She could go for the street, try to lose herself in the crowds, but that was just where everyone else was. If Bryson managed to escape Richard, he might expect her to go towards the town. And besides, she was willing to bet that she could outrun his heavier feet on the sand. Elizabeth darted through a cluster of morning beachgoers and sped for the shore. If she could make for the rocks and hide among them, just long enough to know he had not followed her...
“Witch!” thundered a voice behind her. “Murdering whore!”
Why she looked over her shoulder, she could not say, but Silas Bryson was now only yards behind her, his face contorted with hatred. He was faring better in the deep sand than she had hoped, and Richard was nowhere to be seen.
Elizabeth’s feet seemed to grow wings, but it was not enough. She could hear him closing on her, frothing and spewing his poison. Silas Bryson was not a young man, nor was he light of foot but he had been twisted hard and sinewy by a lifetime breaking the wild to his will. And he was enraged. But surely, even he would tire soon... if she could just make it to the rocks! She could scamper over the boulders far more easily than a man of over two hundred pounds and fifty years.
Her neck was suddenly wrenched backwards, and her hair nearly ripped by the roots as Bryson sank his grip into her chignon. Elizabeth yelped and flailed, but she could not stop herself from being flung down on the sand. Bryson’s figure loomed over her, and she started trying to pedal backwards.
“The letter was right,” he sneered as he closed in, “I heard you were back from England, you filthy baggage. I paid good money to find you, to see you got what you deserved, and finally, someone knew how to follow you!”
Elizabeth rolled over and clawed her way to her knees, but Bryson set his foot in the middle of her back and pushed her down. Not satisfied with standing on her and crushing her lungs, he reached down and dragged her up by her shoulders, but she came with two handfuls of sand. She twisted and threw them into his face, and he howled and clawed at his eyes. Without wasting her breath on words, she was off again.
Her freedom was short-lived, for he leapt forward with the power and agility of a wolf and drove her back to the sand. He ground her face in it, shoving viciously at the back of her head as if he meant to smother her right there. Was no one around to see? Would no one help her? She tried to scream, to push herself up, but every breath only drew sand into her nose, into her mouth. Bryson pressed harder, fierce hands digging into her neck and the base of her skull. She started to sob, and for an instant, she wondered if this was to be the end.William!her heart cried out.I am so sorry... so...
And then, from somewhere over her head, in the fading blue above, came a savage cry and a thud—a body colliding with Bryson’s, driving him off her. Blood-curdling ferocity rang out, in the one voice she had been aching to hear—had despaired of never knowing again. Shaking and dazed, she rolled over.William?
Was she hallucinating? He was a blur of fists and fury, too fast, too savage for Bryson to rally against the surprise attack. Bryson tried to drag him down, but William had the upper hand—dodging and pressing every advantage with the passion of a man defending his own.
Bryson was tiring. He had ceased his snarling and insults and was now fighting with the last he had. He broke away and with one final thrust, reached for Elizabeth, only feet away... but close enough to the rocks that she was no longer defenceless.
He would have got his hand around her throat once more—it would not have been long, for William was already reaching for him with murder in his eyes, but Elizabeth struck first. With a palm-sized rock, she smashed his jaw with every ounce of her strength. Bryson, at last, fell limp at her feet.
Elizabeth stumbled forward, and William caught her, pressed his hand to the back of her head, and held her to his quaking chest. “William!” she panted. “Oh, William!”
It mattered not how he came there. It washe, living and real and holding her safe! He was repeating her name, stroking her face, his thumbs light on her cheekbones, and his voice choked with feeling. “My love,” he groaned, over and again. “Oh, my Elizabeth!”
She could not let him go. Her arms locked around his neck, fingers lost in his hair as her tears mingled with his. Helpless kisses peppered his jaw, and her body formed itself to him as she sighed love in his ear. He turned, twirling her gently in his relief and elation, then suddenly he stiffened and set her back on the ground, pushing her away.
Richard was charging down the beach towards them. “Darcy! Elizabeth! Good God, Darcy did you kill him?”
The golden aura faded; reality cooled her thoughts. Richard was alive and well after Bryson’s attack, and she had nearly forgotten about him. Her hand was still reaching for William, but she pulled it behind her back and closed her eyes, just long enough to remember what was real and what was a dream.
Richard skidded to a halt on the sand, then thrust his chin out and inspected the prone man. “Is he dead?”
Elizabeth hitched up her chin. “He will wish he was.”
William stepped slightly forward. “She hit him hard enough, it will be a wonder if he is in his right mind when he wakes.”
Richard’s figure seemed to sag in relief. “Thank Heaven. I will see the brute taken in. Are you well, Elizabeth?”
She sensed William’s tension, the way he took a half step back and looked away at Richard’s question. “Yes,” she replied simply.
“We’ll have to get Bryson up,” he grumbled. “Watch him, will you, Darcy? I will go to the office and call for a board.”
William cleared his throat at this. “Perhaps I ought to do that. You...” He harrumphed again. “You should see your wife safely back.”
A slow quirk turned the right side of Richard’s mouth. “Yes, uhm... strange thing, that. She is not actually my wife. Never was.”
Elizabeth swayed. Was the beach tipping? The tide rolling in faster than usual?
“What?”William demanded.
Richard ran a finger under his collar. “Elizabeth, you remember what I was about to tell you before? I... well, call it a moment of weakness, I suppose, but I... ah... I filed for an annulment this morning.”
An annulment?So, he truly had lost all faith in her! She counted her breaths and tried to keep her voice steady. “Were you planning to tell me about this?”
He bared his teeth in a pained grimace. “Ah... no. You would have never gone with it—I knew that, but I also knew you wanted it even more than I did. Anyway, they were most obliging, even offered to telephone the Platte County Recording office while I waited—for an expedited fee, of course. It... uh... it seems that your cousin, in his haste to be helpful... forgot to register our marriage with the county. In fact, if he ever goes back there, they would very much like to charge him a hefty fee for negligence. The only record of our supposed union is not even worth the paper it is written on.”
