To Wager the Marquis of Wolverstone (Wicked Wagers BK2-Regency Romance) Long Novella

by Bronwen Evans

  “It’s a very long drive to Calais. A man has to have some entertainment…” and as fast as a cobra striking its prey, he flipped her beneath him on the seat. She felt his hand rummaging around the edges of her skirts. He started laughing. The manic sound reminded her of a madman. “What have you got under there? Trousers! As if they would stop me!”

  He briefly let go of her hands and flipped her skirts up over her head, trapping her under her clothes. Sabine felt the panic rise in the darkness as his hands tore at the protective breeches she wore under her skirts. Her breath came in terrified gasps. A picture of Marcus and Alfredo swam into her head. She took deep breaths, fighting desperately to get her fear under control.

  Slowly her hand reached to where her pocket now lay within easy reach. She inched her hand into it, until she felt the cold steel of her pistol. Her fingers gripped it and she immediately felt a rush of courage. She’d rather die than let Gower rape her a second time.

  She closed her eyes and drew the pistol from her pocket. Gower was so busy ripping her clothes from her body that he’d not noticed how still and quiet she’d gone. She gave a silent prayer for her son and drew her arm free of the tangle of her skirts and touched the barrel of the pistol to Gower’s temple.

  “Not this time,” she said softly as Gower went motionless, suddenly still in stunned silence. “Get off me and move across to the other seat.”

  He reluctantly did as she had asked, his face a mass of startled disbelief.

  “Now tell the driver to turn the carriage round.”

  Gower’s disbelief turned into calculation. “That little pistol won’t kill me.”

  She lowered her aim to his groin. “Maybe not, but I’ll make sure you can’t rape again.”

  He paled and crossed his legs.

  “Order the coach to turn round.”

  He hesitated. “If I do that, I’m dead.”

  “For a man like you, better dead than a eunuch I suspect,” she said harshly. “Quite frankly, I don’t care. Either way, I’m happy to oblige.”

  His lips tensed and an apprehensive silence invaded the carriage. They sat facing each other for several minutes, until slowly color began to seep back into his face. “I think you’re bluffing. You don’t have the bottle to shoot me.”

  Sabine tried not to let her hand shake. She did wonder if she had the ability to coldly shoot an unarmed man, but if he tried to hurt her again…

  “Try it and see. If you’re not going to tell the driver to turn round and go back to London, I will.” With that she stood slightly to bang on the hatch. That’s when he moved.

  Before she could even knock on the roof, Gower was upon her, trying to wrestle the gun from her grasp.

  “There they are,” Marcus yelled across to Henry as they galloped toward the carriage. Less than ten lengths behind, Marcus and Henry had been frantically chasing the carriage as it thundered its way on the road to Calais.

  He dug his heels into his stallion’s flanks thankful he’d invested a lot of money in his horses. They’d made up the lapse in time perfectly.

  Marcus had realized Gower would aim for Calais. Sabine was French and Gower would use her and her money to help him flee. He should never have let him leave the house. He cursed his own foolhardiness. If Sabine got hurt, it was his fault for a second time. Worse, if she died… the pain in his chest at this thought almost knocked him from his horse. He couldn’t lose her again. He wouldn’t lose her again.

  Not only would Gower not escape, he was a marked man. He couldn’t bear thinking about her alone with that depraved pervert.

  “How close do you think we should get? If he realizes we’re here, he might act out of desperation.” Marcus knew Henry was right.

  He narrowed his eyes against the swirling, gritty wind and indicated that they should split and ride down each side of the carriage.

  To their surprise the carriage then began to slow. It wasn’t until they drew closer, that Marcus clearly heard Sabine’s terrified screams.

  Then as if time had stopped, the wind dropped, the screams died and the sound of a pistol firing filled the air.

  He heard Henry curse and advance on the carriage which had rolled to a halt. Marcus leaped off his galloping horse and threw open the carriage door with his heart in his throat. Gower was on top of Sabine but neither of them was moving. He reached in and grabbed Gower, dragging him out of the carriage on to the ground. There was blood everywhere; it was all over Sabine’s dress and the floor of the carriage.

  With his heart beating hard, he clambered into the carriage and tentatively reached out his hand to feel for Sabine’s pulse. Her eyes were closed, her skin was warm, and then, miraculously, he saw the tiny flutter of a pulse at the base of her neck. Sabine was alive but was she injured? He began patting her clothes as she turned her head.

  “Marcus.” She let out a half cry, half sob and flung herself into his arms. “I’ve kill—killed him. He was trying to kill me….”

  He picked her up in his arms, and held her tightly, cupping her head against his chest. She sobbed inconsolably and held him as if he might disappear. “Sshh,” he whispered, “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. He gave thanks to God. He kissed the top of her head, then took her face between his hands and said, simply. “Let’s go home.”

  She reached up to kiss him and he savored the taste and feel of her. She was alive, safe and unhurt.

  He slipped out of his coat and helped her into it. Her dress was soaked with blood and she shivered when she looked down. “Don’t look at it.” Then he helped her out of the carriage into Henry’s care while he fetched his horse.

  Thankfully, Henry had covered Gower with his coat. It seemed that Sabine’s shot had torn a hole in his neck and he’d bled to death very quickly; too quickly, in Marcus’s opinion.

  Once Marcus had mounted, Henry handed Sabine up into his arms.

  “I’ll take care of everything here, just get her home,” his friend said.

  The terror he had felt when he’d heard that shot would haunt him for the rest of his days. He’d almost failed her again but, by the grace of God, she’d survived. This time, he would never let her go. He knew that both she and Alfredo belonged to him now. The long painful wait to claim her was over.

  She was back where she belonged. In his life, his arms and soon, as his wife, in his home.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sabine was sound asleep by the time they arrived back at her home. Marcus carried her up the stairs to her room and handed her into Claudette’s care. The French woman kept thanking him as if he was some kind of hero. He wasn’t.

  As he rode home, weariness invaded his limbs and his heart was heavy in his chest.

  Ten years ago he’d been unable to protect her. Looking back he could pinpoint precisely when she had been attacked. It was the day she no longer wanted to walk in her parents’ garden. He’d thought it odd at the time, and from that day on, she’d slowly withdrawn from him. She was no longer the carefree and happy young girl he’d given his heart to. When he’d heard she’d eloped he thought she’d backed away because she didn’t love him and had given her heart instead to another.

  But she hadn’t. He still didn’t understand why she hadn’t come to him for help. Did she think so little of him? Was she afraid he’d scorn her for something that wasn’t her fault?

  Arriving home close to four in the morning, Marcus assured his butler that he wasn’t hurt. The blood on his clothes was not his. He was told his mother had been asking for him. Damn, he’d forgotten about the ball.

  He was also handed a perfumed note. He knew who it was from, Amy. Christ. No wonder his mother wanted to see him.

  He opened Amy’s missive and read-

  My Lord,

  Since you did not appear at the ball tonight, I have taken it that your decision regarding Lady Orsini is made. This is good. Love is hard to find, but once found, lasts a lifetime. Your love is to be envied.

  I release you
and wish you much happiness.

  With my blessing and understanding.

  Lady Amy Shipton

  He smiled inside. Amy was a quite a woman. She deserved someone special too. Perhaps Henry should consider her… Hmmm, a plan was forming in his head as he walked down the corridor to his bedroom. He’d think on that some more, once his own situation was resolved.

  He needed to bathe. His clothes were covered in blood.

  Tomorrow he’d have to face his mother and declare to her his intention to marry Sabine. He was sure that once his mother learned the truth, she’d welcome Sabine with open arms.

  But first he had to learn the complete story, and once he was bathed and dressed in clean clothes he set off again, back to Sabine’s townhouse, this time determined to get all the answers he needed.

  Sabine lay in her bath. She’d been unable to sleep well, with the picture of Gower’s face tormenting her as he lay dying on top of her. She’d killed a man. Yet, she somehow couldn’t bring herself to feel any remorse. He would have killed her, she was sure of it. She touched the bruises at her neck.

  She kept scrubbing at her skin till it was raw in an effort to cleanse herself of the taint of Gower, just as she’d done ten years ago. Gower, even in death, still had the power to make her feel dirty.

  Now, at least, the two men she loved most, Alfredo and Marcus, were safe. Claudette had told her Marcus had carried her home and then left. No doubt he’d raced off to make his apologies to Amy. They were supposed to have become engaged last night.

  How ironic, she was finally free to reveal her secrets but now he was bound to another. She knew Marcus, and realized that he would not be dishonorable enough to go back on his word. She admired him greatly for that.

  She heard the door open behind her. She rose from the tub and called over her shoulder, “Claudette, can you hand me the towel please. I’m as clean as I’m ever going to get.”

  It was his scent that alerted her to his presence first, just before two strong arms enveloped her in the big towel, picking her up and walking through to the bedroom where he seated her on his lap as he sat at the end of her bed. He held her tightly against his chest as she rested quietly listening to his heartbeat beneath her ear.

  Before she could speak, he bent his head down and kissed her. The kiss was soft, gentle and possessive all in one. He took command of her mouth, sweeping his tongue inside, sending her senses reeling. She kissed him back, her arms slipping around his neck, dragging him closer and closer to her.

  Finally, he broke away from the kiss. “So you do have some feelings for me then, or is this simply gratitude? No more lies between us.”

  She stroked a lock of hair away from his face. “I’ve never lied to you.”

  “Ten years ago you lied about your being in love with another man.” He looked closely at her. “Why? Did you have so little faith in my love for you?”

  Tears welled at the memory and she cupped his cheek. “No! It was because I loved you that I needed to leave.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Her wedding day had been the saddest day of her life. She’d wept tears of agonizing grief. Tears for the friend and lover she’d lost in Marcus, tears for the man who would make her his wife, whom she knew she would never love, and tears for the unborn child she was carrying whom she would always see protected, regardless of the violence behind his making.

  When Alfredo was born, she knew she’d been right to sacrifice everything for her son. She had never regretted her decision, yet there had been times during the last ten years when living hurt so badly, if it had not been for Alfredo, she’d have quite happily curled up and died.

  Why should the innocent suffer? It was so unfair.

  “I asked my father to find me a husband and he found Orsini. And you’re right, I never loved him.”

  Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “This doesn’t make sense. Your father told me it had been your choice. Yet now you say he arranged it.”

  “I asked him to.”

  He demanded, “Why? I would have helped you. We could have been together—happy.” The pain in his voice made her tremble in misery. It appeared that she wasn’t the only one who’d suffered during the last ten years.

  She owed him the truth.

  So quietly that she wasn’t sure he’d hear her, she whispered her painful secret. “When Gower raped me, I knew there was a chance I could get with child.”

  Anger and fury and regret washed over Marcus in equal measure. He felt the inside of his stomach recoil and the bile rose in him. “You can’t have thought I would turn you away and desert you if you were.”

  She wiped a tear from his cheek. “I know you would not have turned me away. That is the reason I had to leave.”

  He buried his head in her shoulder. “Did you think I would challenge him to a duel and that I might die? I would have—I bloody should have!”

  “That was my initial reason for keeping my shameful secret a secret.”

  “There is no shame.”

  “Well, it was the reason for not telling you at the time. But it soon became evident that whatever future we might have had could no longer be. I realized I was pregnant.”

  He pulled back from her to look in her eyes. “Alfredo…”

  Her tears began to fall. “My innocent son, he doesn’t deserve to suffer. I had to give my child a name. I couldn’t allow him to be born a bastard.”

  Anguished tears fell on their joined hands. He tried to blink back the pain. “I would have proudly given him my name.”

  “No. You were already the Marquis of Wolverstone. If we had married, and my child was a boy, he would have become your legitimate heir. I couldn’t allow you to make that sacrifice. It would not have been right. And as it turned out, I did have a son.”

  He drew in a breath sharply. “Not right. Not right. What is not right is what you have endured.” He placed her hand on his heart. “What we have endured. I missed you every day. I longed for you every day. If I closed my eyes tightly enough, I pictured you here beside me and I swore I could still smell your scent.”

  “My dreams of you kept me going. You were never out of my heart. Never, ever.”

  “And I never will be again.” He picked her up and sat her on the edge of the bed and then got down on the floor on his knees. “Lady Sabine Orsini, will you do me the honor of being my wife? Will you and your—our-son, Alfredo, fill my life with love and happiness and make me whole again?”

  Her smile died. “But aren’t you engaged to Amy?” she asked quietly. “I won’t let you sacrifice your honor for me.”

  He softly cupped her cheek in his hand. “You have sacrificed much more for me. I’m not engaged to Amy anymore. She turned me down when she knew I was in love with you.”

  The smile he loved so much returned instantly. “Really? You’re free to marry?”

  He pulled her up into his arms and kissed her passionately. “I’ve never been free of you. I’ve loved you for so long, I was never able to love another. Will you? Will you please put me out of my misery and become my wife?”

  “Of course I will,” she cried as she drew closer to him. “I can’t believe this is truly happening to us. I love you so much.” She flung her arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her.

  She pushed herself out of his hold and he groaned. Then his smile turned wicked as Sabine allowed the towel to fall to the floor as she walked to the door and locked it.

  “Alfredo might wake soon and I’d rather like some private time with you.” Her husky voice and the sight of her glorious body sent waves of heat to his groin.

  He stared at the vision before him, feeling his empty soul filling to the brim with love as she padded softly toward him, naked except for her beautiful smile.

  Her beauty left him bereft of breath and he became eager to worship every delectable inch of her.

  He loved that not only was she strong, but that she still had such capacity to love, after all she’d been through. H
e intended to spend the rest of his life making her happy.

  He lowered his face to her, mute with adoration, as she stood before him. She slid hands up his chest. She took his hand and pulled him toward the bed, then pushed him down to sit on the edge of it, nudging her hand in between his thighs.

  “It’s my turn now to love you in the way I’ve always dreamed.” She began to undo the buttons of his placard. She freed him to her gaze and pushed his falls further down off his hips.

  He gave a wicked smile. “I hope I live up to expectations.”

  She looked down and curled her hand around his jutting erection and he groaned. “I’m very hopeful,” she giggled. Then her face took on a serious look. “I want to do something I’ve never done with any other man.” With that, she lowered herself to her knees, her gaze riveted on his straining erection.

  He knew her intention. He remembered her question in the carriage the day she’d come to him and offered herself to him in order to honor their wager. “Can a woman kiss a man down there?”

  “Sabine, you don’t have to do this. Making love with you will always feel like the first time because I love you. Nothing else matters.”

  The cheeky young girl he remembered smiled back. “Thank you, darling, but I want to do this, it’s for me.”

  Cupping her nape, Marcus leaned down and kissed her softly. “I’m not complaining. And it definitely won’t be only for you.”

  She giggled again and it was the sweetest sound he’d heard in a long, long time. It made his heart soar and fill with love.

  She curled her hand around him and tentatively licked the length of him. He surged beneath her touch and she heard his indrawn breath.

  She dipped her tongue into the tiny slit where drops appeared and she experienced her first taste of him. Her hand explored him further and cupped his heavy sacs which seemed to tighten and fill her hand as she stroked him with her tongue.

  Finally, she grew bolder and took him into her mouth. He pulsed and his hips lifted slightly, pushing him further into her mouth. She could feel tremors running through his thighs as they squeezed tightly around her waist.