The Fairy Tale Bride (33 page)

"What if they are too late?"

Miranda smiled ruefully, though the thought
shook her. "Don't you recall how quickly Simon rescued Emily? And
we both know that she did not want to be rescued from Valentine's
arms."

The words did not seem to ease Hero's
anguish, Miranda noticed. Deliberately seeking something to
distract her gentle sister from her worry, Miranda added, "Until
then, I suggest you go help Katherine with the girls — we should
not want the young ones worrying, and now with Peter's daughters
about, there are too many for her to manage alone."

Hero took one deep sniff, before she nodded
and hurried away. Miranda hoped she had not imagined the flicker of
relief in her sister's eyes — a relief to finally have something
that could occupy her hands and mind while her heart lay heavy as a
stone.

She wondered if Peter's daughters were as
capable of mischief as her own sisters. If so, Hero and Katherine
would not have much time to worry about Juliet. Perhaps she would
join them, after she had settled with the dowager the matter of how
to announce Peter's return to life.

"Worry deepens the wine hue of your eyes, my
dear." With a startled gasp, Miranda glanced up to face the man she
thought had run away with her sister. Grimthorpe. Here. She looked
beyond him for Juliet, but he was alone. "Where is Juliet? What
have you done with her?"

"Juliet is in a carriage bound for her fate,
my dear."

"But you eloped ... " Miranda trailed off.
Obviously, if he were here, he had not eloped.

"Certainly I told you I did. But I would not
want that penniless chit of a sister of yours."

"Then who ... ?" Miranda had intended to ask
who had taken Juliet off, but that was not the question he
answered.

"I want you, of course."

She went cold. He wanted her, not Juliet?
Why? "I am already married."

"That would present a problem — did I want to
marry you." He smiled and Miranda's stomach clenched. "but I merely
want to ensure that you don't present my dear cousin with a little
brat of an heir."

She gasped. It was you, then? You poisoned
Arthur?" She glanced toward the parlor door, gauging whether she
could make a run for it and enlist help quietly. Damage to the
Watterly reputation or not, perhaps it might be best to scream.
Scandal was not the worst thing that could happen to a family,
despite the dowager's convictions.

"I wouldn't, if I were you." he said softly.
It was only then that Miranda noticed the pistol he held in his
left hand. It was pointed directly at her. "At least, not if you
wish your sister's life to be spared."

She had tensed for a scream, but released it
when she realized that he was canny enough not to threaten her, but
Juliet. "What do you mean?"

"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.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

"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.