by Faye Hall
The old man waved his hand in the air, dismissing her remark. “You are just being stubborn. You will marry Bastian, and that is final.”
“Please, Father, no,” she begged. “You can’t make me do this.”
“I can and I will,” he stated firmly. “Your marriage will benefit this family greatly.”
She thought on her father’s words, realizing that he was talking about financial gain. “If it is money you need, I have another way that will suit us both. If you would just let me see Tristen, I will find a way to get you the finances you desire. Once I tell him of my situation, he will do what is right.”
She couldn’t explain to her father what she meant, not without confessing to her pregnancy. All she could hope for now was that he trusted her enough to do what was right for them both.
The old man poured himself a drink. “Bastian was there the night Jacob was killed. He saw who lit the fire that killed him and Amanda. He saw Tristen.”
Her tears again flowed freely. “I don’t believe you,” she screamed. “Why would Tristen do such a thing? What would he have to gain from my brother’s death?”
Just then the door creaked open and Bastian walked inside the room.
The old man turned to look at him. “She won’t believe that Tristen lit the fire that killed Jacob. Even after I told her what you saw, she continues to defend him.”
“Because I know it wasn’t him. Carter and I were outside that night too, and we both saw a man running from the back of the cottage that definitely wasn’t Tristen. The man we saw had fair hair.”
Bastian stepped toward her, his hand reaching out to rest on her shoulder. “You saw what you wanted to see. The only man who ran from the cottage that night was Tristen,” he assured her. His hand stroked her shoulder. “I realize it must be hard for you to hear such a thing about someone you were once so close to, but I know what I saw that night.”
Amalie stepped away from him, her skin recoiling from his touch. “If you’re so certain it was Tristen, then tell me why he did it. Tell me what he had to gain from the death of my brother.”
Bastian smiled at her as if what he was about to reveal was some secret that only he knew. “You, my dear,” he said in a cocky tone. “With Jacob dead, there was no one left to keep a constant eye on you and stop him from taking advantage of your innocence.”
“And who is going to stop you from doing the very same thing?” she snapped at him.
Bastian’s smile started to disappear. “I think Amalie might benefit from a walk in the gardens and some fresh air. It appears her grief is making her irrational.”
Taking her by the elbow, his grip so tight it was almost painful, Bastian walked her out of the house and into the gardens. They walked several yards before she finally managed to pull herself free.
“How dare you drag me out here as if I were some piece of luggage for you to do with as you please.”
“You need to learn your place, me thinks,” he uttered, reaching for her again and dragging her back to him.
She fought against him, frightened what would become of her if she remained out there alone with this man any longer. Her hands caught in his tight grip, she tried to kick him in the groin or thereabouts, hoping that would allow her an escape. When finally she connected with his privates, she waited for him to fall to the ground in a heap. Instead, she received a hard strike across her face, forcing her to the ground.
Struggling to get back on her feet, she felt his boot connect hard and sharp with her stomach. My baby! Desperation creeping into her as she thought of what this bastard might have done to the babe in her belly, Amalie searched for something she could use to defend herself. Reaching for a tree branch that lay on the ground near her, she wrapped her fingers around it and swung it at Bastian with all her might, knocking him to the ground. She hurried to her feet, seeing this as her chance to escape.
“Come here, you bitch!” Bastian cursed at her, scrambling to his feet.
She ran toward the house, the sharp pain in her stomach near crippling by the time she reached the back door.
“Amalie?” she heard a familiar voice call.
Turning, she saw Carter Dix running toward her. “Help me,” she begged, the pains shooting through her stomach now so intense she fell to the ground.
Carter picked her up in his arms and carried her inside. “Mr. Fergus!” he yelled as he hurried to her bedroom. “There’s been an accident.”
Just as he reached Amalie’s bedroom, her father came running down the hall toward them. “What has happened?” the old man asked. “Is she hurt?”
Carter carried her inside the room and laid her down on the bed. “She collapsed outside.” As he shifted his hands away from her, there was no ignoring the scarlet red blood that covered his arms.
“My God,” Amalie’s father gasped. “What happened to her?”
She began to cry. “Bastian kicked me in the stomach,” she explained. Seeing the continued confusion on the two men’s faces, she knew she could no longer keep her secret. “I’m pregnant.”
“We need to get a doctor here immediately,” Carter ordered. “And someone needs to go and tell Tristen.”
“Why the devil would that bastard have to be called?” her father asked.
She shook her head, begging Carter not to say any more. He turned away from her and looked directly at her father. “Your daughter was having an affair with Tristen. It’s his baby in her belly.”
The old man took a step back, shock filling his face. “But Bastian told me Tristen killed Jacob so he could get to Amalie.”
“Jacob knew about Tristen,” she spoke up. “And about the baby. I told him the night of the fire.”
“Bastian isn’t who you think he is,” Carter went on to explain. “He is a dangerous man, and if you don’t call off the engagement, he may well take the life of your daughter next time.”
Her father walked to the door. “We need a doctor immediately!” he yelled before returning to his daughter’s side.
“You have to call for the police also,” Amalie begged. “You must report what Bastian has done.”
“I can’t, child. If I do that, then you will learn things about your father…” The old man’s words drifted off. Finally, he cleared his throat. “No one is to know about the baby but the doctor and us here in this room.”
“What about Tristen?” Carter asked. “He has a right to know.”
Her father shook his head. “Tristen killed my son. I owe him nothing.”
“Tristen?” Carter asked.
“Bastian told Father he saw Tristen running from the back of the cottage the night of the fire.”
“But the man we saw had fair hair,” Carter replied. “And he was wearing a suit.” He turned to look at Amalie’s father. “When have you ever seen Tristen wear a suit?”
Old man Fergus held Carter’s stare for a moment before turning away from him and walking toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Carter asked.
“I think I should wait outside for the doctor.”
Writhing in pain on the bed, Amalie watched as her father walked out of the room.
* * * *
Bastian hid behind the thick trunk of the sandalwood tree, watching as Carter carried Amalie into the house. He hadn’t expected her to be such a defiant piece of skirt when he agreed to this engagement. Her attitude wasn’t something he was looking forward to dealing with in the future years. Thankfully, he didn’t plan to stay with her long.
“What did you do to my daughter?” he heard Michael Fergus ask from behind him.
Turning, he eyed the small, white-haired man standing before him, disgusted by the weakness of him. “You didn’t tell me she was so disobedient.”
“And you didn’t tell me you planned to beat my daughter half to death!” the old man yelled.
Bastian waved his hand in the air, uninterested in what he was hearing. “I don’t have time for this.”
As he went to t
urn away, Michael reached out, his hand on his shoulder stopping him. “Then you will make time.”
Bastian raised his brow, stepping toward him. “My, my, haven’t you suddenly gained some balls.”
Michael backed away. “Bastian, please. She’s my only daughter.”
Bastian stopped. “And I will do with her as I please.”
“W-why are you doing this?” Michael begged.
Bastian smiled. “Because I can,” he replied. “And I will keep doing it until I own everything you have…everything you stole from my father.”
Bastian turned away before the man could argue with him anymore. Going to his horse, he swung himself up into the saddle and, kicking it in the flanks, rode toward town.
If he were honest, he wasn’t enjoying being shackled to Amalie with the prospect of having to marry her, but it was the only way he could think of to gain access to the Fergus assets. He asked the old man many a time, but always he claimed he couldn’t—wouldn’t—hand them over. Out of desperation, Bastian demanded a marriage to Amalie, knowing that the law would then legally pass whatever assets she brought with her over to him. The look on her father’s face had been priceless—a mixture of disgust and pain. Given the many nights Bastian had spent with Michael at the local molly house, it probably shouldn’t have been too surprising when old man Fergus objected. It was only when Bastian informed him that if he didn’t agree to the engagement their affair would be made public in the worse way, that he finally conceded.
As Bastian arrived in town, he slowed the horse to a walk until he reached the molly house at the other end of town. Dismounting, he threw the reins over the railing there and walked inside. His eyes adjusting to the darkened surroundings, he scanned the few men sitting at the bar, looking for who he was supposed to be meeting.
“You’re late,” he heard the gruff, familiar voice say behind him.
Turning around, he looked at the slightly overweight, gray-haired man sitting alone at the table.
“My apologies, Albert. There was an accident at the Fergus station that I had to attend to,” he explained, taking a seat opposite him.
Albert lifted his glass to his lips and took a long drink. “Fergus?” he asked, lowering his glass back to the table. “What the devil were you doing out there?”
“Business,” Bastian replied. “Speaking of such a thing, I brought the papers for you to sign.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled forth several pieces of folded parchment and handed them to the old man. “All you need to do is sign at the bottom,” he explained. “Then I’ll give you the account details so you can deposit your share of the money.”
Albert Heather held the papers in his hands, his eyes glancing over the wording. “And you’re certain this is a profitable deal?” he asked. “Buying into some sheep farm on the south side of the Burdekin River?”
“It’s the perfect environment for raising the beasts in, and the meat is well sought after across the entire area. We’ll make a fortune.”
Albert nodded. “So you’ve said, but I will still need a couple of days to think this over and make sure we have all the facts right. In the meantime, if you need anything, just come to my house and pay me a visit.”
Bastian raised his brow. “Your house? What about your wife?”
Albert downed the last of his drink. “She sees what I tell her to.”
Bastian reached across the table and ran his fingers along the back of the older man’s hand affectionately. “And what about now?” he asked. “Or did you only come here for business?”
Albert eyed him for a moment, and Bastian began to wonder if he would be refused. Finally, the older man smiled. “I have had our usual room at the end of the hall readied for us.”
Waiting until Albert got up from his seat, Bastian followed him upstairs and to the room. Albert had been one of the easier men to seduce and coerce into a bed, but still he hadn’t managed to get a single pound out of him...yet. Maybe after today that would finally change.
* * * *
A couple of hours later, Bastian left the molly house and made his way back to his father’s estate. He wouldn’t tell his father how he came to make such a deal, but he was sure the old man would be impressed by his keen mind to become involved in business with a man as wealthy as Albert Heather.
Dismounting from his horse at the front of the station house, he looked around at the many servants quickly moving furniture and other possessions around and loading them onto carts and drays. Bastian ran into the house and straight to his father’s study.
“It’s about time you returned,” his father yelled at him, briefly glancing up. “You can go help those servants out front load the rest of the belongings.”
“Why are they loading our furniture?” he asked, confused by the sudden sparseness of the room. “What has happened?”
The old man stopped sorting through the papers on his desk and looked up at his son. “I am bankrupt. The debt collectors will be here to repossess everything in their wake within the hour, so I’m trying to salvage what I can while I can.”
“Bankrupt? How?” he asked, stepping toward his father.
The old man’s gaze narrowed on his son. “Maybe if you showed more interest in making money rather than spending it you would understand all it takes is a few bad deals to lose everything.”
He stopped opposite his father. “And what if I told you I have just secured a deal that will fix everything?”
The old man laughed. “You are a fool if you think that, boy.”
“I’m serious,” Bastian persisted. “I have arranged to marry Amalie Fergus. Once we are wed, I will gain control of all her inheritance.”
“You’re forgetting that her father is still very much alive.”
“For now,” Bastian replied. “But he won’t live forever. I will make sure of it.”
His father shook his head. “No, I don’t want to hear such things. There have already been enough deaths.”
“If you would just let me explain,” he continued. “Amalie is now an only child with her brother dead. She will inherit everything her father owns, and after we are married, then it will all be ours to do with as we please.”
“You idiot boy!” the old man shouted. “Your engagement will only last while Amalie remains separated from Tristen Brone. Once she finds a way back to him, it stands to reason their relationship will continue. When that happens, your engagement will be annulled.”
He walked around the desk toward his father. “But that won’t happen,” he tried to assure the old man. “I’ve made sure of it. I’ve got in Michael Fergus’s ear and told him that I saw Tristen light the fire that killed Jacob and Amanda.”
His father dropped the papers he was holding on the desk and looked directly at his son. “And what happens when Tristen proves he was nothing but a victim of that fire?”
Bastian backed away. “What are you talking about? He can’t prove that.”
His father pursed his lips. “But I can. Someone saw you running from the back of the workers’ cottage just before the flames overtook the building.”
“You need to let me explain,” he tried desperately. “If you understood what I did…why I did it—”
“I know what you did!” his father cut him off. “And I want no part of it.”
He began to grow furious with his father’s constant refusal to listen to him. “Damn it, if you would only listen! I did it all for you. I heard you in the hall that night talking about losing everything because of the bad deals you did with the Fergus and Brone family. You said even the Dix family pulled out on doing business with you.”
The old man’s gaze narrowed. “And you thought killing Jacob and Amanda would fix all my financial problems? You are an idiot, boy! And it is time you paid for all the sins you have committed.”
Watching as his father reached for the whiskey bottle on the desk and poured himself a drink, Bastian knew no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn’t be able to get his father to unde
rstand. His stare studying the old man as he took a sip of his drink before stepping toward the door, Bastian realized his own father could jeopardize everything he had struggled to achieve. He couldn’t let that happen.
“I need some men up here to grab some of these boxes,” he yelled out the door.
Bastian reached into his pocket and the bottle of digitalis hidden therein. He usually kept it there for any of his lovers who proved too strong-willed to be blackmailed. Never did he think he would need it for his own father, but at that moment, he could see no other choice. Uncorking the small, glass vial, he quickly dropped several large drops into his father’s whiskey before returning the bottle to his pocket.
“I want you out of here, Bastian. Now!” his father ordered as he returned to his drink and took a large gulp. “As for your apparent business deal, I’m curious what you will tell your fiancée when she discovers you’d rather have the company of a man in your bed? I, for one, am ashamed to even call you my son.”
He raised his hand to strike his father, his anger mounting at the arrogance of the old man. When his father suddenly clutched at his chest, Bastian lowered his hand, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
“W-what have y-you done?” the old man rasped, falling to the floor, his body stiffening as he grabbed at his chest where his heart was.
Bastian stepped over the dying body of his father and walked out of the study. Though he hated to admit it, the old man had made a very good point. The only way to ensure his engagement to Amalie stayed was to make sure she would never again be lured by Tristen and back into whatever relationship they may have had. In truth, he knew little of any real association between the two other than their connection through Jacob, but what if his father was right, and there had been more between them? He would have to make sure he burned all ties they may have once had.
Pulling himself up into the saddle on his horse, he turned the animal toward Tristen’s estate and kicked it hard in the flanks. He needed to make sure today, once and for all, Tristen understood he wasn’t welcomed at Amalie’s.
Chapter 5