The Wild Child (Bride Trilogy)

by Mary Jo Putney

  And…Kamal? He was there, too, younger, less lined, but unmistakable.

  Far below, she could see the blazing fire and the people gathered around it, heedless of her private torment. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering, and grimly forced herself to seek the truth buried in her nightmare.

  Wrexham and Lucia were delighted to see Kyle, especially since he and Dominic were obviously on easy terms again. Leaving his brother with the rest of the family, Dominic headed back to Meriel. He was still some distance away when he saw her suddenly dart from the bonfire. He frowned, wondering if the press of people had finally become too much for her. Concerned, he worked his way through the laughing villagers. It was time to take his wife home.

  Traces of the long twilight lingered in the sky, and an orange gibbous moon cast light as well. Even so, he had to pick his steps cautiously as he followed her up Castle Hill. Knowing the ground so well, Meriel had probably gone this way at full speed. At least she wore a light-colored dress, so he should be able to find her in the dark.

  He was beginning to wonder if she might have left the path and returned to the house when he entered the old castle precinct, and saw a ghostly figure crumpled on the ground. Hastening to her, he asked, “Meriel, is something wrong?”

  She looked up at him, her face deathly pale in the moonlight. He knelt and put his arms around her. “What happened?”

  Trembling violently, she buried her face against him, radiating fear. Wondering what could cause such a reaction, he asked, “Were you assaulted?”

  “N-no.” Her voice was barely audible. “I was…remembering.”

  A chill ran through him as he realized what must be in her mind. “Did the bonfire and the shouting remind you of the night your parents died?”

  Instead of answering, she lurched to her feet and crossed to the ancient stone steps that ran up to the parapet. Alarmed, Dominic followed, staying within an arm’s length. When she went to the battlements, he almost dragged her back.

  Bracing her hands on the stone, she stared starkly into the darkness. “The moon was like tonight’s. I was on a balcony like this, looking out at the stars and afraid my nurse would come and take me back to bed. The main section of the palace was there.” She gestured to the right. “Alwari wasn’t heavily fortified, for it was not the chief royal residence. The maharajah’s capital city was two days farther north, but he’d given my father permission to stay at Alwari to honor the British emissary.”

  Quietly he asked, “Did you see the raiders attack?”

  Her posture was rigid, and he guessed that she was seeing India rather than the quiet Shropshire night. “They galloped in like thunder, shouting and waving torches. There were dozens and dozens—an army of savages, firing guns and waving spears. They overwhelmed my father’s escort, which was small because we were supposed to be in safe territory. Our people were caught completely off guard.”

  She took a ragged breath. “One raider was dressed all in black, his face covered except for his eyes. He was not the leader, but he threw the first torch. It was the dry season, and the roof caught fire and blazed up like tinder. The dark man was mad, I think, perhaps sworn to destroy the foreigners, for he rode his screaming horse right into the palace. I did not see him come out again.”

  She was shivering. He put his arm around her shoulders, wanting to anchor her to the present. “So you saw it all happen.”

  She pulled at her braid, her fingers kneading frantically. “As people fled the fire, they were cut down by swords and spears. Every one of them. There was a sweet old man who had brought me sherbet. His…his head was cut off, and one of the raiders used the butt of his spear to knock it across the courtyard.”

  “Dear God,” he whispered. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to remember this slaughter. What a horror for a child. For anyone. “Did you see your parents?”

  She shook her head. “Their rooms were right under where the roof caught fire. I…I hope they died swiftly from the smoke.”

  That would have been a mercy, if true. “How the devil did you escape?”

  “I was terrified of the fire, but I was also too frightened to jump. The courtyard was so far down, and filled with those brutes. I huddled into a ball, shrieking, afraid I’d be spitted like a pig on someone’s spear,” she said haltingly. “Then my nurse, Hiral, staggered up behind me. She…her robe was on fire. She shouted into the night, and a rider just below the balcony reined in his horse and looked up.

  “It was the strangest thing. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever. I…I think the man was shocked to see a burning woman and a child there.” Meriel began to weep. “Hiral screamed something that made the hair on my head stand up. Then…then she picked me up and threw me over the railing.”

  “Jesus Christ.” He caught her to him, shaking as badly as she at the vivid horror she had described. “The raider caught you?”

  “I…I think he must have,” she whispered into his shoulder. “I was falling, and then I slammed to a halt. The next I remember is being carried across a horse, a man’s hand on my back, feeling as if my bones would jolt from my skin.”

  He enfolded her, desperately wishing he could take her pain away. “You’re safe now, love, you’re safe. It’s all over.”

  “But it isn’t,” she whispered. “It isn’t.”

  Ravenous from his long ride, Kyle was attacking the excellent food when Lucia settled next to him in a flurry of skirts. “Have you and Dominic truly settled your differences, or were you just pretending for the sake of Papa and me?”

  He washed down a mouthful of beef and bread. “We really did, Lucia. You deserve the credit for making me listen when I didn’t want to.”

  She exhaled with relief. “I’m so glad. Do you think this will last?”

  “Yes. We both want peace, and there no longer seems anything to fight about.” Beyond that, Kyle felt as if Constancia’s death had changed him in some fundamental manner, freeing him in ways he did not yet fully understand.

  “The two of you could not have presented me with a better wedding gift.” Smiling, Lucia gave him a quick hug, then went to join the revelers surrounding the bonfire.

  Kyle was about to carve off another piece of beef when he paused, knife in the air. Something was wrong, and it concerned Dominic. Danger? A chill went through him. Uneasily he got to his feet and scanned the crowd, but even when he climbed on the bench for a better view, he couldn’t find Dominic.

  When was the last time he’d seen him? Vaguely he remembered Lady Meriel leaving the crowd, followed shortly thereafter by Dominic. Kyle had guessed that the newlyweds intended a private celebration. There could be no danger in that, not inside a walled private park.

  Could someone else have gone off that way? Perhaps a thief had entered Warfield along with the villagers, and waited to catch one of the gentry alone for a robbery.

  Nonsense. His imagination was running riot. He climbed down from the bench and reached for his tankard, then halted. His uneasiness was growing stronger. There weren’t likely to be any criminals nearby, but Dominic and Meriel had been heading toward the old castle, a place that must have dangerous crumbling stones.

  Abandoning his dinner, he skirted the crowd and went to the foot of the path that ran up to the castle. He might embarrass them all by finding Dominic and Meriel in an intimate moment, but he could not ignore the hum of warning in the back of his mind.

  He had just reached the path when a tall, dark shape materialized beside him. It was Kamal. The Indian asked, “Is something amiss, my lord?”

  Kyle shrugged, a little embarrassed. “It’s probably foolish, but I’ve been feeling some concern for my brother.”

  “Oddly, I have also felt concern for Lady Meriel. Perhaps we should investigate together.” Despite the softness of Kamal’s voice, it was not a request.

  As they headed up the hill, Kyle decided that perhaps an ally might be useful.

  Dominic looked down at Meriel, trying to read her ex
pression in near-darkness. “What do you mean, it isn’t over?”

  She swallowed. “The argument I remembered about babies? It was between my father and my uncle. I overheard them at Cambay a few days before we left the cantonment. I…I think my father was breaking the news that my mother had conceived again, and of course if she had a boy, his brother would no longer be the heir.”

  Dominic sucked in his breath. “And Grahame was angry, even though he had to have known it was a possibility.”

  Meriel rubbed her temple with stiff fingers. “I wasn’t born until my parents had been married for years. More years had passed, so another child must have been a great shock to my uncle. He exploded, shouting that he had borrowed money on his expectations, and what would he do now?

  “My father said he’d settle the debts this once but not again, so my uncle must learn to live within his income. My uncle swore, then apologized, saying he’d be more careful, since he was no longer sure of inheriting the earldom. But he was so furious. I…I keep wondering if he might have had something to do with the massacre.”

  Dominic was about to say that was unlikely when a cold voice cut through the night. “So you remembered. I was afraid of that as soon as you started talking again.”

  A dark form took shape and weight in the night as Grahame mounted the last of the stone steps. He halted, cane in hand, and regarded Meriel thoughtfully. “I assumed that you died at Alwari. It was quite a shock when you reappeared, but as long as you were mad and mute, I could afford to let you live.” Idly he drew the cane through his fingers. “It really would have been much better for you to have stayed mad.”

  There was death in that cool, casual voice. Instinctively stalling for time, Dominic released Meriel and edged between her and her uncle. “Did you really arrange that raid?”

  “I was a liaison to the Maharajah of Kanphar,” he said calmly. “Knowing that he had an unofficial bandit army in the hill country, I made a bargain with him. He would send his raiders to Alwari, and I would go along to see that the thing was done properly. The bandits would get the loot, while I guaranteed the maharajah certain concessions in an agreement that was being negotiated with Kanphar.” His teeth showed whitely in the dark. “A satisfactory arrangement for all concerned.”

  “My God,” Dominic said, stunned. “You murdered your own brother and his wife! How many others died at Alwari to satisfy your greed?”

  Grahame shrugged. “Perhaps a hundred. Most were Hindus, who believe their fates are preordained. I was merely an instrument of their destiny. I put my own life in the hands of fate by riding into the palace, but destiny was with me. I rode straight through and out the other side, and away to safety.” He smiled a little. “Of course I’d visited Alwari and knew the palace. Still, if the gods had wished to strike me down for impiety, they could have done it. They chose to let me live.”

  With a quick twist, he unscrewed the head of the cane. The damnable device divided into two weapons, one a glittering sword stick and the other a short, heavy brass club.

  Behind Dominic, Meriel hissed like a wildcat. Guessing that she was on the verge of assaulting her uncle, Dominic caught her wrist, immobilizing her. Better for her to run. Knowing the ruins, with a head start she should be able to escape.

  He moved a step toward Grahame. “I assume you intend to kill us both or you wouldn’t have said so much, but surely two murders will be a bit conspicuous.”

  “Not at all. Despite Meriel’s little spell of apparent normalcy, everyone knows she’s mad. So tragic that she killed herself on the night of her wedding celebration. A jump from the castle wall into the river, her husband gallantly losing his life in an attempt to save her.” The older man smiled again, cold as an executioner. “So thoughtful of you to come up here. I had been toying with other schemes—poison, suicide with her father’s dueling pistols, perhaps a fall—but they were more complicated. Riskier. This is far better. With you dying together, I shall inherit the hundred thousand pounds that my brother left Meriel. A pity that the estate will go back to Amworth’s family, but one can’t have everything.”

  Damnation, Grahame’s plan just might work, with no one suspecting foul play. Even stab wounds would go unnoticed on bodies that spent a day or two in the river. Knowing there would be no better chance, Dominic yelled, “Run, Meriel!”

  Shoving her behind him, he dived low at the older man, hoping to bring him down. In a hand-to-hand fight, he’d have a good chance, and Meriel could escape.

  But Grahame was prepared. Sidestepping swiftly, he slammed the brass club into Dominic’s skull. After an instant of shattering pain, the world vanished into blackness.

  Chapter 41

  Meriel screamed as Dominic crumpled to the walkway, still as death. Why did the fool man have to go after her uncle? They both might have escaped if he hadn’t tried to be so damnably noble!

  Rigid with panic, she dropped on her knees beside her husband. Dear God, how could she survive without him?

  Though a trickle of blood ran down his temple, he still breathed. She touched his cheek with trembling fingers. He wasn’t dead, not yet.

  But neither of them would see the dawn if Grahame had his way. Why had she never realized he was behind the death of her parents, and so many others? Pieces of the truth had been in her mind, but she had refused to look, preferring her safe, private world of apparent madness, where there were no unbearable memories or murderous uncles.

  Consumed by rage, she looked up at Grahame, who stood a yard away and watched her with lightless eyes. “You filthy, hell-born bastard!”

  “Such language, my dear. You really are an uncivilized little creature.” He raised the club. “I’d prefer to use this, since any bruises on your corpse will appear to have been caused by your fall, but I’ll spit you if that’s what you prefer.” He made a grand sweep with the sword stick. “After all, you’re my only niece, so I’ll extend that courtesy.”

  She snapped, “If there is madness in this family, it is yours.”

  “Mad? Not at all. Merely supremely pragmatic.” He dropped the sword stick behind him and stepped toward her, the brass club poised.

  He expected her to wait weakly for her doom. Gauging her moment, Meriel sprang like a cat as he struck, dodging under the blow.

  The club grazed her right arm with numbing intensity, but caused no major damage and left her uncle off balance. She darted past on the narrow edge of walkway between Grahame and the drop to the castle bailey. Scooping up the sword stick, she whirled, the blade secure in both hands. “You thought Dominic was the dangerous one, but you were wrong,” she said with lethal intensity. “For hurting him, you will die.”

  He blinked, startled by the swift turn of events. Then he laughed. “You think that a child like you can injure a trained soldier?” He lunged, seeking to disarm her.

  As he caught her shoulder, she stabbed underneath his grasping arms. The blade slashed along his ribs, ripping through his shirt. Warm blood splashed on her as she wrenched free of his grip and retreated.

  “You little bitch!” Grahame touched the wound, then looked at the dark stain on his fingers with disbelief. “For that, your death will be far more painful.”

  “There will be no deaths here tonight.” The deep voice came from Kamal, who was racing up the steps behind Grahame three at a time, a curved dagger in his hand.

  As Grahame swore, Meriel said, “Shall we slice him into ribbons, Kamal?”

  “No, milady,” Kamal said gently. “He is mine. If I had known he was the devil responsible for the massacre at Alwari, I would have killed him long since.”

  Grahame dropped the club and yanked a double-barreled pistol from under his coat. “A gun is riskier, but you’ve left me no choice.” He cocked the hammer and aimed at Kamal. “No one will hear a gunshot over the shouting at the bonfire.”

  “Kamal!” Meriel screamed. A sharp, double crack split the night. One pistol shot or two? There was a clatter of metal as a cloud of black powder stung her
eyes.

  Another voice—Dominic’s?—barked, “Meriel, grab his gun!”

  No, not Dominic, Maxwell, who had come up the steps behind Kamal. Meriel dropped the sword stick from the walkway and darted forward to snatch the pistol that had spun away from her uncle. The barrels were gouged—Maxwell had shot the gun from Grahame’s hand, making the bullet meant for Kamal go astray.

  “It’s all over, you bastard,” Maxwell snapped. “You’re outnumbered and out of weapons, and if you’ve seriously hurt my brother, I will borrow Kamal’s knife and help Meriel cut you into small, bloody pieces.”

  “Three against one aren’t very sporting odds,” Kamal observed as he moved, soft-footed and implacable, toward Grahame.

  “I don’t give a damn about sportsmanship at the moment,” Maxwell said with menacing coldness, his expression vividly demonstrating how much he differed from his brother. Dominic was the civilized man, Meriel realized. She, like Maxwell, was a bloodthirsty savage beneath the skin. No wonder she hadn’t had any desire to marry him—they were too much alike. It was Dominic who owned her soul.

  Dizzy with relief that the danger was past, she dropped the pistol and stepped toward her husband, who lay unmoving between her and Grahame. She was uttering a fervent prayer that his injury was not serious when her uncle seized her, sweeping her so high that her feet dangled in the air. “I may die,” he snarled, “but not alone!”

  He swung her around toward the river and clambered up into an embrasure. She struggled violently, knowing that this area of the wall was a sheer drop, but Grahame was too large, too strong and enraged. He lurched forward, and she felt the horrifying emptiness of the abyss beneath her, saw moonlight glinting on water far, far below.

  Then strong arms locked around her legs. For a ghastly moment she was being torn in half. Then she was wrenched from Grahame’s grip and dragged back to safety. She crashed to the walkway as her uncle’s scream echoed from the ancient castle walls.