His boots slipping along the muddy road, slowing him, he made it to the crowd at the edge of the swollen river within minutes.
Pushing his way through several men holding up lanterns, he searched the swirling waters in the darkness.
“Where? Where?” he managed to choke out between heaving breaths.
One of the men pointed, holding his lantern up. “There. She’s ‘olding onto that branch. Albert told ‘er she ain’t gonna reach the bridge, but she waded in anyways ‘fore ‘e could stop ‘er. Said she could make it. Current got ‘er right quick.”
Garek desperately searched the area the man pointed to. A line of trees that yesterday had lined the riverbank were now swallowed by the rushing current. Limbs and branches scattered into the river, dragged down by the waters.
“Where?” Garek demanded.
“’Tween the second and third tree.” The man jabbed his finger at the water. “Oye, she gone under again. She’s ‘olding onto that tree branch, water rushing her. We can’t get rope to where she can snatch it.” The man leaned forward, squinting. “There—she be up again.”
His eyes searching the branches, Garek finally spotted a hand. Then the other. Then her face, just clearing the watery foam.
Lily.
The sound of the rushing water drowning out all noise, Garek could see her gasping, struggling. Her top hand slipped on the branch, jamming into her lower hand.
“Where’s the rope, man?”
“Here.” The man pointed to the end of the row of gawkers. “But we tried. We can’t get it to her.”
Garek bolted to it, stripping off his jacket and boots, and then flipped through the heap of rope until he found the ends. He shoved the one tattered end into the nearest man’s hand. “You all will hold this?”
“Sure, but it be your funeral, lad. That current will snatch you. It is nasty strong.”
“I am stronger.”
Wrapping the rope along his arm, Garek moved into the water, almost immediately dropping as the land gave way below his feet. In an instant, water rushed up to his ribcage. Only by the grace of fate did his left foot find a boulder where he could wedge himself against the heavy current. It gave him a precious second to find the ground with his right foot, regaining his balance.
Righted, he barreled forward, every step requiring him to regain his balance, his lean against the floodwaters. Halfway to her, Lily disappeared below the surface of the water again, her hands slipping further down the branch.
“Fight it, Lily. Fight it,” he screamed above the waters, knowing she couldn’t hear him, but yelling anyway. “Up. Get to air. Get to the damn air, Lily. Fight it.”
Her forehead broke free, her head twisting as she tried to get her mouth to air.
Her hands slipped below the surface of the water, the branch straining.
“Dammit, Lily. Fight.”
Her head dropped below the water. Gone. All of her gone.
Water up to his chest, Garek plowed through the last few steps to where Lily was, caution be damned. His hand diving, he searched, trying to discern what he was touching through the debris.
Then under his thumb—skin. Her wrist. He wrapped it in a vise, yanking her from the branch, yanking her to him.
Her head broke through the water, and Garek dragged her to his body, threading his arm around her chest. Tight, too tight, but he wasn’t about to chance her slipping from his grasp.
He turned, gripping the rope, and the men on the shore started hauling the rope, helping him move back through the raging current.
Three last desperate steps up the hidden slope at the edge of the river, and Garek’s feet found solid land.
Limp. She was too limp.
Shaking the twisted rope free from his wrist, he spun Lily in his arms, supporting all her weight. Her eyes were closed, her head bobbing from the movement.
Garek laid her onto the ground, flipping her over and slapping her back. She heaved instantly, water spewing, hacking from her lungs.
His arm wrapping under her belly, he lifted her, propping her up from the ground on her hands. His thumping on her back eased into a rub as she expelled the last of the river water from her lungs and belly, her body shaking.
“Is it out?” Garek asked, close to her ear so she could hear him over the coughs.
She nodded, trying to lift her hand to her mouth. Unsuccessful, she turned her head to wipe her mouth on her shoulder, but it made her lose her balance, her body collapsing.
In one swift motion, Garek flipped her body, picking her up. He started toward the inn, the gathered men bustling with their lanterns in front of him.
Her sopping dress added at least half her weight. But not her boots—they were long gone, her bare toes limply bumping into his thigh with every step.
Two-thirds of the way back to the inn, Garek had reined in his anger enough to speak without swearing, and he looked down at Lily. Her eyes were open in a blank stare.
“Of all the inane things to do, Lily.”
Her eyes found his face, her voice beaten. “Why? Why save me? You hate me, Garek.”
The words sliced through his heart.
He had created this.
Him, and him alone.
He inhaled heavily, then exhaled a sigh, her body riding his chest. “I do not hate you, Lily. I do not.”
She looked at him for a moment, no emotion crossing her face, no response. Her eyes slipped down, returning to the far-off, vacant stare.
Garek bit his tongue against all that he wanted—needed—to rail at her for the sheer stupidity of trying to cross a flooded river. His heart still wildly out-of-control, he set his eyes forward.
Her body spent, Lily drifted to sleep before they reached the inn. Even once in their room, she could not be roused. So Garek stripped her out of her sopping clothes, wrapping her under several blankets on the bed.
Jabbing at the fire, Garek heaved breath after breath. He hung the iron poker alongside the fireplace and turned to Lily, watching her sleeping form. This would have been the moment. The perfect chance to walk away. Desert her, just as he had planned.
But plans had an amazing capacity to change.
He didn’t even have to war with himself. That war was over.
He stepped across the room to her, the knuckles of his fingers running gently along her forehead.
With a deep breath, he walked out the door.
~~~
Lily sat up in the bed, looking around the room.
Silence. For the first time in hours. Silence. No rain constantly beating down upon the roof. The fire still gave off light, and she could see her riding habit, chemise, and stays hung neatly over the backs of two chairs positioned to dry them by the fire.
She peeked under the blankets she had clutched to her chest. Yes, naked.
The last thing she recalled was Garek carrying her. Telling her he did not hate her.
She shook her head.
She was not about to think on that yet. She needed food. Food to stop her hands from shaking. To quell the pit in her stomach.
Lily swung her legs from the bed, wrapping the blanket around her as she went over to her clothes. Still wet. Even her chemise was too damp to put on.
Her jaw shifted sideways as she looked around the room. It was late enough that the common area would be empty—hopefully. And as unseemly as it was, no one would blame her for popping in there with makeshift clothes on.
She went over to Garek’s bag, finding one of his white linen shirts on the top. Slipping it over her head, she found it dropped almost to her knees. She cuffed the sleeves and wrapped one of the blankets around her waist in a make-shift skirt.
Hanging the other blanket around her shoulders, she figured she had concealed all she needed to and went to the door. Her breath held as she turned the knob.
It easily opened.
Her bare feet padding along the planks of the wooden floor, she made her way down the stairs.
Thank the heavens, the co
mmon area was empty, the last flames of a dying fire flickering in the enormous stone hearth along the far wall. Two lanterns by the front doorway remained lit, casting just enough light for Lily to move about without bumping into chairs.
She went to the bar, stepping behind the long counter to search for something to eat. Her rummaging rewarded quickly, she found a platter of breads covered by a flour-dusted cloth.
Pulling one loaf from the platter, she bit into the crusty end as she walked from behind the bar, needing to sit before her legs collapsed on her.
She aimed for the nearest chair, but the slight movement of a shadow in the rear of the room caught her eye. Then a squeak of wood echoed from one of the five booths.
Lily stopped in place, indecisive about what to do. Sit and pretend whoever was in here, wasn’t in here? Or grab another loaf and scamper back up to her room?
A quick look downward at her attire, and she opted for the demure route. She quickly snatched another loaf from behind the bar and began walking back toward the stairs. When she passed the booth she had heard the squeak come from, she couldn’t resist one quick glance at the occupant.
Garek.
Leaning forward, hunched over a half-filled glass, he stared at the table. A large carafe of brandy sat nearly empty next to his left hand.
Her feet stopped.
“Are you drunk?” She spat the words out. For how he had chastised her every time a wee bit too much alcohol touched her lips—now he sat there, clearly sauced.
His head was slow to turn and look up at her.
“You are.”
She shook her head, her right hand tightening around the loaf, crunching the bread. She turned, but before she made one step, his voice, gravelly, stopped her.
“Revenge is not easy, Lily.”
Her look shot to him.
His fingers ran through his dark hair, rumpling further the mess of it. He met her glare. “I do not hide from it—I came back to ruin you, Lily. Ruin your life, just as you had done to mine. I saw a chance opportunity, and I took it. I thought to ruin you, and be done.”
“Congratulations, Garek. You have marvelously succeeded.”
“I cannot do it.”
She charged the table. “Blast it, Garek. You have already done so.”
“I cannot let you go, Lily.”
The bread slammed down onto the table as she leaned in at him. “You have had your vengeance, so why? Why keep me? Why even talk to me? Throw me out. Be done with me. You have hurt me just as you were hurt. Is it not enough for you? Must you continue to torment me?”
His head shook. “I thought I could do all of this. Do this and be done. Start anew. One last thing to take care of.”
“Then be done and let me go, Garek. Let me walk away—hell—let me drown. Just—”
“No.” His fist smashed onto the table, making Lily jump. “I sure as hell am not going to let you drown, Lily. Do not even utter those words.”
He drew a breath, his fingers rubbing his forehead, his hand covering his eyes. “I do not know what the devil I am doing, Lily—not anymore. I came here for you—to ruin you—to take you away—to love you.”
His hand dropped from his face, his hazel eyes moving up to meet her look. “This was for revenge. But I was wrong. Very wrong—about everything. Even with that—from the very start—if I am utterly and harshly honest with myself—I came here for you, Lily. The revenge was just an excuse. A way back to you. It has always been you, Lils.”
Her chest tightened, her stomach balling into a hard rock. This was not fair. Not now.
She leaned closer to him over the table. “You are drunk. Do you even hear yourself? You hate me, Garek.”
His palm slammed onto the table again, sending the glass rattling. “Dammit, Lily. I still love you. And I have been lying to myself about that very fact every single step I have taken since I left Annadale.”
Her head shook. “No. You are trifling with me. This is a trick. You are trying to make me crazy so I do not know what to believe. So I do something else stupid.”
She pushed up from the table, grabbing what was left of the two loaves of crumpled bread.
“Wait, Lily. Please.”
The words, raw and desperate, stopped her from walking away.
Garek’s hand dove under the front of his dark jacket, his finger digging into a pocket.
Lily waited for moment, watching. Then her anger won out over curiosity, and she took a step away.
“This.”
She looked back to him.
His hand came up, clutching something small. Fingers hovering over the table, he dropped it.
A short ribbon, the ends frayed, fluttered to the table. Through the dirt streaked along it, she could tell it had been a sparkling peach color at one time.
“A ribbon?”
He looked at her, his eyes solemn. “Yours. It was the one tying your hair when we first met.”
“How do you have it?”
“After Sneedly kicked you out of Weadly Hall and I went back for your possessions. I brought you your tin of ribbons. But this one…this one I kept—slipped it into my pocket. I do not even know why I did it, but I did.”
His fingers clutched the end of it, gently rubbing the frayed threads. “It has always been on my body. Even through prison—the hell of it—I kept it hidden, safe. Every day. Always in my pocket, on my body—every day, Lils.”
His eyes rose to meet hers. “At first it was for hope. And then I thought it was to remind me of my hate. But I was wrong. I took it in love. A little piece of you. And that is what it is. Love that would not let me go. Love that I cannot let go.”
Lily’s eyes closed as she shook her head, her face tilting to the dark wood beams spanning the ceiling. “You are drunk, Garek, and you produce a ribbon and I am supposed to forget you came here to destroy me? Believe that you no longer want to do so? Ignore that you condemned me—hated me—for something I never did?”
Her eyes opened, her look falling to him. “I do not know what to believe, Garek. And you cannot ask me to trust anything you are saying. Not tonight. Not right now.”
Her bare foot found a step backward as she fumbled the bread in her fingers. Tightening the blanket around her shoulders, she made her way to the stairs.
She was suddenly very cold.
Bitterly cold.
{ Chapter 17 • Marquess of Fortune }
Hooves clomping once more over the wooden bridge, Lily’s hands tightened on the reins as she averted her eyes, setting them on the far-off horizon aflame in the early morning light. She wasn’t about to glance down at the river, look at the trees, the spot where she had almost drowned.
A shiver scuttled down her spine. She had been so very close. Slipping, darkness swallowing her. And then Garek. Lifting her. His arm clamped around her. Saving her.
He had always been so very good at that. Saving her.
So it only made sense that he was also so very good at the opposite—destroying her.
The horses’ hooves sank into the muck on the far side of the bridge and Lily exhaled her held breath. She was finally away from the Golden Pheasant Inn. Free from the suffocation.
Garek had collected her in the morning, producing replacement boots and telling her the bridge was passable, and they could leave. But leave to where, he did not say.
Lily looked ahead on the road. Without a word from Garek, she knew she could turn south at the upcoming split in the road, and he would not stop her. Several hours of riding, and she would be back at Notlund.
But back to what? What was there for her? Pitying looks, unyielding gossip from the wedding guests still there. Horrified faces watching her crawl back into the castle, a bamboozled woman, now ruined beyond repair.
In front of her, Garek moved his horse off to the side of the road, waiting for her mare to fall in line with his. They rode in silence for a length of time, only the squawking of overly robust birds echoing along the road. Garek occasionally looked at he
r, while Lily tried to ignore his presence.
“Forgive me.” His sudden words, soft and earnest, broke the silence.
Anger instantly swelled her throat. “You are asking for a miracle, Garek.”
The horses took several steps before he answered, his voice calm, controlled. A ghost of the past, much like he had always been at Weadly Hall. “I am not demanding a miracle, Lily. I was wrong, so very wrong, and I am sorry. I am only asking for the possibility—give me that—the possibility that you can find a way to forgive me. Find a way back to me.”
“Or I could find my way back to Notlund.”
“You are already ruined, Lily.”
She looked away from him, her eyes on the branches of the passing trees, her head shaking. “You do not need to remind me what has become of me.”
“There is nothing for you there, at least not now.” He cleared his throat. “Can I suggest a different option?”
Eyebrows arched, her look swung back to him.
“I will deliver you to Coldstream. Your sister will be there.”
“Brianna will be there? Why?”
“I wanted her out of the way—not able to save you. So while she was talking to you at Notlund, I arranged with her husband for them to be part of the elopement—to attend the wedding in Scotland.” His head cocked with a wry grin. “I posed it as a peace offering of sorts to your sister. They were to leave the same night after the business with Lord Newdale was concluded, though I imagine the rain has either delayed them, or altered their route.”
“How could delivering me to Coldstream possibly help me?”
“I will accept it if you cannot forgive me, Lily, and I will do whatever it takes to clear scandal from your name. Including standing by the story that you left Notlund with your sister—not me. That the elopement was just a rumor. That you were overwhelmed with worry, collapsed because of nerves, and left to escape the marriage to Lord Newdale. Brianna left Notlund at the same time, and is travelling to Scotland, so it is entirely plausible.”
Lily’s jaw shifted, considering his words. The possibility of avoiding ruin was tempting. Especially considering the scandal she would face arriving back at Notlund. “But Brianna knows exactly who I am with—and she may have already circulated the story about the elopement, about my leaving with you.”
Lord of Fates: A Complete Historical Regency Romance Series (3-Book Box Set) Page 71
