“I want to hold you, Nicholas. I want to hold you as the life passes away.” Her knee was on the bed, the gun still pointed at his head. “I held Malcolm as he passed away. Did you know that?”
“How could you? I locked you up.”
“I had help. Even then.”
He turned his face into the bed again, to hide the rage boiling in his gut, rising to swallow his heart. His hands clenched into rigid fists. He would kill her; he would choke her, just like she murdered his son.
“Who?”
“Oh, he’s dead now.”
“Who’s helping you now?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Nicholas made an anguished sound and brought his knees up. “Why Gillian?”
She touched his leg, trailing her fingers down his thigh. “Do you know how rich I am, Nicholas? I have the fortunes of three husbands. Rich husbands. But not my first husband’s wealth and not yours. You have it all. It should be mine. I earned it. After your bride is dead and you’ve committed suicide, I’ll return to claim it all.”
“You faked your own death. No one will believe you.”
“But they will. I was terrified. Who wouldn’t be, married to the Devil Earl, murderer of innocent women and children, and a few not so innocent men? At least that’s what everyone believes. And they’ll believe me when I tell them I had to run. I had to hide. You would have hunted me down and killed me otherwise.”
“Gillian’s gone. You can’t hurt her anymore.”
She made a soft sound, her fingers ruffling his hair. The gun barrel slid down to press just under his chin. “Lover, she’s never been safe. Evan is mine. He’s probably stringing her from a tree for witchcraft right now.”
Nicholas’s stomach gripped in earnest.No. Not Gillian.
“Oh, dear. I know how fond you are of her. Fash not, you’ll soon be together.”
Nicholas’s arm snapped up, seizing her wrist and twisting the gun away. It discharged. The explosion was deafening. Black smoke engulfed them. He caught her by the throat and pinned her to the bed, squeezing, the rage clouding his mind. She’d murdered his tiny son.Smoke burned his eyes so that tears streamed down his face. His ears still rang from the shot. She clawed at his hand, her legs kicking.Gillian.She might still be alive.
He released Catriona’s throat and jerked her off the bed. His chest heaved. “You’re going to take me to my wife.”
Her hands circled her throat as she swallowed convulsively. Her head bobbed in a terrified nod.
“And you’d better hope she’s still alive.”
21
By the time they passed through the village at the base of the mountain, Gillian began to have misgivings. He’d not come for her. She’d wanted him to come for her. Prayed for it. Not to lock her up but to tell her he was wrong, to beg her forgiveness for his pigheadedness.
But he did not come. As the day wore on, Gillian began to wonder if she was wrong. He was only trying to protect her, and she had been making that a rather difficult task for him. Uncertainty and frustration warred in her breast, leaving her frustrated and despondent by the time night fell.
She was still tormenting herself when they stopped for the night. Camp was set up, and Rose checked Gillian’s arm and hand dressings. They settled down around the fire. Sir Evan disappeared into the darkness to check the perimeter. He hadn’t spoken a word to her all day. Not that he was ever especially talkative, but shecouldn’t help but feel he disapproved of her decision to abandon his master.
Gillian didn’t know what to think anymore. There was no right or wrong. It all felt wrong if they weren’t together. She lay on the ground, a rolled plaid braced behind her to keep her from rolling onto her right arm in her sleep. In her mind she went over and over everything that had happened, and sorrow settled over her like a blanket. She loved Nicholas. And yet he would imprison her for what she was.
She should have shown him—taken him to the dollhouse so he could see the doll appear and disappear for himself. She should have tried harder. But what good would it have done? The anger sparked again. He thought she was insane. Not merely dotty anymore but a madwoman. Then she thought of his eyes and his dusky skin and his arms around her, his laughter and teasing, and the emptiness yawned wide in her heart. Tears scalded her eyes.
Beside her Rose lifted her head, sharp eyes scanning the darkness.
“What is it?” Gillian whispered.
Before Rose could answer, all hell broke loose.
Gillian was no stranger to raids, having lived on the borders since she was ten. However, they’d always had the tower to run to for protection, where they could light a signal fire and wait for help to arrive. Here they didn’t even have a fire. Sir Philip had ordered them doused after they’d eaten, so they would not attract attention.
