Her Dark Baron
Page 10
Abandoning the tight laces, Mariel slapped at the water, vainly attempting to stay above the surface. Gulping air, she slipped again beneath the watery plane, silencing the noises that continued above.
I tried, love. Beware.
The words did not pass her lips. Gazing in horror as she drifted further from the light overhead, Mariel sensed the darkness encroaching.
* * *
Gervase caught sight of the wooden craft slowly submerging in the lake. Charging down the hillside, and over the rocky shore, he watched in horror. Mariel flailed in the water, the weight of her gown triumphing over her attempts to stay afloat. Upon nearing the water's edge, Gervase leapt from Daegon and rushed into the rough waters, wading deep enough to begin powerful strokes toward Mariel's disappearing head.
Ignoring Edmond, who pulled his screaming wife toward shore, he concentrated only on reaching Mariel. As in a nightmare, Gervase fought against the water in seeming slow motion, unable to reach his wife before he watched her head slip beneath the water's surface again. This time, she did not re-emerge.
Harder, he pushed his body. Occupying the area she had just been, he gulped air and dove beneath the surface, reaching out in the dark water in hopes of locating her arm or dress. Expelling the air from his lungs to aid his descent, Gervase caught hold of something. Mustering his remaining strength, he made for the surface, dragging Mariel with him. His chest burned, craving the air that taunted him from just out of reach until at last he broke the plane and escaped the watery grave. Hauling Mariel under the arms, Gervase hurried to the shore. She began sputtering and coughing.
“Thank God,” he uttered, turning Mariel to her side and clutching her tightly.
Assured that Mariel was safely dealt with, Gervase realized that Elizabeth was screaming.
“He tried to make it look like an accident, but he...,” Elizabeth wailed as Edmond grabbed her roughly.
“Shut up, Elizabeth, before you regret it,” he warned low near her ear.
“He tried to make it look like an accident, but.. but..,” Elizabeth repeated in a rush.
Edmond hit the hysterical woman, knocking her unconscious before running for one of the horses.
“Stop, Edmond,” Swanson yelled, charging to intervene.
Before he gained the fleeing man, Baron Harold Flanders imbedded his claymore deeply, ending Edmond's life with one stroke. Gervase locked eyes with Flanders.
“Did you lay him waste in protection of the Lady Elizabeth, or to prevent the whole truth from being revealed?”
“Are we finished here?” Flanders asked abruptly, ignoring the pointed question.
“I believe we are,” Gervase answered.
For now.
He didn't add his thought.
Swanson revived Elizabeth gently carrying the stunned woman to his horse. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Elizabeth Daltrey turned to face Gervase.
“All along, I accused you, Baron Daltrey. Forgive me! It was my own husband.”
“Take ease, Lady Elizabeth,” Gervase responded. “I bear you no ill will. All that you did stemmed from care and concern for Lady Mariel.”
Bringing his attention back to his wife, Gervase scooped her into his arms and headed for Daegon.
“Let me get you home.”
* * *
In the days following, much of Edmond's activity came to light in addition to his motivation through Mariel's retelling of her harrowing experience on the boat and Trevor's account of what transpired at the stables.
Elizabeth remained quiet and subdued. Devastated to have learned the true nature of her Edmond, Elizabeth apologized again and again until Gervase forbade her from doing so even once more.
“Lady Elizabeth, that will be enough. The truth has been revealed. You must not dwell on what transpired before it all came to light.”
Swanson was often found escorting Lady Elizabeth to and from Ayleshind over the months and doting on young James, prompting Mariel to broach the subject as spring wakened the land.
“It has been long enough, Gervase,” she cajoled, resting her head on his shoulder. “Elizabeth is young and beautiful. She should not be alone.”
“Are you certain they have an affection of that kind for one another, Mariel?”
He trailed his lips down the arm he held, eyes gleaming in playfulness.
“Fairly certain,” she answered breathlessly.
“Put it from your thoughts,” he teased. “I'll speak to Swanson later. Right now, I've other concerns to attend to.”
Mariel reveled in her husband's love and affection. She had come to learn that Gervase had not murdered George Rowland, and she was glad. He had been covered in someone’s blood, but whose she would likely never discover. Messages arrived, and Gervase would depart, at times disappearing for days. Mariel never questioned, and he never offered any explanation other than to love her with passionate ferocity when he returned.
His kisses brought her to the present, erasing all desire to contemplate further on the subject. Mariel gave herself up to the attentions of her husband. Her lover.
Her Dark Baron.
The End.
Author Information
Nadja Notariani (1971 - )
Nadja Notariani was born in Rochester, Pennsylvania. Her upbringing included very diverse environments, affording wide and varied richness of ethnic and religious tradition. Raised in both an Italian/Mediterranean American home and a traditional German household, Nadja gleaned the unique benefits of viewing the world through two widely differing lenses.
Nadja currently resided in Northeastern Pennsylvania. Her first novel, Claiming The Prize was published in September, 2011. The author's next novel, The Third Fate, will be published in the spring of 2012.