” She handed him her latest design. “What do you think?”

  Simon stared at the paper. The emotions racing through him were hard to explain. Happiness. Pride. Love. None of them came close.

  “Well?” Jessica asked, the look on her face taking on the slightest hint of doubt. “Do you like it?”

  “Yes, I like it.” He swallowed hard. “Did you have anyone in mind when you created this?”

  “Actually, I thought I might have it made for myself.”

  Simon nodded. “You’re sure you need a gown like this?”

  Jessica smiled. “Yes. I’m quite sure.”

  Simon rushed around the desk and pulled Jessica into his arms. Their first kiss paled in comparison to the emotions they shared now. “I love you, Jesse.”

  “Those words are the most wonderful words I will ever hear, Simon. I love you too.”

  Simon kissed her again. Jessica’s latest design drifted to the floor. A very pregnant woman wearing an elegant day dress and a broad smile on her face looked back at them.

  About the Author

  Laura Landon taught high school for ten years before leaving the classroom to open her own ice-cream shop. As much as she loved serving up sundaes and malts from behind the counter, she closed up shop after penning her first novel. Now she spends nearly every waking minute writing, guiding her heroes and heroines to happily ever after. She is the author of more than a dozen historical novels, and her books are enjoyed by readers around the world. She lives with her family in the rural Midwest, where she devotes what free time she has to volunteering in her community.