My Seductive Innocent (51 page)

Nathan’s heartbeat pounded in his ears as his blood surged through his veins. His cousin had been conspiring with Ravensdale? “Where’s Sophia?” he ground out.

Ellison pointed to the parlor. “Waiting for us in the parlor. She’s all tied up, so I’ll take you to her.”

“If you’ve hurt her―”

“You’ll what?” Ellison demanded as he shoved the pistol against Nathan’s chest. “I have the upper hand now. I’m the king. I’m taking the throne.”

Ellison had lost his mind. Nathan considered the dagger tucked in the sheath sewn into the side of his boot. He only needed one second while Ellison was distracted and then he could get to it.

“You’ll never get away with killing us,” Nathan said, for he had no doubt Ellison planned to kill Sophia, too. Otherwise, it made no sense for him to have gone to the trouble of bringing her here.

Ellison stared at him with flared nostrils. “I will. Once you two don’t return home, I’ll tell the investigators that I last saw the two of you when you were walking home from dinner at my house. They’d never suspect me. I’m a poor, helpless cripple. Now, get going.” Ellison stepped to the side and motioned Nathan forward.

With the pistol shoved in his back, Nathan had no choice but to bide his time.

S
ophia struggled against the ropes that bound her hands behind her back, and she nearly whooped with joy when she got her right hand free. The sound of footsteps coming near made her hands, which were already slow from the drugs that had not totally worn off yet, unsteady and her pulse erratic. She fumbled to free her left hand, uncertain what horror Ellison might be bringing to her.

Once she was free, she bent to untie her ankles but only got one undone before the door opened. She shot upright and pulled her hands behind her back as Nathan stepped into the room with Ellison behind him. For a moment, her mind fumbled to understand why Nathan wasn’t fighting his cousin, but when Ellison moved forward and stood beside Nathan she saw the pistol that he pointed at her husband.

Ellison directed Nathan to the chair directly in front of the one to which she had been tied. “Sit there, Scarsdale. That way you will be nice and close when I slit your wife’s throat.”

Nathan didn’t move.

Sophia feared he would snap and get himself killed trying to save her. “Don’t worry, darling,” she murmured, her words slurred from the lingering effects of the drugs. “Remember how I saved you before? You’ll find a way to save me. Won’t you?” She slid her gaze to his ankle, then back up to his face. Their eyes locked, and understanding that only came with hope and faith passed between them.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll find a way, if you’ll help me?”

She nodded and glanced purposely behind her and down toward her hands, as Ellison shouted, “Silence!”

Nathan was quiet,. She saw his muscles flex, and when he gave her a sharp nod, she pushed up with her one free foot and launched forward to crash into Ellison. He cried out as she snaked her hand around his ankle, and in a blur, Nathan had Ellison on his back, very near Sophia’s face, with his boot planted on Ellison’s chest. Nathan gripped his dagger in one hand and Ellison’s pistol in the other.

“Do you prefer to die by pistol or knife?” Nathan asked in a lethal voice.

Sophia quickly untied her other foot and stood. She stepped beside Nathan and placed her hand on his arm. He flinched at her touch, and then she could feel the muscles in his arm relax. She willed him to listen as she spoke. “You’re not a killer, Nathan. Let others dole out the justice, and let’s you and I get on with our lives. There is so much hope and promise in our future, darling.”

After a moment, he nodded. She sighed with relief as he sheathed his knife without taking his gaze—or the pistol—off Ellison, who stared back in stony silence.

Nathan took her hand with his now-free one and gave it a gentle squeeze “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she whispered hoarsely, raising Nathan’s hand to her lips. “As long as I have you, I’m perfect.”

T
wo Months Later

St. Ives

Sophia stood hand in hand with Nathan in the warm air, made all the warmer by the bonfire that Nathan had built. It roared in the pit before them, and she didn’t speak because he didn’t. She was certain that when he was ready to talk, he would. Her cheeks burned from the heat, but she didn’t want to look away. As the bright-orange flames engulfed yet another one of the portraits of Nathan that Sophia had helped him drag from the attic, the death grip Nathan had on her hand loosened a bit more. She smiled inwardly. With each painting that burned, Nathan’s torturous past was destroyed a bit more. His aunt and cousin were gone, cut-off and sent to make their own way in America, and life was finally settling into peacefulness.

They stood for hours, Nathan’s arm slung over her shoulder, as the sky turned from twilight to full dark. The fire and stars illuminated the night around them, and a cool breeze finally blew. Wood popped and crackled as the last of the portraits disappeared into the flames, and a log shifted sending sparks dancing into the air.

Nathan turned to her and cupped her face. “It’s done.”

She nodded.

He traced his thumb over her upper and then lower lip, and he smiled. “That was my past.”

“Yes, it was,” she agreed, her heart singing with joy.

The fire danced in his dark eyes as his gaze held hers. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her mouth, and the touch of her husband’s kiss sent goose flesh racing across her skin as it always did. He intertwined their fingers and brought her hand to his heart, where he pressed their palms, as one, against his beating chest. “You are my future. Together, we will make a family that will be filled with love.”

She smiled slowly, gripped his other hand with hers, and laid it against her stomach. “We’ve already made a family, my darling. And it will most certainly be filled with love.”

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