by Bree Wolf
Smiling at him, Violette shook her head. “I’m fine,” she whispered, torn between joy that he had come and horror at knowing him in danger…because of her. “You shouldn’t have come.”
Grasping her hands, Oliver pulled her into his arms. “I would have crossed the seven seas to find you,” he whispered in her ear, then stepped back and looked down into her eyes. “You didn’t think I would ever let you go, did you?”
“Enough!” her father boomed, his face darkening as he glared at them. “She’s right. You shouldn’t have come.” Disgust came to his eyes as he looked at Oliver, and the pistol in his hands moved ever so slightly to point at him as Silcox approached them.
Violette sucked in a sharp breath.
“This does not concern you!” her father continued, his eyes wide as he contemplated what to do next. “This is a family matter.”
Beside her, Oliver tensed, and his hands tightened on her. “She’s my wife!” he growled, his eyes dangerously narrowed as he glared at her father.
Touched by the fierceness in his tone, Violette found herself once more torn between joy and dread. Was there a way for this night to end without bloodshed? Without one–or both–of them losing their life?
A crazed sneer came to her father’s face, oddly reminding her of Oliver’s father. Perhaps too much ambition–if it was not balanced by devotion–did terrible things to one’s sanity. “I don’t care!” he yelled, taking a step towards them, and his gaze shifted to Violette. “What I want to know is where your mother is? Tell me now, or I’ll shoot him!”
Every muscle in Violette’s body tensed, and she strained to step out in front of Oliver. However, he would not allow her, holding her back with his arm blocking her path. “There’s not much to tell,” Violette began, searching her mind for something to say. How was she to choose between Oliver and her mother? She could not. There had to be another way. “She’s…dead. Yes, we went to…Spain and lived there for a while, but a few years ago, she died.” Lifting her chin, she held her father’s gaze, willing him to believe her. If he did, would he let them go?
“You lie!” he sneered, and Violette’s hopes sank. “If that were true, why would you have come here after all these years? Why else if not to claim your birth right and ruin everything?”
“I did not come for that!” Violette objected, anger suddenly fuelling her as she pushed past Oliver. “I did not come because I wanted anything from you. You might have noticed that I have not made my identity known. I did not reveal who I was to anyone. Not even my own brother knows that I am his sister.” Hurling the words at her father’s head, she glanced at the door through which Jake had left. Where was he? She could only hope he was all right.
“Then why?” her father demanded. “Why did you come?”
Violette swallowed, then glanced at Oliver. “Because I fell in love,” she whispered, and her heart sped up when she saw utter joy light up Oliver’s eyes, when he looked at her with the same emotions that had so unexpectedly taken over her own heart and refused to yield no matter how devotedly she reasoned with them.
In that very moment, Violette realised that her words were not a decoy, a ruse, a plot. No, they were simply the truth. She had lost her heart to an English lord.
God help her!
Chapter Thirty-Five – A Father’s Right
Warmth flooded Oliver’s being at her words.
Although a part of him argued that she was simply trying to save the situation, to distract and ultimately convince her father that she was no threat to him, the look in her eyes was the answer to his prayers.
She loved him.
Whether she liked it or not, she loved him.
If it were not for the madman pointing a gun at them, Oliver could have wept with joy.
Instead, he stepped forward and took Violette’s hand in his, his gaze unwavering as he looked at Silcox. “That is what happened,” he told the man. “Whether you believe it or not, it’s true.”
The muscles in Silcox’s face tightened as he glared back and forth between them, the hand holding the pistol trembling slightly as anger clearly overtook him once more. “I do not!” he snarled, his gaze focusing on Violet. “Your mother tricked me!” he spat. “She tricked me! She orchestrated the whole thing to run off!”
Keeping his gaze on Silcox, Oliver noticed the way Violet squeezed his hand before her own slipped from his. Then she shifted on her feet, increasing the distance between them. What was she doing? Still, Oliver did not dare look at her, afraid to draw Silcox’s attention.
“I thought you dead!” Silcox continued his rant, his face such a deep red that Oliver feared–or rather hoped! –he would have a heart attack and solve their problem once and for all. “She tricked me, and I fell for it! And now, here you are, once more upending my life. No! I do not believe you. I’d be a fool to do so. And I won’t be made a fool again!”
Meeting Oliver’s gaze, Silcox shifted the pistol to the left, pointing it at Violet. Before Oliver could open his mouth in protest, Silcox snarled, “Tell me now or I swear I’ll make you a widower here and now.”
Panic swept through Oliver, momentarily stilling his tongue as his brain tried to fight off the sudden paralysis. Of course, he would not allow Violet to be killed. And yet, he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she would never forgive him if he endangered her mother. Was there a third option?
“Please, don’t shoot me!” Violet wailed into the heavy silence.
Both men jerked around, and Oliver stared in utter confusion at the woman beside him. Large tears streamed down her face, and her eyes were widened in panic as she shook her head, looking pleadingly at her father as she backed away.
“Then tell me what I want to know,” her father demanded, lifting the gun and making a show of aiming it at her with slow deliberation. “Now.”
“I’ve told you the truth,” Violet sobbed as she took another step back, her eyes staring at the gun’s muzzle, fear only too visible in her eyes.
And then it hit Oliver!
Unarmed themselves, their choices had been severely limited. However, Violet seemed to have discovered the one course of action that might have some merit. That might give them a chance.
A small chance.
But still a chance.
By portraying a woman in panic, a woman dissolved in tears, a woman ready to surrender, Violet had found a way to slowly put more and more distance between herself and Oliver. In fact, she had almost made it to the door.
Now, her father could only point his weapon at one of them, giving the other the opportunity to interfere.
Steeling himself for what was to come, Oliver tried not to watch Violet’s progress towards the door overmuch. Instead, he kept his gaze on Silcox, noting the way the man’s pistol pointed at Violet with less precision than before as he had to keep turning his head to speak to her and then to Oliver.
Once Violet would be at the doorway, able to dart out and take cover, Oliver would lunge himself at Silcox and grab the gun. He would need to be fast. However, judging from the distance, it was not impossible for him to reach the man before he could bring his pistol around to point at Oliver.
It was a plan with risks, but it could work.
“Please!” Violet sobbed, taking another step back, her hand coming to rest on the door frame. “Please don’t shoot me!”
Silcox’s brows shot down in confusion. “What are you doing?” he demanded, a snarl coming to his face as he lifted his pistol, then stepped back and instead pointed it at Oliver. “Get back in here! Or I will shoot him!”
All but hanging his head, Oliver exhaled the breath he had been holding. They had been so close!
“Now, tell me where your mother is?” Silcox ordered when Violet took a reluctant step back inside, his eyes burning with fury, “so that I can take care of her once and for all. She pretended to be dead.” A sneer drew up his upper lip, revealing his teeth. “Now, I will make certain she gets her wish.”
Meeting V
iolet’s gaze, Oliver urged her to go. After all, there was no reasoning with a lunatic. But she shook her head ever so slightly, and his hopes sank.
“Tell me!” Silcox thundered. “Tell me or I’ll–!”
Out of the shadows in the corridor, someone moved into the dimly lit room with lightning speed, positioning himself in front of Violet.
Startled, Silcox froze, mouth hanging open, and Oliver felt his head snap around in reflex as he found himself staring at Captain Duret, who drew himself up to his full height in front of Violet, the look in his eyes as dangerous as Oliver had ever seen it.
“Father,” Violet gasped, Duret’s broad shoulders blocking Oliver’s view.
Despite the pistol pointed at him, relief rushed through Oliver. Henri had returned, and he had brought help. No matter what would happen from here on out, Violet would be safe. She would be safe.
“Who are you?” Silcox sneered, confusion resting in his wide eyes. “What the hell…?” He glanced at Oliver as though hoping for an explanation.
“You’re a pathetic excuse for a man,” Duret hissed, his dark eyes fixed on Silcox. “You never deserved Alexandra and neither do you deserve Violette.”
Swallowing, Silcox glanced back and forth between Oliver and the dangerous-looking man blocking his target, his weapon-bearing hand moving along with him. “Who are you?” he demanded once more, his voice, however, held less strength than before.
Duret glared at him, his stance that of a bull ready to charge. “I’m her father,” he growled, daring Silcox to contradict him. “She’s mine.”
Utter disbelief spread over Silcox’s face as he stared at father and daughter.
Oliver watched the scene, feeling almost mesmerised by what he saw. Here was a man, a father, threatening to bring bodily harm to his daughter, his own flesh and blood, while another man, her adoptive father, shielded her with his body, claiming her as his own and exercising the most important right of a parent, to protect his child…even at the expense of his own life.
Nothing was ever truly impossible and the world full of opportunities. Although one could not ignore the bad, it was not so difficult to focus on the good. Violet might have lost a father, but in truth, she had gained one far better than the one she had had.
That thought gave Oliver hope.
This was family.
Hers…
…as well as his.
***
Shielded by her father’s body, Violette glanced over his shoulder, her heart in terror as she found not one but now two men she loved in danger. Still, no matter what she did, her father would not budge. There was no way for her into the room.
Out of the corner of her eye, Violette noticed movement and turned down the corridor when Henri and other men from her father’s crew came rushing toward her. Henri’s gaze swept over her, relief in his green eyes, before he took note of his uncle blocking the doorway. “What’s going on?” he asked, signalling to the others to halt. “Who’s in there?”
“Oliver. He came for me,” Violette replied, forcing back a sob as panic rushed through her veins. “Silcox has a pistol on him, and Father will not let me inside.” Hanging her head, Violette’s gaze fell on a pistol lying by the side of the wall. It had to be the one Silcox had forced Oliver to surrender when he had spotted him. Kneeling, Violette picked it up and checked if it was loaded, knowing that Silcox could not see her with her father’s body in the way.
Gazing over her father’s shoulder, Violette forced her nerves to calm, knowing that panic never served anyone. She needed to keep her wits about her, and above all, she needed a steady hand.
“Do you have a clear shot?” Henri asked beside her without stepping forward into the light from the room to ensure that Silcox would not accidentally spot him. After all, their numbers mattered little as there was only one way into the room and it was currently blocked, a madman standing guard with a pistol in his hand.
Once more, Violette looked over her father’s shoulder, realising that she might have to kill Silcox to protect her family. Her teeth gritted together in determination. Never would she take that man’s life because her mother made her flee England with her. However, now things were different, and if he dared to threaten her family, she would not stand idly by and allow him to kill them.
No, she would act and protect them as much as they protected her.
That’s what family did.
That’s what her parents had taught her.
Her father’s muscles tensed as he glared at Silcox. “I’m her father,” he snarled. “She’s mine.”
The ghost of a smile flitted over Violette’s face at her father’s words, knowing how fiercely he loved her. She had indeed been fortunate to have escaped Silcox, who stared open-mouthed at her father, his eyes confused as he tried to make sense of the words spoken.
Peeking over each of her father’s shoulders, Violette tried to decide which one would offer her the best shot.
“If you want her,” Silcox growled, obviously having recovered from his initial shock, “then take her. All I want is her mother. Give her to me and you’re free to go.”
A dark chuckle rumbled in her father’s chest as he shook his head. “You must be mad,” he hissed. “You will neither have my wife nor my daughter.”
With lips pressed into a thin line, Silcox glared at her father, and Violette could see the crazed look in his eyes as his hand swung away from Oliver and his pistol came to point at her father’s chest. Then his gaze swept upward as though he was trying to see behind the man blocking the door. “Violet, tell me where she is, or I will shoot this man!”
Knowing that her father would never step aside, would never allow her to help and risk her life, panic slammed into Violette. Her teeth gritted together painfully as she fought for control, lifting the pistol in her hands, willing them to remain steady.
Only seconds ticked by, but to Violette it was as though a small eternity passed.
Taking aim over her father’s shoulder, she suddenly found Oliver charging forward, his face distorted into a snarl as he flung himself at Silcox, a growl rising from his lips.
“No!” Violette screamed, noting the way her father flinched at the panic in her voice, when Silcox spun around toward the man charging him like a raging bull. His eyes flew open in panic, and he stumbled backwards.
Still, he managed to bring his pistol around, its muzzle pointing at Oliver’s chest.
Without hesitating, Violette ignored the wild hammering of her heart, took aim with steady hands…and fired.
The shot rang through the quiet night like a powder keg exploding…closely followed by another.
Flinching, Violette lunged forward, only to slam into her father’s back. Grabbing him by the shoulder, she pulled herself up and looked into the room with wide eyes.
Both, Oliver and Silcox went down, blood staining their clothes.
A scream she barely recognised as her own tore from her lips, and Violette pushed her way into the room as her father finally stepped aside, intent on retrieving the weapon, his gaze fixed on Silcox’s still body.
Oliver sank onto the floor, his eyes closing. Terror filled Violette’s heart as she raced to his side, then dropped to her knees beside him.
Chapter Thirty-Six – A Proposal
Pain seared through Oliver’s arm as the two shots rang in his ears, and he felt his legs knocked out from under him. Somewhere, Violet screamed, and panic seized him. Was she injured? Had she been hit? Where had the second shot come from?
Willing his eyes to open as his head slammed onto the ground, Oliver blinked, trying to force the bright spots from his vision. When they cleared, he looked around frantically, needing to see that she was all right. She had to be all right. All of this could not have been for nothing.
Turning his head, Oliver rejoiced when he spotted her pushing her way past her father and into the room. Her face was distorted with fear as her gaze held his. Then she dropped to her knees beside him, and his world ri
ghted itself.
Not wishing to worry her, Oliver tried to sit up, but stopped when pain radiated through his right arm. Gritting his teeth, he sought her gaze once more. “Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes travelling over her body, looking for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
A hint of disbelief came to her eyes as she shook her head, the ghost of a smile tugging on her lips. “I’m fine,” she whispered, brushing a gentle hand over his forehead. “You’re the one who’s not. Did you not notice the bullet going through your arm?” she asked, the same teasing note in her voice that he had come to love.
Frowning, Oliver glanced down. “Now that you mention it?” he joked, then flinched when the movement caused more pain.
“Lie still,” she ordered, leaning forward and inspecting his wound. “It went clear through,” she said after a while of poking and prodding his arm. Looking at him, she swallowed, a hint of relief coming to her face before her features hardened. “Don’t ever scare me like this again, do you hear?”
Unable not to smile, Oliver nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”
For a moment, she held his gaze, something brewing in her dark eyes, before she all but flung herself forward, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss.
Surprised, Oliver returned her kiss, feeling a similar desperation clawing at his own heart. If it had not been for the hole in his arm or the significant number of people pouring into the room, he could have lost himself in the moment. Instead, he released her lips when she pulled back.
Looking up at her, he found her eyes wet with tears as her hand curled around his, holding it tightly as though she was afraid he would slip away if she did not hold on to him.
“I love you,” he whispered, needing to say the words and needing her to hear them. “I love you, Violet, with all my heart.”
Blinking, she tried to stem the flood that threatened before a dazzling smile came to her lips. “I love you, too,” she whispered, her voice choked and full of incredulity. “I cannot believe it, but I fear it is true.”