The Mischievous Bride (The Clearbrooks)

by Teresa McCarthy

  Elizabeth sobbed. “Oh, Stephen, do something!”

  “Knightengale isn’t thinking correctly,” Stonebridge chimed in. “He must know we would be on to him, sooner or later. We would never give in. He must be insane.”

  “Perhaps he didn’t know his father confessed,” Stephen said, patting his wife’s back. “But I’ll kill the man when I find him.”

  Marcus grimaced. “Not unless I find him first.”

  “But what if he didn’t take her to Gretna?” the duke replied.

  Clayton frowned. “Perhaps south, to France?”

  Marcus couldn’t get Milli’s huge gray eyes out of his mind. His gut coiled in dread. He wished he had told her he wanted to marry her. “I’m going north to Gretna. Clayton you take south to France. “

  Stonebridge nodded, his face hard. “I’ll take west. But the man may have headed back to London.”

  “I’ll take London,” the duke snapped.

  Stephen frowned, looking at Elizabeth. “I think it best if I go with Marcus. If that is their direction, I believe Knightengale will take the back roads to avoid us. He will need to stay the night somewhere, at least for a few hours. Change horses, eat . . .”

  The rest was left unsaid. Elizabeth’s blue eyes rounded with fear. “The night? What in the world will Milli do if—”

  “Don’t even think it,” Marcus snapped. “I will find her.”

  I must find her.

  Milli kept her tears in check, not giving Knightengale the satisfaction of knowing he had bested her. If the man ever guessed how terrified she was, there was no telling what he would do. At the moment, he knew she was ready to fight for her life, and that was probably saving her from other things.

  The driver wouldn’t make a move without Knightengale’s command, so even if she screamed, all she would get was a slap to the face. The man was more than twice her size. Her cheek still ached from his blow.

  Knightengale gripped her chin in a painful hold. “We will be stopping at an inn, and if you say one word to anyone, you will regret it. Do you understand?”

  Milli nodded, feeling more determined than ever.

  His lips tipped into a wicked looking smile. “Most women would fall into hysterics, but not you. I believe that’s why I like you.”

  Like her? How dare he try to manipulate her. He had killed Papa! Her courage came back like a roaring lion. If she could get a note to one of the innkeepers, then she could have a chance.

  “And don’t even think of getting a note off to anyone. You will have no pen, no paper. I will make certain of that. And we will be staying in the same room.”

  Here eyes widened. She could not hide her fear at that comment.

  He squeezed her chin, making her look at him. “We are going to be married, so what does it matter, my little prude?”

  “It matters,” she snapped. “You will never get away with this. Just let me go.”

  “And leave you?” he asked with a sadistic chuckle. “I find you rather fetching, in an innocent sort of way. We will do well together . . . if you do what I say . . . and eventually, you will do what I say.”

  She clenched her teeth, listening to the rattling of the carriage wheels. Anger swelled in her breast. Papa! Papa! Papa! He had killed her Papa!

  “Ah, here we are,” he announced as the carriage slowed. “And yes, I have thought about the Clearbrooks coming after us. But I have paid the innkeepers to keep their silence. And this carriage is hired, like many of the other carriages at the inns. It will take your dear family a day or two to check every place along the way. By that time, we will be well underway.”

  “They will find us. And you will regret this.”

  He sneered, grabbing her shoulders. “You forget. I know Marcus and his brothers. He will look along the main road and then the back roads. But I have been planning this for two years. My men will send someone ahead to alert the innkeepers we are coming. They will keep silent upon our arrival. No one will ever find us.” His vile snicker sent shivers of fear down her spine. “In fact, I have left a trail that we have traveled south and are taking a ship to France.”

  Milli paled at his words. She clenched her gown, determined not to be defeated.

  “Sadly,” he continued, “whether we continue on the road or not, no one will want you, not even your precious Lord Marcus. Your reputation will be ruined. You will be gone overnight, my girl, nothing can save you from that. You will have to marry me, even if they find you.”

  The carriage door opened. Moonlight slipped past the clouds, illuminating the shabby building. The thatched roof needed repairs, as did the windows and surrounding yard. Milli’s heart sank when she realized the lodging was off the main road. Her family would never find this, and what he said was true. She would be ruined either way. Whether he touched her or not, her absence tonight would seal her fate.

  Knightengale yanked her from the carriage and kept a tight hold on her waist as they entered the inn. Without speaking to anyone, he hurried her up the stairs and shoved her into the chambers at the end of the hall. He quickly stuffed a rag into her mouth, tying it in back of her head.

  His eyes darkened. “Forgive me, sweetheart, but I am going to have to bind you to the bed while I take a stretch of my legs.”

  Her muffled voice only made him snort with laughter. He jerked her wrists, tied them together, then fastened her to the bedpost. His smile made her ill.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t be gone but fifteen minutes.” He turned and closed the door behind him.

  Milli couldn’t stop the tears that leaked from her eyes. How had it ever come to this? She felt she was in some Minerva novel, being held in a castle with the evil villain. She would have laughed at the folly of her adventures if things weren’t so dire.

  She shifted her gaze to the window and held back a sob, not wanting to choke. The moon was a small lantern hanging above the little inn. It was perhaps two o’clock in the morning, a time when everyone was asleep. Her body ached and weariness claimed her. But she could not close her eyes. There had to be some way to stop Knightengale.

  It seemed like hours, but it must have been only minutes when she heard heavy footsteps outside her room. That was no mere maid. The steps were too powerful. Too fast.

  Her heart thundered in her ears. She had to have a plan. She decided to flop to the ground, and instantly felt a burning pain shoot up her arms as they stretched from the post. She closed her eyes, trying to appear dead. The door handle wiggled. She held her breath. Maybe this was a time her acting would eventually save her life.

  The door whooshed open.

  “Millicent!” Knightengale let out a string of curses as he crossed the floor and slapped her cheek. “Confound it! Wake up!”

  It took all her willpower not to wince. She was as limp as a rag doll. But she managed a groan, keeping her eyes closed tight.

  “Heaven help me, Millicent. I didn’t mean to do this to you. You poor thing. I only meant to scare you. I needed you.”

  You beast, she wanted to say, but stayed silent as he untied her wrists. He started rubbing her hands. “Wake up, sweetheart. We can be happy. We can. Please, wake up.”

  She bit down hard on the back of her teeth. Wake up? So, she could marry him? She thought not!

  “We will do well together, you will see.”

  Ha! You won’t obtain one single guinea of my money, you beast!

  Knightengale cursed a blue streak as he picked her up, settling her on the bed. She kept her eyes closed. But it was hard not to squirm when he put a hand on her chest to feel her heart.

  “Alive,” he muttered to himself. “Now what the devil do I do?” With another oath, he left the room, calling for his driver.

  Milli sat up, her head pounding with thoughts of escape. She pulled the rag from her mouth and jumped off the bed, starting for the window, but suddenly heard him coming. She looked around and hurried toward door, wishing she had something hard to whack over his head. The fire poker! She crossed the
room to grab it.

  The door flew open.

  “Well, well, not the fainting chit I thought I would find, are you, sweetheart?” Knightengale blocked the doorway, looking as dangerous as a snarling wolf.

  She raised the poker over her shoulder. “Come near me, and I shall hit you!”

  He took a step toward her, chuckling. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly, even if you tried.”

  Her eyes shot daggers. “I may not kill you, but believe me, it will hurt!”

  He froze, glaring down at her. “Put the poker down, Millicent. Let us talk about this!”

  “Ha! And I’m the king of England! You beast!”

  His eyes gleamed with rage. “You are a blasted bother, did you know that?”

  “And you are a killer, did you know that?”

  He moved fast, but Milli was ready for him. She swung hard and smacked his head. He fell like a sack of flour. She dropped the poker and ran around him, heading for the door.

  A strong hand grabbed her ankle, jerking her down. “I have you now, you little monster!”

  She shrieked.

  “Shut up!” He whipped her onto her back and hovered over her while blood ran down his forehead. “You little witch. I’ll show you what a man is.”

  “You are no man!” She scratched at his face, kicking and screaming like a banshee.

  He swept her from the floor, holding her away from him. She continued her struggle, trying to break free.

  Curses flew from his lips. “Now, you’ve made me angry.”

  She screamed again, hoping that someone would hear her. He shook her. She was stunned, but fury surged through her, giving her energy. She kicked him again, making contact with his knee.

  “You little vixen!” He shifted her to his hip, squeezing her waist. “You’ll think twice about—”

  “I think that is quite enough!”

  The familiar voice caught Milli by surprise. She lifted her head. “Marcus!”

  Knightengale dropped her to the floor. She turned, watching in shocked horror as the man reached for a pistol in his pocket. “Marcus! He has—”

  Marcus had a pistol of his own and pulled the trigger, slamming Knightengale in the shoulder. The man moaned, falling to the floor. Milli scrambled to grab his weapon, her blood pumping furiously.

  Trembling, she held Knightengale’s pistol to the man’s head. Her body hummed with vengeance. “You killed my father, you despicable beast! I should shoot you right now!”

  “Milli,” Marcus said cautiously. “Let me have the gun.”

  She looked up at Marcus, her bottom lip quivering. “He killed Papa! This is loaded and I aim to use it!”

  “I didn’t,” Knightengale shouted.

  “You planned his murder,” Milli said, her hands shaking like a leaf as she continued pointing the gun at the man. “You deserve to die. Say your prayers!”

  To Milli’s surprise, the big man started whimpering. “Marcus, tell her. Tell her it would be murder.”

  Marcus let out a frustrated sigh. “It would be murder, Milli. I could have shot him through the heart, but I didn’t. You know I can hit a fly at twenty paces.”

  Milli looked up and gave him a shaky smile. “I know.” She handed Marcus the gun. “I just wanted him to suffer a bit. My acting worked, did it not? ”

  She stood there, feeling battered and bruised. It was as if she had been thrown into a nightmare.

  “What the devil!” Stephen exploded into the room, a pistol by his side. He looked at Knightengale bleeding on the floor. “Thunderation, Milli, are you all right?”

  She nodded, finally feeling the stress of the last few hours catching up to her. “I, uh, pretended to swoon.” She let out a tired laugh and pointed to Knightengale. “He . . . he actually believed it.” And then she crumpled to the floor.

  Minutes later, after Knightengale was tied up in another room, Stephen argued with Marcus that he should be the one to stay with Milli. But Marcus had explained that Shelby was Stephen’s father-in-law, and as such, he should be the one to bring in the murderer.

  “I fail to see what that has to do with it,” Stephen snapped, glancing at Milli, who was still sleeping in the bed. She had awakened for a few minutes and had gone back to sleep. Marcus was livid when he saw the marks on her face. Knightengale had hit her more than once.

  “Let me put it this way,” Marcus said, his voice hard. “I may kill the man if I am to take him in. I had the chance with that pistol, and now I am rethinking my decision.”

  Stephen scowled as he looked at Milli’s pale, bruised face. “And you don’t think I want to do that too?”

  “You may want to do it, but I may actually beat the man to death.”

  Stephen grinned. “He’s a bit larger than you.”

  Marcus raised a smiling brow. “That, baby brother, does not matter at all.”

  Stephen chuckled. “Yes, I heard you had a round with the man at Gentleman Jackson’s and you won. But a night at an inn without a chaperone? It is not proper.”

  Marcus brushed Milli’s chestnut hair from her face. He looked up at his brother. “I am going to marry her.”

  Stephen’s eyes were wide in shock. “You love her?”

  “Does it matter? This is something that must be done. After Knightengale is brought in, the facts will be out. We must protect her.”

  “What about Miss Canton and the general?”

  “Ah, now, you allow me to speak. I saw the general and told him, no thank you. I will not be marrying Miss Canton at all.”

  Stephen looked surprised. “But you never said a thing.”

  “You never let me.”

  Stephen took in a deep breath. “I don’t want her hurt with any unnecessary gossip. As her guardian, I give my approval. You don’t think we need to fetch a doctor?”

  Marcus frowned as he regarded Milli’s delicate form. “I don’t believe so. But if I feel the need, I will see to it. She is tired and exhausted. Knightengale’s disregard for her person took a toll on her. But rest assured, I will not let her out of my sight. You have my word.”

  Stephen seemed satisfied. “Then, I shall leave now, with Knightengale in tow.” He turned on his heels and glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, and by the way, good luck telling her you are her fiancé. I would like to stay for Act Two, but duty calls.”

  Marcus smiled, feeling rather relieved as he followed Stephen to the door. “I think she will see things my way.”

  Stephen let out a low whistle as he entered the hall. “If she is anything like Elizabeth, you will be groveling at her feet, begging her to marry you.”

  Marcus closed the door and sank beside Milli, holding her hand. “I think not. You have always loved me, have you not, my little princess? Marrying me will be no problem at all.”

  The following morning, in the carriage back to Bath, Milli’s head hurt from two things. One, from Knightengale’s whacks to her body, and two, from Marcus’s incessant chatter. The clip clop of horses’ hooves would have been a lullaby compared to Marcus’s words.

  “So you see, as my bride, no gossip will follow you after this little escapade.”

  Milli clenched her hands in her lap. “That’s absurd. I never meant to marry him. I may have made a mistake, leading him on, but when I tried to tell him I was not interested in eloping, he became rather angry.”

  Marcus traced a gentle finger over her bruised cheek. “You know, I would have killed the man if Stephen had not been there. After seeing what Knightengale did to you, I was rethinking my pistol shot.”

  She looked away, afraid to let her emotions make her look like a fool again. “He k-killed Papa. He is an evil man. I feel so stupid.”

  She stared out the window as the countryside flew by, avoiding Marcus’s keen gaze. Sunlight warmed the carriage, but her body felt like ice.

  Marcus held her hand, something that felt so natural it made her heart squeeze with pain. He was only feeling sorry for her.

  He leaned toward her. “We will be m
arried within the week with a special license. You need not worry about the gossips.”

  Her head jerked toward his. “I never said I would marry you.”

  He looked surprised. “I thought you loved me?”

  She blushed. He must have thought her such a peagoose, pining for him all these years.

  “You do love me,” he remarked. “You told me so.”

  She yanked her hand from his. “That was when I was a . . . a child!”

  He dared to laugh. “Don’t fight me on this, Milli. We will be marrying this week.”

  Her gray eyes glittered with pain. “You don’t love me. Why marry me?”

  “Who else will marry you?” he challenged.

  “Lord Hughmont,” she blurted. “I will marry him.”

  “He doesn’t love you either.”

  She swallowed. “How do you know? Besides, any of my other suitors will do just fine. But I refuse to marry you!”

  “Come now, my little princess. We will do well together.” His gaze lingered on her lips, and she scooted further into the corner.

  He edged toward her, his light laughter making her bristle.

  She glared back. “I don’t think this situation is very amusing.”

  He inclined her chin so she would look at him. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her face. Desire coursed through her, and she fought every instinct to lean into him.

  He bent toward her, coaxing her with his touch. His silver eyes locked with hers. “Kiss me, my little mischief maker.” His words were like silk on steel, making her yearn to be his.

  He didn’t give her a chance to say no. His mouth touched hers with a hunger that destroyed her defenses. He caressed her with his lips, demanding her to respond. She couldn’t resist his touch. It was like a whisper of heaven dipping into her soul. His taste. His touch. His entire being captivated her.

  When he pulled back, his eyes devoured her. “Yes, indeed, we will do well together.”

  She froze and stared at him. Knightengale had said something similar. Not that Marcus wanted her for her money. But he was only trying to salvage her reputation.