Punish Me With Roses - a Victorian Historical Romance

by Juliet Moore

  "No, no. The brandy, Alex." Excited, she touched his arm and gazed at him in heated furor. "She still had the bottle that I'd put the arsenic in. I told her to take it to Fabian so that he could escape to get it tested for arsenic."

  "But you know what was put in it..."

  "I may not." She looked around nervously. "Think about it. Your father could only have been disguised for sinister purposes and he was the one to give me the brandy. What if it was poisoned before I even got it?"

  "So that your arsenic really had nothing to do with it?" he asked.

  "If it's the way I think."

  He hugged her. "This is wonderful!"

  The warmth of his body against hers made anything seem possible, any obstacle surmountable. She reveled in it for a few minutes, then realized that they had plans to make. She looked outside over his shoulder. Was that the beginnings of dawn?

  After she'd pulled away, he said, "Considering what you've just told me, I think it's better that we stay."

  "Yes, we'll truly face it this time." She shivered. "What do you think they'll do?"

  "I don't know, but I have a good idea about what Fabian will do. As soon as he has proof of what's in the bottle, he'll alert the authorities and incriminate my father and brother. The way I see it, we just have to wait until they arrive."

  "So we're going to have to stall them in the morning?"

  He nodded but she could see anxiety written in the depths of his eyes.

  Her eyes moistened and he pulled her into his arms. She could feel her lips shaking. "What if it doesn't work out?"

  "We'll go somewhere else until we're able to prove your innocence."

  She grabbed his arms almost violently and cried, "But, Alex, listen to me. I might not be innocent. There might not be the exorbitant amounts of arsenic in that bottle. If not..."

  "That's not important," he said firmly, shaking his head.

  She thought of everything that had happened between them and how, no matter what, her past kept them apart. He didn't love her, had never been able to claim more than fierce affection. Even then, when they were making plans for the next morning, he made no mention of their future together. Nor did he mention love. She'd reveled in whatever he could give her, but affection wouldn't keep her heart from breaking. "But it is important, Alex. It is to you."

  He looked at her for a more than a few seconds, then glanced toward the window. Time was of the utmost importance. "If that's the way you think, I obviously haven't expressed myself very well."

  Could his words mean anything of what she hoped they did?

  "What makes you think that I'm self-congratulating enough to sacrifice the love of a good woman to a misplaced sense of morals? The law may feel differently, but I feel that if you didn't intend to kill, you're not a murderer."

  "But what are we going to do? Could we get away and, if so, would that be wrong?" She looked into his eyes and saw her sorrowful expression mirrored in their depths. "What about..." she started, but pride stopped her from completing the question. How did one ask a man how much she meant to him? How did one ask if she were loved?

  "No matter what happens, darling, I'm keeping you close to me. I told you that I've changed, but maybe there was nothing to change in the first place. I was just waiting for someone like you to poke holes in my theory. But know this: I don't care."

  "Your cousin may be dead because of me," she reiterated. "Know this, two men could have been killed by me. Not intentionally perhaps, but I had meant to cause Hugh harm. I took their lives with stupidity." She couldn't even live with him for a moment if his claims of fealty came from not truly understanding what happened.

  He put his hand beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Know this, I don't care if you've killed a thousand men. I'm the one who has to live in a world that is generally worse before it ever gets better. I'm the one who has to live without you if you were to be punished. Not them. They're dead! And I don't give a damn about the moral fortitude of loving you. I'll love you forever, wherever you might be, but I'm going to make damn sure that it's right here!" He pulled her into his arms, making a cage out of his muscled body.

  But she was a happy captive.

  "I love you, Victoria."

  "I love you, Alexander." It was more than she ever could have wished for herself. With such a man on her side--such a man pledging to protect her--she felt safe. She never had to worry again. She'd never be lonely.

  Tears streaked down her face and onto his strong shoulder. He pulled her head from the warm crevice beneath her chin and kissed her again, tasting the salty wetness. She squeezed him as hard as she could and mentally swore to take care of him always.

  * * *

  They never had the impressive confrontation they'd all been expecting.

  In the morning, both Charles and Michael Trevelyn were gone. Dr. Fabian Mallory had done his job faster than could have been expected and returned an hour before dawn to arrest the two men. He wasn't alone. It turned out to be a simple matter to convince the authorities that the senior Trevelyn's had been at fault. Victoria, who'd only left Blackmoore out of fear and mourning, had been given the bottle of brandy by Charles. The liquor had been poisoned, and the lady of the house had only served it. Unknowingly.

  "But I'm confused, Alex. What happened to Hugh?" Victoria asked, her doe eyes full of wonder.

  He looked around the large dining room, finding his own wonder in how much he liked the ancestral place. "Mark killed him. He wasn't poisoned at all. Rather, he was hit over the head with a blunt object."

  "And Mark..."

  "Took his celebratory drink from the wrong bottle." He laughed. "Appropriate, is it not? He was planning to share the fortune he inherited with the man who helped him acquire it. My father had gotten him the job, gotten him the poison--which he probably thought Mark would recognize immediately--and even devised the little scheme of sending me fake letters to frame you for his eventual deeds. Mark deserved whatever he got in the end."

  Both of their plates were empty and so he pushed away from the table. She did the same. He was amazed how every move she made was so graceful, so…Victoria.

  She was beautiful, the woman he loved.

  "I can't believe how much this entire experience has changed me," she said, leading the way into the main hall.

  "It has changed me too."

  "Hmmm...do you think so?" she replied with a mischievous smile.

  He chased her the last few feet into the hall, sending her into a fit of giggles.

  She became serious again. "Even my investigation into Fiona was more than a way to pass the time. It taught me a few things about myself. Just like her, I was always running away from everything. But it didn't get her anywhere in the end, did it?" Slowly, she started to laugh again. "But I can't promise that I won't love you the way she loved my uncle. That was one of things she certainly did right."

  An obviously pregnant woman came into the hall from one of the side rooms. "I heard a commotion. Is anything wrong?"

  "Everything's perfect, Betsy," Victoria said with glee, moving closer to Alex in the yawning, empty hall.

  Betsy nodded with a smile that lit her entire face, then left them alone once again.

  "Your maid is with child," Alex said bluntly, after she'd gone.

  "I know." Victoria looked at the maid's retreating form. "I know that you probably don't agree with employing such a woman, but Hugh--"

  "Victoria," he whispered, kissing her now silent lips. "Perhaps the child will make a good playmate for Jack."

  "Mary's son? You mean all of us living here together?"

  He nodded. He'd decided that there was an easy way to prove to his sister that he loved her and wanted to reconcile. She'd told him that his words meant nothing, so he would show her by asking her to make her home with him and Victoria. If Rafe and John could do it, so could they.

  "Oh, you really have changed!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed.

  He looked at her wit
h need and realized that his arms were unappealingly empty without her. He rectified the situation immediately and she snuggled her soft head into his neck. "Yes, I suppose I have changed, darling, but only if you promise to never run away from me again."

  Her eyes were glossy, wet orbs that spoke volumes of her love for him. "That's a promise I can keep."

  About the Author

  Canadian-born Juliet Moore is an author who grew up in Miami Beach, Florida reading Victoria Holt novels. She studied writing at UCLA under the tutelage of award-winning author Caroline Leavitt. She has always had a love for history, especially that of the Victorian era. She currently lives in Northern California with her husband and their two children, a four year old boy and 8 month old girl. Juliet spends her days writing, endeavoring to both make her children proud and create escapist fiction that appeals to the romantic in us all.

  To be notified of new releases, please send a blank email to julietmoorebooks@gmail.com.

  THE QUEEN OF DIAMONDS

  Coming February 2012

  Abandoned by her parents as a child, Cate Clairemont becomes the poor relation of a cruel aunt and a condescending cousin. When she is twelve years old, the handsome Reed Huntington defends her from the neighborhood girls. Then "Hunter" leaves, returning her life to its usual dormancy.

  Eight years later, Cate meets Marcus Watson, the third son of middle class parents. Just like Cate, Marcus yearns for a better life and when she receives the gift of a diamond from her estranged parents, they decide to marry and use the diamond to fund their own dig in Kimberley, South Africa. Only Cate doesn't realize that once in the diamond fields, Marcus' ambition will turn to greed or that she'll be reunited with Hunter when her husband mysteriously disappears. When Cate finds herself torn between a forbidden love for Hunter and loyalty to Marcus, she wishes she'd never seen the diamond that brought her such misery.

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