Stealing Heaven

by Kimberly Cates

  He kicked the broken locket toward Norah, and she stared down at the broken pieces.

  Norah reeled. "Wh— I don't understand..."

  "A gentleman needs love tokens for his lady, and my father was such a cheap bastard, I couldn't afford anything exquisite enough out of my allowance. So I stole the necklace from your mother's jewelry box and gave it to Delia Kane the night we were running away."

  Images whirled up in her head: Aidan's voice, tearing back the veil that hid his deepest agony, revealing what had happened, the night that had changed him forever, scarred his soul so brutally only his love for Cassandra had saved him.

  "Richard—oh, God, it was you..." Norah stopped, her eyes flicking to Cassandra's tear-streaked face, desperate to shield her from the implications of Richard's confession. But it was too late.

  "You were the man who—who was waiting for Mama and me that night? The night of the accident?" Cassandra asked, disbelieving.

  "Delia was my whole life. She took me up when I was a callow, awkward fool and made a man of me. One to be reckoned with. My father thought I was worthless. He made me feel..." Old pain streaked across Richard's features. "Delia was the only one who ever gave a damn about me. I owe everything I am to her."

  Norah shuddered inwardly, knowing it was true. Richard was yet another man Delia had twisted and warped and crippled forever.

  "My leg was injured the night the carriage overturned. The bones broke on the rocks below. My hand..."

  The child had already been frightened enough. To hear the ugly truth battered out this way was Aidan's worst nightmare come real. "Richard, don't—"

  "Don't what? Tell Kane's proud little princess the truth? It took almost a year for me to crawl out of my sickbed, teach myself to walk once again. And the pain!" He paused, his features tight. "But I didn't give a damn. Every step I took brought me closer to the time when I could get my vengeance on Kane. But not a simple bullet through the heart. No, that would be too quick, too merciful, after all he had made me and Delia suffer. I wanted him to experience the agony I'd known, the helplessness she had felt all those years she was in his power."

  A tiny whimper echoed from Cassandra, sickening Norah.

  "Cass, don't listen to him. This is insanity."

  "I assure you I am quite sane. No one gone in madness could have plotted such a perfect vengeance and carried it out."

  "Richard, Aidan sent help back to the coach the minute he regained consciousness. He was all but dead himself by the time he got Cassandra to the surgeon."

  "You expect me to believe that? He drove Delia to her death and he left me to die. He destroyed my life, and now I will make him pay the forfeit for his crime."

  "By terrorizing an innocent girl?"

  "It's unfortunate, but necessary. The girl is the best weapon to use against Kane, and I intend to wield that weapon without mercy."

  She groped for some way to deter him and latched onto the only thing she could. "Cassandra is Delia's daughter. If you loved Delia, how can you hurt Cassandra?"

  "This will be best for everyone in the end. Cassandra will be away from Kane's lecherous influence. The pain of breaching her maidenhead will be brief enough." His lip curled in distaste. "And God knows, I'll hardly be able to stomach touching her later. How could I when she is alive and Delia is dead?"

  "Delia would hate you for hurting her child. I'm certain—"

  "What do you know about a woman like Delia? Nothing! You can't stop me, Norah. No one can."

  "Richard, let her go," she attempted one last time. His sneering smile was her answer.

  It was over. Norah could see the intent in his eyes, the impatience. Hell itself couldn't bar him from working his will.

  Norah grasped the cold butt of the pistol and drew the weapon out, her fingers chill, trembling. "I'm not going to let you hurt Cassandra. I'll shoot you if I have to."

  Richard hurled her a pained glance. "You expect me to believe that you can pull that trigger, sister mine? That you can kill your own brother?"

  The words slammed into Norah, but she tightened her grip on the pistol. "I'll do what I have to."

  "You'll shoot me? You'll kill me for Aidan Kane?" Richard's bitter laugh echoed to the tumble-down rafters. "You're a bigger fool than I could have guessed. He'll be out pawing other women before he gets his first babe in your belly. He'll be laughing at you, making jest of you while he partakes of the charms of beautiful women. God knows, the man always had an eye for the most delectable tidbits of female flesh."

  Norah struggled desperately to find an opening, stalling Richard the only way she could—by talking, by giving him something to bait her with. "Aidan thinks I'm beautiful."

  Richard swore in disgust, pacing toward her. "Christ! I could never understand how a paltry soldier tricked Delia March into marrying him. If Kane is that good at spinning out lies to his women—"

  The pistol trembled. "Cassandra, get up. Move toward me.

  "She's not going anywhere," Richard said, coming closer, closer. "I've explained everything to you. Why it has to be this way."

  "Richard," Norah pleaded. "Don't make me—"

  "Shoot? It's the only way you're going to keep me from bedding Kane's daughter. I've been waiting a long time for vengeance, Norah. I'm not about to sacrifice it now. You've already kept me from winning my wager by refusing Montgomery your bed—a blunder that will cost me dearly, I might add. But one mustn't bewail what is already beyond repair."

  "Philip? Philip knew of the wagers?"

  Richard had managed to undercut her, stun her completely. "The honorable Philip Montgomery? Montgomery had wanted you long before you left England. If the man had had any stones, he would have wed you himself, but no, the illustrious Montgomerys needed brides with fortunes, and you were nearly penniless. When I thought you were married, I merely mentioned your alliance to Philip, pointing out that you were in the licentious clutches of Aidan Kane, and Montgomery did just as I expected. Came racing to Ireland to be your champion. I tried to make it good for you. To arrange your heart's desire. An affair with Philip Montgomery was to have been your reward for being such a helpful accomplice in my little game. But no. You couldn't just accept the gift that I offered you. You had to cling to your noble principles."

  He was stalking her, his eyes resolute, lit with dark fire, and Norah realized then that hell itself could not stop him. She would have to pull the trigger if she was to save Cassandra.

  He was so close, she could see the scar on his chin, the glint in his eyes.

  "Are you going to kill me, Norah?" he demanded softly. "Do you have the courage to watch me die?"

  Her mind filled with images: Aidan at Caislean Alainn, butterflies in a tiny Cassandra's hands—the fires of Richard's revenge consuming them both.

  She steeled herself, tightened her finger. In a heartbeat Richard's hand flashed out. The hammer of the weapon cracked down—not on the firing pin but on his flesh, the pistol failing to fire.

  Norah tried to jerk the pistol away and fire again, but Richard ripped it from her with a savagery that sent spikes of pain up her arm. Surprise and outrage surged into her stepbrother's gaze.

  "You did pull the trigger! You would murder your own brother for a wastrel bastard like Aidan Kane? Don't you realize what I would have done for you?"

  Cassandra cried out as Richard's fist arced toward Norah's face. Pain exploded in Norah's jaw. Her head snapped backward, dizziness overwhelming her, fingers of unconsciousness dragging her down. But she fixed her gaze on the tumbled curls of Aidan's daughter, clung to the agony of knowing what her destruction here would do to her father.

  Norah groped for the other pistol at her waist, but Richard moved with diabolical quickness to tear it free.

  "Damn it, Norah, now you've ruined everything! I'm afraid I will have to kill you. Another regrettable necessity. Not a pleasant scene for my betrothed to witness, and yet you leave me no choice."

  Norah's blood chilled with the certainty that
he meant what he said. Her stomach churned at the twisted air of both pleasure and regret in his features.

  "You shouldn't have interfered in my game, Norah."

  "No! N—Norah!" Cassandra struggled, fought against her bindings. "If you shoot her someone will hear!"

  "There is no one within miles to hear. I made certain of that."

  Norah skittered back, searching for a weapon, any weapon to use against him—seeing her death glimmering in his gaze. Desperate, she searched for words to help Aidan's daughter survive the dark fate written in Richard Farnsworth's eyes.

  "Cassandra, whatever happens, your papa will find you. He'll find you and make you safe. Richard can't touch your soul, angel. Remember that."

  "Farnsworth won't be touching anything at all."

  Deep, vibrating with primal fury, the familiar masculine voice cut through the chamber.

  "Aidan!" Norah gasped out, her gaze flicking to the open cottage door. "You found us! Thank God!"

  Her glad cry was cut off as Farnsworth grasped her by the hair, yanking her back against his chest. The pistol he'd wrested from her grasp jammed against the soft cord of her throat where the fragile beat of her pulse thrummed close to the skin.

  But her eyes were filled with Aidan, standing in the doorway, his hair a wind-spun tangle about his lean cheekbones, his face that of a Celtic warrior whose lady had been threatened.

  His fingers gripped a pistol. His eyes simmered with violence. "I'm the one you want, Farnsworth. Not Norah. Not Cassandra. You want a sonofabitching wager? Take this one: I'll kill you for what you've done tonight. Tear you apart a piece at a time."

  "You may attempt it, of course. As long as you don't mind sacrificing your bride, Kane. It's an intriguing dilemma, I must admit—one that should prove vastly entertaining. Who is to be the sacrifice? Your bride or your daughter? Either way, I win."

  "Go to hell, Farnsworth."

  "Undoubtedly. However, before I do, I'll see you trapped in a prison far worse than the devil's domain. Put the pistol down, Kane, or I swear I'll pull the trigger." Farnsworth yanked Norah's head back even farther, exposing the fragile curve of her throat, the sinister nudge of the gun against it.

  "Don't do it, Aidan," Norah pleaded, her eyes locking with Aidan's agonized green ones. "He'll kill you anyway. And Cassandra... you have to help Cassandra."

  "Quite a noble plea, stepsister. You attempt to kill me, but you are ready to fling yourself on the sacrificial pyre for love of this whore-chasing bastard."

  Norah saw Aidan's fingers flex, white-knuckled on the pistol butt, seconds spinning out into eternity, his mouth twisting in an agony so great it shattered her.

  "What's it to be, Kane?" Farnsworth goaded. "I would as soon get this over with. I'd not want to keep your daughter waiting for our bridal night too long."

  Norah felt Aidan's hell sear her own soul, knew there was only one way she could end it, force her stepbrother's hand so that he couldn't torture Aidan with this demonic choice. She braced herself to wrench against his hold, goad him to pull the trigger.

  But at that instant Aidan let his pistol thud to the floor.

  "No," she whimpered. "Aidan, no! Why did you—"

  "I can't let him hurt you, ladylight."

  "I must say this tender display astonishes even me," Farnsworth said with a sneer. "Such noble self-sacrifice and all that rot. But then, you've had a woman's blood on your hands before, haven't you, Kane?"

  "That woman made her own choices."

  "That woman? That's a rather vague term, isn't it? We'd not want poor Cassandra to be stumbling over the path of our conversation, would we? He's talking about your mother, beloved. And she didn't have any choices from the minute your bastard of a father jammed his wedding ring on her finger. Tell me, Kane, how did it feel to know that your wife hated you? What did you think when the poison she gave you spread through your veins? Did you realize that, Cassandra? He made your mother's life such hell that she tried to poison your father?"

  "Papa—" Cassandra's voice was broken, shattered.

  "She poisoned him because it was the only way she could escape him. But the bastard didn't die. He came after us, chasing us. Because of him, the coach overturned. Because of him—"

  "It wasn't Papa's fault! It wasn't!"

  Norah could feel the pounding tension in Aidan, see him struggling desperately to find some opening, some way to hurtle himself at Farnsworth without endangering her.

  "It was his fault, damn it! He killed Delia as much as if he'd put a bullet in her breast! He was a drunken bastard, flinging away a fortune at cards. A sadistic sonofabitch, who dragged her to Ireland, chained her to his castle in the middle of nowhere, saddling her with a child she never wanted."

  Despite the danger, Norah could see the welling of hurt in Cassandra. "My mother was taking me with her! That night in the coach—"

  "Cassandra, don't listen to him!" Norah choked out. "Don't believe—"

  "She hated you, you blind little fool!" Farnsworth raged. "Hated you because you were a part of him—a reminder of how she'd thrown herself away on Irish scum. All the nights she lay in my arms, she cursed the day you were born. When she agreed to run away with me, she said she had to take you with us—but not because she wanted you. She was taking you because she knew that you were the only thing that mattered to Kane—that by stealing you away she would rip out his heart. And Delia deserved that pleasure, that taste of vengeance for what Aidan Kane had put her through."

  "Farnsworth, you..."Aidan nudged a step toward them, white-faced. A gasp of pain tore from Norah as the gun jabbed deeper. But Farnsworth was warming to his subject now, a feverish anticipation shuddering through him.

  "Tell her, Kane. Tell your spoiled little daughter the truth about her precious father."

  "What truth is that?"

  "That by eloping with her, I'll be sparing her the agony of suffering the consequences of being your spawn. That for eight years, not a decent drawing room in London would taint itself with your presence. Not a single decent woman would allow you to touch so much as the hem of her gown. That you are a gambler, a cheat, who has dueled a dozen times over the cast of a dice or the favors of a pretty harlot, a drunken wastrel with a dozen mistresses clamoring for his attentions. Can you smell the stench of vice on him, Cassandra? Know that he's done things that would sicken you?"

  "I don't believe you!" the girl raged.

  "Tell her, Kane. Tell her it's true."

  Aidan's hard gaze flashed to his daughter, his features a study in agony. Every muscle was tense, coiled, as he moved toward her. "Cass, I... it is true. Every word."

  "Papa—"

  Farnsworth's avid gaze was feasting on Aidan's destruction.

  "I am everything Farnsworth says I am, girl. That's why I kept you at the castle, so you would never have to know. But you grew up, Cass." Aidan's voice cracked as he searched for some way, any way, to break Farnsworth's hold on Norah.

  The bastard was so damned calm and cold with murder in his eyes. Only when he'd spoken of Delia had there been another emotion in that handsome face, one Aidan recognized all too well.

  Obsession.

  He could use it against Farnsworth, cripple him in ways that were all too familiar to him. And yet the cost—oh, God, the cost...

  His eyes flicked for a moment to his daughter, crumpled on the bed, every nerve in his body screaming in denial. No. He couldn't tell her. Yet how could he compare the wounds his words would inflict on her to the fate Farnsworth had planned?

  Aidan let mockery curve his lips, contempt fill his eyes. "You loved her, didn't you? Loved Delia? You poor besotted fool."

  Farnsworth stiffened. "She was the most glorious woman in the world. A treasure a man like you could never understand."

  Aidan laughed. "Plenty of men understood my wife. More than I could count. She was a harlot who collected men's hearts like some women collected slippers, always hungry for some new diversion."

  Farnsworth's face
whitened. "Don't you dare malign her that way! She went to other men's beds because it was the only way she could escape the misery of being married to you! Once we fell in love, she didn't want anyone else, need anyone else!"

  "Is that what she told you?"

  "She loved me! Only me! We were going to build a life together, someplace you could never reach us."

  "I wouldn't have cared if you and Delia had set up housekeeping in the next bedroom. Hell, it would've been a relief! At least I would've had some idea which man was going to come skulking out of her chamber at night. Delia knew that. She knew I wouldn't have given a damn if she'd run away to play a harlot's service to a whole regiment as long as she left Cassandra behind."

  Aidan's blood chilled, dread coursing through him as something wild and frightening shivered to life in Farnsworth's eyes. Aidan knew a stark terror that the desperate gambit he was making to save Norah's life might be the impetus that made the sadistic bastard pull the trigger.

  "Delia had to repay you for the misery you made her suffer. The girl belonged to her. Once we arrived in France, we were going to throw her away, Kane. Hurl her on the steps of some poorhouse so our lives wouldn't be tainted by your spawn."

  The words sickened Aidan; the fact that Cassandra was hearing them nearly killed him. But he forced himself to plunge on, praying that he could goad the bastard into making a mistake, praying for the slightest opening so he could fling himself at the Englishman and kill him.

  "You were willing to risk my fury in order to grant Delia this crazed revenge? Such grand passion the two of you shared, Farnsworth. It touches my heart."

  Aidan's pulse raced, every muscle in his body coiled, ready as he steeled himself to fling out the words that would drive Farnsworth over the edge. That would give Aidan a chance, the slightest chance, to overpower him.

  "Of course, I have one tiny question regarding this magnificent love affair of yours. If Delia... loved you so desperately," he said, contempt dripping from the word, "why was it that the very afternoon before your grand escape, I found her in the tack room with a strapping young stableboy between her thighs?"