“I have need of the chamber pot,” she announced in imperious tones.
He squinted at her, one hand on his pistol. “‘Tis likely under the bed, ye haughty bitch. I’m not yer servant to be fetchin’ it for ye.”
“You blithering fool,” she replied in her most arrogant voice. “I know where to find the chamber pot. But ‘tis full. I need you to empty it out.”
Scroggins hitched up his breeches. “Just dump it out the window.”
She looked down her nose at him. “I am certain that is what’s done at the flea-infested inns that you frequent, you ignorant little toad. But we of the gentry conduct ourselves with more decorum. I wish to have this emptied properly at once!”
Scroggins stepped forward, pulling the pistol from his belt. “Don’t be takin’ that tone with me, wench. It wouldn’t take much to convince me to put a ball in that pretty head o’ yers.”
“All I ask is that the chamber pot be emptied,” she insisted. “If you do not believe it is full, then come see for yourself.”
Scroggins hesitated. “You bring it to me.”
She gave an exaggerated shudder. “I will not. Suppose I spilled something on my gown?”
The seaman muttered an unfavorable remark about females and waved the pistol. “Pick it up.”
Diana made a face and picked up the chamber pot, holding it out for his inspection. The contents sloshed loud enough for him to hear. “See? ‘Tis almost full to the brim.”
Scroggins snorted and came forward, shoving his pistol in his belt. He grunted something about playing lady’s maid and reached for the pot.
An instant before he would have taken the thing from her, Diana tossed the contents right in his face. His angry bellow of surprise died a sudden death as she shoved the chamber pot in his face. He shoved it aside, wiping one hand across his eyes and clawing for his pistol with the other. Diana grabbed the small stool used for climbing into the huge bed and swung it at his head. The stool connected with a sickening thunk. Scroggins dropped to the floor, unmoving.
Diana stood panting for a moment, checking to be sure that he was indeed unconscious. She put down the stool. The wretched man did not even flinch. She stepped over his inert form and fled the room.
She started running down the hallway, then forced herself to slow to a walk. No need to alert Marcus or Chilton that something was wrong by running! Keeping close to the wall, she crept down the elaborate staircase. She reached the bottom with no incident and darted to the front door. Raised voices made her freeze with her hand inches from the doorknob.
“What do you mean, you will have her now? Damn it, Simon! You said after the wedding!”
Diana followed the sounds of the argument to the library. One majestic oak door stood open, and the other was closed. She pressed herself against the one that was shut and listened. The first voice had been Chilton’s. But who was Simon?
“I told you not to call me that.” She shivered as the bell-like tones of the familiar voice carried clearly. “I am Marcus now.”
“You can call yourself whatever you like,” came Chilton’s agitated response. “But you are still Simon Chandler. You will be Simon Chandler until the day you die, and nothing will change that!”
There was a chilling pause before Marcus spoke again. “You dare much, Peter. Does the wench mean that much to you then?”
“I have worked to have Diana Covington and her fortune since the first day I saw her. I will not let you ruin this for me.”
“That is the second time you have called me by that name,” Marcus drawled. “Should you utter it a third time, I shall have to kill you.”
Diana could hear the promise in Marcus’s words, but Chilton seemed deaf to it.
“More threats? You have tormented me since we were children, Simon. And why? Because I am the legitimate heir to the estate, and you are nothing but one of father’s by-blows!”
Dimly Diana registered the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath, but she was too amazed by what she had just heard to pay it much attention. Chilton and Marcus were brothers! Now she knew how the two had come into partnership in the first place.
Chilton’s voice drew her attention back to the conversation.
“Now, now, put the sword away. You wish me to call you Marcus? Fine, I shall call you that.” The hiss of the blade being replaced in its sheath told her that Marcus had been placated.
“Very wise of you, Peter.”
Diana silently agreed.
“If you wish to be called Marcus, then I shall address you as such. But do not think I don’t know where you got the name, brother. Marcus. Markham. A play on words, eh? But you will never be a true Markham.”
“I should have drowned you as an infant,” Marcus sneered. “I would be more of a credit to the Markham name than a cowardly weakling like you.”
“Killing me would do you no good,” Chilton reminded him. “You were born on the wrong side of the blanket. You can never inherit.”
“One never knows. Stranger things have happened.”
“Can you not be satisfied with what you have?” Chilton whined. “You are rich beyond your wildest hopes. You stand to gain half of Diana’s dowry once she becomes my wife. You even get the pleasure of bedding her first on our wedding night! What more do you want?”
Diana jolted as the words rang in her head. Chilton planned to give her to Marcus on their wedding night? What kind of man was he? Not that such a marriage would ever occur, but what manner of man shared his wife with his brother?
She had to escape. Now.
She whirled away from the library doors. Her hip struck a table. The Chinese vase that stood upon it wobbled. She reached for it, but it brushed past her fingers and crashed to the floor. She streaked for the door.
“What was that?” Chilton cried. The two men ran out into the hallway.
“Stop the bitch!” Marcus shouted.
Their booted feet thundered behind her as she raced through the foyer. She jerked open the door. A large, male hand reached over her shoulder and slammed it shut again. She glanced back at her pursuer.
“Going somewhere?” Marcus asked.
To the death. Alex leaned over the horse’s neck, urging the animal on. No more games. Gone was the adventure, the thrill of besting one’s enemy in a battle of wits. This time Marcus would die.
A false calm settled over him, masking the roiling emotions that devastated his control. Once this had been about avenging William’s death. But William was gone, and nothing would bring him back. All that mattered was Diana.
From the very first, Alex had been attracted to Diana’s vitality. He, who had so long been obsessed with death, was drawn to the warmth and vivacity that she imbued. And now Marcus threatened to snuff out her life’s flame. The world would be so very dark without Diana.
Whatever the cost, Diana must live.
He smiled sardonically as Chilton’s estate came into view. Perhaps this was the way it had been fated all along. How many battles had he fought with Marcus, how many men had they sent to their deaths…all to bring them to this moment.
Marcus would die this day. Of that Alex was sure. And Diana would live. As he approached the confrontation, Alex knew without a doubt that he would gladly take a killing blow to land a killing blow. Though he wanted to live and spend the rest of his days with Diana, he knew it might not be possible. If his death proved to be the sacrifice that ensured Diana’s survival of this peril, then so be it.
He might die today. He was ready for it. But if he did die, he would take Marcus with him to Hell.
Marcus laughed and grabbed Diana’s arm, roughly dragging her down the hallway. “Come, my dove.”
Chilton stood near the library doors, worry etched on his thin face. Marcus shoved Diana into the room with a hand between her shoulder blades. Snarling, she whirled around with her fist raised. Marcus caught her hand before it struck his face. In a lightning quick move, he seized both her wrists and pinned them behind her back.
“I love a woman with spirit,” he declared, amusement heavy in his voice.
“What shall we do now?” Chilton followed them into the room, twisting his fingers together. He looked to Marcus for guidance.
“Commence with the wedding, of course.”
“You are mad if you believe I would consent to marry him!” Diana snapped.
“Do you hear that? She refuses! Now what?”
Marcus applied more pressure to his grip, twisting her arms even more. “She will agree. Or she will die.”
“Then I will die,” she vowed, wincing at the pain.
Marcus chuckled at her response. “I believe she finds you unattractive, brother! Perhaps she prefers a real man in her bed.” He squeezed one of her buttocks, laughing as she squirmed away from his touch.
“Stop!” Chilton yelped. “The wedding must come first!”
Marcus turned his predatory gaze on Chilton. “Cease your squawking, Peter. You remember our agreement. I get first turn on the wench. You can have what is left.” He chuckled. “I doubt you could handle much more than that.”
Chilton flushed and clenched his hands together so tightly that his knuckles showed white. “But it was supposed to be after the wedding! You are going back on your word, Simon!”
Releasing Diana’s wrists, Marcus shot out his hand and grabbed Chilton by the throat. “I warned you about calling me that, Peter.”
“S-sorry,” Chilton rasped. “I am overset.”
“I can see that.” Marcus shoved him away.
Chilton fingered his throat. “Ever since we were children, I have called you Simon. You cannot expect the habits of a lifetime—”
“Enough.” Marcus turned his back in dismissal. “And as for you, my dear…” He grabbed Diana as she tried to slip toward the terrace doors. “You cannot mean to leave so soon.”
Diana looked down at the fingers locked around her wrist, then raised her eyes. “Apparently not.”
He chuckled and stroked his palm over her cheek. “I have a mind to sample your charms…immediately.”
Chilton found his voice. “But she is to be my bride!”
“The plan has changed.” Marcus pulled Diana against his body. Clamping his arm around her waist, he insinuated one thigh between her legs and slowly wound her hair around his hand. “Do you really want such a one as she for your wife, Peter? Is your greed for her gold so great that you would accept a soiled bride?”
“What do you mean ‘soiled bride’? She is the granddaughter of a duke!”
“And the whore of my enemy.” Marcus yanked her head back so that she looked directly into his piercing green eyes. “Tell me, bitch, how does that hellspawn El Moreno perform in bed? Does he plow you well as a man should? Or can he do the deed at all?”
“He is more of a man than you can ever hope to be,” she said with biting certainty.
“Do you think so?” He gave her a cold, savage smile. “Allow me to change your opinion.” He crushed his mouth to hers in a brutal kiss, scraping his teeth over her tender lips and drawing blood. Then he released her.
Her mouth throbbing, she glared at him. “If I had a sword, I would run it through your black heart,” she declared passionately.
“Fight me,” he dared her, staring into her eyes. “Do it.”
Chilton tugged on Marcus’s shoulder. “Stop this, do you understand? You get her after the wedding!”
Marcus shrugged him off and glared. “What difference does it make if I take her before or after the vows are said?”
“But she is to be my wife! Mine!”
Marcus narrowed his eyes. “So, I begin to see. You never had any intention of living up to your end of the bargain, did you, brother?” He shoved Diana aside.
She stumbled and grabbed a chair to stop herself from falling. Sensitive to the tension in the room, she inched toward the terrace as she watched the two men circle each other.
“Of course I meant to keep our bargain!” Chilton backed away as Marcus stalked him. “But she was to marry me first. You promised!”
Marcus grabbed his brother by the front of his coat. “Dare you betray me, Peter?”
“N-no! Of course not! Never!” Chilton’s voice trembled, and he glanced at Diana as she edged toward the terrace doors. His eyes held a plea, whether for aid or forgiveness she did not know.
“You lie!” Marcus roared. “Your lust for the wench has made you foolish. That you would turn on me…” The pirate released him, raking his contemptuous gaze over his brother as Chilton stumbled to regain his footing.
“B-but Simon! I did not betray you!”
Marcus whirled Chilton around, hooked an arm around his neck and jerked the nobleman back against him.
“I warned you not to call me that, brother.” Drawing his blade, he slit Chilton’s throat with one efficient stroke.
Her hand on the door latch, Diana watched with horror as blood spurted from the wound, raining on the carpet and splattering the papers on the desk. Wet, gurgling sounds came from Chilton as he thrashed in Marcus’s arms. With a horrible choking sound, his struggle ceased.
Marcus let Chilton’s limp body crumple to the floor. Bending, he wiped his dagger clean on his brother’s expensive silk coat. When he straightened, he pinned her with his merciless stare.
“You are next.”
His visible pleasure at the prospect sent her whirling to unlatch the doors. Her trembling fingers refused to obey her. A sob caught in her throat as she rattled the door handle in frustration.
A hand clamped down on her shoulder. She shrieked as Marcus spun her to face him.
“Too late,” he smirked.
“No, Marcus,” came another voice. “‘Tis too late for you!”
Diana’s heart soared. Alex! She met his gaze over Marcus’s shoulder, smiling tremulously to show him she was all right. Marcus turned to face his nemesis, keeping Diana behind him.
“El Moreno,” he hissed. “At last.”
Alex allowed himself one glance at Diana. Once assured of her safety, he kept his gaze fixed on his enemy. Marcus was a master at escaping tight situations.
“You are finished, Marcus,” he said. He aimed the pistol at the other man’s heart. “If you step away from Diana right now, you may yet live to walk from this room.”
“So concerned for your whore?” Marcus sneered. “How touching.”
“Move away from her, Marcus.”
“As you will.” Marcus stepped to the side, then yanked Diana in front of him as a human shield. He drew his dagger and held it to her throat. “Go ahead,” he taunted. “Fire.” He rested his chin atop Diana’s head and smirked. “But you might miss and hit your lady love.”
Alex tightened his fingers around the pistol to stop the uncharacteristic trembling. He longed to put a ball in Marcus’s black heart. Then all of them would be free. But he could not risk Diana.
He glanced at her. She looked back, wide-eyed with fear, but said nothing. Didn’t cry. Didn’t beg. She simply watched him with complete trust and total love. Her faith in him almost cracked the fragile restraint that held back his uncontrolled emotions.
“Put the pistol on the floor and step back from it,” Marcus instructed. “The sword as well.”
Alex complied. He never took his eyes from his enemy.
“Very good. I had not credited you with such intelligence.”
Anger flared. Alex tamped it down. If he let loose the rage, then none of them would survive this. “Let her go, Marcus, and I will let you live.”
“Brave words from an unarmed man!” Marcus laughed and tightened his arm about Diana’s waist. “I do not take kindly to threats, as dear Peter discovered to his misfortune.”
Alex glanced at Chilton’s body. “He is dead then?”
“Quite.”
“One less neck to stretch on the public gibbet. Morgan will not be pleased. Of course there is still you to entertain the crowd, Marcus.” Alex tried to inject sarcasm into his voice, but all he c
ould think about was the blade at Diana’s throat.
“I have no intention of dancing at the end of a rope, and certainly not for Morgan’s amusement,” Marcus sneered.
“A pity. I had thought to enjoy the sight myself.” Alex took a step forward.
“The only sight you will enjoy is that of your doxy’s demise should you move again.” Marcus lifted Diana’s chin and caressed her bared throat with his blade.
Alex halted. He glanced at Diana. She gave him a tremulous smile. Then her eyes widened in alarm.
A foul stench alerted him to danger. He spun aside just in time to avoid the blade intended for his back. With a sweep of his arm, he sent the dagger flying from his assailant’s fingers.
“Ye’ve the luck of the devil!” Scroggins cursed. He aimed a fist at Alex’s midsection.
Alex blocked the punch and countered with a powerful stroke to the jaw. With nary a blink the wiry seaman came back with a series of vicious blows. Behind him, Alex heard the terrace doors crash open. He kicked Scroggins in the kidneys and whirled to see Marcus drag Diana out of the house.
“Diana!” he roared. Madness shattered his brittle control. Rage flared like a flame.
Scroggins leaped on Alex’s back and locked his arms tightly around his throat. Alex slammed his elbow backwards into the man’s midsection. The henchman lost his grip and fell, but leaped to his feet. Alex turned to face him. He rained blow upon blow upon the seaman, aware that every second brought Marcus closer to a successful escape—with Diana.
A clatter of footsteps echoed in the hall. Morgan burst into the library, followed by Frederick and a patrol of soldiers.
“Ho there, Alex!” Morgan called.
“Morgan!” With a mighty strike, Alex sent Scroggins stumbling backwards. The henchman landed in the arms of Sir Henry Morgan.
“Where is my daughter?” Frederick demanded.
Alex scooped up his sword and pistol. He ran for the doors to the terrace. “With Marcus. But they will not get far.”
Morgan shoved Scroggins into the arms of one of his soldiers. “Wait! We—”
Once a Mistress Page 24