Fantasy 02 - Forbidden Fantasy

by Cheryl Holt

  He'd be at her mercy, bedridden and unable to escape, but she wouldn't kill him right away. She'd slowly torment him until he expired from rage and fear.

  She stopped directly in front of him and mused, "Ah, Bernard, look at your daughter. Isn't she lovely?"

  "What... ?" He struggled to focus on her. "What is it? Why can't we start? What's the delay?"

  "Are you in a hurry?"

  "Yes. I want the blasted thing finished, and I have no idea why I'm here when I'm feeling so poorly."

  "You wretched soul! Imagine! Having to attend your own daughter's wedding! Such a chore! Such a burden!"

  "I didn't mean it like that," he grumbled.

  "Didn't you? You've never felt much of a connection to Caroline, have you?"

  "I felt as much as any father would."

  Which wasn't much at all, Britannia had learned. What good was a daughter? What benefit was there to having one? A daughter was like a fattened hog, auctioned off to the highest bidder.

  "Have you ever noticed how she doesn't resemble you?" Britannia taunted.

  "No, I haven't."

  "Well, she doesn't. She hasn't any of your features. When she was younger, people gossiped about it constantly."

  He peered over to where Caroline was morosely balanced on the edge of the pew. She was like a frightened rabbit, ready to bolt.

  "I assume you're trying to tell me something," Bernard huffed, "but I'm in no mood for riddles. What is it, Britannia?"

  "It's nothing. I'll explain tomorrow."

  "You do that."

  He turned away, signaling their discussion to be over, and she moved on to Caroline, who had just cast another longing glance at the door.

  "He's not coming," Britannia said, sitting next to her. "There's no need to torture yourself."

  " Who is not coming?" Caroline asked, playing dumb.

  "Your Mr. Clayton, of course. I'm aware that you contacted Wakefield. You were hoping he'd locate his brother and that the despicable pair would ride to your rescue."

  The news stunned Caroline, and she abandoned any pretense. "How did you know?"

  "Wakefield wrote to the Earl. He complained that you'd approached him like a madwoman and were spewing wild tales."

  "I begged him to travel to Scotland for me, to find out if Ian is safe."

  "When will you accept reality, Caroline? Clayton is hidden away—by me—and he shall remain so until after the vows are spoken and the union consummated. You can't evade your fate."

  "The ceremony hasn't commenced yet, Mother. John may still arrive."

  "John has gone to the country. His wife wanted to have her baby at Wakefield Manor, and he's taken her. He's a busy man, and he couldn't be bothered with your petty request. He never went to Scotland."

  "That's a lie! He swore he'd help me."

  "He may have promised you, but his only follow-up was to compose a scathing letter to your father. He suggested that Bernard consult with medical professionals about your mental condition."

  "He did not!"

  "Bernard had considered locking you away in an asylum, but I convinced him the better punishment was to proceed with the nuptials."

  Caroline stared at Bernard, studying his diminished capacity, his lack of interest in the present affair. Her mind was awhirl with calculating the odds of how truthful Britannia was being, and ultimately, she shook her head.

  "John did nothing of the sort. He'll come through for me. Just you wait and see."

  "Believe what you will"—Britannia shrugged as if she couldn't care less—"but why you would suppose you could rely on a scoundrel like Wakefield is beyond me. He's failed you your entire life. At this late date, why would you expect him to act any differently?"

  The vicar emerged from behind the altar, his vestments on, a prayer book in hand. He motioned for them to assemble.

  Caroline didn't budge, and Britannia snapped, "Come. It's time."

  "I can't. I can't do it."

  She was so pale and trembling so ferociously that Britannia wondered if she might faint.

  "Think of Ian Clayton," Britannia goaded. "Think of what will happen to him if you don't behave as I've commanded."

  The grim reminder had its desired effect. Caroline rose and stumbled over to join Edward.

  Dearly beloved," the vicar intoned, "we are gathered here in the sight of God..." As he droned on, Caroline blocked out his words, gazing at a spot over his shoulder where a beautiful tapestry hung on the wall. She concentrated on the colors, trying to separate herself from what was transpiring.

  She'd arrived at the church, certain that a miracle would occur, that John would walk in and halt the service, or that Ian would swoop in and carry her off.

  Neither man had appeared, and she had to stop anticipating a happy ending.

  Edward was clasping her arm very tightly, holding her in place, and her parents were positioned directly behind her to hinder any escape.

  In a few seconds, she would have to speak her vows—or not. What was best? Should she save Ian? Should she save herself?

  Caroline couldn't do both. If her mother had kidnapped Ian, Caroline couldn't cry off. If she refused Edward and rushed out of the church, she'd be leaving Ian to whatever hazard Britannia had devised.

  If she disobeyed her parents and forsook Ian, she would be alone, without even the aid of an unreliable scapegrace like John Clayton. Who would take her in? Sadly, she couldn't conjure the name of a single person. She'd be on her own. How would she support herself?

  She was nearly hysterical with despair, surrounded by people who hated her, and so lost in her rumination that she didn't notice the vicar had paused and was glaring at her.

  Her father hissed, "Answer him!"

  "What?" Caroline stammered.

  "Answer the question with / do."

  Britannia butted in. "Vicar, if you would read the line again, I'm sure she'll chime in as she ought."

  "These promises are important, Lady Caroline," the vicar scolded. "Please pay attention."

  "I'm sorry. What did you ask?"

  The vicar repeated, "Do you, Caroline, take Edward to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

  She gnawed on her lip, delaying a response, when suddenly noise erupted outside the church. Someone was shouting and pounding on the door.

  "Keep going!" Britannia decreed.

  The vicar began again, but the commotion grew, and he hesitated.

  "Perhaps we should see what he wants."

  "Don't be absurd," Britannia scoffed. "Do you recall how much money the Earl donates to this parish every year? You're trying his patience. Get on with it!"

  The uproar became a frenzy, and Caroline struggled against Edward's firm grip.

  "Caroline!" Edward reproached. "You're making a scene. Desist! At once!"

  "I have to know who it is." She was prying at his fingers, but he wouldn't let go.

  "Vicar!" the Earl barked. "Continue on, or explain to me why you can't, and I'll confer with the Archbishop tomorrow as to your lack of regard for my family's business."

  The vicar was in a quandary, with the bride clearly wanting to run off and her rich, powerful parents and fiancé determined to proceed.

  Caroline gave a vicious yank and pulled away from Edward, only to be grabbed by her mother.

  "Ian!" Caroline wailed, but Britannia clapped her palm over Caroline's mouth.

  Caroline fought and kicked-at her mother's shins, as Britannia whispered, "I will not be thwarted. If it is he, and he thinks to intervene, he will pay in the end. So will you."

  "Lady Derby," the vicar admonished, "this is a house of worship. I can't have a... a... brawl in the middle of the ceremony. It's obvious that Lady Caroline doesn't wish to keep on, and if she—"

  "Shut up!" Britannia growled, sounding like a rabid dog.

  Caroline's brother was tired of the tumult, and he pushed open the barred door to reprimand whoever had interrupted.

  Looking aggrieved and travel weary, their cloth
ing damp and muddy, Ian and John Clayton hurried in, the two brothers side by side. They were tall and handsome and filled with a fury that was thrilling to witness.

  Caroline had never seen a more magnificent sight.

  She bit Britannia's hand as hard as she could, and she sprinted down the aisle and fell into Ian's arms.

  "Are you all right?" He kissed her cheek, her hair.

  "Yes, yes," she panted. "Now that you're here, I'm fine."

  "In case you were wondering, you're not marrying Mr. Shelton." "I won't. I can't."

  Ian linked their fingers and, with John bringing up the rear, they marched toward the altar.

  "Who, sir, are you?" the vicar inquired of Ian.

  "I'm the man Lady Derby claims to have kidnapped."

  The vicar gasped. "Kidnapped?"

  "Be gone, you bastard devil," Britannia seethed.

  The Earl stepped forward and frowned at John. "Wakefield, take this half-blood nuisance, and get out of here."

  "I'd rather not," John flippantly retorted.

  Ian glared at the vicar. "I apologize for being late, but I'm afraid I missed a section of the vows. Could you repeat it?"

  "To which one are you referring?" the vicar queried, trying to inject some sanity into the scandalous scene.

  "Ask me if anyone objects to the union. Ask me if there is anyone who would like to 'speak now or forever hold his peace.'"

  "I take it you're opposed?"

  "Damn straight I'm opposed!" Ian snarled. "You can't have her, Shelton."

  "How do you plan to stop me?" Edward replied.

  "You're naught but a disgusting pervert, and I'm prepared to accuse you to the entire world."

  "Now see here!" Edward indignantly spouted. "You will not cast aspersions on my character!"

  "Why shouldn't I? You're aware that any story would be true. And as for you ..." Ian advanced on Britannia until they were toe-to-toe. "I wish we were at Wakefield. I'd have John order you to the stocks in the village square and have you publicly whipped."

  "You little weasel!" Britannia raged. "How dare you barge in! How dare you insult me! Bernard, do something!"

  "What would you have me say, Britannia?" Bernard sighed. "Your scheme has been foiled. I warned you to be cautious, yet you've made a total mess of it. Why should I rescue you?"

  Caroline scowled at the Earl. "You knew about Ian? You knew she was threatening to kill him?"

  "Well..." Derby blushed and tried to assert, "Not really."

  "You encouraged her!" Caroline charged. "What is the matter with you? You've known John since he was a baby. You were friends with his father, yet you could let her murder Ian? You're as deranged as she is."

  "I've had enough of this," Ian said.

  He drew her away and started out, with John staying behind to prevent any of them from coming after her.

  "Where are you going?" the Earl demanded.

  "Wherever Caroline would like," Ian answered.

  Edward was finally rattled into action. He stomped toward John, as if he'd tromp over the slighter, younger man, but John delivered a hard punch to Edward's chest that cowed him into halting.

  "This is my wedding," Edward bellowed at Ian, "and Caroline is my fiancée. You can't abscond with her. Who the hell do you think you are?"

  Ian grinned. "I'm the fellow who ruined her."

  "What?" Edward nearly swooned. "What are you saying?"

  "She's damaged goods, Shelton," Ian confessed. "I've had her dozens of times. Didn't her parents tell you?"

  Edward was about to commit mayhem. "You'd better be lying."

  "I'm not. Just ask them. They both know all about it. The Countess even bribed me to be silent and go away, and I'd considered it, but it appears I've changed my mind."

  "Clayton!" Bernard shouted. "Don't you leave this church with her. I'll hunt you down, I'll find you, I'll sue, I'll... I'll..."

  Ian assessed Bernard, then Caroline, and shrugged.

  "Let's go," he said.

  "Let's do," she replied.

  They started down the aisle again, when Britannia hurled herself at Edward. She grabbed his lapels and shook him.

  "You have to stop them," Britannia insisted.

  "I don't see how I can," Edward said, "or why I'd want to now. You treacherous witch! You were about to pawn her off on me when you knew she was a whore."

  The insanity that had been simmering inside Britannia bubbled to the surface.

  "She's your daughter!" Britannia screeched. "You can't let him take your own daughter! You can't!"

  "Britannia!" Edward snapped. "Control yourself."

  "She's your daughter!" Britannia claimed again. "You have to marry your own daughter. I must have my revenge! I can't be denied! Not after I've waited all these years to see you punished!"

  The crazed pronouncement seemed to suck the air out of the room. Everyone froze in place.

  John frowned at Ian. "Did she say what I think she said?"

  "Yes, she did," Ian responded.

  Caroline dropped Ian's hand and came back to her mother. She studied Britannia's unhinged expression, then she shifted her gaze to Edward, and the assembled group turned with her. They all observed the same thing: She and Edward looked exactly alike.

  She peered at the Earl, studying him, too, and deeming it curious that she had no features in common with him. How was it that she'd never before noted the differences? No wonder the Earl had never felt any connection to her. There wasn't one.

  "You had an affair with Edward, didn't you, Mother?" Caroline correctly deduced. "You hinted at it once, but I ignored you. That's what you were trying to disclose, wasn't it? You were planning to marry me to my own father."

  "Oh, my God." Edward lurched away from Britannia as if she had the plague. "Woman, you are mad as a hatter! You always have been!"

  Britannia's beady little eyes darted around the sanctuary, seeking an escape route, and she resembled a rat caught in a trap. For a moment, Caroline was certain Britannia would scoff at the accusation, but instead, she laughed an eerie laugh that raised the hackles on Caroline's neck.

  "Yes, I had an affair with him," Britannia admitted. "I was young and foolish, and he made me love him, but he never arrived to take me away as he promised he would."

  "I didn't come for you," Edward interjected, "because you were a lunatic, and as far as I can tell, nothing has changed in the intervening decades."

  "You see?" Britannia fumed. "Even now, he insults me. Even now, he has no idea how to be sorry. He must pay!"

  Her arms outstretched, she stumbled toward Edward, lumbering like an automaton and intent on inflicting bodily harm.

  "Britannia!" the Earl commanded, and he marched down from the altar and stepped between Edward and her mother.

  John positioned himself between them, too, but Britannia was such a large person, and in such a muddled state, that Caroline wasn't positive they could restrain her. Not that Caroline cared if they could or not.

  For once, she was unconcerned about the Earl and his countess and how their predicament was resolved.

  She scrutinized the Earl, who'd always detested her, then Edward, who was unveiled as her true sire, and she shuddered with distaste. She'd been mere seconds away from an incestuous union, orchestrated by a maniac. She felt tainted and revolted, but at the same juncture, strangely freed.

  The Earl was struggling to contain Britannia, as Edward scurried out, led to safety by the vicar. For a brief instant, Caroline's gaze locked with the Earl's, and he appeared stricken and apologetic, but it was probably a trick of the light.

  "Lord Derby," she said, her mode of address severing her ties to him, "your countess previously informed me that she murdered your mistress. With poison."

  "She what?" he wheezed with shock.

  "She confessed her homicidal crime a few weeks ago. Directly after, I tried to notify you, but you wouldn't listen. I thought you should know." She turned to Ian. "Please, take me out of here. I don't want to see
either of them ever again."

  "You won't ever have to," he vowed. He glanced over at John. "Will you be all right?"

  "Yes," John said. "I'll stay and clean up the disaster. You get going."

  Together, she and Ian walked out of the church.

  Behind her, she could hear her mother shrieking, "Let me at him, Wakefield. Let me at him!"

  Her brother was by the door, having watched all with his typical disdain. As she passed, his sole participation in the event was to mutter, "Good luck. You'll need it."

  Caroline swept by him without a word, judging it peculiar that he was now only a half brother and scarcely related, at all, but not being especially saddened by the realization. He'd always been awful to her, his dislike as blatant as her parents' had been.

  She followed Ian outside. His horse was tied in front, and he escorted her to it, tossed her up, and jumped on after her. The animal was winded from the journey that had brought Ian to London, but it was hale and spirited, and as Ian pulled on the reins, it eagerly leapt to action.

  They raced off, cantering down the road, the church quickly vanishing from view. She didn't even have on a coat, and the cold bit into her skin. She wrapped her arms around Ian's waist, held on tight, and never looked back.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I demand that you have me released!" "I could, but I won't." Bernard stared at Britannia, wondering how he was to deal with the reality that his countess was a raging lunatic. He'd never liked her, had definitely never loved her, but honesty!

  She was pacing incessantly across the small cell. Her dress was ragged and dirty, her hair sticking out as if the gray strands had been altered into snakes. She looked inhuman, demonic even, like a wicked creature from an ancient Greek legend.

  The hospital where he and Wakefield had delivered her was the best of its kind, but the accolade was a sorry statement on the level of modem convalescent care. She'd been housed in the private wing, with the other members of affluent families who had to be permanently locked away, but the conditions were sparse and disturbing.