Wed Him Before You Bed Him (30 page)

Taking the lantern that hung on a hook at the head of the boat, Richard leaned down to peer at her. That made the wherry rock, which only worsened her breathing problem. She was already starting to see spots before her eyes.
Oh God, she could not pass out, not here, not now, with the water so close…

“If I take off the gag, do you promise not to scream?” Richard asked her.

Somehow she managed a nod.

He removed the gag, and she drew in several deep breaths. She was still tied, still traveling on the river, but at least she could breathe.

“You're not going to be sick, are you?” Richard asked.

“I do not think so,” she whispered. “Do you think you might…untie my feet as well?”

He considered that a moment, then bent to cut the bonds on her ankles. “I don't suppose you can swim without your hands free.”

Though she could not swim regardless, it still lessened her panic a little to have her legs free.

“I didn't expect you to be such a coward,” he went on. “Sarah was always talking about what a fierce female you are.”

Perversely, those snide words bolstered her courage. “Why are you doing this?” If she was going to die, she at least ought to know what purpose it served.

He glanced away. “I have to leave for France, and I need money. Your lover is going to give me jewels in exchange for getting you back. I figure those will be easier for him to put his hands on than the amount of blunt I need. Besides, they'll fetch a pretty penny in France.”

Richard meant to ransom her to David? “You know he is not in the city right now,” she said, fighting down a new alarm. “How will you reach him?”

“Giles will find him for me, if he knows what's good for him.”

And if he did not? She tried to tell herself that Terence would soon realize she was missing and come after her. But how would he know where she went, or who had her?

“Why do you have to leave the country?” she asked, remembering what Amelia had said about how Lucas kept his mind off his fears. If she could just keep Richard talking…

“Why else? My debtors are hounding me. And it's all Kirkwood's fault. How dare he give
you
the money from Sarah's estate that he should have given to
me
! Sarah would never have left your little school any money. He invented that legacy—I know he did.”

She blinked. “How did you know about the legacy?”

“I heard the two of you talking that night you were at his town house.” Richard sneered at her. “You were quite the cozy couple, too. I wonder if my sister was aware that you and her husband were having an affair.”

“We were not! Everything between me and David happened after her death.”

He shot her a disbelieving glance.

“And that money was not from your sister's estate, anyway,” she said. Perhaps if she could reassure him that David had done nothing to cheat him of his rightful inheritance, he would see sense and stop this madness. And let her out of this wretched boat. “It was David's own money. He pretended that Sarah left the school a legacy because he knew I would not take money from him otherwise.”

“I suppose that's what he told
you,
” Richard said sullenly.

“It's the truth,” she countered. “As you said, Sarah would never have tried to help the school. Besides, she did not have a will.” She softened her tone. “I am sure she would have left it all to you if she could have.”

Inexplicably he blanched, then turned his face away.

Once he fell silent, she became aware once more of the water and the unsteadiness of the boat. Though she could not see the river from her vantage point, she could feel the rocking and hear the rush of it going past. Fear rose again in her chest.
Keep him talking or you'll never make it.

“So where are we going?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“Berkshire. There's an island in the river adjoining David's estate—”

“Yes, I know it.” A hysterical laugh bubbled up in her throat. She'd managed to avoid crossing the water to Saddle Island years ago, and now she was being dragged there against her will. If David really had taken up with her again to punish her for her letter, he would certainly find
that
fitting.

But she no longer believed that he had. Reading his letters had cured her of that fear. Lord help her, would she ever see David again?

“Why are we going to Saddle Island?” she asked, desperate to ignore the sound of the water rushing past the sides of the boat.

“Because my message to Kirkwood told him to meet us there with the jewels.”

She ventured the question she had been too afraid to ask earlier. “And what if he does not get your message?”

“You'd better hope he does,” Richard snapped. When she moaned, Richard looked annoyed. “He'll get it, don't you worry. Though why the authorities let him go trotting off to the country, I can't fathom. They should have arrested him and charged him with murder the minute they read my letter about the suicide note.”

“
You
sent that letter?”

“Damned right I did. I don't know why they didn't arrest him at once.”

“Because he did not kill her!”

“I suppose you believed he really
was
out on a walk that night,” Richard said nastily.

As his words registered, Charlotte's blood ran cold. “How did you know that is where he was?”

A frightening stillness came over him. “The Bow Street runner must have told me.”

“Mr. Pinter did not even mention it to
me
. I would be very surprised if he mentioned it to you. And I know that the newspapers did not say anything of it.” Charlotte's heart was clamoring in her chest. “You could not have known that David was on a walk unless you were there.”

“I must have heard—”

“You killed Sarah, didn't you?”

He glowered at her. “That is absurd.”

She probably should not have voiced her suspicion aloud, but now that she had, she wanted to know the truth. “If you were there that night—”

“So what if I was?” A muscle worked in his jaw. “You think I would kill my own sister?”

“
That
is why you are leaving the country, is it not? Because you are afraid they will find Sarah's diary, and she will have written something to incriminate you?”

“Enough!” he snapped. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“I know that Sarah could be difficult sometimes. Trust me, there were times I wanted to kill her myself—”

“I did not kill her, damn it! I
loved
her!”

“I am sure you did not mean to,” she said, determined
to ferret out the truth. “It must have been an accident. You would never purposely have hurt her.”

“No, never.”

“She pushed you to it, I am sure she did. She probably said something cutting, as she always did, and—”

“She wouldn't give me the money!” Then, as if realizing what he'd admitted, he slumped on the bench and buried his face in his hands. “She wouldn't give me any more damned money.”

It took all her control not to react to his admission. “Tell me about it,” she said, dredging up the soothing voice she used when one of her girls came to her burdened with guilt over some infraction. “You will feel better if you talk about it.” And then at least she would know the truth.

For a moment, she thought he would not answer. Then he lifted his head to stare out at the river. “All I wanted was for her to wheedle a little more money out of Kirkwood. Just enough to pay off the rest of what I owed that damned Timms, before things got so bad that he sent his ruffians after me.”

“And she refused,” Charlotte prodded.

“She said she was tired of fighting with Kirkwood. Everything would be easier if she could come to some understanding with him. Which meant she couldn't give me any more money.” He scowled into the night. “So we argued. And I shoved her into the tub. But she hit her head on the side and lost consciousness. It happened so fast. I couldn't believe it. She just slipped under the water, and I stood there…not sure what to do.”

“So it was an accident,” Charlotte said, fighting to contain her revulsion. “It could have happened to anyone. Surely if you explained it to the authorities—”

“Are you mad? They'll say I should have pulled her out and brought her to a doctor. I did nothing while she drowned! They'll claim I killed my only sister.”

Because he
had,
but she was not fool enough to point that out. Merciful heavens, she was in the clutches of a murderer. He might not have held Sarah under, but he'd killed her as surely as if he had. How could Charlotte hope that he would ever let
her
go?

“Once you saw she was dead, you cut her wrists and forged that suicide note, I suppose,” Charlotte said dully. “To make it look as if she killed herself.”

“I had to do something, don't you understand? I couldn't…I knew I would hang. When we were children, we used to play pranks on each other by writing outrageous letters in each other's hands, so I could write in her hand fairly well.”

“Clearly well enough to fool the authorities.” She stared at him. “But if you did accidentally kill her, why did you write the letter that started the investigation?”

A harsh laugh escaped him. “For the same reason I took you—to get money from my tight-fisted brother-in-law. After Sarah died, he felt sorry for me, and he gave me whatever I asked for. But then everything changed.
You
came along, taking all the money with your damned legacy—”

“So you framed him for murder?”

“I knew the authorities would never take him to trial, not a lofty viscount like him,” he said defensively. “He wasn't even in the house. But I figured if it looked bad enough for him, he would be desperate to clear his name.”

He dragged in a heavy breath. “Then I could offer to clear him in exchange for a substantial sum. I could tell
them he'd gone drinking with me or gambling or something. But instead of charging him, they started asking questions of the servants. Next thing I knew, they were talking about some diary…I never even realized that Sarah had a diary! And it would be just like her to write about my peccadilloes in it. Then they would come after me for sure.”

Staring out over the water, he scowled. “Even so, I would have offered to clear him if I could have found him. But he was in the country somewhere, and they wouldn't tell me where, and Timms's men were breathing down my neck…He left me no choice, running off like that. I had to do something.” A petulant look crossed his face. “Besides, he deserves to suffer. If not for him and his penny-pinching, Sarah would still be alive.”

Charlotte said nothing, afraid she would let her anger show if she did. How could Richard not see that he had brought everything on himself? First, he had used his sister for his own purposes. Then when he was done with her, he had killed her and tried to set up an innocent man for the crime
he
had committed.

What would he do with
her,
once she was of no use to him anymore? She shuddered to think.

But one thing she knew for certain—she was not going down without a fight.

D
avid stood on the bank of the river with the satchel of jewels in his hand, trying to see beyond his lantern. Thank God his mother was away visiting his sister. Explaining his sudden appearance to her would have been tricky.

Not as tricky as this, though. Richard had to be there somewhere. David held the lantern higher, relieved when its light reached to the edge of Saddle Island. He thought he could see a flickering on the island beyond the gazebo, but there was no sound, which alarmed him. All he could hear was the water lapping against the rowboat moored at the nearby landing.

Somewhere on the opposite bank of the Thames was Pinter, waiting for his men to arrive. He had wanted David to hold off until they came, but since David wasn't sure why they'd been delayed, he wasn't taking the chance of Richard's hurting Charlotte while he stood by twiddling his thumbs. He meant to get her back. Now.

“Richard!” he cried across the water. “Where are you, damn it? Come get your bloody jewels!”

At first he saw and heard nothing. Then something moved into the edge of the lantern light. Richard was pushing Charlotte ahead of him. She appeared to have her hands bound, and Richard had a pistol pressed to her temple.

David's heart stopped. One slip of the foot, one trip, and Charlotte would be dead. Damn the bastard to hell!

“I didn't expect you so soon,” Richard called out, suspicion in his voice.

“I wasn't far outside of London,” David lied. Then he turned his attention to Charlotte, wishing he could see her better. “Charlotte, are you all right?”

“She's unharmed,” Richard called back, “but she'll only stay that way if you get those jewels to me.”

“I want to hear her say it herself!” David snapped.

When Richard murmured to her, she called back, “I'm fine, David. He has not hurt me, I swear.” Her voice sounded surprisingly calm, and that eased David's panic a little.

“Just row over here with the jewels,” Richard ordered, “and she'll remain perfectly safe.”

Grimly, David nodded. Tossing the satchel into the rowboat, he balanced the lantern on the spare seat, then climbed in and picked up the oars. He'd rowed across to Saddle Island a hundred times in his youth, but the distance had never felt so far. Every minute that hung in the balance made his pulse treble, and he'd broken into a cold sweat by the time he reached the other side.

He just wanted this done with, so he could hold Charlotte again. He would not feel safe until he had her out of Richard's clutches. After pulling the boat up on the bank and setting the lantern down beside it, he reached for the satchel.

“Not yet,” Richard said. “Take off your coat and waistcoat and throw them into the boat.” When David did so, he added, “Now turn in a circle.”

Though David had considered carrying a pistol, Pinter had advised him against it, anticipating just such a move on Richard's part. But the knife tucked in his boot would suffice, if he could get close enough to use it.

Once Richard was satisfied that David had no weapons, he said, “Bring the satchel up and set it on that rock between us.” When David had done so, Richard said, “Now, go back to the boat.”

David didn't budge. “I want Charlotte.”

“You'll get her. Just do as I say.”

Reluctantly, David backed down the bank. To his surprise, Richard drew a knife from his pocket, still holding the pistol to Charlotte's head, and cut her bonds. “All right, Mrs. Harris, go get the satchel. And don't think to run to your lover, or I'll shoot you in the back.”

“You would never do that,” she said in a steady voice. “I know that deep down you are a good man, Richard. You do not want to hurt me. Let me just go to David—”

“Quiet!” Richard cried and cocked the pistol.

The sound struck terror to David's heart. “Do as he says, Charlotte,” David said hoarsely.

Paling, she walked to the satchel.

“Open it and show me what's in it,” Richard commanded.

As she knelt to do so, David said, “Do you think I'd cheat you? At the risk to her life?”

“You were tightfisted enough when it was my sister who wanted the money.”

“That was hardly the same. I didn't know that Sarah's life depended on it,” David choked out.

Richard's gaze shot to him. “What are you talking about?”

Pinter had said to keep Richard off-balance, that it would make it easier to gain control of the situation. But seeing Richard's pistol waver now made David rethink that advice. The last thing he wanted was a bullet going astray and hitting Charlotte. “Nothing.”

“You think I killed Sarah, don't you?” Richard demanded.

David remained silent.

“Show me the damned jewels, Mrs. Harris!” Richard growled.

Charlotte held up the boxes, opening them one by one to show a ruby parure, an emerald necklace, three strings of pearls, several rings set with diamonds, emeralds, and more pearls—jewelry that had been in his family for generations.

“Well, well,” Richard said, his eyes gleaming at the sight. “Sarah wasn't lying when she boasted she had quite the little collection to wear to dinner parties. Very good, Kirkwood.” He motioned to Charlotte. “Bring the satchel over here.”

When she picked it up, David said, “No. She stays.”

As Charlotte froze, Richard glowered at him. “Have you forgotten who's holding the pistol?”

“You've got what you wanted,” David countered. “Now let Charlotte come with me. By the time we can row back to land, you'll be long gone.”

Richard shifted his aim to David. “Mrs. Harris, bring the satchel here unless you want to see your lover die before your eyes.”

“Stay there, Charlotte,” he growled. “He won't shoot me.”

“I will not take the chance,” she said as she hurried back up to Richard.

Looping his arm about her waist, Richard started backing away, keeping his pistol aimed at David.

“You agreed to let her go if I brought you the jewels,” David said as he marched after them. “Are you not a man of your word?”

“Stay back!” Richard commanded. “I need her to get me to the coast. No one will dare approach me if I have her. Then I'll let her go.”

“I'm not letting you leave with her,” David said, moving inexorably forward. “You can have the jewels—I don't give a damn about them. You can walk away a free man. Just let her go!”

“Take one more step forward, and I'll kill her!” Richard cried, and to David's horror, he started to turn the pistol back on Charlotte.

A sudden noise came from the other side of the island, a shout and the sounds of oars slapping the water. Apparently Pinter had gone after Richard's companions, whoever they were. Startled, Richard turned his head in that direction.

Then everything happened at once. Charlotte brought the satchel up, knocking the pistol into the air where it discharged harmlessly into the sky. Cursing, Richard pulled out his blade and lunged for her, but David launched himself at the man, yelling at Charlotte to run.

They rolled to the ground, David pummeling the younger man with his fists as Richard slashed wildly. Fighting to keep the knife at bay kept David from being able to reach for his own blade. He managed a stiff uppercut that sent Richard's head snapping back, but just as David bent to grab the knife in his boot, Richard stuck his own blade deep in David's thigh. Acting on pure reflex, David brought his knife up and buried it in Richard's heart.

Richard's face contorted in pain. He stared up at David, shock sharpening his features. As blood seeped out over his white waistcoat, staining it crimson, Richard glanced down, then back at David.

“I want you to know…I didn't…mean…to kill her…” he gasped.

Then he fell back lifeless.

David pushed off Richard, reeling from the man's words…and from the blood pouring everywhere. He felt light-headed. Somewhere beyond him, he heard Charlotte scream. Then she was gathering him up in her arms, chanting over and over, “Oh God, oh God, David, oh God…”

That was the last thing he heard before he passed out.

 

Charlotte laid David down only long enough to fetch the lantern and examine his wound. When she saw his thigh soaked in blood, her heart nearly failed her. There was so much of it!

Tearing off her fichu, she tied it tightly around his leg above the wound. She had to stop the bleeding! Tears poured down her cheeks as she knotted the tourniquet as she'd learned to do when the girls were volunteering at the hospital. “Don't you dare die on me, David Masters,” she cried. “Don't you dare leave me!”

She used his cravat to bandage the cut, hoping the pressure might slow the bleeding. She had to get him off this island—he needed a doctor badly. Besides, she wasn't sure if the shouting and the pistol shots behind her came from friend or foe. They were receding anyway, as if someone were giving chase down the river. She could see David's horse tethered on the opposite bank. If she could just get him that far…

It took all her strength to drag him down the bank to the rowboat. She pulled and pushed him into it, before shoving the boat off the bank and climbing into it herself. That's when it hit her. She was on the river again. In
a boat. And this time she alone was in charge of keeping it afloat.

Oh God, she'd never rowed a boat. What if they capsized? She gazed at the black water around her and felt her throat close up. Panic rose in her chest, and her arms shook so badly she couldn't even grip the oars.

Then David moaned. She would
not
let him die because of some foolish fear, curse it. She would not!

Grabbing the oars, she began to row toward the bank. At first, the boat seemed to have a will of its own. It drifted farther and farther down the river, and she couldn't figure out how to make it stop.

“Dip the right…oar deeper…” David rasped.

Startled, she glanced at him. He was trying to struggle up onto the seat.

“Lie still!” she ordered, tears of relief streaming down her face to see him conscious at least. “You'll injure yourself worse.”

“You have to pull…the oars together. But…harder with the right.”

She did as he said, and the boat spun.

“Not that hard! Just a little. Enough to aim it upriver.”

It took her several tries to get the hang of it, but soon she was making some headway.

“Good.” He collapsed against the seat. “Good girl.”

Some water sloshed over the top of the boat, and fear gripped her again.
Talk to him. Don't think about the river.

“You may not have noticed, David Masters, but I haven't been a girl in some years.”

He managed a weak smile. “Believe me…I noticed, my love.”

Her gaze shot to him. “What did you say?”

“I've been so…stupid…sweeting.” He shifted position, and a spasm of pain crossed his face.

“Don't talk,” she cried in alarm. “Just lie still.”

He shook his head. “I want you to know…just in case I…”

“Don't you dare say it! You are
not
going to die, curse you! I won't let you!”

A tender smile curved up his mouth. “That's what I…love about you, Charlotte. You're stubborn as the very…devil.” He wet his lips. “You were right, you know. About my…lying to you. Some stupid part of me…still resented you for…our past nonsense. But whatever's left of that…is gone. My fear of losing you again…drove it out.”

“Please, David, not now,” she said hoarsely as she rowed. She could see what talking cost him. His eyes were glazed with pain, and the cravat she'd tied around his leg was already soaked with blood. “And you're not going to lose me. Ever.”

“Do you swear it?” he choked out.

“I swear it. I shall never leave you again.”

“Does that mean…you forgive me for my…masquerade?”

“I forgive you for everything,” she said fervently. “You were right, too. I was afraid to let you too close. But I'm not afraid anymore.”

“I was afraid…to admit I…still loved you. But I do. And I always will…”

“Oh God, David, I love you, too. Please, please don't die! I couldn't bear it!”

As she spoke, his head fell back against the seat, and his eyes slid shut again.

She pulled for all she was worth, until her hands were raw and bleeding. Then suddenly men appeared on the bank, shouting to other men. For a moment she panicked, fearing that it was Richard's scoundrels, until she spotted Mr. Pinter.

Within moments, the men were pulling the boat up to the landing and lifting David to carry him off to a waiting carriage.

“Are you all right?” Mr. Pinter asked as he helped her out of the boat.

She had never been so happy to feel something solid beneath her feet in all her life. “He needs a doctor right away. You have to save him!”

“We'll do our best,” Mr. Pinter murmured, putting his arm about her and leading her along the landing. “I'm sorry you had to struggle alone. I went after the other fellows, thinking you might be on their boat. When I caught up to them and saw that you weren't, I headed this way. Fortunately, my men arrived at the same time.”

“There's something you have to know,” she said. “David did not kill Sarah. Richard did. He told me—”

“Yes, we guessed as much. Where is Linley now?”

“I think he's dead. He's still on the island. David stabbed him.”

He had done it to save her. And now the only man she had ever loved might die.

Oh God, he must not! If he did, how would she ever go on living without him?