by Sharon Green
"Jake!" he bellowed after throwing the girl her cloak, taking her by the arm, and pulling her with him out of the room. "See if there are fresh horses available for those of us going back. If there aren't we'll have to make do, but I want us out of here in no more than five minutes. Move, man!"
Jake nodded once before striding off, but even that wasn't enough for Bryan. He followed on the man's heels to shout down anyone who tried to delay them, and the girl hurried along because of his grip on her arm. She hadn't said a word, and that was very wise of her. The savagery filling Bryan would have lashed out at her as well.
If the trip out was hurried, the one going back was frantic. The horses might have been fresh but they weren't top quality, which eventually brought Bryan to cursing at them aloud. Cursing and shouting made men move faster, but those horses proved to be too much like women. It was past midnight before he stormed through the front door of his house.
"Sarah!" he shouted, standing in the middle of the hall. "Sarah, where are you?"
"Here, Bryan," she answered more quietly, appearing from the direction of the kitchen. "It's no use, he's gone."
Bryan cursed then, totally unable to keep the words inside. He'd been so close, and now -
"He said to tell you not to bother coming by with an apology tonight," Sarah put in as soon as she could. "Tomorrow after breakfast would be the most civilized time, and certainly your business could wait until then. He sounded as though he were trying to convince himself, but apparently he managed it. He left about an hour ago."
"Did he say anything else?" Bryan pressed, wondering why Harding would have to convince himself. "Anything at all, no matter how unimportant?"
"He didn't say anything, but when he found out you were riding after Mrs. Machlin he turned pale." Sarah's lower lip was between her teeth, her sight inward as she reexamined her impressions. "He seemed very shaken over her having run away, but I don't know why."
"He was probably afraid I'd renege on the deal if I no longer had what I'd wanted." Bryan was guessing, but it seemed to make sense. "He knew it wasn't the money I was most interested in… So now I have to wait until tomorrow. I don't know if I can."
Sarah didn't point out that he had no choice, which was very kind of her. It was his fault that it had to be done, his fault for chasing after a woman who wanted nothing to do with him… God, he was tired, more tired than he could remember being in years.
"So you did find her," Sarah exclaimed, then moved past him toward the door. "Mrs. Machlin, are you all right? Bryan, she looks so - "
"I'm going to bed," he announced abruptly, only glancing at the girl who all but slumped in the doorway. "Put her anywhere for the night, but get her up for an early breakfast. Assuming she's still here."
He went to the stairs and up them without looking back, and when he got to his rooms he poured himself a drink. At some point during the hours past he'd been hungry, but the feeling had long since disappeared. All he was left with was depression, and a serious question regarding his sanity.
He eased his aching body into the most comfortable chair in his sitting room, trying to convince himself that one more night's worth of waiting would hardly kill him. After five years he ought to be used to the wait.
But that wasn't the major problem. His wife was, and he couldn't decide what to do. Every other woman in the world understood about arranged marriages and accepted them. Only his wife considered it a personal and mortal insult, something to be fought with every ounce of her strength. He'd wanted her almost from the first moment he'd seen her, but all she wanted was to be free of him.
"And what happens if I spend the next five years trying to change her mind, but can't do it?" he asked aloud. The whisky in his glass had burned some going down, but not as much as the words he'd spoken. The way she'd thanked him for saving her life - Do anything you like to me, but don't harm Angus. That had felt good, like a kick in the privates. What did she think he was?
"That answer I already have," Bryan muttered, then drained his glass. He was an insensitive brute who had bought her, a brute she was desperate to escape from. Well, that wasn't likely to be hard to arrange, and he'd set things in motion tomorrow. After he completed his business with Robert Harding. The girl would undoubtedly be delighted when he told her…
He put his glass aside and stood, trying very hard not to mourn the loss of what could have been. You can fall in love with a woman and try to make her do the same with you, but if you fail there isn't much left. Especially if she's a woman like Rianne Lockwood. Was he supposed to keep her locked up for the rest of her life, hoping she never managed to find a way to escape? And if she did, the way she had that very day, would he simply go after her again, drag her back, and start it all over again?
Bryan shook his head slowly, knowing he could never live like that or make anyone else a lifelong prisoner. His own freedom was too precious to him, and in a very short time he would begin to hate himself for what he was doing. Then there would be two people hating him, and what good would that do? It was love he wanted, not hatred, but love can't be forced.
So he would have to let the girl go her own way, and pretend he'd eventually forget her. As if he ever would. She was everything he'd ever wanted in a woman, everything he'd never before been able to find, but she didn't want to be his. You can't force love from someone who won't give it, can't change what is to what you'd like it to be. He had instead what was, and he'd have to learn to live with it. And maybe, just maybe, he was exhausted enough to sleep.
Chapter Ten
Rianne was awake before the maid tapped at her door, even though it had taken quite a while the night before to fall asleep. Her mind refused to stop clamoring at her, refused to give her any peace. She'd been so tired after that horrible ride, so completely drained. The shock of having killed a man, and then nearly dying herself. Of knowing that she'd almost been the cause of Angus's death. Of having to give up her dream of escape…
And then they'd arrived back at this house, and she'd had the worst shock of all. He hadn't even helped her to dismount, but had rushed inside and left her to her own devices. Hating the idea of looking weak to his men, she'd dismounted and followed as quickly as she'd been able.
Then to reach the door in time to hear him say that. Bryan's words came back to her, speaking to Mrs. Raymond about her stepfather: He knew it wasn't the money I was most interested in. He hadn't known she was there, so he couldn't possibly have said it just to fool her. He hadn't married her for her inheritance after all, but because he wanted her. Even her stepfather knew…
So what are you going to do about it? her thoughts kept demanding. The question had begun pounding at her last night, but still hadn't been answered. What was the brilliant and courageous Rianne Lockwood going to do? Start out, possibly, by admitting she'd been wrong?
"But I wasn't entirely wrong," she argued in a mutter, still not having moved out of the bed. "When a man forces you to marry him, what are you supposed to think?"
Maybe you should have thought to look at more than that one act, her mind immediately countered. He never hurt you, not even accidentally, not even when you provoked him. And you may have missed it, but he saved your life last night. In what way did you thank him, or even acknowledge that you noticed?
Rianne was too ashamed about that to think of even a token reply. It may have been true that at first she was too shaken, and then too confused. She hadn't expected to hear what she had, nor had she thought he would bring her all the way back here just to dismiss her. Her door hadn't been locked last night, as though he no longer cared whether or not she stayed…
"Here's yer breakfast, Mrs. Machlin," a voice said, and Rianne looked up to see one of the housegirls with a tray. "If ye'll ring fer me when yer done, I'll help get ye dressed."
Rianne nodded distractedly, finally beginning to get up. They were supposed to be going to see her stepfather that morning, so that he and her husband could conclude their "business." Yesterday she woul
d have been certain only her inheritance was involved, but this morning she wasn't so sure. Why would a man like Bryan Machlin be so anxious to talk to her stepfather? And why did she have the feeling there was a lot going on she didn't know about?
Those were two more questions she couldn't answer, so she put them aside while she worked at swallowing everything on her tray. She felt like she hadn't eaten in a week, especially after yesterday's rides. A coach seat was supposed to be more comfortable than a saddle, but not for a rider as experienced as she. If only her horse had been good enough to have a decent gait, it might have been a bit easier.
Rianne spent as little time as possible over her meal, and had already chosen what she would wear by the time the housegirl responded to her ring. With the girl's help she was quickly into a demure white morning gown with small embroidered flowers scattered across the skirt and bodice. Her hair was just as quickly put up and a hat added, and then she was able to leave her rooms carrying a white parasol in her gloved hands. Slippers felt strange on her feet after all the hours she'd worn boots, but they were undeniably more comfortable.
This time she found the front hall occupied, and in a way that surprised her. Mrs. Raymond was there, in a morning gown of pale blue, also ready to go out.
"Well, good morning, Mrs. Machlin," the woman said in a very … neutral way, watching as Rianne descended the steps. "We knew you were almost ready, so Bryan has gone to have the carriage brought around. Did you sleep well last night?"
"Perfectly well, thank you," Rianne answered, finding it necessary to fight against clenching her hands. She was now forced to admit that she hated the way the woman spoke about Bryan Machlin, so familiarly and almost intimately. We knew, she'd said, and Bryan has gone. Them together with her excluded.
"I've been asked to accompany you and Mr. Machlin to Mr. Harding's house," the woman went on as Rianne stopped beside her. "Our visit shouldn't take long, and then there's something Mr. Machlin wants to tell you."
Something you already know all about, Rianne thought. Just the way you know how long "our" visit will take. And it's suddenly become "Mr. Machlin," as though you've just remembered that's the way you were supposed to talk about him. I'm really beginning to dislike you, Mrs. Raymond, and I think Id enjoy asking you a few pointed questions in private…
"And what is it Mr. Machlin wants to tell me?" she asked instead, still keeping the conversation cool.
"It has to do with your freedom, and how soon it will be available," the answer came, just as cool. "Mr. Machlin will tell you all about it, as soon as he has a moment. His business here is almost over."
"Ladies, the carriage is ready," a man in livery announced as he came in, holding the door open for them. "Mr. Machlin asks that you hurry."
Mrs. Raymond started immediately for the door, but Rianne, although upset, was right behind her. That comment about her freedom bothered her, and she wanted to know why there was that much of a need to hurry. She really burned to know what was going on, but couldn't bring herself to ask. But it wasn't as though she would never find out. She would be right there to see for herself…
Outside, the carriage waited, all right, but not all by itself. Half a dozen men sat mounted behind it, the same men who had returned with them the night before. They looked ready to start a small war or end one, and Rianne couldn't help wondering which it would be.
Bryan Machlin himself stood beside the carriage steps, already helping Mrs. Raymond up them into the open vehicle. Those cold gray eyes touched her in turn, and the pleasant wish for a good morning she'd decided to greet him with died in her throat. He was looking at her but apparently not seeing her, and was obviously not interested in conversation. Rianne took a seat opposite Mrs. Raymond, leaving more than enough room beside her, but when her husband joined them he didn't seem to notice. Without hesitation he sat beside Mrs. Raymond, and then they were off.
The ride to her stepfather's house didn't take long, not at the pace their driver kept to. The trip was a silent one, but not deliberately so. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts, Rianne being no exception. When they reached their destination they all got out again, and Harms, the house steward, opened the door to them.
"Please come in, ladies, sir," he invited, surprising Rianne. She'd never before seen Harms looking flustered. "Mr. Harding will certainly be with you as quickly as possible. We were told he expected guests this morning, but somehow he seems to have overslept himself. His valet is rousing him now."
They followed the man to a small sitting room, where refreshments were offered and refused. Rianne took a chair without saying anything, but her mind jumped around in agitation. Her stepfather had never slept late, not in all the years she'd known him. What is heaven's name was going on?
The answer to that question, at least, came rather quickly. There was a disturbance out in the hall, and then a muffled scream. When they hurried out to see what was going on, they found one of the maids being led away in tears. Her stepfather's valet stood white-faced beside Harms, who was himself visibly shaken.
"Sir, ladies, I regret to inform you - " Harms's voice, none too steady, broke then. He cleared his throat, did it a second time, then looked directly at Rianne. "Mrs. Machlin, the staff and I offer our most sincere condolences. It's my unpleasant duty to inform you that Mr. Harding has - passed on to his final reward. If you feel faint, I'll send for a girl at once…"
Rianne felt more astounded and disbelieving than faint, and her reaction was the mildest of the three. Mrs. Raymond gasped with eyes wide and one hand to her mouth, and Bryan Machlin took her stepfather's valet by the scruff of the neck.
"Show me to his rooms!" he ordered in a voice like doom with an expression to match. "Move!"
He thrust the valet ahead of him toward the stairs, and the smaller man was no fool. He all but ran to keep ahead of his giant pursuer, and Mrs. Raymond quickly followed. Rianne, not about to be left behind, ignored Harms's solicitude and hurried after the others.
Rianne hadn't been to her stepfather's sitting room in many years, but it hadn't changed much. More brocade than leather, many shades of blue and green alternating with gold, few books, no weapons, and spotlessly clean. They all passed through it quickly and continued into his bedchamber, where the entire party stopped to stare.
Mrs. Raymond turned away from what the room's bed held, but Rianne forced herself to look. If she hadn't known it was her stepfather, she never would have recognized him. His body lay grotesquely twisted amid disarranged covers, and his face was bloated and almost black, with staring eyes bulging hard from their sockets. Rianne swallowed a couple of times, almost wishing she'd gone hungry that morning.
"Musta had a fit, like," offered the valet, Arthur. "Him in bed, an' none near enough t' call to. Thrashed around t' reach th' bell cord, but din't make it nohow."
"Why wasn't there anyone near enough to hear him having - the fit?" Machlin asked in a hard but steady voice. "Don't you sleep in the servant's chamber near this room?"
"No, sor, not fer some time," Arthur replied, beginning to took really pale. "Din't want the botherin' uv others about him, Mr. Harding din't. Made me take a room in th' next corridor… Beggin' yer pardon, sor, but it's there I'd like t' be goin' right now."
The big man waved a hand in dismissal, and Arthur lost no time making good his escape. Mrs. Raymond was still turned away, holding a small square of lace-edged linen to her mouth.
Bryan Machlin had been staring from a few steps past the doorway, but after a moment he walked closer to the bed. Bending over, he reached to the top of the nightshirt covering the body and moved it aside. Rianne shuddered when he actually touched the body, but his sudden savage words distracted her from illness.
"Damned if it isn't exactly as I thought," he growled, straightening again. "The 'fit' that killed him was brought on by the tightening of something around his neck, like rope or braided leather. He was strangled, hanged by hand, and it was no accident."
"But Bryan, who
would do such a thing?" Mrs. Raymond protested without really turning. "Certainly not the one we're after. What good would Harding be to him dead?"
"Probably as much good as he'd gotten to be alive," the big man answered in disgust. "We knew Harding was desperate for money and had been for quite a while. Remember what you said about him last night, that when he said our business could surely wait until morning he seemed to be trying to convince himself? Last night had to be his last chance to pay up, the last of whatever number of extensions he'd gotten."
"So why wouldn't they have waited again?" Mrs. Raymond asked. "Could one night have made such a difference?"
"There was no guarantee it would be only one night," he pointed out. "Don't forget how frightened he was at hearing that the girl had run off. If I hadn't found her and brought her back, he thought I'd probably refuse to honor our agreement. And I have the feeling he knew by then that I hadn't used my legal signature on the agreement. It would have been his … associate who told him, along with the fact that he had no legal recourse. I could have refused for any reason at all, and that would have been the end of it. They must have decided he would be most useful as a horrible example to whoever else they have their claws into. It would be ridiculous to think their only victims were Harding and Ross."
"Do you think they realize you are Ross's brother?" Mrs. Raymond asked, turning at last but only to look at the man she addressed. "That you were going to demand answers from Harding in exchange for the money? He could have been killed to keep him quiet."
"It's possible but not very likely," the big man answered with a shake of his head. "Ross was using Mother's family name, remember, trying to do as the rest of us and make good without trading on Father's name. Since I chose a name to use almost at random, no one would have connected us until Ross was successful and his family ties became known. Ross could have gotten clear of any trouble by asking the rest of us for help, but he was too ashamed to do it. He killed himself instead, and now I'll never find the man who drove him to it!"