by Laura Hogg
"I don't like those things, Nora,” she muttered.
Honora turned and followed her mother into the parlor.
The Viscount thanked the members of her family for a charming dinner, took Relief by the arm, and led her to a small room connected to the other side of the dining room.
She watched him as he considered her with concerned eyes.
At length, he spoke. “If I see a black, hooded cloak, I will blow a hole right through it. It will be very much the worse for him to come anywhere near you."
She gasped.
He reached a hand and grasped hers. “Relief, I saw the worry in your face all throughout dinner, and I know what troubles you."
"But—"
He held up a hand. “There are no ‘buts’ about it."
She sighed and nodded. He was determined.
"It's unfortunate for him that he clothes himself in that ostentatious garment. He's dramatic to be sure."
The Viscount continued as if she had not said a word. “Better yet, I will do it with my own hands at the fighting competition. He's mine, Relief."
"I want the pleasure."
"Never going to happen."
"You would steal my pleasure from me?"
"Oh, I will more than make up for it, over and over again.” He grinned mischievously.
She shivered. He pressed her into a hot kiss that made her knees buckle.
"Benjamin,” she sighed and pulled him down onto a firm, narrow couch. She lay back, and he leaned over her, his gaze intense. She touched his face with a quivering, tentative touch.
He brushed soft kisses behind her ear, down her neck, across her shoulders, whispering his love with every touch of his lips. Her heart thundered against her chest, his closeness bracing. She reached and untied the ribbon that held his hair into a queue. He smiled, and she laced her fingers through his hair, gripping, and pulling him into the kind of kiss she had witnessed many times between ardent couples making love on the backstreets.
He pressed into her, moaning, then stopped suddenly and backed away, grinning like a devil and touching her nose playfully.
"Number six. You're six away from my wickedest fantasies, woman. I am going to ravish you senseless.” He reached for the fallen ribbon, raked his fingers through his hair, stood up, and tied his locks back as they were.
Her blood surging through her veins, she inhaled to recapture her breath and spoke with sad regret as she stood up, tall, determined. “N-n-n ... no. I can never let that happen."
He knit his brows together pressing against her and breathed into her ear. “Do you realize how intense will be your satisfaction at my hands? Do you have any idea whatsoever what I am going to make you feel?"
She trembled. “I ... I ... imagine great physical pleasure."
"I was talking about your heart, Relief,” he said in a hushed voice.
She swallowed hard. He touched her shoulder and squeezed it in affirmation. “Believe in me, my love. Believe in us."
* * * *
The following evening, Relief was in her chambers alone, undressing for bed when she was attacked from behind. Dropping her body, she spun around and shoved her palm with concentrated power into her opponent's gut, not wanting to kill him, but only render him stunned. He growled and went to her and returned the same type of hit. She fell back, dazed. Her assailant pressed her against the wall by her bed. Her head hit the wall, making her light-headed. He knees nearly gave out. She slid down the wall a few inches. He grabbed her neck and squeezed to hold her in place, but not hard enough to kill her. She could still manage tiny gasps of air.
"This brings back memories.” He loosened his grip a tiny bit, but she didn't move. Her hands pressed against the wall behind her.
She blinked back the sting of tears, recalling the dear old man who had taught her to be a world-class fighter, the man who had believed in her ability and promise-despite her gender. She missed him, and his gentle wisdom.
"All I need to defeat you is a wall! You are too skilled for a woman. You never should have been taught this ancient art. That old man had to be punished for such a crime."
She shuddered with hatred, looking up into this murderer's dark, merciless eyes.
"Now I will rid the world of this embarrassment."
At first, this drew a pause from her.
Perhaps you are right. I am a woman. What right do I have to practice this art?
Then the faces of all the people of the streets she had saved washed over her mind.
No, it's right that I do what I do. People count on me.
"I hope I have sufficiently tormented you over the past year?"
It wasn't her life she saw flash before her eyes. It was her love. She imagined her family finding her cold, dead body lying on the floor. She imagined Lord Cheltham's terrible reaction to the news, and it broke her heart. He would go crazy.
The thought of never seeing him again brought tears to her eyes. Then the flickering light of the candle caused her to look at her pillow. Her pistol. Honora had placed it under her pillow as an extra precaution. She had been somewhat secretive about how she attained it after the shooting, but Relief had suspected that she borrowed it. Her sister was way too clever a girl at times. Relief reached her hand out in a flash and slid it over the cool sheets, under the pillow. She thanked God silently when her fingers found the cold metal. She gripped the weapon and swung her hand around, pressing the tip of the pistol into her attacker's abdomen. He looked down at it and grinned.
"Are you going to shoot me?"
"I have no choice."
"I will give you one."
"What?"
"I have a partner, Relief. If I do not report back to him tonight, my partner will go after your fiancé and kill him within an hour."
Shivering, she met his gaze straight-on. Underneath the black hooded cape that he always wore, mocking eyes stared at her. His pale face was framed with short black hair, his features Chinese.
"I hate you, Relief, even more than I hated your teacher. And you had the audacity to survive the shooting, so now I will play with you. Fight me again, in front of your fiancé, in or out of your disguise. If you want your Viscount to live, you will perish at my hands when we fight. I crave feeling the life drain from you underneath my grip, but you are a far better fighter than I ever imagined. You have the possibility of—"
She gulped, knowing what she had to do.
"I find myself enjoying the thought of killing you in front of your intended. It adds to the drama,” he said in cheerful tones.
"You're insane. You're always so happy before killing. You smiled when you killed my fighting master. You make me sick."
He smirked. “So, you can spill my blood all over your floor now. You do not want to do that, do you, Relief? You hate the thought of that, after what you saw. Do you want the Viscount dead?"
Tears ran down her cheeks.
"No. Swear on your honor that you will let him live if I give you my life."
"On the honor of the ancient art that we both practice. He will likely attack me. I will just knock him senseless and then leave the country. After all, he means nothing to me, except in regards of how I can use him to finish you off."
She nodded slowly.
"Consider how romantic it will be as you die for him. Ha! At least I will allow you to be looking into his face as you take your last breath. That manner of demonstrating true love is not likely to befall you again."
She lifted the gun and gestured toward the door.
"Not without your leave."
"Go,” she breathed out, devastated.
He ran from her sight, and saluted her, this time with respect, as a colleague with the same level of skill he had. She closed her eyes and slid down the wall, sobbing silently.
The Viscount called upon her that morning greeting her warmly.
"My true love, our wedding day approaches.” Then he frowned. “Oh my God, Relief, you've been crying!” He went to touch her cheek.
>
She muttered somewhat incoherently, “Raphael, Mr. Taylor, was able to ward him off."
"What?” he snapped. “Dear God, Relief, what happened? He attacked you again!” He grabbed her arms.
She looked into the distance at an indistinct mark.
"Relief!"
"I ... er ... I..."
He pulled her into a hug. “Oh my darling, you look terrified. Oh, my darling Relief!” He squeezed her.
"I'm staying in your guest house."
"That would not be appropriate."
"I will do so secretly, not openly."
She nodded, numbly. “Raphael has to fight him."
"No."
"Yes. I will tell Raphael to keep him alive so that you can fight him next if that will suit your pleasure. Do not fear for Raphy. It will be fine."
Late that night, she slowly prepared for bed, looking around the dimly lit room often. She lay down and closed her eyes. She heard a noise, reached for her pistol and found herself holding it into the gut of her fiancé. She let out a deep breath.
"Benjamin, what are you doing here? This is scandalous."
She lowered the gun, frowning, surprised to hear herself say that considering that she had already tried to seduce him a couple of times. He chose not to acknowledge her past slip of conduct by reminding her of that.
"I am not here to seduce you, as badly as I want to be in your bed, giving you the pleasure that I promise you will receive at my hands."
"You are here to look over me."
"Yes."
"Every night then?"
"Yes."
"This is not appropriate."
"We will be man and wife very soon,” he beamed, obviously remembering her in her silky chemise trying to convince him to make love to her.
She nodded in resignation and lay back with the gun in her hand. He lay down next to her and draped his arm around her body.
After several quiet moments, her eyes were closed; she was resting peacefully. In fact, she felt much safer with him there, and he must have felt the tension leave her body. It would have warmed his heart. He whispered into her ear.
"I love you so much, Relief."
In the morning, she woke first. She stared into his face and whispered, “I love you, Benjamin."
His eyes popped open. He sat up straight and looked at her.
"I have experienced this before."
She looked down and blushed. “That is not possible. We have never slept side-by-side before. I have never woken up next to you before."
He gave her a long, scrutinizing look.
"What are you pondering, Benjamin?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
A shiver of worry coursed her body.
Eighteen
The day was beautiful-sunny, with the bluest of skies. They stood before the altar.
She pressed one hand to her side, over the material of her stunning silver wedding gown, to still her trembling. He was so striking in his embroidered silk and satin suit, white with silver lining, that her breath caught. And her love for him-it was agony.
Her rational mind protested her situation, while her heart screamed with joy. It was doing back-flips. She literally imagined herself dressed as Raphael running and jumping through the air, cheering and laughing with joy. A giggle spilled from her lips. She placed her fingertips over them, and then let her hand fall back to her side.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God...” the minister began.
Lord Cheltham smiled, and Relief's throat constricted as she tried to swallow her tears.
It's really happening, she thought.
"Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife..."
She felt as if she would swoon. He was looking at her in a way to release her heart and soul.
"I will,” he swore.
His subdued words were laced with the promise that he would undertake any journey to the top of any mountain or to the bottom of any sea to be her hero.
"Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband ... so long as ye both shall live?"
"Oh my God, yes."
Several people burst into soft laughter. His face shone with joy.
"Er, I mean, I will."
An expression of delight colored his expression.
"Who giveth this woman..."
Relief's father handed her over to her groom. Lord Cheltham took her right hand in his.
"I, Benjamin Wright, Lord Cheltham, take thee Relief Moore to my wedded wife..."
They let go. She took his hand now and spoke after the minister.
"I, Relief Moore, take thee Benjamin Wright, Lord Cheltham, to my wedded husband..."
He took out a ring and placed it on the holy book in the minister's hand. The minister picked it up and gave it back to him. He gently took Relief's hand and slid the ring on her finger as he spoke.
"With this ring I thee wed..."
She looked into his eyes and saw moistness gleaming in them. It put her over the edge. Tears poured from her eyes.
"Oh Benjamin,” she whispered.
They kneeled down to pray together. The minister then joined their hands together.
"I pronounce you man and wife."
Relief closed her eyes, feeling very near to fainting.
Yes, she thought. This is worth an early death.
The minister gave them a blessing and read out of the bible. They received Holy Communion. Benjamin looked into her eyes for an extended moment, speechless, but she knew exactly what he was thinking because she was thinking it, too. She would die for him. In fact, she was going to.
Honora approached them with a huge smile on her face.
"Now I will not get my ten thousand guineas.” She shrugged. “Oh well, I will just have to find my personal wealth elsewhere,” She giggled.
Relief looked at her sister with perplexity. Lord Cheltham laughed.
"My darling wife, when you were recuperating, your sister was hesitant to bring me to you. I swore to her that she could because I was going to be your husband. My heart shouted it. She hesitated still. I was so sure of our future nuptials that I promised her ten thousand guineas if you were not my wife within one year.” He leaned and whispered. “I might have had to steal it.” He pulled away and winked at her.
She turned to Honora. “And you didn't try everything in your power to break us apart? Do you know how much money that is?” She laughed, and they joined her.
Now she looked into her husband's face.
"This is the happiest and the scariest day of my life. No adequate words with which to describe my heart bestow themselves upon my lips. Will you remember it when you are dancing on your fiftieth wedding anniversary with your second wife?"
"What?” he spat out. “What on God's green earth are you talking about, Relief?” There was franticness to his tone.
"I won't live to see our first."
He went stiff as a board. “I forbid you to ever say those words again. Do you comprehend me, Relief? Have no doubt that I am going to end your fears once and for all.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her forward.
"The wedding breakfast, my lord."
"Honora, make our apologies. I have some serious business to take care of immediately."
Honora nodded slowly and solemnly. Lord Cheltham pulled his wife behind him as he hurried out of the church. Her family tried to approach them, yelling out to them. Raphael shouted cheerfully, “You cannot wait for tonight, my lord?"
Raphael's smile melted as they passed him with grim expressions on their faces. He stepped in front of them firmly, stopping them. They very nearly smashed into him. He stood like a brick wall, his arms crossed in front of him.
"Mr. Moore, kindly allow me to take my wife. We have urgent business."
"You are going nowhere with her until I know what this is all about."
Relief smiled warmly at her brother. It was a gesture of love. He gave her a quick look. “Leafy."
"Sir, she is my
wife. I am within the bounds of my rights."
Raphael rolled his eyes. “You have a sister, sir. You would protect her with your life?"
"Yes."
"My situation stands the same."
"I am not leaving to do her harm!"
"You do not leave here glowing with the happiness of a new groom. Your expression betrays your outrage. You will not be permitted to leave here dragging my sister in your anger."
"I am her husband, damn it!"
"Not fully yet, or are you?” He turned and looked at Relief.
She shook her head. You're bold, Raphael, to ask that, but I adore you.
"Relief, tell me the situation.” He considered her, and she could see by the look in his eyes that he was ready to restrain her husband if necessary.
"He would never hurt me."
"You would bet your life on this?"
"I would. I would trust him to protect me with his life."
Her new husband turned and gave her a look of love. He reached out a hand and touched the side of her face tenderly with his fingertips. Raphael stepped back one step.
"Still, I must know."
By this time, the rest of her family was standing around them, guarding her.
"Where were you taking my daughter in your anger, my lord?” Mr. Moore, the elder, inquired.
You're so dignified, strong, and wise, Father. Relief glanced at him in his fine, dark, American-styled suit, her heart bursting with respect. She thought of her parent's quiet confidence.
"I am not angry with her!"
"Explain yourself,” he said, but with courtesy.
Lord Cheltham suddenly grinned, looking at the Moore family with great admiration in his eyes.
"You are a close family."
Every member of the Moore family nodded. Mr. Moore took his wife's hand in his left, and with his right, touched Honora's shoulder.
"Yes, my lord. And my daughters, as you can see, are beautiful. Relief has had a good share of fanatical pursuers, great admirers of her beauty. You will have a difficult time looking after her, protecting her. I have always hired the best men to look out for her. I trust you are capable though, or I would never have given you my blessing."
"I am more than capable, sir. And my love for her compels me to take on this task with diligence. I assure you, there will be no breath left in my body before anyone harms my beloved Relief."