Rogues Gallery (32 page)

Edmund grabbed Gabriel's arm. "What are you doing with my bride?"

"Remove your hand, if you please," Gabriel said. "I told you I have come to fetch my wife, and I have done so. Now we shall be on our way."

"You imbecile! She is to be my wife!"

"Was to be. She is mine now," Gabriel replied.

Edmund gaped for a moment at Marisa, as if to discern whether she was a willing participant in the farce. Her heart pounded with fear. She clutched Gabriel's arm a bit tighter, grateful for his protective presence.

"And just when might you have married this woman?"

"A fortnight ago."

A choking sound from the audience told Marisa her father was in the throes of apoplexy at the news.

"And I suppose the proof of this wedding was most unfortunately lost," Edmund retorted, his lip curled into a contemptuous sneer. He flicked a glance at the fascinated audience hanging onto every word of the unusual exchange.

Marisa felt a chill at the malevolence flashing in his eyes. She tugged on Gabriel's arm, for he did not know, as she did, of the madness lurking beneath Edmund's polite facade. However, Gabriel ignored her gesture, for he seemed to be enjoying the encounter, much as he had at the betrothal ball.

"I have the proof right here with me," Gabriel said. He reached inside his coat and produced a copy of the marriage lines.

Marisa nearly gasped, for if Edmund were to insist on reading them, he would have Gabriel's name; for the present, Gabriel's anonymity kept him safe from the authorities Edmund was certain to send after him.

There was no hope that Edmund would rejoice to learn of a possible relation to Gabriel now.

"Should these not prove satisfactory evidence," Gabriel continued with maddening calm, "the cleric who performed the ceremony awaits outside."

Edmund growled, something about Gabriel's unruffled recitation apparently convincing him the tale was indeed true. He turned to look at Marisa, pinning her with the hostility in his eyes. "You!" He pointed a shaking finger at her, and it was all she could do not to cower behind Gabriel. "You have brought shame to me, cuckolding me in this fashion."

"Nay, I would have been the cuckold had I not arrived in the nick of time." Gabriel dabbed at his brow.

The massed assembly tittered and chuckled, some of them coughing to cover their amusement.

"No matter," Edmund said, "we shall have the marriage annulled."

Marisa's heart stopped at the smug satisfaction on Edmund's face. Was it possible Edmund might emerge the victor in this contest after all?

However, Gabriel winked at her, and with the answering flood of relief came the glorious reminder of their wedding night. A flush spread across Marisa's face, accompanied by a knowing chuckle from her highwayman.

Edmund flinched. "Damn you," he said to Marisa, his eyes narrowed. He turned his hateful gaze onto Gabriel. "Damn you both!"

The cleric gasped, and there were more than a few murmurs from the rapt congregation. Gabriel shrugged with genuine unconcern. He lifted Marisa's gloved fingers to his lips, and deposited the briefest of kisses.

Marisa's heart continued to thunder, her eyes urging Gabriel to hasten, so that they might escape Edmund. There was no telling what he might do if they tarried.

Yet her gallant highwayman would not be hurried. Indeed, it was as if he could not refuse any opportunity to provoke Edmund. Gabriel tilted his head and pressed his lips to Marisa's. She could do nothing but hold him close, praying he would not incite Edmund's madness further.

"Who are you?" Edmund rasped, his fists clenched at his sides.

Gabriel turned, his eyebrows raised at Edmund's ill-mannered interruption of the kiss. "Who am I? I should think it will become clear to you one day."

Gabriel gave Edmund no further opportunity to ask questions. To Marisa's infinite relief, he swept her into his arms, her muslin dress glittering as it trailed to the floor. He strolled toward the open doorway, biting his lip with amusement at the sound of multiple heartfelt sighs coming from the females in the audience.

If Marisa could have sped him along, she would have, but his reckless nature reveled in the precarious situation. At any other time, hers would have, too.

Instead, she rested her head against his steadily-beating heart, content to let Gabriel take charge of whatever dangers faced them.

"Wait," she whispered as they approached the pew occupied by her stunned father, her amazed brothers, and her ecstatic aunt.

"Touché, Father," she said, her heart swelling with triumph.

Her father's face reddened to an alarming shade. His mouth opened and then clamped shut, as if God had decided the customary tirade about Marisa's wickedness would not be uttered.

Bernard blinked, stunned at her audacious manner of besting their parent.

Marisa reached a hand toward her aunt. "Come with me, Aunt Althea."

Her aunt rose, her face beaming, and stepped gingerly over her brother's feet. Gabriel nodded to Gilbey to assist her. The cheeky young man loped to her and then escorted her from the building with a gallantry to equal his leader's.

Marisa sighed, filled with contentment as Gabriel recommenced his stroll out of the church.

He had made her second wedding day as memorable as her first.

***

G
abriel pulled Eclipse to a halt near the camp's fire, his sleeping bride clasped in his arms. Gilbey was close behind, Marisa's aunt seated atop his horse. To a man, the entire band of rogues who had been left behind stood and gaped. Several of them rubbed their eyes before staring in disbelief.

Gabriel chuckled, wondering what Jamie's reaction would be, particularly since he had not yet been informed Gabriel had wed the beguiling miss.

"Andrew," Gabriel commanded to the lanky young man closest by. "See to it that a bed—a clean one, mind you—is found for this exhausted angel, and her aunt."

Andrew set off to accomplish Gabriel's bidding, followed by every single one of the rascals.

"They behave as though they've never seen a woman before," Gilbey said.

Gabriel laughed before saying, "Take Marisa's aunt to her new lodgings and see that she is given anything she desires."

Gilbey nodded and led the older woman away. Gabriel dismounted Eclipse and carried Marisa to where Jamie usually resided at this time of day.

Jamie glanced up, and then did a double-take upon seeing the bundle of white muslin and lace Gabriel carried in his arms.

"Och, lad, what have ye gone and done now?"

Gabriel lowered Marisa onto the rough pallet. She deserved the finest linens rather than coarse wool to cradle her while she slumbered so peacefully. Satisfied that she was as comfortable as could be under the circumstances, he turned to see Jamie still gawking.

"Jamie! Did you think I could leave that innocent child to be despoiled at my uncle's hands?"

"So ye mean to return her unspoiled?" Jamie asked, his eyebrows raised.

"She's no innocent anymore."

"Och," Jamie said under his breath, adding another curse or two.

"We were wed a fortnight ago," Gabriel added. This time he could not hide his joy, relishing not only the shock on Jamie's face, but the wondrous fact that Marisa was truly his bride.

But for how long?

It was as if Jamie had read his mind. "What do ye mean to do?"

"I did not think beyond ensuring her safety, Jamie," Gabriel admitted. "I could not let her stay with Edmund any longer. And her family practically sold her to the highest bidder, so they would not wish to have her back. My visits to her were becoming much too dangerous. There seemed little other choice," he said, his voice defensive, even to his own ears.

"Be still, lad. I have no doubt ye made the correct choice," Jamie reassured. "It just takes me a while to deal with surprises, that's all." He gazed at Marisa for several moments before turning his attention to Gabriel. "She's a beauty, lad," he said.

"Aye," Gabriel murmured. "A veritable angel."

His mind returned to the unangelic passion his wife had recently bestowed on him, and he became impatient to experience it anew. He stood up, ready to see how Andrew fared with his instructions to prepare a chamber for Marisa, but Jamie's words halted him in mid-stride.

"What are we to call her, then? It's a mite too soon for Lady Westbrook," Jamie remarked.

Gabriel frowned at the reminder of how little he could provide for his bride, and how she did not even know of her new title. "Her name is Marisa Duns—" His face broke into a wide grin. "Her name is Marisa DeVault," he finished with pride.

Jamie stood and brushed his hands on his well-worn vest before extending his right hand. "Let me be the first to wish ye happy then, laddie."

Bursting with joy, Gabriel took Jamie's hand in his. In the next heartbeat he had gathered the surrogate father into a fierce hug.

"Och, laddie, these old bones are brittle enough as it is," Jamie sputtered in a vain attempt to hide his emotion. "I'll not be able to sit my horse for days if ye don't cease."

Gabriel gave him one more squeeze before releasing him.

Jamie coughed. "Och, ye and your rough ways have made my eyes water."

"I know all your feeble tricks, Jamie," Gabriel said with genuine fondness.

Marisa turned over, her hands grasping for covers. Gabriel draped a blanket over her shoulders and her lips curved up while she continued to sleep. His heart swelled with love, yet it also beat with fear.

He had deliberately provoked Edmund in the chapel, and while it had been too much to hope for a confession, Gabriel had believed his uncle would let slip something that could be used to discredit him. Unfortunately Edmund had had too many years' practice at concealing his crimes.

Edmund had gripped a nearby pew, his whitened knuckles telling one and all how much it took to keep his emotion in check. Yet only Gabriel knew that, rather than struggling to regain his composure, Edmund was plotting the most satisfying way to kill the man who had interrupted his wedding—and the bride who had deserted him at the altar.

"Jamie, what have I set in motion?"

"'Tis Edmund that has set these events in motion, lad. Never ye forget that. Ye have been innocent of wrongdoing."

"Perhaps I have overreached," Gabriel said, seeking reassurance.

"Nay, lad," Jamie responded with vehemence. "Ye have merely done what was needed to protect your own. Does the blackguard know who stole his bride?"

"No. Nor does she know of our relation to each other."

Gabriel knelt next to Marisa, caressing her tousled curls, swamped by a wave of possessive tenderness.

"I will prove to Edmund that I can protect my own," Gabriel said, righting himself. "I am no longer a ten-year-old lad that he can overpower, to take what he wants from me."

"Nay, ye are not that lad. And Edmund will learn it soon enough. Justice will be done. Have no fear on that score."

Gabriel gazed at his mentor, wanting so much to believe his words, yet the only justice he foresaw was his hands clutched around Edmund's throat. And Marisa would find herself wed to a man who murdered his own kin—just the sort of man Gabriel had tried to rescue her from.

Still, he managed in a teasing voice, "Ye have a plan ye have not told me of, Jamie me boy?"

Jamie's face split into a grin. "No, something much better. It is called faith, lad. The good Lord sees to it that His own are taken care of."

"I could wish He would send a plan, then," Gabriel said with a wry twist to his lips.

"Well, until He does, I suggest ye enjoy this time with your bride, lad."

Gabriel nodded. Their time together was bound to be brief, so he would see to it that every minute of his time with Marisa was idyllic.

***

"A
unt Althea? Is she all right?"

"Sleep, angel. Your aunt is fine. She rests in a room nearby."

Marisa felt Gabriel's hand smoothing her hair from her face. His crooning voice was designed to lull her back into slumber, but she would not succumb to sleep any longer.

"You promised me a dance on my wedding day," she murmured.

"So I did."

The complete indulgence in his gaze made her heart melt into a puddle. How often had she wished to be viewed in such a light, yet for so many years she had believed it was a vain wish.

Gabriel held his hand toward her and she clasped it, pulling herself upright. She almost could not comprehend that this man, not Edmund, stood next to her as her husband. It scarcely seemed possible, yet it was true.

"I must warn you, Marisa, the rogues shall want to dance with you as well."

His brow wrinkled with concern, as if afraid she would flatly refuse to have anything to do with his family.

It was her family, too. Misfits, the whole lot of them. She had never in her life felt so cherished as she did just then.

"Come then," she said, her heart overflowing with joy. "I do not wish to keep them waiting. I know firsthand how dreadful that can be."

Gabriel's lips turned up into the most delicious smile Marisa had ever seen. Well, it could not quite surpass the one he'd worn when he had sauntered into the church to retrieve her from a second, bigamous wedding.

Gabriel pulled her into his arms and spun her around. His lips hovered over hers before he whispered, "Remember that I wait as well."

Marisa's heart fluttered as she held her lips ready for his touch. He took what seemed an eternity, drawing out the anticipation, proving he was a master at inflaming her passion. At last his mouth was on hers, the unhurried movements of his tongue stirring Marisa beyond bearing.

"After all, 'tis your wedding night," he reminded her, a wicked glimmer in his eyes.

Lightheaded with desire, and her inability to breathe, Marisa nearly consigned the waiting rogues to the devil so that she might take her exciting husband to bed.

Instead, she relished the subtle revenge she would exact on him. It was well past time the man learned the agony of being kept waiting.

***

G
abriel laughed with genuine enjoyment as Marisa twirled past in the arms of yet another of the rogues. Indeed, until that evening, Gabriel had not realized what a large number the band contained. He would swear a score or more had joined the ranks since Marisa's appearance that night.