The Vengeful Bridegroom Page 13

  Shaking out her cloak and gown for little good it did, she decided a little persuasion was necessary to win the prize. Surely it wouldn’t take much for him to understand the story of the dagger and her brother, or what she knew of the story. She opened her mouth to begin but Mr. Westcott interrupted.

  “No delaying tactics. We need to get you both back to Westcott Close and out of those wet clothes. As for the dagger, and what shall become of it, we’ll talk on it more tomorrow.”

  Shoulders slumped, Madelene silently agreed perhaps tomorrow would be best, as well as for discovering answers to Alec’s presence and surprising transformation. In her current condition, a warm bath was the only thing on her mind that could provide relief from the scratchy drying mud.

  Thankfully, Mr. Westcott had driven one of his carriages. How could he have known where to find them? A riddle for another day. Somehow her husband appeared to anticipate her every move, and she didn’t exactly welcome the thought.

  On their return, Madelene had to admit to herself tonight’s journey had been hopeless from the start, especially in trusting the young Italian man, nay, woman. Alec and Madelene sat opposite each other in the carriage for the ride home, which took no time after seemingly taking hours to escape from Westcott Close. Ignoring the little Italian thief, which was how Madelene thought of Alec, she stewed in her rancid wet condition, while Gabriel whistled, sitting on the box next to Grimes, one of the groomsmen.

  After a warm bath Fanny had drawn for her in the kitchen, Madelene, alone in her bedchamber, felt she had never been dirtier, nor cleaner, for that matter. She shook her head, hardly crediting it was she who had actually participated in a mud fight. But it was with all good intentions.

  Madelene looked at her bed but felt too restless to fall asleep just yet.

  Something drew her to the window in those early-morning hours. The stillness. The rustling.

  She moved the curtains to the side and—

  Mr. Westcott?

  Madelene leaned farther out the window to see if her eyes deceived her.

  There he was. Watching her with a warm grin.

  “Mr. Westcott, whatever are you doing outside my window? I can only promise if I plan to escape again, it would certainly not be down a tree!” She leaned her elbows on the sill, hardly believing it was indeed her husband in the tree.

  Her husband sat comfortably in the knot of the solid oak outside her window. Watching Madelene, he told her, “My sister, Lucinda, and I used to have all manners of conversations in this way. My old Aunt Adelphia was very strict and would hold to these impossible bedtimes when we were young.”

  He raised his hand to grasp the branch above him as he continued. “Our aunt would think we were fast in our beds, but Lucinda and I would sit and talk about the stars, about our fate, and how much we hated our aunt, our father’s sister.”

  “Lucinda—”

  “Yes,” he said quietly.

  She would have offered condolences or a measure of solace but didn’t know what he needed most, and why it should matter to her.

  Gabriel offered, “Are you in the mood for discourse tonight, since it appears you are not any sleepier than I?”

  Madelene drew herself up, still at the window, unsure what to do next. She really ought to be in bed. But his charming nature sneaked its way into her beguiled senses. She leaned once more upon her windowsill. When would be the time to explain about her brother? Somehow she sensed it wasn’t this moment.

  “I didn’t have trees to climb when I was younger, and my brother wanted nothing to do with his little sister.”

  “It seems your brother has not yet learned how to handle a female.” His features too close to the tree revealed little of his true thoughts.

  Madelene rested her chin in one hand on the windowsill, her wet hair quickly drying in the mild night air. “My father, I imagine, indulged Matthew to an extent, perhaps to make up for the loss of our mother. Indeed, it always seemed he was getting into scrapes, and Father had to help him again and again. Then when Father left us, Matthew relied on me to—”

  “Deliver him from evil?” Gabriel broke in.

  Madelene smiled at his suggestion. “I truly wouldn’t say evil, only a few minor predicaments.”

  “Is that how you planned to live your life, playing your brother’s keeper?”

  “No, I, I presumed I would marry and, eventually, Matthew would mature into adulthood, marry, and have a family.”

  “When did you anticipate he would mature? After the ripe age of eight and twenty?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. I hope soon.”

  “Did you ever wish upon a star?” he asked, changing the subject, looking up into the night, as if he could see through the thick leaves to the sky. “My sister would make many wishes, but never tell me what she wished for.”

  Madelene looked up into the dark sky, squinting to see if she could find just one star. Yes,” she answered, not looking at him. “I wished my father wouldn’t die.”

  The quiet night filled the empty space between them before he replied, “Some things, I suppose, cannot be wished for.” Silence. “Let us think of something more cheerful.” In a relatively short time, he latched on to that something else. “Why don’t you come out with me on this tree branch? I can assure you that it will hold both of our weights.” He held his hand out beckoning her.

  “No, no, I am much too old to be climbing trees,” she told him in her most ladylike manner, then realized what she must be inferring about him.

  But he only laughed. “Yes, but I don’t want to be old tonight. Nor too young either.” He lithely rose to his feet, holding on to the top branch over his head with both hands. He stepped back and forth on the large branch to show her it was steady. “So, will you come out on a limb for me?” he asked, his eyebrows raised and an encouraging smile on his lips.

  She tried to summon all her reasons for refusing him: the marriage, her failed escape, the missing dagger, Alec, having a guard, and even Falstaff was included in her litany of things for which to seek retribution.

  And yet she warily sat on the windowsill and swung her legs over the side, careful not to catch her light green night rail and gown on the rough stone surface of the side of the house, her bare feet brushing the roughness.

  “Put one foot on the branch, your left one, then your right. See how easy it is?” he asked her while watching her every move.

  Knowing he would keep her safe and feeling a bit daring, she edged a little farther out onto the thick lower branch, holding on to the higher branch with her hands in imitation of Gabriel. Gabriel. When did I stop thinking of him as Mr. Westcott?

  A step away, Gabriel reached out his hand to grasp hers to pull her into the knot of the tree.

  Her foot slipped. She screamed as her feet left the branch, and she dangled high above the ground with only one hand holding tightly to Gabriel’s.

  Any minute. Any minute, her bones would meet the hard ground. Fear pounded in her head and in her heart.

  Seconds later, Gabriel easily pulled her up with one hand, grasped her waist, and pulled her tight against him. Breathless, Madelene clung to him as a miser to his penny, until she could slow her heart down. She couldn’t stop trembling as they stood on the large branch, Gabriel’s arms holding her tightly.

  When she felt safer with her feet under her again, and her trembling had subsided, Gabriel surprised her by sitting down and pulling her with him. He sat at the worn cushion of the tree and with nowhere else for her to sit, sat her on top of him.

  Facing him. Almost as if he had planned this, Madelene thought hazily, before he cupped her head and brought her close to him for a brief kiss.

  A kiss that soon threatened to take away the breath she had just regained from her near fall. His strong hands entangled in her hair, then roped around his hands. She couldn’t get away from him. She couldn’t get near enough to him.

  On this delightfully warm night, it had suddenly become sun-burning hot.
They shared one kiss after another, with no end and no beginning. With her eyes closed, Madelene reveled in his searing touch and caressed his face, learning his eyes, nose, lips, and jaw as a blind person might.

  He held her close next to his bare chest, his breeches his only clothing. She greedily ran her hands down his muscular chest and over his shoulders, learning every valley, every nuance, every soft and hard place a man has. Delighting in having her fill of him beneath her hands, she playfully nipped him on his shoulder.

  “No fair, my woman. It’s my turn.”

  He drew her slightly away from him to test the weight of her breast in his hand. Over her night rail, he caressed her nipple before moving the slip of silk aside. He needed to feel her softness and bent his head to nip and tug on each pink nipple until he no longer had any coherent thoughts. He wanted her with a madness, his manhood threatening to rip his breeches in life-preserving need.

  But she found him. With no direction, she found his hardness and soon had his pulsing staff in her hands. Little did she know the agony she caused him. And the pleasure she gave him. The feel of her warm hands holding his member—he didn’t think he could take much more of her fondling.

  “Madelene, you do destroy me!” he whispered in her ear.

  She smiled and continued stroking him, liking the feel of his hardness in her hands, knowing she gave him delight. She marveled at how something could feel so soft and so hard at the same time.

  Somehow her innocent hands knew what to do. His breath came in short bursts, moaning as he kissed her harshly, his tongue mating with hers, accepting no withdrawal, no defeat. With all of his might, he broke from her sweet lips to growl and spill into her hands.

  Both sat breathless, Gabriel stunned into disbelief at how easily she controlled his desires. Madelene swallowed hard. What had she done? And in a tree? Oh, gracious goodness, she’d have penance to pay for this.

  But…but…Gabriel took her hand and wiped it on his breeches. Then he kissed her tenderly while stroking her arm, causing a frisson between her skin and her silk sleeve. She shuddered but not with cold—with the passion he had only begun to stir in her.

  She wanted something more, but didn’t know how to ask for it. He knew. He swept his tongue over her plump lips while caressing her belly, then meandering his way down to the mound at the top of her thighs.

  “Oh!” Madelene wanted to pull back in shock, but Gabriel wouldn’t let her.

  Slowly, oh, ever so slowly, he gently slid his finger into her wetness before delving further. She jerked anxiously, wanting to get away, yet pressing herself closer. He was setting her on fire, which both frightened her and excited her.

  The pleasure from his hand was incomparable to anything she had felt before. She rolled her hips impatiently, and with great tenderness and expertise, he stroked her till she cried against his shoulder, a thin bead of perspiration across her forehead. Her fingers dug into his arms as she allowed the sensations to run through her like a river, ebbing unhurriedly out through her fingertips and breath.

  He held her and rubbed her back, waiting for her. The delight of simply holding Madelene in his arms brought him more pleasure than he could have imagined. It wasn’t to have been like this. What had this woman done to him?

  Her sweet sighs reminded him comfort was only a branch away. After they righted their clothing, Gabriel helped Madelene stand. He rose to his feet and nimbly walked around her and to her window. With one hand on the windowsill, he grasped her hands with the other. She walked tentatively toward him, her eyes never leaving his. His eyes never left hers.

  He climbed into her room and turned to assist her over the window ledge. Standing in her bedchamber, next to the window, they stared at each other, in new awareness. Gabriel began to want her again, quickly and easily, just staring at her flushed face, brilliant eyes, and hardened nipples peeking through her nightdress.

  He couldn’t. It was too soon. Madelene looked in a daze, and appeared speechless. To save his sanity and desire for another day, he took her by the hand and led her to her bed, where she sat on the edge, watching him. Who was this vision, this passionate woman who had captured his imagination, his Helen of Troy? Would she lead him to his doom?

  Finally, he leaned over to kiss her softly on the forehead before taking his leave, and looked back once at the door and saw her unwavering stare. He smiled and quietly shut the door after him.

  Madelene remained still, safe and back in her room. Who was this man and what had he done with Madelene? She wasn’t the same person anymore. Could she be repaired? Could she still get an annulment? Did she still want one? Maybe, maybe, they could have something more. Something neither had planned for.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Back in his own bedroom, Gabriel stretched on his bed, wide awake from his unexpected visit with Madelene. This was proving to be an impossible situation. She wanted to run away—to what or from whom? Maybe after tonight, he could convince her to stay. Her passionate response to him made him realize it might be harder to let her go than he had originally planned.

  And now the new complication of the dagger. Alec had informed him that the dagger given to her by her uncle had been stolen from her while she stayed in London. How how it reappeared in a creek?

  He picked up the dagger lying by his side to examine it. When he returned to his room, he had retrieved it from a hidden spot behind a brick in the fireplace.

  The dagger many people sought. He turned it over in his hands, noticing the hilt’s silver shine in the candlelight, but the luster had worn off in places. Empty scrolled indentations marked where gems might have slept, long since nicked off.

  The dagger itself showed signs of rust, although the edge was still quite sharp. Rather unprepossessing, he thought. His fingers traced every hole, scroll, design, and pock, worn clean, on the hilt, until his finger nudged a tiny slivered button. The handle turned easily in his hands and out dropped several loose diamonds onto his chest.

  Gabriel sat up, astonished, before gathering all the glittering stones into the palm of his hand, watching them shine even in the meager candlelight.

  This was what they wanted—not the dagger, but these precious gems, worth a fortune.

  But why did Madelene want the dagger, for her brother? However, if Alec was to be believed, it belonged to her.

  Gabriel knew he would have to disappoint both women because he felt confident the diamonds were stolen and needed to be returned to the rightful owner. He decided to keep the dagger safe and not mention the diamonds to anyone. When he returned to London, he’d make inquiries or have Windthorp make them. The difficult task would be to convince both women to give up their quest.

  In the morning, he would discuss the dagger with Madelene to learn of its importance to her. He frowned. Knowing Madelene, nothing would stop her from trying to help her brother. Little did she understand that getting into trouble was Matthew Colgate’s one sure failing.

  And Madelene, he had no doubt, would have questions about Alec. Would she understand?

  He sighed and shook his head. He had to find a better hiding place for the diamonds, until something further could be done.

  During breakfast the next morning, as Madelene sipped her tea and reviewed the lady’s fashions in The London Lady, she watched her husband out of the corner of her eye. He had delved into a soft-boiled egg and kippers, seemingly enjoying his repast. How to begin the conversation about the dagger?

  He began. “Mrs. Westcott, I will, in all likelihood, need to return to Town soon. I’m planning to purchase a new ship for the West Indies.”

  Insignificant news to her. The dagger, what about the dagger? “I see. Mr. Westcott, would you care to discuss the events of last night?” she asked, determined to steer the conversation in another direction.

  He smiled broadly. “I would be delighted. You are of course referring to our assignation in the tree?”

  She started to cough. The man could be so obtuse. “Actually, I was thinkin
g of an earlier time.”

  “Yes, now I recall. My wife and my friend wrestled in the creek.”

  Madelene pursed her lips. He was deliberately being infuritating. “Mr. Westcott, I had a very good reason why I was, I—you found me in the creek. You have the dagger, and I need it.”

  She finally had his attention. He put his fork down, sipped his coffee, and inquired, “And for what reason?” His brown gaze seemed to peer into her soul to question her honesty.

  Becoming fidgety, she ran her fingers across the lacy tablecloth. “My brother needs the dagger. He had placed it in my trunk for safekeeping. If you could only give it to me, then I could see he gets it.”

  “Your brother needs it. Tell me, do you know what he plans to do with it?”

  Unable to meet his gaze, she cleared her throat before replying, “He, he told me, he needs to return it to its rightful owner.”

  “And who would that person be?”

  She found the courage to return his look and shook her head. “I don’t know. Matthew didn’t tell me. But you will give it to me?” She no doubt sounded desperate. In fact, she was desperate.

  Her husband pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “Mrs. Westcott, I must think on your request. It is not as simple as you might believe or what your brother told you. Would you please advise me when you have the answer to my question what you were doing at that time of night, not in your bed? If you’ll excuse me.”

  After he departed, she realized she still had not asked her husband about Alec.

  Ever hopeful for her husband to graciously deliver the dagger to her, Madelene kept watch for Matthew’s return, or at the very least, a communiqué from him. Still, she was prepared if her husband wasn’t so generous. Her discreet and unsuccessful search for the dagger soon convinced her that her husband must carry it on his person.

  Therefore, the only solution was to steal into his bedchamber at night and search for the dagger while he slept, for she had recently discovered, he now kept his rooms locked when he didn’t occupy them. He obviously did not trust his wife. A prudent decision, she had to admit.