He put one leg over the rail and grabbed the rope.
At that moment, she chose to push herself upright, her hands scrabbling for purchase on his back. He wobbled and clutched the rail. Heat scorched through him followed in an instant by icy chills. Sweat started on his brow. "God damn it, hold still. Do you want to kill us both?"
"There. You swore again. I need to tell you something."
Damn the drugs. He tapped her sweet, softly rounded bottom. "Be silent and keep still for God's sake, or we'll both fall."
She flopped over his back and patted his arse in return. "It's a secret."
"Yes, I know," he murmured. "And you should never tell secrets when you are drunk or drugged." He lowered himself over the balcony and felt with his feet for the ladder.
"I think it's a nice secret," she murmured. "But Lucas might not like it."
"Hush." The rungs seemed farther apart than on the way up. About halfway down, her body went limp as if she'd fallen asleep. Thank God. Better than her trying to hold a conversation. His feet hit solid ground, and he released his breath. They'd made it.
He inched out of the bushes and pursed his lips to whistle to Henri.
"Going somewhere, cousin?" The words were spoken in Cedric's unmistakable gentle tones. He stepped out of the shadows at the base of the tower.
Lucas's gut rolled over as he stared at a silver pistol pointed at his head.
"What the hell are you doing, Cedric?"
"Stopping you from ruining my plans."
"Your plans?"
"Why, of course. You don't think the Chevalier could think this through on his own, do you?"
His stomach churned. He had always thought of Cedric as a friend. "You can't mean that. Look at her—she's drugged, out of her mind, and still she knows she doesn't want to marry Valeron."
"She will catch cold if we don't take her back inside and continue our discussion."
Rage at his cousin's betrayal bubbled up. "Stand aside. I'm taking her home."
Cedric smiled apologetically. "My dear boy, this is her home now."
"Like hell it is," Lucas bit out, weighing his options.
If he signaled to Henri, they might get away, or he might get them all killed. He groped for the pistol in his belt, silently cursing the hampering fabric of Caro's nightgown.
The weapon in Cedric's hand glinted dully as he adjusted his aim. "Put her down and raise your hands."
"You don't dare shoot with Caro in the way."
Cedric's gentle but menacing smile widened. "Are you willing to take the risk? Whether she's dead or alive, I get what I want."
A chill ran down Lucas's back. He could not take a chance with Caro's life. Gritting his teeth, he eased her gently to the ground, all the while measuring the distance to Cedric's pistol. He straightened. "You won't get away with this."
The smile on his cousin's face transformed into a sneer. "Oh? And who is going to stop me? You? It is most obliging of you to come here. I thought I'd have to dispose of you in England."
Tensed, ready to spring, Lucas curled his lip in disdain. "You are a lily-livered coward."
Cedric cursed. The pistol wavered. Lucas snatched at it.
An explosion rang in his ears, and a bullet buzzed past his head. The echo bounced off the chateau walls. Shock rolled through him. Cedric really did intend to kill him. He flung himself at his cousin's throat.
The pistol slammed into Lucas's jaw. His head snapped back, and fog rolled in. Shaking his vision clear, he staggered back and yanked out his own weapon.
Shouts and yells came from all around him. Half a dozen servants ran from the back of the house. A beefy thug, pistol in hand, stormed down the front steps.
"Give it up, Lucas," Cedric said, his chest heaving. "Or I'll have my man shoot Caro as a reminder of you for the rest of her life. In a knee perhaps, or an elbow."
The servants closed in on them.
The thought of Caro crippled froze Lucas rigid. He fought a sudden burst of nausea as he realized that a man he thought he could trust with his life would carry out such a dastardly threat. "You miserable cur," he ground out. "What has she ever done to you?"
Cedric's lips drew back in a feral snarl. "She married you."
"Dear God, you mean it." Lucas flung the pistol aside and held his hands out at the sides. Henri, stay the hell where you are, he thought. "Leave her be if it's me you want."
"I want it all," Cedric muttered. He reversed his weapon. "Turn around."
Jaw clenched, Lucas obeyed. "Let her go, Cedric."
A sharp pain at the back of his head, a flash of light, and black descended.
* * *
A sour taste flowed into Cedric's gullet. He stared at his handsome, quixotic, honorable cousin slumped in a heap beside Caro's ample, enticing form, every curve revealed by her flimsy gown.
He narrowed his eyes. Lucas always took everything Cedric wanted. The beast Cedric kept locked away in the deep dark place inside him slipped its chain.
He lashed out a kick. The crunch of boot leather on ribs felt satisfying. He kicked again, aiming for the gut, reveling in the soft thud and the heat in his blood, the burgeoning excitement. But vicious blows wouldn't satiate unless his victim squirmed and cringed.
He bent down, dragged the inert Lucas up by the shirtfront, and shook him. "Wake up, you dog."
Beside him, Caro stirred. He flicked her a glance. Her eyes remained closed.
Suspended by Cedric's fist, Lucas's head lolled back, his eyes closed. "You lose, Lucas," Cedric whispered.
No response. Damn him. Cedric smashed his fist into the handsome face and let Lucas's head crash to the stones. He shook his hand to ease the pain of the blow.
With a furtive glance at Caro, he reeled in his anger. He didn't want her to see him like this. Not yet.
"Take him to the cellar," he said to Caro's guard. "If he gives you any trouble, you can teach him a lesson. But don't kill him. He's mine."
The bully's brutal face split in a grin of anticipation. "Yes, sir." He hoisted Lucas across his shoulders.
Cedric lifted the unconscious Caro. Her lovely face in repose called to him as no other woman's face ever had. Brushing a strand of fine fair hair off her cheek, he ran a fingertip over her soft skin. "My little one," he crooned. "I promise you will forget him." A thrill of anticipation trembled deep in his chest.
He carried her into the house.
* * *
"Mademoiselle looks lovely," the little maid said, pinning Caro's veil to her hair.
Only once had Caro tried to gain the servant's aid. The girl had reported her to François.
Caro bit her lip. The misty image in the mirror looked beautiful, but wavered in and out of focus. It must be the effects of the laudanum François had given her last night. She pressed her fingers to her head. This morning, he'd promised not to give her any more, provided she behaved.
Behave? She had wanted to slap him. She didn't have the strength.
She stared at the cream lace bodice decorated with seed pearls and the bronze silk skirt over a cream satin slip. Bronze slippers peeped out below the hem festooned with silk yellow roses. The gown she had worn at Gretna to marry Lucas had been her Sunday-best green muslin.
Lucas. He had stood so straight and tall at her side that foggy Scottish morning. And last night, he had haunted her dreams. She had struggled to tell him that she wanted to go back to London with him, that she had made up her mind to honor their agreement even if he could never love her as she loved him. But he hadn't listened.
She'd kissed him. Heat suffused her skin at the memory of the warm, moist touch of his lips on hers. The events of today seemed less real than that kiss.
Today she would marry François.
Hot tears burned her throat. How would she ever explain that to Lucas? She lifted her glasses and dabbed at her eyes.
"Do not cry, mademoiselle. It is unlucky," the maid said.
"Are you ready, my beautiful bride?"
&nbs
p; She whirled around.
One hand on his lean hip, François lounged in the doorway.
She hated the way he appeared from nowhere on silent feet, and she hated his smile. She clenched her gloved hands. "I won't agree to an annulment, and I won't marry you."
He glared at the maid. "Leave us."
The maid bobbed and pattered out.
His scowl turned on Caro, his expression implacable. "Once more, you shame me before a servant."
He closed the gap and brushed the veil off her shoulder. She shrank from his touch. He grimaced. "We've been through all of this. We must marry. You have been living at my house without a female companion, and you no longer have a husband."
Panic shut down her ability to think beyond the painful thunder of her heart. She had to get away. "Aunt Honoré would not want me to marry against my will."
"Her dearest wish is for you to marry me, you know that. Would you disappoint her? I will not."
"What if Lucas contests the annulment?"
His face turned to granite. "He won't."
Sadly, she feared he was right. Financial exigencies had forced her and Lucas to wed. Now that those were gone, he didn't need her any longer. Nevertheless, she refused to lose hope. "I have no feelings for you, other than as a cousin. What kind of marriage would it be?"
"It is not about feelings. I will not let it all go to your English husband."
"Lucas doesn't need your money."
"Be realistic. The Valeron estate is the only reason he married you."
Desperate denial sprang to her lips, but she couldn't speak the lie. "It is your reason also."
"Think about your sisters."
A bitter laugh almost choked her. She wasn't fool enough to fall for that a second time. And besides, deep in her heart, she had wanted to marry Lucas. She did not want to marry François. She thought of him as family. She had trusted his protection. Anger surged through her. "I am thinking about them." Her voice rose. "Do you think they will be helped by the scandal of an annulment?"
He shrugged. "No one in Paris will care. Look around you, Carolyn. All this will be yours and mine. How can you refuse?"
He sounded so reasonable, so calm, that she almost spat in his face. "I won't do it."
"You will." He pulled out his silver flask. "I will give you just enough to make you the muddled, happy bride who imbibed too much of our fine champagne before the ceremony. And you will do just as I say."
Her throat dried. His flat eyes said he meant every word. She backed away. "That stuff makes me feel ill."
He shrugged and advanced on her. "It is entirely your decision."
Decision? She felt like a rag doll being torn apart by ravenous beasts. But she didn't want her wits numbed by laudanum. She allowed her shoulders to slump. "Very well."
"I don't trust you," he said and unstoppered the flask.
She lowered her gaze, maintaining an air of defeat. "I give you my word."
He stared at her long and hard before corking the flask and dropping it in his pocket.
She tried not to let her elation show in her eyes. "Thank you."
His gaze drifted to the window. "You haven't yet seen anything of our wonderful estate."
Unsure what had caused this sudden change of topic, she followed his glance. "No, I haven't." Out there lay freedom.
"I have something special to show you." The sincere tone she'd once found so charming set her teeth on edge. She remained silent.
"I will return one half hour before we leave for the church, and we will take a tour. After that, we will see how you feel about the wedding." He gave her a hard glare. "In the meantime, you will not leave this room." He patted his pocket. "Any trouble, and I will not hesitate to ensure your cooperation."
Her chest tightened, her lungs compressed by the weight of some unnamable fear. If only she had listened to Lucas on the day of her race and gone home to her sisters.
* * *
Every bone, every muscle protested as Lucas raised his head. A groan forced its way through his lips and echoed around him. He attempted to put a hand to his pounding head and discovered he couldn't move a finger, let alone his arm.
He opened his eyes. Nothing. It was as black as a coal cellar in winter. Cold damp air stirred against his cheek. The musty smell of overripe fruit mixed with acid tainted each breath. Where the hell was he? It seemed he was tied to a chair in some sort of cave. Or a tunnel? Not a glimmer of light pierced the fathomless dark, like a grave. Buried alive. He swallowed a rush of heartpounding fear.
Caro needed him. He strained against his bonds. They cut into his wrists and ankles. A knife-edged pain sliced through his chest. Chest pains? How had that happened? Breath hissed through his teeth, and he almost succumbed to the swirling gray fog in his brain. He clawed his way back to consciousness.
If he could see, he might find something to cut through his bonds. Where the hell was he?
He cursed. Another minute or two, and he would have got Caro clean away. What the deuce had happened to Cedric? His gut clenched at the thought of Caro in the hands of the lunatic he'd glimpsed last night. Damn, he had to get free.
If he tipped the chair over, he might be able to slide the ropes over the legs. Or the chair might break. Ignoring the pain in his chest, he rocked back and forth. The chair creaked.
Slow, methodical footsteps broke the silence. The echoes came at him from every side. He stilled. Whoever it was, it wouldn't be a friend. Nor could he risk crashing the chair over and drawing attention to his only plan. Outwardly, he relaxed, waiting, hoping for his chance.
The glow of a lantern appeared around a corner a few feet away. Before he could get any sense of his surroundings, the light shone full in his face. He blinked into the dazzle.
"So you're awake, are you?" Cedric's disembodied voice came from behind the light.
Lucas squeezed his eyes shut and then reopened them. Shadows danced across ghostly white walls that glistened with strange pinpricks of light. A chalk cave? Barrels lined the walls. Of course. The wine cellars below the chateau. He turned his face up to stare at Cedric standing over him and blinked again. "Blast you, Cedric. Untie me."
Cedric's chuckle boomed off the ceiling. "Not yet."
He set his lantern on a wooden table to Lucas's right and pulled a chair out from beneath it. He sat and hooked his left ankle over his right knee. "That's quite a shiner you have there."
A black eye. Well, that accounted for his difficulty focusing. He kept his expression blank. If he was going to help Caro, he had to get to the bottom of Cedric's plot.
The ropes around his chest and arms foiled his attempt at a shrug. "What is going on?"
The shadowy light turned Cedric's grinning face into a death's head. "I thought you might like to know why you are going to die."
Chills ran over Lucas's skin. "What the hell do you mean?"
Cedric chuckled. "I didn't think you were such a slow-top." From the table, he picked up a long stick marked at intervals with black lines. He thwacked it against his palm. "Do you think I enjoy playing the faithful family retainer, like a humble lackey?"
Lucas imagined the stick striking his head or his back. "I had not thought about it."
Thwack. "Why would you? You are the heir. But after you, I am next in line."
A wary eye on the measuring stick, Lucas managed a smile. "The old man will live to be a hundred just to spite us both."
The stick ceased to swish. Cedric pointed it at Lucas and jabbed it under his chin, forcing his head back. "Oh, it will be much sooner than that."
Something in the gloating tone turned the air noxious. Father. Lucas jerked his chin away. "What the deuce makes you think so?"
Cedric placed the end of the stick against Lucas's eye, the slow pressure building a ghastly pain. Any movement, even a little more pressure, and he'd lose the eye. His heart thundered in his ears. He held still.
The stick withdrew. "You are a quick study, Foxhaven. Did you know your father
trusts me with all his investments?"
The conversational tone, like idle chatter in a drawing room, almost drove Lucas mad. He forced out a calm reply. "I knew you handled most of his business affairs."
"All of them. And what do you think he will do when he finds out his son is dead, and he is ruined?"
Lucas curled his lip in disgust. "He will know you swindled him."
Chuckles reverberated off the walls, and the stick went back to a steady slap against Cedric's palm.
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