by Alexa Aston
He studied her face, glad for once she was silent. Not that he didn’t enjoy their verbal sparring. She had a quick tongue and keen mind and Garrett enjoyed their conversations immensely. Still, it seemed a luxury to look upon her beauty in the quiet morning. He looked forward to doing so every morning for the rest of their lives.
He focused on the faint scar that marred her perfect skin. The slightly jagged ridge ran along her cheekbone and he determined it must have come from a ring. Someone had backhanded her with a powerful blow to cause such a blemish to be embedded so deeply. He would kill the man that had mistreated her and not rest until he’d done so.
He gave her hand a quick squeeze and her eyelids fluttered. Despite his sore leg, he leaned up and softly kissed her sweet lips.
“Good morning, my nurse. It’s time you woke and tended your patient.”
She stretched lazily. “This good nurse needs to be up and about, my lord. Sleeping in a chair is not my idea of a comfortable night.”
“You’d rather sleep on that flea-bitten quilt in your rented hovel?”
“Mayhap,” she said teasingly.
He started to rise.
“Oh, no. You are to remain abed the whole day. Maude and I have decided that already. You need rest aplenty.”
“No, my dear, we leave for Stanbury today. I must—”
Madeleine pushed him back against his pillows, her hands firm on his shoulders. “I know you are anxious to learn the truth about Lynnette. I’m only asking for this one day for you to heal before you ride to Stanbury. You’ll need your strength before you set out on such a long ride.”
“You treat me as a babe,” he grumbled.
“Just for today, Garrett. I’ll heat some broth for you to break your fast.”
She returned in a little while with a steaming bowl of the broth she’d promised him, along with ale and bread. As he ate, she redressed his wound.
“The cut already looks to be healing nicely.”
“All thanks to your care.” His eyes caressed her.
She swallowed hard. “Garrett, there’s something we must talk about. Things you ought to know.” She twisted her hands together, her brow furrowed as she concentrated on the right words to say.
“It’s about—”
“There you are, Madeleine. Might’ve known where you’d be.”
Maude bustled into the room, drawing the curtains as she hummed a bit off-key. “You look much better today, Lord Montayne.”
Sunshine streamed into the room and Madeleine began pacing nervously. He wished Maude hadn’t interrupted their conversation since he knew Madeleine was about to share something of her past with him.
“You seem to be restless, Madeleine,” said Maude. “Mayhap you could accompany me to market? I’ve a mind to prepare eels, seeing as to how Lord Montayne is partial to them.”
The servant turned to Garrett. “You’d like some eels now, in a bit of saffron sauce? Or would you prefer fried minnows?”
“They both sound delicious, Maude. You make the choice.”
She clucked her tongue. “Well, I won’t decide just yet. We’ll wait until we see what Old James has.” She nodded at Madeleine. “I’ll get us some baskets, dearie.”
As soon as Maude left the room, Madeleine went to him and placed her palm against his cheek. “I will help Maude now.” She hesitated a moment. “When we return, I must speak to you.”
*
Henri de Picassaret left the church immediately after mass. He still felt a bit unsure about being in London after hearing the warning from the gatekeeper concerning the waning epidemic of typhus. Yet no fear of illness could have kept him from following the Earl of Montayne as he chased after Madeleine.
The wanton bitch.
Henri felt the bile rise in his throat at the thought of his wife giving herself to a lover. He had no doubt based on Garrett’s reaction to her disappearance that they were lovers. How dare she forsake her loving husband and their vows? Who did the chit think she was to leave him, Henri de Picassaret, man of wealth—and God’s chosen one?
He must find her and take her back to France. He’d spent this very morning in constant prayer to the Almighty Father, seeking His advice on how to punish his wife’s ungodly behavior. Death seemed too pleasant for one who had sinned as heavily as Madeleine. But, in the end, he supposed God would wish it so. After all, he must find a new wife who could give him children if he were to build a dynasty to revere God’s greatness. It was his duty to produce heirs.
It seemed a pity, though, that God had felt the need to test him so. Three barren wives and now the last one who also proved to be an adulteress. It was almost more than a good Christian man such as him could bear.
As a man of God, though, he must accept his fate and walk the path God provided for him, no matter how painful that path became. Still, to be publicly humiliated by Garrett Stanbridge, the Earl of Montayne, was almost more than he could bear. Madeleine’s paramour had flaunted their immorality in his face. A man did not get much lower than Lord Montayne. To think that he had almost traded his precious French land to that English swine.
Henri had been searching for his sinful wife in the disease-ridden city and had actually found her at some rundown rooms. But before he could fetch Bertrand to help him spirit her away, Montayne had showed up and snatched her from his grasp. Infuriated, he’d followed them at a distance until they’d entered The Open Locket. Though his curiosity was aroused, it had not stopped him from approaching a burly ruffian on the street. He’d paid the man good coin to take Montayne down and retrieve Madeleine for him.
Of course, now he was being tested even further by God. The man had barely threatened the couple with his knife when he was struck down, compliments of the Earl of Montayne. Instead of taking the earl by surprise and fleeing with Madeleine in tow, the idiot had tried to rob them first. What a waste of his money and time.
If things were to be done right, then Henri must take it upon himself. He’d seen Montayne slashed in the brief fight. He had no qualms about using that injury, or whatever trick was necessary, to kill his wife’s lover and reclaim her. Madeleine would have to be severely punished before he let her escape into Death’s welcoming arms.
He made his way to Montayne’s London home. He stood on the corner across from it, watching, wondering if the unrighteous couple lay fornicating within.
Suddenly, the door opened. Henri stepped back, pressing himself tightly against the building behind him.
An old crone, the height of a child, came out the door. Madeleine followed her, a market basket tucked into the crook of her arm. She turned back when her name was called.
Montayne appeared in the doorway and she returned the few steps to him. He leaned down and kissed her briefly, stroking her cheek with his thumb.
Henri nearly exploded on the spot, seeing the Englishman touch his wife in such an intimate way and watching Madeleine’s face fill with pleasure. It was only God’s spirit working in him that kept him from screaming to the heavens. Instead, he carefully moved from where he stood and began following his unfaithful wife on the other side of the narrow street. He stayed well behind her, out of her line of vision, while he hatched his plan.
He alone wielded the sword of justice. It was about time Madeleine learned this.
Soon they arrived at the market, an explosion of smells and sounds. The odors of fish and warm bread invaded his senses, as did the sweat of the tightly packed bodies all vying for business. He hated being this close to so many people, worrying what diseases they might harbor. He kept his arms tightly by his sides, not wanting to touch any one of them.
Henri wished suddenly that Bertrand were with him. The servant might be stupid but he was strong and had, on several occasions, helped Henri discipline Madeleine. Hopefully, though, Henri would take her so unawares that she would not have time to react. He must depend on God to give him the strength he needed when the time came.
The women moved from stall to stall, studyi
ng the goods to be had. The tiny servant finally stopped at a booth where different fish were sold. She began arguing animatedly with its proprietor.
Henri watched Madeleine move away from her companion and pick up some trinket. She had a dreamy expression on her face which Henri would slap off her the minute they were alone.
It was that look that moved him to action.
*
Madeleine instantly recognized the vise-grip that seized her arm. The bony hand belied the power in those fingers. Paralyzed by fear, the cry she longed to voice would not come. Her freedom snatched away in one brief moment, she focused on the familiar black onyx signet ring her husband never took from his hand. It was the sight of this ring that caused her to resist.
She desperately dug in her heels and pulled in the opposite direction, trying to stop Henri’s forward motion.
He turned. The look on his face brought terror to her soul. The face of a madman. A scream formed but never came for Henri slapped her so hard that her teeth rattled.
The sunny day went almost black, while stars exploded in a palette of color. Without warning, a second blow followed, and she slumped to the ground in a heap.
*
Madeleine awoke to the splash of freezing water hitting her in the face.
Henri stood over her, his mouth twitching rapidly, a sure sign that he was out of control. She might have teased Garrett about being the Devil Himself but she knew that a true demon from Hell now stood above her. There would be no escape this time, no hope to sustain her. She’d lost the love of her life. She hadn’t the will, much less the strength, to go on. Unless Garrett was by her side, she had no wish to live anymore.
If she were lucky, she could prod Henri to kill her quickly.
“Do you seek revenge, Henri?” she taunted. “Were you embarrassed in front of your friends for having a wife run off? Did you—”
The kick was swift and vicious, striking her in her ribcage, knocking the breath from her. Pain burst throughout her body but she kept her mouth closed. She would not give him the pleasure of hearing her cries.
Henri twisted his mouth in a semblance of a smile. “Your lover cannot help you now,” he said menacingly. “Only I can, Madeleine. Confess your sins to me and I will try to make things right for you with God.”
She tried to quell the mounting hysteria in order to answer him calmly. “The only sin found in this room is with you, Henri. You’ve shown me no love, nor mercy, and you have beaten me in anger. That is your sin, not mine.”
The evil smile still played upon his thin, cruel lips. “I know what you do, Madeleine, and you will not tempt me. We shall do this slowly, methodically, so it will be carried out correctly. In fact, we must exact punishment repeatedly for God to be satisfied.”
*
Madeleine groaned in pain. Henri had left her trussed on the cold stone floor. She was unable to move. He’d promised there would be more. If there was one thing Henri did, it was keep his promises.
If this was God’s judgment upon her for breaking her vows, so be it. Henri had said that he was taking her home to France. She would simply kill herself at sea, fling herself into the murky waters and find death. She knew by taking her own life she would be damned forever but it seemed a small price to pay to escape Henri de Picassaret.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Garrett leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, and stretched lazily, counting the moments until Madeleine returned from the market. His thigh was stiff but he’d incurred far worse injuries in battle. There’d been several nasty wounds over the years, the most severe given to him by a wayward Scot. A slice to the thigh rated as low as a slight bump on the head but he’d let Madeleine fuss over him because he enjoyed her ministrations.
He could not wait until she was back in his bed.
He’d never been so taken with a woman before. But then, Madeleine wasn’t just any woman. He knew that unraveling her layers would take most of this lifetime and on into the next. He looked forward to every minute of it.
Together, they would deal with their problems. He was sure she had been ready to confide in him before Maude interrupted them. Soon, he would learn where she came from and the name of the man that had so cruelly mistreated her. As for Lynnette, that mystery would also be solved. He only had to return to Stanbury and confront Barth. Then he could begin to piece together the puzzle of his wife’s disappearance.
Had she truly left him for a lover—or would Barth reveal a different story? Was there a possibility that Lynnette could be dead?
It was hard for him to remember now just what they’d shared together. He’d always been satisfied with Lynnette as his wife. She’d been a bit meek in their lovemaking but he’d assumed that’s how it was with all ladies of good breeding. She’d brought him considerable wealth and most importantly, Lyssa—a treasure more precious than gold or land.
Madeleine had changed everything, though. The happiness he thought he’d found in his marriage was a pale shadow against the passion he had for this songstress. Madeleine possessed a fire that lit his soul and Garrett knew this as true love. It went beyond even the physical love they’d made, which was full of heat in and of itself. No, he desired her in every way imaginable. He could not—would not—live without her.
But where was she? He was hungry for her, as well as his noon meal. She’d been gone far too long in his opinion. He stood from his comfortable position in the velvet chair, pushing the footstool aside.
He might have known with Maude involved in the marketing it would take longer than usual. The woman drove a harder bargain than his steward ever dreamed of pursuing. If he were smart, Garrett would put Maude in charge of the selling of his wines. He was certain the Hanseatic ports had never seen the likes of a Maude in all their tradings.
He stretched his stiff muscles, glad to move about now that he was up. A brief smile crossed his lips. He would fetch Ebony and head to the market. He was sure to meet up with them. Maude could return here for it would take time to prepare their meal. He could wander about London a bit with Madeleine nestled in his arms.
He grinned again. The thought of her pressed against him as Ebony slowly moved through the streets warmed his blood. Garrett was grateful now that she had sold the horse she’d taken when she’d reached London. It would allow her to ride with him on the return trip to Stanbury. He could almost feel her soft curves, smell her sweet scent.
He donned his cloak and hurried outside, barely favoring his leg now as he called for John to saddle Ebony.
As Garrett started toward town, he decided that he would kiss Madeleine soundly the moment he found her because he would ache until he did so. He wanted her now more than he ever had. He didn’t think he could ever get enough of her.
The streets near midday teemed with people. He glanced back and forth as he approached the market, disappointed not to spot Madeleine on her return trip.
Suddenly, he heard Maude’s cry. Panic rose in him instantly when he spied his servant rushing toward him, Madeleine nowhere in sight. He leaped off Ebony as she approached.
Hair askew, Maude’s alarm was written across her face. “Oh, my lord, my lord. You must do something.” She clutched Garrett’s arm. “She’s gone!”
His heart sank. She’d left him again. This time, it was for good. He would never know happiness. Never be whole.
Then Maude burst into tears. “I didn’t see it. I couldn’t stop it! Oh, my lord, forgive me. She’s all sweetness and sunshine and I know how she loves you so. You must get her back. You must!”
“What do you mean?”
His servant angrily wiped her tears away. “The man, my lord. The man who took her. You must find her. He will kill her.”
Fear rippled through him. “Who? What happened?”
Maude shook her head. “Come with me, Lord Montayne. They can tell you better than I. Old James saw some of it.”
She turned and ran through the crowd, tiny as a child, darting in and out. Garrett fo
llowed quickly, urging Ebony along, his eyes on Maude the entire way.
The strong stench of fish permeated the air as Maude stopped in front of a stall and motioned him over.
“This is Old James, my lord. He saw it.”
Garrett faced a man with a ruddy complexion. “What did you see? Where is Madeleine?”
“Everyone’s talking about him!” James exclaimed. “The way he grabbed her. ’Twas the most excitement I’ve seen in a good number of years.” He paused, a crowd gathering around his stall. “I was doing my business with Maude here. From the corners of my eyes, I saw that man. Dressed as a gentleman, he was.” James frowned. “Something not quite right about him, though.”
A woman with straggly, mud-colored hair pushed her way to the front. “I saw, too, my lord. I saw it all.” Her eyes gleamed expectantly. “For a coin or two, I could tell you more.” She held out her hand to Garrett, confident he would pay.
He reached into his purse with an unsteady hand. He should never have let Madeleine out of his sight. Handing over the coin, he prodded the stranger. “Go on.”
She shrank back a moment as she caught the look he gave her. She swallowed once before she began. “He was tall, my lord, and as skinny around as my finger here.” She stuck it up to show Garrett for good measure. “He had a bulging stomach, though, like he was carrying a babe. Gray hair, too, and a terrible, evil grin.”
A raw chill ran through him. A perfect description of Henri de Picassaret.
The woman warmed to her story now. The crowd pressed closer. “Fair rattled her teeth, he did. Slapped her so hard I thought her head would snap off.”
“And hit her again!” cried another voice. “She went down fast after that.”
Garrett fumed. “None of you came to her aid?”
