The Elusive Bride

by Stephanie Laurens

  However, as the butler retreated and Minerva returned to sit alongside him, Royce continued, “Apparently, Monteith has a lady with him, too.”

  “A lady?” Del frowned. “Where did she come from?”

  “Guernsey, apparently. For some reason, the major ended up there, and then…” Royce frowned. “I’m not clear about the details—St. Austell was his usual oblique self—but I gather she was instrumental in facilitating Monteith’s journey to Plymouth, and consequently, he felt it necessary to keep her with him, safe from the cultists.”

  Gareth and Del exchanged glances. They knew all about keeping those who helped them out of the cultists’ hands. Especially women.

  “So,” Royce continued, “if Monteith strikes no further opposition, we’ll know that the exposure of Ferrar as part of the Black Cobra was the only thing about the letter that the Black Cobra feared. Conversely, if the cultists keep attacking, trying to seize the copy Monteith’s carrying, then clearly there is indeed something in the words—and it would have to be the names—that the remaining parts of the Black Cobra have reason to fear us learning.”

  Emily blinked at him. “But we already have a copy of the letter—we already know the names.”

  Royce met her gaze and smiled. “True, but the Black Cobra doesn’t know that. Indeed, why would we bother making an extra copy if it’s the seal that to us is the key?” He held her gaze, his own growing distant, then he looked at the others. “But that raises a valid point. We already have the text of the letter, yet those names mean nothing to anyone here. From what Emily says, those names are unlikely to be recognized by many in England, not in terms of what those people have been getting up to in India.”

  He paused, then went on, “There has to be someone the Black Cobra fears us showing the letter to. Someone for whom those names, some of them at least, will mean something—enough to identify one or more as Ferrar’s closest associates.”

  “Family would be the obvious candidates,” Christian said, “but I don’t think Shrewton was lying, much less Kilworth. They have no idea who Ferrar was consorting with in India.”

  “Perhaps it wasn’t in India,” Emily said. “Perhaps it was here, in England, before Ferrar left. If he was close to people here, and the same people turned up there—surely they would be his closest friends.”

  “Closest, and most likely to have worked with him to set up the Black Cobra cult.” Gareth glanced at Del. “Because the cult’s genesis occurred a little after Ferrar’s arrival in Bombay, we were certain that he was involved in its birth, but that doesn’t mean friends who joined him soon after couldn’t have lent a hand.”

  “No, indeed. They might even have been the instigators.” Del nodded. “Emily’s right. We need to learn who Ferrar’s closest friends were in England, and then check if any of them feature in the letter.”

  “And that,” Royce says, “makes Kilworth our best bet.” He considered, then grimaced. “Let’s see what happens with Monteith tomorrow, but if the Cobra keeps striking, then we should certainly put more effort into learning who were Roderick Ferrar’s erstwhile friends.”

  An hour later, Emily preceded Gareth into the bedchamber she’d been given. He had his own room down the hall, much smaller, more a place to leave his bags than anything else.

  No one in this household bothered with pretense.

  All but dancing, she whirled, fetching up before the fireplace in which a lovely fire crackled and burned. Outside it was freezing, but inside…she’d never felt so relaxed, so triumphant, in her life.

  Arms spread, she swung to smile at Gareth. He’d closed the door and had followed close behind her. “We’re here!” Bringing her hands in, she locked them about his lapels and drew him close; smiling, he came. She beamed up at him. “I can barely believe it. After all those miles, all those attacks, all those horribly dangerous times—here we are, hale and whole.” She met his eyes, let herself fall into the tawny hazel. “And we’re together.”

  Hands closing about her waist, then sliding further to hold her in a loose embrace, he nodded. “We are. But I have a confession to make.”

  Taken aback, she searched his eyes but saw nothing beyond the warmth she’d grown so accustomed to shining back at her. Reassured, she made her tone encouraging. “What?”

  “Yes, well, that’s the thing.” His lips curved, rueful yet still relaxed. “I was determined never to let the words cross my lips, had sworn I would never utter them, but after today, after sitting in that carriage, blind, out of sight of you, not knowing if you were in danger, if some terrible fate was threatening you…” His expression changed, all warmth falling away, leaving an emotion far more stark and powerful etched over the chiseled lines of his face.

  Her heart thudded as, amazed, she recognized what that emotion was.

  “I nearly broke. Nearly overthrew all caution, all sense, nearly flung open the carriage door and came after you.”

  Locked in his dark gaze, she released one lapel, placed that hand on his chest, over his heart. “But you didn’t.”

  “No. I didn’t. It was a close run thing—but I didn’t.” He nodded, lips firming, his eyes on hers. “So yes, Emily Ensworth, we’re going to have a life partnership—we’re going to have the trust, the sharing of all life’s challenges. Before, when we spoke of this, I wasn’t sure how far I could go—how much of what you wanted I could give you—but now I know. Today showed me. Not that you were up to the task—that I never doubted, not from the instant I met you in Bombay after you’d ridden in with the letter from James. I was so proud of you—I admired you, your strength and character, from then. I knew long before today that you could handle anything, including the challenge of sharing your life with me. But today I discovered that I was up to the task, too—that I could, if pushed, trust your strength and put my faith in your abilities as you, so often on our travels, put your faith in mine.”

  He drew a huge breath, his chest swelling beneath her hand. She didn’t say a word, too enthralled, too eager to hear what next he would say.

  Gareth looked into her shining eyes, the moss-green bright, shimmering with encouragement and a love he’d never thought to find. “Having you go into danger without me at your side is never going to be something I will willingly countenance, but today I learned that I could live through the vulnerabilty, so there’s no longer any point in not saying the words I’d sworn I never would.”

  “What words?” She all but quivered in his arms, so alive, so vibrant, and all his.

  He smiled, and let the words fall freely, let them come of their own accord and simply be, testament to his reality. “I love you. You are the sun, the moon, and the stars to me—I can’t imagine a life without you at its center. Yes, I want to marry you—quite desperately want to marry you—but that want owes nothing to anything but my need.

  “I need you—I need your love. I need you to be my future. We started, before, to paint in my blank slate, but I can’t finish the picture of my future without you at its center.”

  She pressed closer, pushed her hands up over his shoulders, winding her arms about his neck. Sheer happiness bubbled in her voice as she said, “I was so proud of you today—when you let me do what I could do. I was never so much as vaguely attracted to MacFarlane, but women can have honor, too, and I wanted to—needed to—do something, something real, to help catch the Black Cobra. And now I have, I can leave it to you and all the other men here to catch the fiend, whoever he is, and bring him to justice.

  “Now”—she stretched up on her toes, bringing her lips to within a whisker of his—“I can turn my attention—all my attention and energy—to us. To our partnership, our future—our marriage.”

  Her eyes all but glowed, shimmering with emotion as she stared into his. “You are my one—the one I’ve been waiting to find for so long, the one I went to India to seek, the one I love with all my heart. Now I’ve found you, I will never let you go.”

  He felt his lips curve. “Good.”


  He kissed her—or she kissed him. Between true partners, it didn’t matter which it was. All that mattered was the heat that instantly sprang to life, that flared and curled comfortingly all around them.

  That drew them in and seduced them.

  Then flamed.

  Clothes scattered, discarded with abandon.

  They barely made it to the bed.

  And then there was nothing beyond the flames and the passion, the desire and the need to be one.

  Together.

  Linked, twining, merging.

  Giving and taking and striving for more.

  Possessing, then surrendering.

  She had a saying she was fond of, that actions always spoke louder than mere words. If he’d doubted the veracity of that claim, she would have convinced him that night.

  She took him in with a joy that eclipsed all he’d ever known, embraced him and gave him more than he could fathom.

  She was his all, his everything, then and evermore.

  Emily could imagine no greater joy than when she shattered beneath him and, looking up through awestruck, love-struck eyes, saw his face in that instant when he lost himself in her.

  Saw all he’d until then tried to shield.

  Saw vulnerability acknowledged, accepted, and held close.

  Saw love and abject devotion in his eyes.

  Finally saw him, all he was, clearly—her warrior with an unshielded heart.

  They slumped together, arms tight, possessive even in aftermath, waiting for their thundering hearts to slow, waiting for reality to reclaim them.

  When he finally eased from her arms, withdrew from her and slumped on his stomach beside her, she was already planning. “We’ll wait here.” Turning her head, she caught his eye. “I’m happy to wait here until the other two—Monteith and Carstairs—arrive. Until they’re safe.” Sliding around, down into the bed beside him, she raised a hand and traced one heavy shoulder. “You won’t be able to concentrate on our future until then—and in truth, neither will I.”

  The one eye she could see held hers, then he humphed and turned his head fully her way. “They’ll be here soon. Logan tomorrow, and although Royce has said nothing about when Rafe is due, I’m sure it’ll be no more than two days.”

  She smiled, a slow smile of anticipation. “Good.”

  She continued to smile, but her gaze grew distant. Her hand continued to stroke Gareth’s bare shoulder. After a minute had ticked by, curious, he asked, “What are you thinking of?”

  She refocused on him, and her smile deepened. “I was just thinking: If only my family could see me now.”

  He looked at her in mock horror, then lifted his head and dropped it back into the pillow. “Thank God they can’t.”

  “You do understand that he had to die, don’t you?” In the drawing room of the house they’d made their headquarters in Bury St. Edmunds, Alex topped up Daniel’s glass from the decanter of fine brandy Roderick had liberated from the locked sideboard.

  How very apt, Daniel thought, as he took a healthy swallow. As usual, Alex was abstemious, but tonight he was also sipping from a glass.

  “Poor Roderick.” With a shake of the head, Alex replaced the decanter on the sideboard. “So…sadly ineffectual.”

  “Indeed.” Daniel took another swallow. He was still a trifle shocked—not by Roderick’s death itself—that had, he suspected, been coming for some time; it was his idiot half brother’s lack of thought for consequences that had landed the three of them in this mire after all. Still, he hadn’t seen it coming—hadn’t seen Death in Alex’s eyes until the dagger had slid home.

  But Alex had been right. Roderick had had to die, then and there, in that moment. Thanks to Alex’s quick thinking, the pair of them had got clean away.

  Daniel raised his glass, locked eyes with Alex, now seated on the sofa nearby. “To Roderick—the idiot—who was convinced to the last that our sire would always save him. He was a fool, but he was our brother.” He drank.

  Alex sipped. “Half brother.” Alex’s lips curved. “Sadly, he missed the better half—the cleverer half.”

  Daniel tipped his glass in acknowledgment, but said nothing. He and Alex shared a father, but their mothers had been different, so the cleverer half Alex alluded to he had missed as well. He looked at his glass, and decided he’d better stop drinking.

  “But Roderick no longer matters, my dear. We do.” Alex’s voice was low but clear, as always compelling. “And we need to take steps to ensure our necks remain free of the hangman’s noose.”

  “Indubitably.” Setting down his glass, Daniel met Alex’s eyes. “As ever, I’m yours to command, but I suspect I’d better go and check on Monteith. We need his copy of the letter.”

  Alex nodded. “While you’re doing that, I’ll organize another move. Sadly, here, we’re too close to where Roderick met his end. Our opponents might think to search. I’ll have somewhere else organized—not too far away—by the time you get back with Monteith’s letter.”

  “And then we’ll need to get a welcome in place for Carstairs.”

  “Indeed.” Alex’s eyes glittered. “I’ll start work on that tomorrow, too. Now we know he’s coming down the Rhine, and at speed, then it’s all but certain he’ll pass through Rotterdam. I’ve already sent orders to all those on the other side of the Channel to ensure he runs into a very warm reception. But given that the other three have all come this way, what are the odds, do you think, that he’s making for either Felix-stowe or Harwich? They are, after all, the closest and most convenient ports to this part of the country.”

  “He’ll be carrying the original, won’t he?”

  Alex nodded. “Just the fact he’s coming in on the most direct route…our puppetmaster isn’t trying to draw out cultists with him, but to give him the shortest and safest road, the best possible chance of reaching the puppetmaster. That’s why he’s the last, and also why Monteith is coming in from the opposite direction.”

  “So Carstairs won’t be long.”

  “No, but what I have planned in Rotterdam will at least slow him down, which is all we need.” Alex looked at Daniel. “You take care of Monteith, and leave me to put our welcome for Carstairs in place. By the time you get back with Monteith’s letter, all will be set.” Alex smiled, viciously intent. “Whoever our puppetmaster is, I guarantee Carstairs will never reach him.”

  Daniel nodded and stood. “I’d better get going if I’m to join the men tonight.”

  “Where exactly are they?”

  “In a deserted barn outside a village called Eynesbury. I left them with strict orders to keep watch for Monteith and make sure he doesn’t reach Cambridge. They’ll know where he’s spending the night.” Daniel smiled, envisioning carnage. “I believe I’ll pay Major Monteith a midnight visit.”

  Alex understood what he was planning. “Very good. And who knows what possibilities tomorrow might bring? Take care, my dear—I’ll see you later tomorrow, once you have Monteith’s copy.”

  Daniel saluted. “Until then.”

  He turned away and strode for the door, and so didn’t see the way Alex watched him.

  Didn’t feel the cold, piercing weight of those ice-blue eyes.

  After he’d passed through the open doorway and disappeared, Alex sat staring at the vacant space.

  Debating.

  Several minutes ticked past.

  Then Alex turned and looked toward the doorway at the far end of the room. “M’wallah!”

  When the fanatical head of Alex’s personal guard appeared, Alex coldly said, “Have someone saddle my horse, and lay out my riding breeches, jacket, and my heavy cloak. I expect to be out all night.”

  About the Author

  New York Times bestselling author STEPHANIE LAURENS began writing as an escape from the dry world of professional science, a hobby that quickly became a career. Her novels set in Regency England have captivated readers around the globe, making her one of the romance world’s most beloved and popular auth
ors. The Elusive Bride is her forty-first work and the second in The Black Cobra Quartet.

  Readers can contact Stephanie via e-mail at slaurens@vicnet.net.au.

  For information on all Stephanie’s books, including updates on novels yet to come, visit Stephanie’s website at www.stephanielaurens.com.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  By Stephanie Laurens

  THE ELUSIVE BRIDE

  THE UNTAMED BRIDE

  Coming Soon

  THE BRAZEN BRIDE

  Bastion Club Novels

  MASTERED BY LOVE • THE EDGE OF DESIRE

  BEYOND SEDUCTION • TO DISTRACTION

  A FINE PASSION • A LADY OF HIS OWN

  A GENTLEMAN’S HONOR • THE LADY CHOSEN

  CAPTAIN JACK’S WOMAN

  Cynster Novels

  TEMPTATION AND SURRENDER • WHERE THE HEART LEADS

  THE TASTE OF INNOCENCE • WHAT PRICE LOVE?

  THE TRUTH ABOUT LOVE • THE IDEAL BRIDE

  THE PERFECT LOVER • ON A WICKED DAWN

  ON A WILD NIGHT • THE PROMISE IN A KISS

  ALL ABOUT PASSION • ALL ABOUT LOVE

  A SECRET LOVE • A ROGUE’S PROPOSAL

  SCANDAL’S BRIDE • A RAKE’S VOW

  DEVIL’S BRIDE

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  THE ELUSIVE BRIDE. Copyright © 2010 by Savdek Management Proprietory Ltd. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.