Captive Of Sin Part 37

"While you're welcome to the s.l.u.t," Hubert said. "Even if you'd managed to keep her fortune, you'd soon find you made a poor bargain."

Charis hardly noticed the insults. Her mind worked too frantically to find something to persuade Gideon against this perilous course. He'd sacrificed so much for her, but this went beyond what anyone could ask. It would be like facing Rangapindhi all over again.

Gideon didn't look at the brothers but spoke directly to her. His voice rang deep and sincere. "My wife is more precious than rubies. If she came to me wearing only her shift, I'd still be rich beyond measure."

He made the extraordinary declaration for her sake in case things went wrong. Charis's heart twisted with overwhelming love.

Oh, dear G.o.d, whatever happens, let him live through this.

"I can't leave you," she said unsteadily. Blind fear dug icy talons into her. "Don't make me."

"I must." He released her hand and his voice lowered. "Akash and Tulliver are at the house. They'll know what to do."

"Gideon..." His name was a ragged plea. She watched his expression close against her. His purpose was clearly unshakable.

Gideon faced Felix, his face set with disdain. "So you agree? I place myself in your charge, and Charis goes free?"

No, this must not be. In blind distress, she turned to Felix. "Take me." She was mortified that her voice broke.

"Both so eager to sample our hospitality." Felix's laugh was cutting. "Make up your minds. One of you needs to get the money."

Gideon sent her stepbrother a flinty look. It was as if she'd never made the offer to stay in his place. "I a.s.sume you have a mount for Lady Charis. Unless you intend to shift the tree."

Gideon's continued calmness astounded her even through her dread. He wasn't shaking or sweating or pale. He looked like the invincible man who'd come to her rescue in Winchester.

Hubert's piglike eyes darted between Gideon and Felix as he tracked the shifts of power. "She can have my nag."

Gideon turned to her and gently cupped her face. His smile, like his touch, was poignantly tender. She searched his eyes for the fatalistic resignation she'd seen so often when he faced down his demons. All she read in the glowing black depths was strength, serenity, resolve.

And love, like a single star shining over a dark sea.

"Trust me, my darling," he said softly. "If you love me, trust me."

He knew he defeated her with that last demand. Gathering her ragged courage, she swallowed another furious protest and raised her chin.

Agreeing to what he asked was the hardest thing she'd ever done. Harder by far than defying Felix and Hubert or confronting the vile sailors in Portsmouth. Harder even than fighting Gideon for the chance to create a life together.

Fear coiled like an angry snake in her belly. For all Gideon's bravery, she abandoned him to an ordeal that could break him. But she couldn't let him down. Or succ.u.mb to pathetic, immature hysterics. She was the daughter of Hugh Davenport Weston. She was the wife of Gideon Trevithick. She wouldn't shame either valiant hero by failing now.

"I'll go," she muttered reluctantly.

She closed her eyes in despair as Gideon pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was sweet, pa.s.sionate, heartbreakingly brief.

As he slowly drew away, she looked into his eyes. The star was still there. More radiant than ever.

"I love you." She could no longer hold back the words.

"I love you." He spoke without reluctance or equivocation. She s.n.a.t.c.hed the vow close and locked it in her heart, never to let it go. Surely if they loved each other, Felix and Hubert couldn't defeat them.

Such hope rang false when she forsook her beloved to torture and imprisonment.

"Oh, for G.o.d's sake, get a move on," Felix said in a theatrically bored voice.

She ignored her stepbrother's jeering. She clung to Gideon's hand as she climbed down from the carriage. Her knees felt like custard as she reached the road.

Summoning all her courage, she released Gideon and braced her shoulders. Standing straight, she faced Felix. A scatter of cold raindrops. .h.i.t her. The storm wasn't far off. A crack of thunder made the pony start and neigh.

The gig creaked as Gideon jumped to the road behind her. He towered over her, and his gloved hand closed firm and possessive around her arm. "She leaves unharmed. Otherwise, we have no agreement."

Felix gestured Hubert toward Gideon. "She'll leave unharmed, all right. But only when we've got you trussed nice and tight."

Charis waited for Gideon to object, but he merely said, "Let me give Lady Charis my coat. The weather's about to break."

Felix nodded briefly. "No tricks. I can hurt you without killing you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Gideon said dryly.

He released Charis and quickly divested himself of his coat. As he dropped it over her shoulders, it swamped her. Immediate warmth surrounded her. And Gideon's scent. Such an absurd thing to bolster her unsteady resolve.

Gideon brushed one gloved finger across her cheek and smiled. "It's like old times."

Her skin tingled under his touch. His words reminded her they shared a history of danger and survival. She wished she could draw comfort from the fact. "Be careful, Gideon," she whispered, her throat thick with anxiety and love.

He stepped past her. Charis bit back a protest as Hubert grabbed Gideon's hands and roughly wrenched them behind his back. Her husband stood stiffly, but he presented no resistance. Could the touch of Hubert's hand spark an attack? Please, no.

How could Gideon bear this? He must know what the brothers had in store. His unflinching bravery threatened her fragile control. Her belly knotted with sick anguish. He gave himself over to torment for her sake. She felt like she pushed him back into the pit in Rangapindhi with her own hands.

When Gideon looked at her, he must have read her faltering purpose. "Put the coat on properly. You've got some tough riding ahead." He sounded as if he sent her off on a morning's canter. She remembered she owed it to him to reach Penrhyn and save him. No matter how she wanted to scream and cry against what happened now.

She stiffened her spine. Her gaze clung to his face as she memorized every beloved feature. His burning eyes, the proud blade of his nose, his pa.s.sionate mouth, taut with controlled anger. Beneath his composure, she knew he was fuming. She wanted him to stay furious. The fierce emotion might keep his ghosts at bay.

"Good-bye, my love," she said huskily.

He stared back. "G.o.dspeed, Charis."

"Come on." Felix snapped, s.n.a.t.c.hing her arm. His touch bruised, even through the thick woolen sleeve. "All h.e.l.l's about to break loose."

"Let her go," Gideon said in a low, dangerous tone.

For all that the brothers were armed and Gideon was bound, Felix's hand automatically dropped away from her. Charis sent Gideon a grateful glance, then picked up her skirts and followed Felix.

There was nothing more she could do for Gideon here. Pray heaven, she could help him once she was free.

In spite of her urgency to reach Penrhyn, Charis took one last lingering look at her husband as she climbed the steep bank to bypa.s.s the fallen tree. Dwarfing Hubert, he stood tall and proud and undefeated. No trace of fear or weakness showed in his set features.

Stay safe, my love. Stay safe until I come for you.

She sent him a burning glance, a message to be strong, a promise to save him as he'd saved her so often. Then she dropped below the tree's branches, and he disappeared from view.

Two horses were tethered in the underbrush. Neither with a sidesaddle. She hadn't ridden astride since she was a girl at Marley Place. It would be difficult in skirts and on a mount she didn't know. Especially in weather that intensified with every second.

The rain fell in sheets now. Felix was soaked through, and Charis shivered as freezing water trickled down her neck. Her bonnet was a useless, sodden mess. With shaking hands, she ripped at the ribbons and tugged it off.

"How will you know when the papers are ready?" she asked in a frigid voice. If Gideon could be strong, so could she.

"I'll send a message." Felix grabbed one of the horses and hauled it into the open. The stocky bay snorted and fought at leaving the shelter of the trees. "Let me give you a hand up."

"Don't touch me," she snapped.

"Suit yourself, my lady." He presented the reins with an ironic gesture.

s.n.a.t.c.hing them out of his hand, she spoke soothingly to the nervous animal. She scrambled onto its back, swathing the greatcoat around her. The storm was bad enough in this hollow. She dreaded to think what she'd face on the open moor.

The horse curveted at having a rider, but Charis quickly brought it under control. She glared through the downpour at Felix. "If you hurt my husband, I'll hunt you down and kill you."

Felix gave a harsh laugh. "You always were an unnatural chit. Once I get the money, I have no further interest in either of you. Although I'll wager Trevithick will curse the day he tangled with the Earl of Marley's termagant daughter."

She ignored his jibes. "Remember what I said. I know you and Hubert are eager to prove your prowess on a defenseless man."

Kicking the horse into a gallop, she forced it up the slippery path out of the dell. As she bent forward over the beast's neck, her heart pounded out a single message. Gideon, wait for me.

Twenty-three.

Up on the moor, the wind roared like an angry monster. It turned the driving rain into knives that pierced the thick greatcoat like muslin. Fierce cold sliced through Charis's bones. But nothing made her colder than her fear for Gideon.

Her mount neighed and fought as she battled to turn it onto the faint path toward Penrhyn. She sawed furiously at the bit, but the animal was too frightened to settle.

"Please, please, behave for me," she sobbed, tightening her thighs to keep her seat on the twisting horse. Her arms ached with stopping it bolting back the way they'd come.

Gideon needed her. Every second counted. Hunkering down in the saddle, she grimly set to gaining control over the beast.

Eventually, the animal began to splash its way westward at an unsteady gallop. Charis's shoulders knotted with strain, and she panted for breath. She leaned over the horse's neck, calling encouragement although she knew the gale whipped her words to oblivion.

All the time, her heart pounded out a silent message to Gideon.

Wait for me, my love. Wait for me. Wait for me.

Dread created its own swirling storm inside her. Not dread for herself, dread for her husband. Had he kept his ghosts away? What were Felix and Hubert doing to him? Where did they mean to keep him? Dear Lord, don't let it be somewhere dark and constricted like the pit at Rangapindhi.

She blundered on. The rain turned her clothes to heavy wet ice. Her sodden braids collapsed and tumbled down, blinding her. With one shaking hand, she hurriedly dashed her dripping hair away from her eyes. The storm transformed the afternoon into night, lit by jagged flashes of lightning, punctuated by rolling thunder.

The horse released a high-pitched neigh and balked at a swollen stream. Ruthlessly, Charis kicked it until it launched into an ungainly jump. "Come on!"

The animal stumbled when it reached the crumbling bank. Charis slid dangerously, nearly fell into the raging flood. After a terrifying, breathless pause, the flagging horse found its feet, slipping in the mud.

She hoped to heaven she followed the right path. Or any path. Either she'd missed Penrhyn's gateposts in the squall, or she was yet to reach them. Or she was hopelessly lost. Gideon said it was only a couple of miles to the house, but she felt she'd been riding forever.

"Stay with me." Her frozen hands closed clumsily on the reins.

The weather worsened. The wind became a malevolent, deadly force. She wondered how the plucky little horse kept going.

"There's a warm stable ahead. Oats. Hot bran mash. Soft straw for your bed."

She repeated the promises over and over. She didn't know if the gallant beast heard. The words were for her benefit as much as the horse's. She kept talking until her voice sc.r.a.ped over her throat.

All the time, she struggled to hold on to hope. Hope that Gideon was safe. Hope that Akash and Tulliver would rescue her husband. Hope that she'd find her way home. If she was caught on the moor when night fell, what could she do?

Keep going.

What choice did she have?

Fatigue made her muscles burn like fire. Her arms felt like iron weights. Cold stole the strength from her legs. Her eyes stung with staring into the arctic blast. Anxiety for Gideon was an evil, black, roiling ma.s.s in her belly.

The horse stumbled again, and this time was slower to find his feet. After his initial reluctance, he'd proven a valiant companion.

"Not far now, I promise. Just one more effort. One more." Her voice cracked, and tears she'd fought for so long rose to her eyes. Her teeth chattered so fast, she could barely speak. "It's for Gideon, you see. We have to save him. He's so good, and I love him more than life. And he's suffered too much."

The horse hung his head, his sides heaving with exhaustion, as the rain poured off him. Still crooning a fortifying litany, Charis slipped to the ground, landing with a splash. Icy water flooded her half boots. Her numb legs bent under her. She cried out sharply and grabbed the stirrup, just saving herself from hitting the ground. Her arms screamed in protest as she inched herself up. Her heart thudded furiously, her breath emerged in ragged gasps.

"Oh, Gideon, please be alive," she sobbed in despair, burying her face in the horse's saturated coat.

For a few seconds, she stood with the rain pounding down on her bare head. Stray pictures drifted into her mind, then dissolved. Coherent thought faded to a gray mist.

One idea remained clear. Gideon. She must save Gideon.

She blinked, forced her eyes to focus, her mind to function. Gideon needed her. She locked her knees until they held her upright. For a groggy moment, she clutched the slick leather stirrup. Then she released it and stood as the wind whipped around her.

She could do this. She could go on.

But her horse had reached the end of his endurance.

She forced words past lips that felt like solid ice. "We're nearly home. Not far now." G.o.d help both of them if she lied.

She fumbled for the reins and staggered ahead on foot. The horse followed docilely, too tired to resist, wading through dirty water that lapped over his fetlocks.

Eventually, she dragged the sodden greatcoat off and dropped it beside the path. Wet, it was heavier than lead, and it offered no protection. Or so she thought until she confronted the full force of the wind. The blue merino pelisse had been snug and warm on Jersey. Here, on a freezing Cornish moor in the middle of a deluge, she might as well have been naked.

Still she stumbled on. Her legs stung as if a thousand blades nicked at them. She shivered so badly, her muscles cramped to agony. She could no longer feel her feet.

The darkness now was nearly impenetrable. Devils in her head whispered that she'd die out on this moor and n.o.body would ever know Gideon was in trouble.