Riotous fear coursed through Aidan, for she knew, in his madness, he was intent on raping her! Wildly she fought against him; her scalp hurt unbearably as he tried to subdue her. Then with a frenzied effort she drew up her knee, hitting him in the groin; instantly he released her as he doubled over, his body racked in sick agony.
Aided by the light that bled through the turret door, Aidan struck a fast run for the stairs. Her hand grabbed the rail, and she rushed down the murky void, heading toward the lower level and hopefully her freedom.
Thunder clapped loudly, rattling the entire house, scaring Aidan. Lightning struck anew, flashing through the windowpanes. Its eerie light quickly died, a booming rumble replacing its blue glow. Bent on her downward flight, she rounded the landing and fled down a half-dozen steps toward the front door. She had to escape!
Suddenly she ran headlong into a sturdy form; a startled cry escaped her as a strong arm clamped itself around her waist. A scream rose to her throat, for in the blackness she crazily imagined it was George. Nearly hysterical, she struggled against the powerful hold. “Oh, God, no!” Intense light streaked from the sky outside the window, illuminating the stairs again. “Justin!” she cried in disbelief; then she instantly sobered. “I-is it really you?” she asked, fearing he was an illusion, another trick of her mind.
“Yes, sweet,” he whispered throatily. His pistol held near her waist, he crushed her tight against his pounding chest. His heart threatened to burst with joy. Thank God she’s safe, he thought; then he released her. “Apollo’s waiting outside. Let’s go.”
“Stay where you are,” George commanded from just above them. A blue glow lit the stairwell again as thunder clapped anew; in the brief flash, Justin saw a cocked pistol leveled on his wife’s back. “Put your weapon aside,” Edmonds ordered, motioning to the duke’s hand; carefully Justin crouched and laid it on the step. “Release her, Westover,” George said, satisfied his opponent no longer posed a threat to him. “Send her to me. Or she’ll be lost to us both.”
With Aidan caught between them, Justin knew he had no recourse but to do as George bade. “Go to him,” he whispered, his hands turning her, urging her upward.
“No!” Aidan cried, hesitating.
“Do as I say!” he ordered harshly, fearing that George was just crazy enough to shoot her. Once she was with Edmonds, Justin had no doubt that George would fire the pistol at him. His weapon empty, the viscount could no longer threaten Aidan with it. With luck, she might be able to break free and flee the house to the awaiting Apollo. “Go!” he repeated.
On nervous legs Aidan climbed the four steps that separated George and herself. Instantly he grabbed her and spun her around, his arm pulling her tight against him. “Farewell, Westover,” George said, aiming the pistol at Justin’s heart.
Realizing his intent, Aidan hit his arm. Powder flashed as a deafening explosion ripped through the air. She saw her husband stagger. “Justin!”
He heard his wife’s scream, then felt the sting on the outer edge of his cheek; blood trickled from the nick down to his clenched jaw. His eyes centered themselves on the shadowy George Edmonds, and with a snarl, Justin bounded up the steps after him.
Instantly fearing for his life, George shoved Aidan into the oncoming Duke of Westover. Catching her before she tumbled down the stairs, Justin pressed her against the banister, then scrambled up after the fleeing man, snagging him at the top of the stairs.
Through the shadows, Aidan watched as the two men struggled above her. Fists flew furiously; then suddenly the two combatants lost their balance. Rolling bodies, arms and legs entwined, tumbled toward her; a booted foot hit her own. With a cry, she felt herself falling; flailing arms reached out, her hand seizing the spindles supporting the smooth banister. Her bottom hit the steps twice, then stopped. A grateful sigh whispered through her lips; then she thought of Justin.
Frightened eyes caught sight of two sprawled forms at the bottom of the stairs. Which was her husband and which was her nemesis, she could not tell. Then, while she watched, one man slowly struggled to his knees. Fearing it was George, Aidan reached for the discarded weapon lying at her feet, and pointed it at the man.
“Justin?” she asked, but received no answer. “Answer me!” she cried as she cocked the pistol. Unsteady hands aimed the weapon at the man as he loomed upward, coming to his feet. “I’ll shoot if you don’t!”
“About now, madam, I wish you would. It should put me out of my misery.”
Hearing his familiar voice, Aidan lowered the pistol and flew down the stairs. “Dear God! Are you all right?”
“I will be,” Justin replied, taking the pistol and uncocking it, to lay it aside. Then he stooped down beside George. As he gazed at the motionless man, lightning flashed, its eerie glow exposing a gruesome sight. Justin came to his feet and sheltered Aidan from its ugliness. “He still lives, but he’s broken his neck. I think his windpipe is crushed.” Aidan tried to look around him, but Justin stopped her. “No, you don’t need to see him. Take yourself into the other room. I’ll call you when it’s over.”
Before Aidan could move, a strangled gasp gurgled from George’s throat, drawing the couple’s attention. Then, as the life drained from the man’s body, blue fire lit the stairwell again, revealing Lord Edmonds’ face—a hideous face that was swollen and appeared black as night.
Aidan quickly turned away. George had received what he’d meant for Justin. Realizing how close her husband had come to meeting a similar end, Aidan suddenly went weak. “Take me away from here,” she pleaded, a sob rising within her chest.
“The storm—it’s not safe.”
“Please, Justin! I can’t bear another minute in this horrid place.”
Feeling her fear, Justin knew he had to get her away from Moorsfield. Quickly he led her into what he supposed was the sitting room. Easing her down into a chair, he strode to the window and detached the ties from the draperies. With a quick jerk, he ripped one free of its anchors; years of dust showered the air. “Stay here,” he ordered Aidan, then strode into the hallway and covered George’s lifeless body. Upon his returne, he pulled the second drapery free. “The rains have begun. We’ll use this for cover.”
“Where are we going?” Aidan asked, coming to her feet.
“There’s a stable out back. That’s as far as I’m willing to take you in this storm.”
“So long as it’s away from the house,” she said, moving alongside her husband to the front door.
Justin draped the heavy brocade over them. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
At a twist of Justin’s wrist, the door flew open and the pelting rains blew in; with a burst of speed, the couple headed toward the stable, their way marked by a barrage of lightning. Once inside, Justin told Aidan he’d be back shortly; then he headed out into the downpour for Apollo. After what seemed an eternity, he finally returned.
Striking a flint, Justin lit several candles he’d procured from the house and placed them in their holders. As Aidan set them around on some high, level boards, brightening the interior of the building, Justin led a skittish Apollo to a distant stall. With the stallion attended to, he returned to the spot where his wife stood, a large leather bag, along with several quilts, tucked under one arm.
“What’s all this?” she asked, her curious gaze climbing to her husband’s handsome face. “You’re bleeding!” she cried, just now noting the deep scratch high on his right cheekbone. “Let me have a look.”
Justin caught her hand as it rose toward his face. “In a moment, sweet. First, let’s make some comfort for ourselves.”
Within minutes he’d mucked out a stall, then spread a fresh blanket of hay, whereupon he placed the quilts he’d taken from the house. Although they were a bit damp, he believed they would afford Aidan more comfort than the straw alone. Strangely, as he worked, he felt himself overpowered by a sense of awkwardness. Never had he been stricken with the inability to vocalize his thoughts, especially to a woman.
How could he explain his feelings to her, beg her forgiveness, and confess his love when the ghosts from his past stood between them? Somehow he had to purge himself of the anguish, the contempt, the distrust, and the hatred he’d borne inside him all these years. Because of those dark feelings, Aidan had suffered. So had he. Through it all, hers was a heart so innocent. Now it was time he set himself free of the encumbrances that had kept them apart.
Aidan’s teeth edged themselves along her lower lip as she watched Justin smooth the covers over the straw. One moment he’d seemed glad to see her, hold her in his arms; the next, he’d become cool, pensive, a deep frown marking his brow. He’d been given his chance to be rid of her, but he hadn’t taken it. Perhaps now he wished he had.
“Sweet,” he said, looking up at her from where he rested on bent knees. “Welcome to your new abode.”
In the dim candlelight, Aidan gazed at his outstretched hand, then slowly made her way toward him. She drew a steadying breath as her trembling hand slid over his roughened palm; gently his warm fingers wrapped themselves around hers in a reassuring embrace. Aidan lowered herself to the blanket.
Justin’s silvery eyes ran over her face, then dropped to her torn bodice. Riotous anger filled him when he noticed the fingerlike bruises marking the top of one breast. His hard gaze snapped to her face. “Did he insinuate himself upon you, madam?”
Although her husband’s accusing anger was actually centered on her abductor, Aidan felt certain he was charging her with precipitating the attack. “No!” she cried. “H-he tried, but I managed to get free of him. I was fleeing him when I ran into you. I swear I didn’t do anything to provoke it. I—”
“Hush, sweet,” Justin said, realizing the harsh tone of his words had given Aidan cause to believe he was indicting her for something she could not control. He drew her close in order to comfort her. “My anger is with Edmonds, not you, love. And with myself,” he confessed. “I’d feared that he’d hurt you more than he had. The thought of him forcing himself on you …God! I couldn’t repress the fury I felt, knowing it would have been my fault.”
“Your fault?”
“Yes, Aidan—my fault. Stupidly I sent you away from me. I put you in danger. All because of my pride.” A low curse hissed through his lips as he raked his hand through his hair; then he vented his anger on himself. “Damn my pride!”
Aidan couldn’t help but smile up at him; her violet eyes twinkled in the candlelight. “I believe we are in mutual agreement on that particular subject, sir.” Justin’s brow arched in question. “I’ve cursed my own several times.”
“Indeed, madam. We appear to be perfectly matched in that area.” He bestowed a knowing look on her. “And in several others as well.”
Realizing he referred to their insatiable desire for one another, Aidan blushed; instantly her stomach grumbled.
Justin’s eyes widened; then he chuckled. “Hungry?” he inquired.
“Extremely,” she replied, then decided not to tell him of George’s method of torture. Justin already blamed himself for the ordeal she had been made to suffer. When things were right with them, she would share those hours of torment. “Thirsty, too,” she added.
Justin drew the leather bag to him, then removed the cloth-wrapped fare inside. A flask of water followed. Greedily Aidan ate her fill, washing it down freely with the water. “I hadn’t realized I’d married such a glutton,” Justin commented, a smile teasing his lips.
Her stomach sated, she smiled up at him. “I missed Cook’s delicious cakes, that’s all.”
Surveying her with a critical eye, Justin noted she seemed thinner than when he’d last seen her. This time he controlled his anger. “He tried to starve you into submission, didn’t he?”
Aidan looked away. “Yes,” she admitted in a soft voice. “I’d rather have died than let him touch me. Why did he change? He seemed so very much the gentleman. Did I do this to him?” she asked in a pained voice.
Feeling his heart lurch, Justin slipped his arm around her shoulders and held her fast. “He had much misery in his life, sweet. His father’s cruelty was the greatest cause of what he suffered. The changes in him came through that. I’m certain of it.”
“The earl—what will happen when he learns his son is dead.”
Remembering the grisly sight he’d discovered upon returning to the house, Justin swallowed hard in an attempt to keep the bile from surging into his throat. As he’d searched the upstairs hallways, looking for candles and whatever else he thought he might need for the night, he’d been drawn by a putrid odor, which resembled decaying flesh. Finding the door he was certain the rancid smell lay behind, he’d pushed it open. Therein lay the earl, tucked neatly into his bed, his head bludgeoned.
When the man had returned from India, Justin had been unable to say. Yet noting the severity of rot, he’d estimated the earl had been dead well over two months. Quickly he’d fled the foul-smelling room, fearing he’d vomit. Then, upon finding what he thought was George’s room, he’d discovered an open cask filled with gold. Seeing it, Justin had instantly understood the viscount’s recent show of wealth, the sporty new phaeton one of George’s ill-gotten treasures.
“Don’t worry about the earl,” he said finally, refusing to share what he’d found with her. “Just know that what changed George was not of your making. As I said, much of what he was at the end resulted from what happened before he met you.” He paused and drew a deep breath. “And much of what I am, Aidan, is the result of my past as well.”
Confused violet eyes stared up at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean my actions toward you have a cause. There are things I must share with you. Things that I’ve kept hidden inside me for a very long time. Aunt Patti accused me of having become jaded, cynical, and coldhearted. I’ve been all three where you are concerned. Although I’ve always wanted you, Aidan, I purposely tried to reject you.”
“Why?” she asked, her eyes searching his.
“Because I was afraid of you—of us. Of what might happen if I …cared too deeply,” he said, unable to express the true word for what he actually felt. “But stupidly, I kept trying to deny the obvious.”
Aidan felt her heart soar. “Then you do care for me?” she asked. Why couldn’t he say the word “love” the way it was meant to be said? He called her by the endearment all the time.
He smiled tenderly. “I do care, deeply, and have done so since the moment I first saw you. But I wouldn’t allow myself to believe what my heart said was true. I refused to make myself admit it. I suppose there was too much hatred and distrust built up inside me, all because of my parents.”
“You hated your parents?” she asked uncomprehendingly.
“I hated what they’d done to one another, what they’d done to me by way of it. Seeing how they treated each other, I found myself unable to believe in marriage, in the bond of love. Theirs was a travesty.”
“Tell me what happened,” she said, her soft hand caressing his face, taking care not to touch his wound. “If you share it, the pain you’ve suffered may finally leave you. I love you, Justin,” she confessed, her voice showing the strength of her commitment. “I’m not afraid to say it. If you share your uncertainties, then maybe you won’t be afraid of saying it either.”
His tormented gaze traveled her face; then after a long moment he began to speak of his parents. He told her of their obsessions, their jealousies, their inability to remain faithful to one another. Then he told her of the day he’d found them in the meadow, explaining how he’d made their deaths appear as though they’d both been murdered by thieves, hoping to protect their names.
“Although others suspected the truth, Aunt Patti was the only one who actually knew what had happened. She’d just recently lost her son and daughter-in-law from cholera. She had no one else, so she came to Warfield Manor to stay with me. At eighteen, I suppose she still thought I needed a guardian.”
“And did you?” Aidan teased, her brow ri
sing.
“Indeed I did,” he admitted, a grin settling on his face. “Had it not been for her censuring attacks on my sudden lack of proper conduct, I’d most likely be dead by now from an overindulgence of wine and women.” He noted her brow rise higher. “Aidan, there were women in my past, but not as many as you might think. I allowed everyone to believe I was a rake. It was my way of protecting myself, keeping young women, much like yourself, away. The few with whom I was intimate knew the rules. Love was never involved, only physical gratification. Believe me, I was far worse in my impetuous youth than in more recent years. The dowager marchioness managed to curb most of the baser side of my character in short order.”
“How so?” Aidan asked.
“All it took was several angry whacks of her cane across my backside, and I quickly learned to behave myself.” Justin noted her skeptical look. “The rest, love, was accomplished by you. Ever since we met, I’ve been on my best behavior.” Her gaze instantly dropped from his. “What’s wrong, sweet?” he asked, tipping her chin upward to meet his gaze.
Aidan sighed and looked him in the eye. “After you exiled me to Warfield Manor, I’d heard you were seeing Cynthia Danvers again.”
“Seeing was all I was doing, love. Although to all outward appearances my actions may have stated otherwise, I’ve been faithful to you, Aidan. I promise you I have.”
After carefully searching his eyes, Aidan believed him. “Perhaps, sir, you remained so because you feared Aunt Patti’s cane,” she teased with mock severity.
“Perhaps,” he said with a smile, “but I think it’s because no one else appealed to me except you.”
“I’ve heard love does that to people.”
He looked away. “Love does other things as well.”
She heard the cynicism in his voice. “Justin, do you believe our marriage will be like your parents’?”
“I can’t help but be afraid it will end up the same way.” He looked to her again. “Aidan, I’ve never felt jealousy until I met you. I’ve never been angered enough to kill someone until I met you. Lately, all I have been able to think about is how much I want you, how much I need you—you’ve become an obsession with me. In myself, I see my own father, and I fear what might happen to us.”
A Heart So Innocent Page 35