Lady Lissa's Liaison (27 page)

"Wylde will not love you like I will love you," Langford continued. "He cannot, for his heart turned to stone years ago. I cannot abide watching you leave your heart clear for such a swine. I must do what I must do, my lady."

Lissa wrapped her left arm about Harry, pulling the boy closer to her and away from Langford. "And
what,
pray tell, is that?" she demanded.

"Make you see the truth. I must take charge of this impossible situation you've wound yourself into with Wylde and do what is best... for you and for me."

Lissa felt the pounding of pure dread wash through her. She held tighter to Harry. "And the boy?" Lissa asked.

Langford glared down at Harry, who looked quite prepared to stick his tongue out at the man. "He will have to join us, I am afraid," said Langford, turning his attentions back to the road and the bend his team was rounding at a dangerous speed. His top hat was torn away by the wind, leaving his blond hair to be whipped about his head in a crazed manner. Everything about the man appeared crazed. "I cannot chance moving onto Wylde's lands lest you be so foolish as to try and get away, my lady."

Lissa couldn't believe what was happening, what she was hearing. Her own bonnet was in danger of being snatched by the wind, the long ends of its ribbons snapping behind her head. The rush of air smarted her cheeks.

"Stop the carriage, Langford," she demanded. "Stop.
Now."

Langford shook his head, hunkered down and drove his team to an even more chaotic pace. Lissa feared they would all meet their deaths with the hideous ride ending in a sickening heap of wheels and horses' hooves.

Langford navigated an especially nasty turn, one that nearly upset the conveyance. The three of them were threatened with a hideous pitch to the right, which nearly promised to see them tossed off the seat and into the ditch alongside the road.

Lissa clutched at Harry to get a firm hold on him. The carriage settled once more onto the roadway, but Langford did not let up on the leathers.

"Your foolish liaison with Wylde was bad enough," he said through clenched teeth, forcing his team onward, "but now you are cozying to the boy Wylde calls his own. I won't have it, Lissa. I will not! I know now I must save you from your own self. In time you will come to understand my actions."

"What
actions?" Lissa cried, alternately watching both the road ahead and Langford, all the while holding close to Harry. "What are you
talking
about?"

"Us. Being together. Forever. I've purchased a special license, my dear. The two of us can soon be married—without fuss, without preamble."

"You
are
mad," Lissa gasped.

"I am not crazed," Langford muttered, "not by far. I
have,
however, seen the light. You are enamored of Wylde, my lady. You have been since the beginning of the Summer Season. I do not fault you for that. I fault only Wylde for charming you into something so vile as a liaison—one he would ultimately end, leaving you with all the shameful repercussions." He made a deep guttural sound, much like an animal growl. "Wylde always did have a way with females," he added, "could make them feel that he was all they needed, was the only man they could trust. Damme, but how I detest Wylde and all he is."

Langford was past sanity, Lissa realized. And he was moving the horses too fast along the narrow roadway.

"Take Harry and me back to my home, Langford," Lissa demanded.

"I can't do that. I won't."

Lissa felt her stomach turn over. Had she been alone with Lord Langford in the carriage she might have dared to throw herself out, onto the ground, leaving herself to a bone-crushing fate. But she wasn't alone. She had Harry's safety to consider.

She looked down at Harry. Surprisingly enough, the boy winked. He obviously had a plot afoot in that fertile, six-year-old mind of his.

Lissa shook her head, brows furrowing, warning Harry not to do anything foolish.

Just as Langford neared his team to a spot in the road that ran adjacent to Gabriel's river lodge, Harry shot to his feet, leaned against Langford, and let out a hideous wail.

"What the blazes—?" yelled Langford.

"Ooooh," moaned Harry, clutching with his free arm at his stomach. He wailed again. "I—I'm going to be ill... lest you stop this carriage, m'lord."

"Sit down!" Langford yelled.

"Can't," said Harry. "Ohhh, but I feel those kippers I ate coming back up. Here they come, ohhh—"

Langford pulled at the reins, eventually hauling the horses to a halt.

"Bother it all," he muttered, jumping down and pulling Harry with him, "be sick in the weeds, will you, boy?"

Harry was thrust forward by Langford with unnecessary force, but caught his footing fast enough.

Lissa, realizing that Harry was merely playacting and thus offering the two of them a means of escape, quickly jumped down off the seat from the opposite side. Her muslin caught at the side of the carriage. She yanked the material free with a savage thrust, then rounded the back of the carriage and hurried to Harry's side, catching his left hand up in her right.

"Can you stand, Harry?" she asked loud enough for Langford to hear.

"Ohhh," groaned the boy, pressing against her skirts.

Lissa did not miss his wink as he dared a glance up at her. "At the count of three?" he whispered. "We shall make a run for it, yes?"

Feeling her heart in her throat at his bold, chivalrous and purely selfless act, Lissa gave a quick nod.

Harry made a motion of keeling forward, pretended to begin to retch, and then, fast as he could, he darted away, Lissa following suit.

"NO!" cried Langford. "Lissa, do not do this! Come back!"

But Lissa wasn't listening. Hand in hand with Harry, she scurried to the opposite side of the road, then dashed into the rough woodland.

Too many brambles caught at her skirts, hands and face, and tugged at her hair. She kept going, though. She knew they mustn't stop. If she'd read Harry's mind correctly—which she guessed that she
had
—they were headed for Gabriel's river lodge. Mayhap Harry knew something she did not and was now threading the two of them toward the safe haven of Gabriel's protection. Perhaps Gabriel would be in the lodge and would deal with Langford.

Lissa prayed it was so.

Chapter 17

The going became treacherous as Harry and Lissa neared the river lodge. The foliage thickened, becoming more cumbersome, the ground proving more uneven. Harry's mad dash did not let up, though, and neither did Lissa's.

Her skirts were torn, threaded with prickers and needles, her face scratched for the second time that day. But she kept running. Harry, like a deer, harbored the agility to jump over every fallen branch, to sidestep and swerve around the most nettlesome brambles. The boy seemed to have a sixth sense as to where to lead or not lead, and Lissa blindly followed.

"Lisha," he called, "are you all right?"

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Keep running!"

Like one of Wellington's finest soldiers, he guided them through the thick forest to the door of the lodge, then banged the thing open with a lift of the latch and a hearty push with his shoulders. He blasted inside the place, Lissa hot on his heels.

"Gabriel!" she called out, unable to help herself. "Gabriel, are you here?"

They stumbled inside to silence.

No Gabriel.

No help in the form of a white knight who might bring their dreaded follower to his knees.

Harry, looking frightened for the first time that day, said, "Papa meant to come here, Lisha, I promise! He told me so himself. He came upstairs to tuck me in for a nap. Said he was going to meet you today. At the river lodge. That's why I sneaked away when Miss Fabersham weren't...
wasn't
looking."

Harry moved deeper inside the lodge, clearly wishing he could conjure up his father.

Of course! Lissa thought. Gabriel had doubtless sent word to her and had asked for her to meet him at his river lodge! Mayhap even his note was arriving at Clivedon Manor this moment. Where else should their private meeting take place than the spot where he'd first kissed her?

Lissa slammed the door shut, her mind reeling. "Perhaps your papa shall be along shortly," she said, breathless from their mad dash through the woods, and hoping she was correct in thinking Gabriel was on his way.

She was just about to bolt the door when Langford banged it open. The whole of her body was vaulted backward. Lissa fell, her gloved hands scraping hard against the wood floor.

"Get out," she gasped, scurrying backward. "Leave us!"

"Lissa," said Langford, his eyes bright, his mind gone totally mad, "you do not know what you are saying. I have come to help you, not harm you."

"You are frightening to me. And to Harry as well. Leave us, Langford. I want
nothing
to do with you."

"Ahh, Lissa, my lovely Lady Lissa, you do not mean the words you speak."

"I mean them, Langford, more than you'll ever know."

She moved back, felt the leg of the table, then hauled herself upward as she grasped onto that leg.

Langford moved inexorably nearer. "I want only for us to wed. For the two of us to spend the rest of our lives together. You want it, too, Lissa. Admit it. You know you do."

"You're wrong," Lissa cried.

The man seemed to hear nothing, to know nothing other than the want that flamed in his addled brain. "Enough toying with my emotions, my lady. All through the Season you kept my locket in your possession. What was I to think, eh? That you merely enjoyed wearing the piece? That you liked keeping it beneath your pillow, perhaps?"

"I never
kept
the thing... it was only lost to me. Had I held it in my possession the afternoon after you pressed it upon me, I would have given it back to you!"

"You expect me to believe that? 'Tis Wylde who has twisted your mind against me. He has confused you, has caused you to think I am wrong for you."

"No!" Lissa shouted. "I have fashioned that fact for myself. The only pity is I did not come to the full realization sooner!"

Langford pressed closer still. "Wylde isn't the man for you. He never was... never could be. Come, Lissa, make the best choice. Be with me."

"Never! 'Tis Lord Wylde's suit I wish for, not yours."

Langford, sleek as a cat, suddenly vaulted against her body with such force that Lissa cried out.

Harry cried out, too. "Let her go!" he screamed. "Let my Lisha go!"

Just then, there came a shadow in the doorway.

"Papa!" Harry yelled.

Langford whipped his gaze about.
"Wylde."

"Aye, 'tis me. Your worst nightmare come to life."

Gabriel, with his angling rod in one hand, stood in the doorway, a blaze of sunlight outlining his form and casting his face in shadow.

Langford sucked in an audible hiss of a gasp, whirling both himself and Lissa around. His right arm snaked about her throat, holding tightly.

"Unhand the lady, if you please," said Wylde, rather chattily, as though he'd not just entered his lodge and found his son and Lissa held in the throes of a madman.

"If I do not?" challenged Langford, closing his arm more tightly about Lissa's throat.

Harry, charging out from behind the table, raced in front of Langford. "If you do not," he cried, "then my papa will cut you down with his sword... or—or he'll challenge you to a duel at dawn! And
you,
sir, shall be no more than a black memory!" As if to punctuate his words, Harry sent one booted toe sharply against Langford's left shin.

Langford reacted by lessening his hold, and Lissa, seizing the moment, yanked away from him, reaching out for young Harry as she did so.

But Langford was quicker. He lunged for Harry, scooped the boy up into his hold, then moved to the side of the room.

"Langford, no!" Lissa shouted.

Langford, his gaze on Gabriel, sneered.
"Now
what will you do, Wylde, now that I have your...
son?"

"Damn you, Langford," Gabriel said lowly.