The Mischievous Bride (33 page)

Milli sat up, her head pounding with thoughts of escape. She pulled the rag from her mouth and jumped off the bed, starting for the window, but suddenly heard him coming. She looked around and hurried toward door, wishing she had something hard to whack over his head. The fire poker! She crossed the room to grab it.

The door flew open.

“Well, well, not the fainting chit I thought I would find, are you, sweetheart?” Knightengale blocked the doorway, looking as dangerous as a snarling wolf.

She raised the poker over her shoulder. “Come near me, and I shall hit you!”

He took a step toward her, chuckling. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly, even if you tried.”

Her eyes shot daggers. “I may not kill you, but believe me, it will hurt!”

He froze, glaring down at her. “Put the poker down, Millicent. Let us talk about this!”

“Ha! And I’m the king of England! You beast!”

His eyes gleamed with rage. “You are a blasted bother, did you know that?”

“And you are a killer, did you know that?”

He moved fast, but Milli was ready for him. She swung hard and smacked his head. He fell like a sack of flour. She dropped the poker and ran around him, heading for the door.

A strong hand grabbed her ankle, jerking her down. “I have you now, you little monster!”

She shrieked.

“Shut up!” He whipped her onto her back and hovered over her while blood ran down his forehead. “You little witch. I’ll show you what a man is.”

“You are no man!” She scratched at his face, kicking and screaming like a banshee.

He swept her from the floor, holding her away from him. She continued her struggle, trying to break free.

Curses flew from his lips. “Now, you’ve made me angry.”

She screamed again, hoping that someone would hear her. He shook her. She was stunned, but fury surged through her, giving her energy. She kicked him again, making contact with his knee.

“You little vixen!” He shifted her to his hip, squeezing her waist. “You’ll think twice about—”

“I think that is quite enough!”

The familiar voice caught Milli by surprise. She lifted her head. “Marcus!”

Knightengale dropped her to the floor. She turned, watching in shocked horror as the man reached for a pistol in his pocket. “Marcus! He has—”

Marcus had a pistol of his own and pulled the trigger, slamming Knightengale in the shoulder. The man moaned, falling to the floor. Milli scrambled to grab his weapon, her blood pumping furiously.

Trembling, she held Knightengale’s pistol to the man’s head. Her body hummed with vengeance. “You killed my father, you despicable beast! I should shoot you right now!”

“Milli,” Marcus said cautiously. “Let me have the gun.”

She looked up at Marcus, her bottom lip quivering. “He killed Papa! This is loaded and I aim to use it!”

“I didn’t,” Knightengale shouted.

“You planned his murder,” Milli said, her hands shaking like a leaf as she continued pointing the gun at the man. “You deserve to die. Say your prayers!”

To Milli’s surprise, the big man started whimpering. “Marcus, tell her. Tell her it would be murder.”

Marcus let out a frustrated sigh. “It would be murder, Milli. I could have shot him through the heart, but I didn’t. You know I can hit a fly at twenty paces.”

Milli looked up and gave him a shaky smile. “I know.” She handed Marcus the gun. “I just wanted him to suffer a bit. My acting worked, did it not? ”

She stood there, feeling battered and bruised. It was as if she had been thrown into a nightmare.

“What the devil!” Stephen exploded into the room, a pistol by his side. He looked at Knightengale bleeding on the floor. “Thunderation, Milli, are you all right?”

She nodded, finally feeling the stress of the last few hours catching up to her. “I, uh, pretended to swoon.” She let out a tired laugh and pointed to Knightengale. “He . . . he actually believed it.” And then she crumpled to the floor.

Minutes later, after Knightengale was tied up in another room, Stephen argued with Marcus that he should be the one to stay with Milli. But Marcus had explained that Shelby was Stephen’s father-in-law, and as such, he should be the one to bring in the murderer.

“I fail to see what that has to do with it,” Stephen snapped, glancing at Milli, who was still sleeping in the bed. She had awakened for a few minutes and had gone back to sleep. Marcus was livid when he saw the marks on her face. Knightengale had hit her more than once.

“Let me put it this way,” Marcus said, his voice hard. “I may kill the man if I am to take him in. I had the chance with that pistol, and now I am rethinking my decision.”

Stephen scowled as he looked at Milli’s pale, bruised face. “And you don’t think I want to do that too?”

“You may want to do it, but I may actually beat the man to death.”

Stephen grinned. “He’s a bit larger than you.”

Marcus raised a smiling brow. “That, baby brother, does not matter at all.”

Stephen chuckled. “Yes, I heard you had a round with the man at Gentleman Jackson’s and you won. But a night at an inn without a chaperone? It is not proper.”

Marcus brushed Milli’s chestnut hair from her face. He looked up at his brother. “I am going to marry her.”

Stephen’s eyes were wide in shock. “You love her?”

“Does it matter? This is something that must be done. After Knightengale is brought in, the facts will be out. We must protect her.”

“What about Miss Canton and the general?”

“Ah, now, you allow me to speak. I saw the general and told him, no thank you. I will not be marrying Miss Canton at all.”

Stephen looked surprised. “But you never said a thing.”

“You never let me.”

Stephen took in a deep breath. “I don’t want her hurt with any unnecessary gossip. As her guardian, I give my approval. You don’t think we need to fetch a doctor?”

Marcus frowned as he regarded Milli’s delicate form. “I don’t believe so. But if I feel the need, I will see to it. She is tired and exhausted. Knightengale’s disregard for her person took a toll on her. But rest assured, I will not let her out of my sight. You have my word.”

Stephen seemed satisfied. “Then, I shall leave now, with Knightengale in tow.” He turned on his heels and glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, and by the way, good luck telling her you are her fiancé. I would like to stay for Act Two, but duty calls.”

Marcus smiled, feeling rather relieved as he followed Stephen to the door. “I think she will see things my way.”

Stephen let out a low whistle as he entered the hall. “If she is anything like Elizabeth, you will be groveling at her feet, begging her to marry you.”

Marcus closed the door and sank beside Milli, holding her hand. “I think not. You have always loved me, have you not, my little princess? Marrying me will be no problem at all.”

The following morning, in the carriage back to Bath, Milli’s head hurt from two things. One, from Knightengale’s whacks to her body, and two, from Marcus’s incessant chatter. The clip clop of horses’ hooves would have been a lullaby compared to Marcus’s words.

“So you see, as my bride, no gossip will follow you after this little escapade.”

Milli clenched her hands in her lap. “That’s absurd. I never meant to marry him. I may have made a mistake, leading him on, but when I tried to tell him I was not interested in eloping, he became rather angry.”

Marcus traced a gentle finger over her bruised cheek. “You know, I would have killed the man if Stephen had not been there. After seeing what Knightengale did to you, I was rethinking my pistol shot.”

She looked away, afraid to let her emotions make her look like a fool again. “He k-killed Papa. He is an evil man. I feel so stupid.”

She stared out the window as the countryside flew by, avoiding Marcus’s keen gaze. Sunlight warmed the carriage, but her body felt like ice.

Marcus held her hand, something that felt so natural it made her heart squeeze with pain. He was only feeling sorry for her.

He leaned toward her. “We will be married within the week with a special license. You need not worry about the gossips.”

Her head jerked toward his. “I never said I would marry you.”

He looked surprised. “I thought you loved me?”

She blushed. He must have thought her such a peagoose, pining for him all these years.

“You do love me,” he remarked. “You told me so.”

She yanked her hand from his. “That was when I was a . . . a child!”

He dared to laugh. “Don’t fight me on this, Milli. We will be marrying this week.”

Her gray eyes glittered with pain. “You don’t love me. Why marry me?”

“Who else will marry you?” he challenged.

“Lord Hughmont,” she blurted. “I will marry him.”

“He doesn’t love you either.”

She swallowed. “How do you know? Besides, any of my other suitors will do just fine. But I refuse to marry you!”

“Come now, my little princess. We will do well together.” His gaze lingered on her lips, and she scooted further into the corner.

He edged toward her, his light laughter making her bristle.

She glared back. “I don’t think this situation is very amusing.”

He inclined her chin so she would look at him. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her face. Desire coursed through her, and she fought every instinct to lean into him.

He bent toward her, coaxing her with his touch. His silver eyes locked with hers. “Kiss me, my little mischief maker.” His words were like silk on steel, making her yearn to be his.

He didn’t give her a chance to say no. His mouth touched hers with a hunger that destroyed her defenses. He caressed her with his lips, demanding her to respond. She couldn’t resist his touch. It was like a whisper of heaven dipping into her soul. His taste. His touch. His entire being captivated her.

When he pulled back, his eyes devoured her. “Yes, indeed, we will do well together.”

She froze and stared at him. Knightengale had said something similar. Not that Marcus wanted her for her money. But he was only trying to salvage her reputation.

In the blink of an eye, her happiness snapped. He never said he loved her. He would never say he loved her. Ever.

Heartbroken, she leaned against the seat and closed her eyes. “I’m so tired, Marcus. I think I need to sleep.” She said nothing else until they arrived in Bath.

 The entire household pampered Milli after she returned home, everyone except her sister.

Three days later, Lizzie stood in Milli’s bedchambers with her hands on her hips. “I cannot believe you won’t marry Marcus.”

Milli shrugged, tugging at a chestnut curl as she leaned into the mirror. She had hidden her bruises with some powder. She grabbed her lavender water and dabbed a few drops behind her ears. “He doesn’t love me.”

“Ah, and you love him. I know how that goes.”

Milli spun around. “Well, since you know the feeling so well, you must know that I cannot, will not, marry him!”

Lizzie sank on her bed and sighed. “Oh, Milli, I am certain he loves you. His past has made it hard for him—”

Milli scoffed as she began to pace about her room.“ His past? Goodness, Lizzie, I am tired about hearing about his past. What about me? What about how I feel?”

Lizzie frowned. “You love him. I know that.”

“And he knows that too,” Milli said, reliving their last kiss in her mind. “How do you think that makes me feel? He will pity me for the rest of my life.”

“Marcus is not like that.”

Milli turned and faced her sister. “He will pity me. I cannot live like that. I am going to marry Lord Hughmont.”

Lizzie gasped. “Elope?”

“Certainly not. I have asked Stephen’s permission to wed at Bath Abbey, and he has given it.”

Lizzie shot up, her eyes flashing. “I don’t believe it. He just returned from London this morning. He would have told me.”

“There are some things a guardian and his ward must keep to themselves. He agrees though, my reputation must be saved. Marriage to a reasonable gentleman is the answer. I don’t mean to hurt you, but this is my life. Please, trust me with my choices.”

Lizzie looked ready to cry.

Milli’s stomach churned with turmoil. She was afraid to say anything else. But her plans were in motion, and no one was going to stop her.

“What about Marcus?” Lizzie finally asked.

“I hope he finds true love some day. I truly do.”

“Oh, Milli,” Lizzie sobbed, dropping her face in her hands. “You are doing the same thing over and over. First Knightengale, and now this. Haven’t you learned anything?”

Milli’s mouth tightened into a thin white line of frustration. “I am doing what I have to do. When I go down to luncheon in a few minutes, I will tell him.”

Lizzie shook her head. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

Milli folded her body into her chair, feeling the hot sting of tears prickling at the edges of her lids. “Oh, Lizzie. Don’t you see? I may be stubborn and opinionated, but if I don’t have Marcus’s love, I cannot marry him.”

Lizzie stared at her through watery eyes that gleamed with mirth. “You little actress. You have a plan, don’t you?”

Milli shrugged and sent her a shaky smile. “I always have a plan, Lizzie. And marrying Lord Hughmont is only the beginning.”

“You will marry me!”

Milli stared at Marcus from across the dining table. His furious gaze almost made her drop the pot of coffee onto her lap. It was only the two of them. It seemed the duchess had made certain they were alone. No servants. No relatives.

She took a swallow of her coffee and calmly stared back at him, desperately trying to hide the chaos rushing through her veins. “I will certainly not marry you when you tell me I must.”

Marcus shot from his seat, throwing his napkin onto the table. “I cannot believe you agreed to marry that worm.”

“Lord Hughmont is everything agreeable. We enjoy books and plays—”

“Does he make your heart beat with desire?”

Milli choked on her coffee, ignoring his question.

He stomped around the table and slipped behind her, clasping her shoulders in a loving embrace. “Does his touch make you tingle from your head down to your toes?”