Dangerous Secrets (90 page)

‶
If you and I don′t follow
quickly behind my dear cousin and your darling brother, then your
sister′s carriage will plunge off a cliff before dusk.″

‶
They will kill you when we
catch up to them.″

Silently, she wondered what would then happen
to Juliet. Was there any way to keep Simon safe without sacrificing Juliet?

‶
Perhaps.″ He laughed, a
squeaky-sounding hiss.

She began to realize that his sanity was not
all that it should be.

‶
Or perhaps your husband will
choose to strangle you when you tell him you are leaving him for a life of sin
with me.″

The evil of the man was unparalleled.
‶
Run
away with you?″

He gestured with the pistol.
‶
We
can better discuss this on the way, don′t you agree?″

No, she thought silently. But she moved swiftly
toward the stables anyway, her mind working furiously. She had just made love
to her husband for the first time today. She had no intention of standing by
helplessly while he died the same day.

‶
How much of a head start do you
think they have?″ Valentine asked, when the horses had slowed to pass
through a village.

Chapter 24

“How much of a head start do you think they
have?” Valentine asked, when the horses had slowed to pass through a village.

Simon glanced up at the sun in the sky,
impatience rippling through his muscles as he watched the wagons and
pedestrians on the road ahead. “The groom said the carriage left a good hour
before us. But a carriage is always slower. I hope to catch up with them very
soon.”

“I suppose you would know - having done this
before quite recently.”

Simon felt the potentially awkward moment slip
away as he glanced in surprise at the younger man and saw his wry amusement at
the situation. “Yes. But I was chasing two relatively sensible, if momentarily
muddled people. Grimthorpe is a different matter altogether.”

Valentine smiled grimly. “I now understand how
you felt when you pursued me. If I had Juliet here with me, I don't know if I'd
embrace her or berate her. What could he have said to convince her to elope
with him?”

“Grimthorpe is no love-struck swain. Perhaps he
told her some tale.” He did not want to speculate on his darker fear - that the
girl had been forced. It was entirely possible, but if her brother didn't think
of it on his own, Simon had no intention of mentioning it aloud.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps Juliet told him some
tale.”

“Is she that like Miranda?” Simon smiled.

Valentine looked at him curiously. “That was
said like a satisfied husband. May I be so forward as to ask if your health has
taken a turn for the better?”

“Decidedly so.” He laughed, thinking of the
shocks he had suffered today. None of that mattered, though. He could leave
both his father and mother behind him to start a new life with Miranda. “The
rumors of my early demise are completely groundless, I am happy to say.” Not to
mention miraculous. But that was a secret for he and his wife to savor once
they were well away from here.

“I am delighted to hear it.”

Simon saw the shadow of hesitation that clouded
Valentine's features. “Do you have some doubt about my ability as husband?”

Valentine looked at him in surprise, and then
shook his head. “No, I am truly delighted for you and Miranda. But I have a
favor to ask you and I am not certain of your reception.”

“I will not help you elope.”

“Of course not.” Valentine's eyes shone with
indignation.

“It had to be said.” Simon offered the only
apology he could and was relieved when Valentine nodded in acceptance.

“I suppose Miranda has been trying to convince
you that is the proper way to mend things.” He looked away, at a young carter
with his arms around a woman who beamed at him like a new bride.

“You need to ask? Knowing your sister?” Simon
turned his gaze away quickly, trying not to think of tonight, with Miranda. He
could not allow himself to be distracted or he might find himself coming back
to her as a corpse instead of a lover. He felt a flash of sympathy,
understanding, at last, what Valentine had lost when he lost Emily. “I am sorry
for the way things turned out. I hope that you find another like Emily.”

Valentine sat up in his saddle. “Thank you,
Your Grace. And I assure you that I will not attempt to see your cousin or
influence her into a poor marriage with me. I have investigated her betrothed,
and he is a good enough man.”

Startled, Simon could not help a question, “You
investigated him?”

He cleared his throat. “It is just that I could
not bear to see her hurt by a brute. But this man seems decent enough.”

“I understand.” And he did, for hadn't he had a
similar dilemma five years ago when, even knowing that he could not ask Miranda
to marry him, he had not wanted her to become Grimthorpe's pawn?

* * * * *

Miranda clung to Grimthorpe's waist as if her
life depended upon it. Probably because it did. The speed they traveled was for
madmen and fools. Fitting, since he was a madman and she a fool. Unable to do
anything else, she closed her eyes and prayed that Simon and Valentine would
reach Juliet and Arthur soon enough to prevent the disaster that Grimthorpe had
paid his men to ensure.

The irony was evil. Grimthorpe and his
desperate willingness to commit murder to become duke, while Simon's honor
prevented him from accepting the title because of an accident of birth.

The landscape blurred and her mind grew numb as
her arms gripped her enemy fiercely. Try as she might, she found little hope
that there would be a happy ending to this day. Grimthorpe was mad.

Only a madman would do what he had done. He had
killed every man who stood between him and the dukedom - except Arthur. Now he
meant to kill both Arthur and Simon. Juliet was simply a convenient means to an
end, no matter to him that her young life would end before it had truly begun.

She shivered. Certainly he would not hesitate
to add Valentine and Miranda to his murderous list.

She could see only one way to stop him. But he
had given her no time to tell him about Peter.

He had gleefully explained his plans to her,
allowing no words from her, as he held the pistol to her ribs and walked her
casually to where his horse stood saddled and ready - not a groom in sight. And
then the ride had been too fast, too breathless.

She would have to take her chance when they
stopped, as they must soon.

The story was so preposterous, though. Could
she find the words to convey it quickly and convincingly?

As soon as they slowed enough that Miranda was
certain they were stopping, she began to speak. “Simon is not the true duke.
Peter, his older brother has been discovered in America.”

He did not turn his head toward her, or make
any indication that he heard her. Her mouth went suddenly dry. She did not
pause to swallow, or for breath, afraid that he would interrupt and her chance
would be gone. “An enquiry agent brought him here.” As the horse stopped at the
top of a small rise, she pulled her arms from around his waist, surprised at
the way they trembled from exhaustion and tension. She raised her voice, hoping
to get through to him. “Stop this now. Killing Simon will not get you what you
want. You will never be the Duke of Kerstone.”

Her voice was high and shrill now, at the edge
of control, but she sobbed out a breath and repeated herself. “Stop this now.
You will not achieve what you - ”

Her words broke off abruptly when Grimthorpe
pulled at her trembling arm, toppling her from the horse to land solidly on the
ground. She fought through the shock and pain, knowing that Simon's life
depended on her.

For a moment she had no breath, but when she
had gathered it again, she was not interested in speaking, only in scrambling
to a stand so that she could see what had captured Grimthorpe's attention.

They stood at the rise of a small hill. There
was a perfect view of the road from here. Simon and Valentine were toy figures
on horseback, racing toward a toy carriage. The sun shone on the pretty
picture, gilding Simon's golden hair, much as it had been when she'd waylaid
him at the hunter's cottage.

Miranda ran forward, crying out for them. She
tried to wave her arms to get their attention, but Grimthorpe had stopped too far
away.

She turned back to her enemy, chilled to see
the satisfied grin on his face. “I tell you, you will gain nothing from this.
Tell your men to stop their murder, now.”

“If you think I'd believe your fairytale story
of a resurrected heir, you are mistaken. Peter is long dead and buried, and
soon he will have company for tea,” he snarled. Miranda turned back to the toy
figures.

Simon and Valentine were gaining on the
carriage, which had begun running full out, the horses eating up the roadway as
the carriage bounced and jounced on the rutted surface at a speed that was much
too fast.

At first she thought the carriage would shudder
apart from the battering it was taking. As she surveyed the scene, however, her
breath caught in a gasp. There was a sharp turn ahead and she realized in
horror that the carriage would go over a small embankment if the horses did not
change direction.

A small but fatal twenty-foot embankment.

Even as she watched, the horses drawing the
carriage veered away from the edge of the embankment sharply, tipping the
carriage over the side. It seemed to take hours for the carriage to unbalance,
tip, and fall out of sight.

Miranda could not even find the breath to cry
out her sister's name. Grimthorpe sighed contentedly when the traces separated
and the horses hurried on, unhurt.

She could not tear her eyes away from the
sight, as Simon and Valentine managed to stop their mounts and dismount to peer
over the edge. With their attention on the fallen carriage, they did not notice
the ruffians who were even now sneaking up on them.

Miranda strained forward, but could not see
them well. Were they bigger and stronger than Simon and Valentine? She had no
doubt they were well armed with weapons and cheerfully lacking in conscience.
Unlike both her husband and her brother.

Unable to watch the carnage without acting any
longer, Miranda remembered what she had accomplished by slapping Simon's mount
on the rear. Without thinking any further, she turned and advanced toward
Grimthorpe.

He did not retreat. Instead, laughing softly,
he said, “Give it up, my dear. They are dead men, now. You cannot help them.”

Miranda let out an inarticulate cry as she
lifted her hand and slapped his horse sharply.

A fierce satisfaction coursed through her when
the horse responded by rearing and then, as Grimthorpe lost the reins and
grabbed for the mane, the horse streaked toward the group of men confronting
each other at the edge of the embankment.

Miranda prayed for Simon or Valentine to see
the runaway and realize that something was very wrong besides the carriage that
had held Arthur and Juliet having plunged over the embankment. She kept her
mind from the thought of them, concentrating only on her husband and brother.

Let them see Grimthorpe.

Let them see the men who are intent on killing
them.

Let them live.

Winded, Grimthorpe's horse ran for only a short
distance, perhaps a quarter of the way toward the men. To Miranda's surprise,
he uttered a hoarse cry and spurred the flagging horse on toward the men,
instead of back toward her.

It was her chance to escape. Should she head
toward the copse or toward Simon? She focused her gaze on the distant battle.
Could she help them?

Chapter 25

As she scanned the distant tableau, her heart
skipped a beat. There were only two men standing. The other two were dark lumps
on the scuffed-up ground. For a moment she wasn′t certain, and then she
was. That shining blond head had to be Simon′s.

He and Valentine had overpowered their
attackers. And now they were standing, with pistols in hand, waiting for
Grimthorpe. She sagged with relief, at the same time as a sunlight glinted from
something in the mounted madman′s hand. His pistol.

Before she could scream, uselessly or not, she
saw Valentine′s arm raise and buck. There was a sharp report. Grimthorpe
fell from his still-running mount and lay still.

She bent over, burying her face in the cool
grass and wept, for Juliet, for Arthur, for Simon and Valentine. For herself.

She could not stop when Simon reached her and
took her into his arms. And he did not ask her to, holding her tight, rocking
her against his chest as if she were a baby.

After a moment, she realized he was not just
repeating soothing noises, but actual words.
‶
Juliet′s safe.
Juliet′s alive.″

She broke away from his grip so that she could
look into his eyes.
‶
How could she be alive? I saw the carriage —″

He interrupted her with a kiss and a grim
smile.

‶
My cousin Arthur has more
Watterly in him than I ever believed possible. He suspected something was wrong
when the men who were to take him to see an interesting rare book seemed so
disreputable.″

‶
But what could they do?″
Miranda thought of her wild ride with Grimthorpe. She had been unable to stop
him. How had her sister and Arthur escaped a speeding carriage unharmed?

His lips tightened in suppressed amusement.
‶
At
the inn, when the carriage was forced to stop to change horses, they both
recognized their chance to escape. As soon as the carriage started up, they
jumped free without being observed by their abductors.″

Miranda blanched.
‶
They could have
been killed.″

The absurdity of her statement struck her as
soon as the words were uttered. They almost had been — all of them, by a
cunning and devious madman who wanted the dukedom that was now Peter′s.
How ironic that both Peter and Simon would have gladly let it go. She looked up
then. The affection in Simon′s eyes jolted her for a moment. And then she
remembered that he had dropped the barricade to his heart. She laid her head
against his chest, content to hear the beating within, no longer afraid that
the sound heralded coming death.

‶
Where is Valentine?″

Simon looked down at her resting against him so
trustingly and could not swallow for the sudden fearful realization that he had
almost lost her just when he could claim her. He touched her cheek softly.
‶
He
has gone back to the inn, where we met up with Arthur, to notify the
authorities about Grimthorpe. We should join them there.″ He turned her
face to his so that he could reassure himself that she was alive and well. His
fairytale bride.

Her tone was scolding, but her eyes brimmed
with tears.
‶
And
so you and Valentine were prepared for a trap, then? I needn′t have
worried at all watching those two huge bullies trying to trounce you and toss
you over after the carriage?″

‶
Of course not. You had nothing
to fear. And you never will again. You′re married to me.″ He kept
his reply bland, but his arms tightened around her and he lowered his lips to
hers for a long kiss.

He did not break apart from her until she began
to shudder in his arms. No matter that she was enjoying the kiss, she had still
been kidnapped and watched a runaway carriage dash off a cliff, believing her
sister to be inside. He wrapped his cloak around her and drew her to her feet.
‶
Let′s
get you to the inn and cleaned up.″

She laughed, a trifle breathlessly he was
pleased to note, as she looked down at her torn and dirty gown.
‶
And
you, as well.″

His eyes lit with warmth.
‶
A
bath for two. I think that can be arranged.″

With a sigh, he watched as Miranda surrendered
to the feelings that were quickly replacing the grief, fear, and despair of
minutes ago. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against
his eyes, his cheek, his ear, his mouth. Soft, warm kisses of love and hope and
desire.

As if murder and treachery and danger were an
aphrodisiac, he realized that she had no wish to wait for their room at the inn
to reaffirm their love and the simple joyous fact that they lived.

She did not even seem to realize that she was
sobbing despite the smile that lit her face between kisses, until his lips
caressed her cheeks and his tongue tasted her tears. He had been given a gift
this morning, which he had refused. That she offered him this chance again was
a blessing he did not have any intention of refusing.

He felt the crushing need and translated it
into a lingering exploration of her body. The torture was no less than it had
been when he found her in his bed and had had to drive her away. This time,
however, there would be no worry about a child to keep him from completing
their joining.

For all he cared, they could have a hundred, a
thousand. He was no longer a duke. He was only a man who wanted his wife. He
lay her back, spreading his cloak on the grass and allowed his lips to play
with her ear before moving to her mouth to swallow her sigh. She turned her
head and met his lips with her own, impatiently. They kissed — not briefly, but
possessively. Forever.

Miranda caught fire within as she undid the
fastening of his shirt and rubbed her sensitized palms against his firmly
muscled ribs. She surrendered thought, listening only to the demands of her
body and the soft sounds of pleasure — hers or Simon′s she could not tell
and did not care.

His hands had found their way under her skirts,
as if he sought to assure himself that she was whole and real, not a fairy
ghost, by touching her, reaching for the heart of her passion and helping it to
burst through the pain and sorrow that had held them apart for so very long.

Still sensitive from their encounter in the
morning, Miranda was shocked at the wanton way her body burned for him. When he
pressed into her, she welcomed him, waiting for the pain and finding only
pleasure that washed away any last doubt that she and Simon were made for each
other as perfectly as any couple in her fairytales.

When he groaned against her skin and drove
deeper, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, helping him closer, where he
belonged, until there was no more two, only a long shuddering cry sounding the
triumphant music of one shared soul.

***

‶
So he has killed before? And to
think I flirted with him.″ For once, Miranda was pleased to see, Juliet
was subdued. She had not bounced over to greet them when they entered the inn —
although that could have been because of the state of their clothing or
Simon′s obviously besotted possessiveness as he ordered blankets and hot
cider for his wife.

But the likelihood was more that her younger
sister had finally realized how dangerous a man she had tangled with. Why,
Miranda realized with a smile, she wasn′t even flirting with Arthur. And
flirting had come second nature to Juliet since she′d been a child.
Instead, she sat pale and quiet, a blanket thrown over her shoulders and a warm
cup of tea in her hands. When she caught sight of Miranda examining her, she
said softly,
‶
I
thought you were dead.″

Miranda swallowed down her own sudden tears.
‶
I
thought you had gone over in the carriage. Thank goodness the two of you were
so quick-witted.″

Arthur seemed somehow sturdier, and Miranda
marveled at the transformation that a bit of confidence had made in the shy
scholar. She was glad that her worried questions had alerted him to the danger.
If not, from the ruins of the carriage, she did not doubt that she would have
lost her sister today.

Simon, his arm tight around her waist, gave a
quiet laugh.
‶
I
expect the quick-wittedness of all the Fensters helped us win the day against
that monster. You are indeed a formidable family. Grimthorpe was a fool not to
have learned his lesson five years ago.″

Miranda blushed at the reminder of the black
eye she had given the cad.

‶
Thank God my shot hit him in
the heart.″ Valentine flashed her a quick reassuring smile; but then his
expression turned grim.
‶
He tried to destroy my sisters enough for one
lifetime. I don′t regret killing that wretch and I′ll gladly hang
if necessary.″

Simon′s hand tightened to prevent Miranda
from leaping to her feet before he could quell her sudden panic by saying,
‶
It
is not. I spoke to the magistrate when he came to examine the madman′s
body. He is a sensible man and agrees that you acted as you had to in order to
save our lives and those of your sisters. There will be no further inquiry. We
are free to go.″

Juliet stood.
‶
Yes.″ Her eyes scanned
the occupants of the inn.
‶
I must get back to the house party and make sure
that Hero is coping.″

Miranda could not help smiling when she met
Valentine′s eyes. Their sister was returning to normal she worried that
Hero might be even now stealing her beaux.

When she would have followed the group as they
left the inn, Simon stopped her.
‶
Valentine,″ he called.
‶
Your
sister and I have never had a proper wedding trip. I think we shall spend a few
nights in this inn. Tell the new duke and my mother to manage without
us.″

Miranda′s mouth fell open.
‶
Have
you told Valentine?″

‶
Everything.″ He seemed
unperturbed, and even a bit surprised at her astonishment.
‶
Don′t
you trust your own brother?″

‶
Well, yes. But I cannot believe
you do, so suddenly.″

‶
I have learned a great deal
about your brother since you came back into my life, Miranda. I am certain that
he can be trusted with our family secrets.″

Valentine met her eyes and nodded.
‶
I′m
glad that you have your happy ending, Miranda. You both deserve it.″ He
smiled crookedly at her.
‶
And enjoy your privacy.″ His look was
skeptical as he glanced around the sturdy old inn.
‶
What little
you′ll have of it.″

He turned to leave, and then turned back,
addressing Simon directly.
‵
′I′ll make certain that Juliet and
Arthur arrive home safely. You take care of my sister.″

Miranda looked after the others, torn for a
moment.
‶
Perhaps
we should go along, there are so many things to clear up.″

Simon tipped her head up until she was looking
directly into his eyes.
‶
So far today I have taken you by the side of a pond
and in a grassy field. I think it is only fair that the next time I give you
the luxury of a bed.″ His eyes twinkled.
‶
And it is a long ride
home.″

She looked up at her husband, who was as much
the worse for wear as she was, and said with a thoughtful frown,
‶
Do
you think we can persuade the innkeeper to find a bath big enough for the both
of us?

His grin began slowly and then spread across
his face.
‶
I
shall pay whatever he asks to ensure it.″