Rogues Gallery (31 page)

"But there is more I want—I need—to know. Consider it a wedding gift, from you," she bargained.

His lips tilted up again. "What is it you want to know?"

"I want to know of your family."

His smile faded, causing her heart to flutter with panic. "My own family is rather large," she added in a rush, "yet it has not been a happy one. My mother died when I was quite young, and at first I believed her death was because of something horrendous I had done."

"Oh, angel, that is not true."

"I know it is not. But as I grew older, I realized how unhappy she had been during her life, and her death provided her with the peace she had been seeking. So when I asked about your family, I just wondered if it was different than mine."

"It was quite different." Gabriel pressed a kiss to her forehead before gazing off into the distance. "There was a great deal of laughter, and love, and riotous good times. It was everything a family should be."

"I envy you."

"There is no need, for it has been many years since I have experienced those joys. Other than my band of rogues, of course."

"What happened to your parents?"

Gabriel's lips tightened, and it seemed as if he would not answer. "They died in a carriage accident when I was—when I was younger."

At the tale too familiar to many families, Marisa's heart flooded with sympathy. He had known love and had it snatched away; surely that was much worse than her loveless existence. "Oh, Gabriel, I shall make up for the love you have missed since then."

"And I shall make up for the love you have missed, as well."

Gabriel kissed her with exceeding tenderness, as if it were the last time he expected to do so. She could not bear such a thought, and she held him tightly.

"Gabriel, lest you have forgotten, Lord Westbrook, indeed, the entire world believes I am to marry him in the near future. Of course that is no longer possible. Should he not be informed of that fact? And soon?"

Gabriel nodded, as if considering that information for the first time. His lips tilted up, displaying his dimple. "Perhaps I shall inform him personally."

"Your madness knows no bounds," she said. "In truth, Edmund appears to be descending into a state of madness. I can scarce imagine his reaction to the news that he has lost his bride."

"I can guarantee he will not be overjoyed. Especially once he learns I am the one who has claimed you."

"What is next in our future, husband?"

"I am not certain, wife, although I would vouchsafe there shall be a surprise or two."

She groaned, and if Daphne were eavesdropping at that moment, it would convince the maid Marisa was indeed plagued with a stomach contagion.

"You do not care for my surprises?" Gabriel teased.

"Your surprises have like to been the death of me," she retorted, although she could not deny they had also been thrilling. "I am not certain I can bear many more of them."

"It seemed you enjoyed our interlude in the kitchens," he said. "That surprise was less than deadly."

"It was also quite wicked."

"I had hoped you would think so."

Marisa wriggled closer, treasuring the way his arms closed around her, his lips against her hair. She listened to his steady heartbeat, and how his breathing deepened, and soon she drifted off too, secure in the knowledge of Gabriel's love for her.

***

G
abriel reluctantly donned his clothing, watching Marisa as she slept. His heart swelled with love at the contented expression he had put on her face. He planned to see to it that she never again would believe she was not loved.

He felt a wave of loathing for Marisa's father that nearly matched the hate he felt for Edmund. Her father had no inkling of the beauty residing in Marisa's soul, or the ability she had to believe in love when she had experienced so little of it.

He leaned forward and placed a kiss to her temple. Though gratified to learn that Edmund had not robbed him of his ability to love, it was disconcerting to accept his uncle had stolen Gabriel's ability to provide his beloved bride with all that was hers as Lady Westbrook.

He wanted her to have everything that was her due as his countess. But despite his clever schemes and plots, there seemed no way to provide her anything even though he was the rightful Lord Westbrook.

Yet what were his options? He could not accept any alternative that guaranteed he would lose Marisa, or her love. Nor could he bear to deprive her of the love she had craved all her life. He had little taste for highway robbery anymore, and the heightened danger of it excluded it from the possibilities of their future existence. He had no intention of making Marisa a widow, not after all she had gone through.

Despite the love Gabriel had given to Marisa, he knew she would not be content until she was reunited with her aunt. If he could not endow her with the worldly goods she deserved, he could at least fulfill her heart's fondest wish.

It seemed there was only one option available anymore.

There was one last bit of information Marisa needed to know, the lone detail he could share at that moment. He kissed her until she awoke, and then he kissed her once more to assure that she would hear what he had to impart. "Marisa, love. Listen to me."

"I hear you, Gabriel." She yawned, but her eyes were clear, as well as wary.

"I love you, Marisa. Do not ever forget that. Have I your promise?"

She pulled him close. "Of course you have my promise, as well as my love."

He stroked her hair back from her face. "Do not lose faith in me. I would ask for your continued trust." He paused. "If anything happens to me, Gilbey will come to you."

"Pray tell Gilbey not to be offended, but I hope I never see him again."

He chuckled at her retort, but he understood her distress at the mention of anything happening to him. "Dream of me, angel."

"I shall pray for your safe return," she whispered.

He kissed her one last time. "As shall I."

Only a miracle could halt the wedding now.

Marisa clutched her bridal bouquet of snowy-white damask roses. She peered with utter disbelief at the stony-faced clergyman standing before her. The sense of bewilderment would not dissipate, no matter how much she tried to convince herself this wedding was the dream one.

Yet she was indeed standing in the private chapel situated at the entrance of Edmund's estate. She wore the white India muslin dress embroidered with white glass sparkling beads that had been selected as her wedding gown. Edmund stood next to her, attired in elegant black morning coat and pantaloons, his white brocade waistcoat and linen cravat a striking contrast.

She was in the midst of a veritable nightmare.

How had she ever gotten into such a dilemma? If her father believed her wicked before, God only knew what he would consider her soon-to-be bigamous state.

It was all she could do to keep from touching the signet ring she wore on the filigree chain about her neck, the sole evidence she was wed to another. Would she be forced to take a second husband to bed because her first failed to appear in time to halt the proceedings?

She refused to give in to such thoughts. Gabriel had asked her to trust him, and she had promised she would do so. He loved her and would not permit her to wed Edmund.

At least, not unless he was prevented from doing so.

Marisa shuddered, closing her eyes against the rising panic. Gabriel had said Gilbey would appear if anything untoward had occurred to him. She shot a quick glance to either side. To her relief, the freckle-faced scoundrel was nowhere to be seen.

Yet if Gabriel were late, it was up to her to halt the wedding. She could not prove she was already wed. Even were anyone to believe such a wild claim, it would merely lead them to her highwayman husband. She could not risk his safety.

She did not even know where she had been wed, or how to find the cleric from that fateful evening. Was it possible she was not wed? Marisa's breath caught in her throat at the traitorous thought sneaking into her brain. Perhaps Gabriel had hired the men to deceive her into believing the ceremony was a valid one, so that he might have his pleasure with her.

Had that been his plan all along? The doubts continued to surface. It had not been long after one of their trysts before she realized the diamond necklace from Edmund was missing. Was Gabriel at that very moment fencing the jewelry in London, relating to his heartily-amused cronies the tale of the gullible miss he had both bedded and robbed?

She turned toward the back of the chapel, but the door remained closed. Her gaze roamed the numerous people seated behind her. She saw her father's gloating expression, his self-satisfied smirk in place, Aunt Althea at his side.

How it would amuse her father to learn the man who professed his love had disappeared from her life when she most needed him.

No! She would not lose faith in Gabriel, not even for a moment.

It calmed her to see Aunt Althea's beatific visage, shining with love for Marisa on what she believed was her niece's happiest day. Tendrils of gray hair swirled about her unlined face, emphasizing her trusting blue eyes and easy smile. Unlike her sibling, Aunt Althea had retained her lithe figure and graceful mien from the previous era, as if time had readily agreed to stand still for her. She was everything that was sweet and joyous and gentle, the opposite of everything her father represented.

Marisa reminded herself that though Gabriel's methods were often unorthodox, he never had failed her. He had vowed to prevent this marriage, and rescue Aunt Althea, so Marisa must continue to believe he would honor his oath to do so.

She had accomplished what her father said could never be done—she had found a loving husband in her father's lifetime. Once she had ceased her attempts to please her father, a man who could not love her no matter what she did, she had been the recipient of a love too beautiful to describe.

Gabriel always returned to her, even when he was mortally wounded.

Still, she could not help but wish Gabriel would make haste, on this of all days.

The cleric cleared his throat, glancing at Edmund, and he nodded once. Marisa shuddered as Edmund took her hand in his, but he squeezed her fingers. He meant to dispel her prenuptial nervousness, but it could not be quelled, not while she waited for her husband to arrive.

She had to postpone the ceremony, to give Gabriel enough time to return. She could swoon, or feign illness, in an attempt to halt the proceedings. Yet Edmund would most likely have the cleric read the litany for the dying over her prone body before continuing with the wedding.

Marisa cast another glance in her aunt's direction. If only Aunt Althea knew what Marisa plotted. Every time Marisa looked at her aunt, the dear woman beamed, as if today were the culmination of all her dreams for her niece. Aunt Althea could not know that Marisa's fevered brain sought any possible alternative to save them both at that moment.

Marisa's throat closed at her decided lack of options. She wanted to cackle with hysteria at the unexpected answer to her prayer for deliverance. With her throat constricted, she would be unable to utter a word when it came time to speak her vows!

She could hear the cleric droning, but her mind continued to scheme. Since she had already spoken the vows once, it was not necessary to devote her undivided attention to them now.

Even if they were to be spoken with a second husband.

An eerie stillness roused Marisa from her reverie. The cleric gazed at her with pursed lips. She glanced to her right to see Edmund waiting as well, his smile a frightening thing to behold.

Her heart pounded. She had never expected this moment to arrive. Time was slipping away, and she had to decide on a course of action. Unfortunately, she had not a single notion as to what that might be.

Her father's "ahem" shattered the uneasy silence. It also roused her to action.

"No."

As she had feared, her constricted throat prevented the word from being heard. She inhaled a deep breath and lifted her hem, preparatory to fleeing down the aisle.

"I said—"

The church door clanged against the stone wall, the sound reverberating inside the intimate chapel. Marisa's head snapped around at the unexpected noise. She was not the only one, for the entire assembly turned at the same time. Who could be so ill-mannered as to enter a place of worship in such a disrespectful fashion?

Marisa's hand flew to her lips, stifling her cry of joy.

Gabriel lounged with deliberate insolence against the open door, a devilish smile lighting his face. Marisa's knees threatened to buckle in relief, and her heart raced at her narrow escape.

He had not failed her!

Gabriel, dressed in highwayman gear—high boots, flowing black cape, and black mask—took his time strolling down the aisle toward her. He gallantly acknowledged several ladies in the audience, obviously former victims from their fawning responses and fluttering fans.

Marisa gritted her teeth at his complete disregard of the dangerous situation. Edmund could send for guards at any moment! She looked over at her erstwhile groom, who was watching the display with a moue of distaste.

She glanced back to watch Gabriel's approach and saw Gilbey, Davy, and numerous other armed men spilling through the church entrance and lining the walls. It would be impossible for anyone to enter or leave.

An eternity later, Gabriel was bowing in front of Marisa and Edmund. "I apologize for the unseemly interruption," he said to the stunned cleric. "I have come to fetch my wife."

"Fetch her then and be gone," Edmund snapped. He turned, signaling the cleric to recommence the ceremony. His eyes widened when he saw Gabriel's hand reach for Marisa's. "What are you about? I said fetch your wife and be gone. We are in the midst of a wedding."

Gabriel apologized once more and then tucked Marisa's hand into his elbow. "Mistress Angel," he whispered for her hearing alone, "did you fear I would not return?"

His eyes sparkled, telling her more than words could that he considered her utterly beautiful. Marisa could do nothing but blush at his admiring regard, though she would discuss with him much later the need to revise his rescue timetables.