by Rachel Blake
He laughed and squeezed her tightly. What he’d done to deserve a woman as exquisite as the one he held against his heart confounded him, but he was not going to question fate.
CHAPTER 32
After the announcement of the upcoming nuptials, an ecstatic Ellie fixed Jane a luxurious warm bath behind a makeshift screen in the kitchen. She’d laced the water with milk and sprigs of dried lavender. Jane soaked in the fragrant, steamy water as Ellie washed her hair.
“He’s a good man, Jane. A little rough around the edges at times but then what fine man isn’t?” Ellie said with a laugh.
Jane wiped the drips of water from her face and lifted a brow at Ellie. “Why, Ellie, you speak like someone with experience.”
Ellie seemed to be instantly transported into a distant memory. She smiled. “He was a sailor,” she laughed, “and talk about rough around the edges. I rarely saw him without a bottle of rum in his hand or a black eye from a brawl, but I loved every inch of that scoundrel. His name was David, and he was tall as his shoulders were broad.” A wistful expression softened her face.
Jane reached up and took hold of Ellie’s chapped hand. “What happened to David?”
Ellie patted the back of Jane’s hand. “Wish I knew. He kissed me goodbye at port one day, boarded the ship, and I never saw him again. We were supposed to be married. I was heartbroken, destitute, and homeless until Dr. Van Ostrand took me in.”
“I’m so sorry, Ellie.”
She pulled her hand from Jane’s and waved it. “No matter. My heart has mended since, and I have a roof over my head and a good job. I have no complaints.”
“I’m glad I’ll be part of your family now, Ellie.”
Ellie reached up and wiped her eye. “This steam is getting to me and I’ve got to finish supper.” She stood and looked back at Jane. “I’ve prepared a special meal. Lettie and I will be joining John at his mother’s house for supper, so you two can have a quiet meal alone.”
Angel stood in the drawing room staring out at the dusky night. His white shirt stood in stark contrast to his dark hair and complexion. He turned when she stepped into the room. He looked at her a long time before speaking. It was an intense gaze that always sent a spiral of warmth through her entire body.
“Sometimes I worry that I’ve just conjured you up in my imagination. I worry that if I reach out and touch you, the vision will vanish and my heart will splinter into a million pieces.”
Jane walked over to him, took his large calloused hand in hers, and kissed the back of his knuckles. “I’m real enough, Angel.”
He placed his hand on her cheek. “That you are.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I understand that Ellie has prepared a fine meal and I’m starved.” He put out his arm for her to take.
She wrapped her hand around his arm and he led her to the dining room where Ellie had thoughtfully arranged just enough lit candles to cast a lovely, warm glow around the room. Covered silver chafing dishes lined the center of the table, and the glasses were filled with wine. Angel pulled out the chair for her and she sat.
He lifted his glass. “A toast to the future Mrs. Van Ostrand.”
Jane lifted her glass. “To my future husband, may he remain loving, devoted, and rough around the edges.”
Angel smiled at her last words. “Rough around the edges?”
“Yes, it’s a little something Ellie and I discussed earlier.”
He lowered his glass. “Well, I promise to love you no matter what impediments fall our way, I promise to remain devoted to you as the only woman I have ever truly loved, and staying rough around the edges will not be a problem. It seems to come naturally to me.” He shot her a heated look that nearly made her choke on her wine. She lowered her glass to the table as he pushed his chair back and walked over to her.
He lowered his hand for her to take. “The food will keep but I will not.”
She placed her hand in his and stood. “I thought you were starved.”
“I am,” he groaned suggestively. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck and he brought her face to his. His mouth barely grazed hers when a thunderous knock at the front door jolted them out of the intimate moment.
Angel lowered his forehead and pressed it against hers. “I have no idea who that could be. Keep those lips ready and I’ll return shortly.”
Jane sat back down at the table as Angel went to answer the door. It was only seconds until a cold feeling crept through her, and she decided something was not right. She pushed from the table and hurried to the entryway. The cold feeling turned to an icy slap in the face.
Angel stood in the dimly lit entry with three menacing strangers holding him while another locked shackles around his wrists. The man slid the key into his pocket and straightened.
A breath caught in her chest. “Peter,” she said quietly.
Angel looked back at her over his shoulder. His rage was overshadowed by what Jane could sense immediately as hurt. The memory of her recent past, which she had so effectively blocked, returned like an avalanche of hailstones.
Peter walked toward her. “Jane, thank heavens you’re all right.” He reached for her arm but she pulled it away and stepped back. “Jane, don’t you remember me? It’s Peter.”
“Your betrothed,” Angel added. Utter betrayal seeped from his words.
“I— I know who you are.” Her intended had grown in musculature and the strong handsome lines of his face still had that cruel edge that had always kept doubt in her mind. But she would have married anyone to get away from her stepmother. All of it came back so clearly now it was as if it had happened yesterday. She looked at the shackles on Angel’s wrists. A trickle of blood made its way from the edge of his mouth and onto his white shirt. “Who are these men and why do you have him in shackles?”
“I’ve hired these men to find you, and now I will see your kidnapper brought to justice.” Peter walked over to Angel. “Know this— if you’ve laid one hand on her, I will break your neck personally.” He threw his fist into Angel’s stomach causing him to double over in pain.
Jane raced over and pushed Peter as hard as she could but it was like pushing a stone wall. Angel straightened and she reached up and wiped the blood from his mouth with her finger. “He didn’t kidnap me. This man saved my life, and I’m not leaving here. Let him go at once.”
“Jane, you’ve been brainwashed into thinking you care for this blackguard,” Peter said confidently. “Now get your things and we’ll go.”
“I have no things!” she shouted. “Margaret saw to that when she hired cutthroats to murder me.” Peter was not stunned by her declaration, leaving no doubt in her mind that he knew of her stepmother’s plan. “I would be dead if Angel had not found me. Margaret is the one who should be shackled and hauled off to the gaol. Now release this man at once.”
Peter grinned down condescendingly at her, and she wanted to throw her fist into his teeth. “Jane, this will all be better once I get you home and we marry.” He grabbed her hand. She reached up with her free hand and slapped him hard. He returned the favor by swinging his massive arm at her shoulder. She flew backward and landed hard against the wall.
Angel struggled free from the men who held him and with one swift movement he had the chain of his shackles around Peter’s throat. Peter clutched frantically at the chain as his face turned bright red. Jane pushed to her feet just as one of the men threw a fist into Angel’s back. He dropped to his knees taking Peter with him, but his strangle hold had loosened and Peter quickly squirmed away coughing and gasping for air.
Jane ran and threw her arms around Angel’s neck.
Peter had regained his composure. He pushed to his feet and glowered down at her. “If you think I’m going to let this infatuation of yours come between me and your dowry, you are mistaken, my dear.”
Jane stood and scowled up at him. His nostrils flared with derision as he stared down at her.
“This is why I had blocked you from my mi
nd. It is all coming back to me now though. I had discovered the plan you and my stepmother devised to keep control of Father’s fortune. The money was my dowry. So she assured you my hand in marriage and you assured her a portion of the money.” A nervous laugh came involuntarily. “But here is something ironic. At the time, I would have married you just to get away from her. You would have had the entire fortune without her help, but once I discovered you were conspiring with her, that all fell apart. But neither of you will get a shilling of my father’s money. I promise you,” she said through gritted teeth.
His lips turned up in a wicked grin. “Yes, well that plan has taken a rather amusing turn. Your charming stepmother was murdered by one of the men she hired to kill you. He returned for a reward claiming that he had you in his sight but you were being protected by an ex-soldier and a giant. She refused to pay him.” Peter shrugged. “I tried to convince her to pay him, but you know how greedy she was. Without warning the man shot her. There was nothing I could do. I paid him and he told me where you were.” Peter glanced around somewhat nervously. “Where is this giant?”
“I’ll summon him,” Jane lied. If only she could have called on Zander for help.
Peter pulled a pistol from his belt. “Be my guest.” He motioned his head toward Angel then he looked at his men. “Take this one out and shoot him.”
They yanked Angel from her grasp and dragged him toward the door. His leg shot up and his foot landed squarely on one man’s jaw. The sickening sound of bones crunching followed, and the man dropped his hold on Angel. The third man lunged at him. Angel kicked out again, but the man was ready for him and grabbed Angel’s foot, giving it a painful twist. Angel yelled out, and Jane jumped on the man’s back to stop him. Her nails dug deeply into the man’s throat. He released Angel’s foot, reached up, and grabbed her hands. He threw her easily to the floor.
They continued to drag Angel to the door.
“Stop!” Jane screamed. Tears broke free of her eyes. “I’ll go with you, Peter. But you must let him go.”
“Jane—” Angel spoke but she put up a hand to stop him.
She faced Peter again. “I’ll do whatever you want but no harm can come to him.”
Peter paused over the offer. “Well, that is terribly sweet of you to sacrifice your freedom for his life, but you must consent to be my wife or these men will return and finish this properly.”
A bitter taste rose in her throat. “I will marry you.”
“Fine,” Peter said.
Jane ran over to Angel and placed her palm against his cheek. He pressed his face against her hand then lowered to his mouth to her ear. “Stay safe. I will find you, Jane,” he whispered. His mouth grazed her lips and she fought back a sob.
Jane turned back to Peter. “I won’t go until I see you remove the shackles.”
Peter rubbed the chain mark around his neck and looked over at the man with a broken jaw. His face looked distorted and pale. Peter gave a barely perceptible nod to one of the men. The man drew out his pistol and brought the handle down on Angel’s head. Angel dropped to the floor.
“You bastard!” Jane screamed.
“I’m not stupid. The man did plenty of damage even bound in shackles.” Peter waved his hand at the man. “Take them off.”
The man’s shoulders were rigid with tension as he cautiously removed the shackles. Angel did not stir but his face still had the color of life in it.
“Let’s go before he wakes,” Peter snarled.
Jane grabbed the cloak from the hook by the door. Peter took hold of her arm. His fingers bit painfully in to her flesh. “When he follows, and it is obvious from the touching little scene I just witnessed that he will, I will kill him. You are now bound to me.”
The night was silent and black, and Jane felt sick with fear. But for now, Angel was alive and that was all that mattered.
Peter shoved her into his waiting carriage. She slumped back against the cushions.
“Where is the gold necklace I gave you?” Peter asked.
“I don’t know and I don’t care. I’ll never wear it again.”
He leaned his face close to hers. “When you’re my wife, you’ll wear whatever I tell you to wear,” he growled. He sat calmly back against the seat. “We’ll be married before sunrise.”
CHAPTER 33
Angel groaned in pain and reached to the lump on the back of his head. He stared up at the shadows on the ceiling. It took him a moment to remember why he was stretched out on the floor of the entry. It all came back to him in an ugly blur. He sat up too quickly and a rush of pain and dizziness seized him. Once his surroundings came into focus, he pushed to his feet. The clock in the hallway read seven so he’d been out for half an hour. He raced up to his bedroom to retrieve his pistol and coat.
Titus looked up sleepily as Angel entered his stall. They’d had a thirty minute head start but Titus could easily overtake a carriage. With luck he would catch up to them in several hours, and he was certain Jane’s abductor was counting on it.
The moonless night made a fast ride precarious but Titus did not seem to mind. The horse’s steady hooves pounded the wet road with confidence as they raced through the darkness. Angel was certain they had headed south and there was only one main road. It was still early and the shops and inn at the first small town along the road had candles burning.
Titus was in a lather by the time Angel pulled him to a stop in front of a quaint tavern with loud with voices and music. Several of the customers glanced up from their pint pots as Angel pushed his way through the crowd. He knocked on the counter to get the barkeep’s attention. The man eyed him suspiciously over a pair of scratched spectacles.
“Have you seen a carriage pass through here in the last hour?” Angel had to nearly yell over the din of the crowd.
The man paused and looked Angel over once before answering. “Aye,” he said and then returned to his task of filling pints. Angel tossed several coins on the counter to keep the man’s attention. He eyed the coins and then swept them into his hand.
“Do you know where they were headed?”
“Aye.”
Angel had to keep from ripping the man’s throat out, but he knew he had to keep his calm. “Could you tell me?”
The man opened his palm and stared down at the coins. Angel dropped several more onto his hand. “They were looking for Reverend Russell.”
Angel could barely hear the man. He leaned closer. “Who the hell is Reverend Russell?”
The man looked shocked as if he’d assumed that everyone knew Reverend Russell. “He runs a wedding chapel down the road. For the right price, he’ll marry any couple at any time of the night. The man looked rather anxious to find the reverend.” He glanced at a clock on the wall. “He’s found him by now. The chapel is just ten minutes down the road.”
Angel raced back through the crowd, untied Titus, and jumped into the saddle. The last thing he’d expected was to be racing against time to stop a wedding. The man had obviously planned everything out well in advance.
The only light along the side of the road came from an occasional farmhouse, but nothing resembled a chapel. And then, in the distance, above some tree tops, he saw a thin white steeple. He turned Titus up a small drive that led to a rundown church. A candle flickered in each of the three windows and a carriage stood out front. The driver still sat on the box but he leaned back and his chin was dropped to his chest as if he was fast asleep. Angel slowed Titus to a walk and prayed that he was not too late.
After the furious ride, his horse was more than happy to rest within a copse of trees. Angel slid out of the saddle and ran to the side door of the chapel. He peered through the dusty window in the door. Jane’s face was hidden beneath the hood of her cloak, and Peter had a firm hold on her arm. The three accomplices, including the man with the broken jaw, stood behind them but the altar was empty. It was obvious Peter’s impatience grew with each passing moment. Then a door behind the altar opened and a rather disheveled
reverend walked in still pulling on his black coat. He fumbled with his glasses, and it seemed Peter might reach up and strangle the man at any moment.
Angel took the opportunity to sneak through the side door. He slid unnoticed behind a long pew and inched his way toward where they all stood. He caught a glimpse of Jane’s profile. She looked obviously distraught, but the reverend didn’t seem to care that the bride looked less than willing.
Angel peered up over the bench. Two of the men stood nearly close enough for him to touch but they were not his target. Peter was in his line of vision. He pulled the pistol from his pocket and aimed it steadily at his leg. He would have only the one shot then all hell would break loose, but it was his only chance.
Angel stared down the barrel of his pistol, took a deep breath, and fired. He slid beneath the pew. The sound of the shot echoed in the nearly empty room, and the three men dropped instantly to the floor. Jane’s scream was drowned out by Peter’s roar. He clutched his leg and fell sideways to the ground. His well-armed minions were back on their feet in an instant with pistols drawn as they surveyed the shadowy room for the culprit. The reverend stood in shock clutching his altar and staring down at the wounded man writhing in pain on the chapel floor.
Angel scooted out from beneath the hiding spot, snatched the gun from Peter’s hand, and pressed the pistol to his temple. “Gentlemen, are you looking for me?” Angel asked.
Peter’s men turned toward him. Black and blue bruising mottled the face of the man he’d kicked and his victim looked more than happy to pull the trigger. “Drop the guns unless you don’t mind me punching a hole through his head.” He looked pointedly down at the gun he held against Peter’s head.
“Put down your weapons,” Peter said through gritted teeth. Reluctantly, the three men put their guns on the ground.
Angel looked at Jane. Her face was pale but a corner of her lip turned up with relief.
