To Wager the Marquis of Wolverstone (15 page)

His hand cupped her breast and squeezed it
hard. Sabine froze with revulsion. She couldn’t, she
couldn’t
go through this again. She closed her eyes.

“It was so obliging of you not to tell
Marcus. He would have had my balls, or my life, for touching you. I
considered cornering you again for another bout, but you never met
in the garden again after that night.”

Sabine closed her eyes. She’d not been able
to walk back into that garden ever again after Gower’s rape of her.
The horror and humiliation were too great.

“He started to openly court you. I knew if
you wanted to become the Marquis of Wolverstone’s wife, you’d have
to keep our ‘liaison’ quiet; for who wants a man’s seconds as his
wife?”

Sabine’s hand fumbled in her pocket and
found her pistol.

“Every time I drank with Marcus and his
friends, I silently gloated, knowing I’d been there first. I
thought for sure you’d finally told him, when a month later you
suddenly disappeared. Seeing Alfredo, now I understand why.”

“Well, I bloody well don’t understand why,
perhaps you’d like to tell me.” Marcus advanced into the room,
white hot fury rampant in his eyes, his voice edged with steel.
“And take your hands off her, you prick of a man.”

Faster than you’d expect a man the size of
Gower to move, he’d grabbed Sabine round the throat and swung her
in front of him using her as a shield against Marcus’s pistol.

Her fingernails clawed at the fat fingers
squeezing the life-giving air from her lungs.

Her breath rasped through her teeth, her
eyes widened, and her hope soared as Marcus moved from out of the
shadows. She could see the molten rage flaming within his eyes. His
nostrils flared and his lips were taut with anger.

She looked up into Gower’s eyes which were
now filled with alarm. A sneer spread, turning his face into a
monstrous mask of ugliness. His hand tightened at her neck.

“Such a pretty neck; it’s so slender and
graceful, and so easily snapped.”

Marcus stopped in the centre of the room,
breathing hard as he took in the scene before him. His amber eyes
pierced the dim room with outraged intensity. He looked like Mars,
the god of war, a dark, vengeful, exotic beauty.

Sabine lowered her hands from the steely arm
encircling her throat. She fixed her stare and all her faith on
Marcus.

“Stand aside, Wolverstone,” Gower warned,
“Come any closer and I’ll snap her neck.”

“Like I stood aside ten years ago and did
nothing? I’ll not be so dishonorable a second time,” and to her
horror, he crouched and relinquished his weapon to the floor. She
turned and looked at Gower’s triumphant smile. It wasn’t until
she’d turned back to look in stunned disbelief at Marcus, that she
saw Henry St. Giles step into the firelight.

“This time we settle it, man to man, coward.
No weapons, just our fists.” Marcus’s tone was coolly scornful, his
stance was relaxed, but suppressed violence simmered and rippled
under his impeccable attire, and he moved with predatory
panther-like grace.

Sabine stared, mesmerized by the guilt she
saw in Marcus’s eyes. “It was not your fault, Marcus,” she said
softly.

“Shut up, bitch.” Gower stepped back. “You
call this honorable. If it’s honor you want, then call me out. If
you kill me here and now, how will you explain it to the
magistrate? As soon as Society claps eyes on dear Alfredo, they’ll
think you killed a rival.”

“He’s right, Marcus. Let him walk out of
here. He won’t hurt me. He’s got what he wanted. The vowels I held
have been destroyed.” Her desperate plea fell on deaf ears.

Marcus’s cold fury cut through the fraught
atmosphere. “I know him. He’ll just want more and more. He’ll
continue to use Alfredo to get what he wants.”

Gower tightened his grip. “Marcus
understands me only too well. What will Society say when they learn
the demure Lady Orsini spread open her legs for me.”

“Bastard,” and Marcus took a step
closer.

Gower lifted her off the floor with his
hands. Darkness beckoned as her throat was crushed and she fought
valiantly to breathe.

“Tut, tut, careful.”

Marcus stepped back, filling the already
overheated room with cusses and Gower let her feet touch the floor
once more.

Gower turned and peered out of the window to
the street below. “Where’s your carriage? You must have one.”

Marcus looked at Henry and nodded. Henry
withdrew and she heard his footsteps on the stairs.

“Good man. Now if you’d simply move toward
the fire, Sabine and I shall be leaving and taking your
carriage.”

“Society be damned. I’m not letting you
leave here with Sabine.”

Sabine closed her eyes and prayed. She knew
what Marcus would say next.

“I formally challenge you to a duel. Choose
your weapon.”

To her surprise Gower moved closer to the
door. “I don’t think so. For to challenge me, you’ll have to reveal
Sabine’s sordid past. How she willingly came to my bed, hoping to
trap me into marriage with her pregnancy. Easy, easy, my sweet
treat,” he added at Sabine’s vehement cry of protest.

“I was never willing. Your touch makes my
skin crawl.”

Marcus held her gaze and she nodded. She was
not ashamed of the past. She had no reason to be ashamed. Alfredo
would have to learn the truth if they were to stay in England, for
the gossip would be cruel, but it would be better to be prepared
than for him not to understand.

Marcus sneered. “The truth should come out
so that all of Society knows the kind of man you really are; a
bully and an abuser of women.”

“You can’t be that naive. It’s her word
against mine. Wait until I tell them how she was begging me for it;
how her enthusiasm for the sport knew no bounds.”

“You’re wrong. It’s my word and her word
against yours. I’ll stand by her. I’ll protect her like I should
have done ten years ago. Who do you think Society will believe?” A
smile filled with utter hatred spread over Marcus’s sensuous lips.
Lips that she remembered had been hot and tender on hers. “Pick
your weapon, scum.”

“No.” She cleared her throat. “No. I won’t
allow it.”

Marcus’s incredulous gaze swung her way.
Then his lips firmed into a disapproving line and he hung his
head.

She ignored the large hand at her throat. “I
won’t be used as an excuse for any more violence. Please, just let
him go. Killing him, and in the process ruining yourself, won’t
change the past. I’m sick and tired of looking back. I want this to
be over. Revenge is not the answer. I thought it was, but it is
hollow. Getting on with my life and living a full and happy life is
the answer.”

Marcus gave an anguished cry. “Gower took my
happy life away from me. He took
you
!”

This time she beat her chest, willing him to
understand. “
Marcus, can’t you see. I’m still here.
”

Chapter Thirteen

She felt Gower moving restlessly against her
back. He was uncertain and getting agitated. The silence sharpened
to a razor’s edge as the two men stared at each other with venom in
their gazes.

“Once in the carriage, he will release me.
Won’t you? The vowels have been destroyed.” Sabine wasn’t sure who
she was addressing her last comment to.

At her plea, Marcus’s fiery eyes flicked to
meet hers. Behind the fury was sorrow and remorse. The fleeting
look vanished as his lips tightened.

Henry arrived back in the room. “The
carriage is at the door. I’ve instructed my driver to take you
wherever you wish to go.”

Marcus’s voice lowered to a terrifying hiss.
“If you touch one hair on her head, I’ll hunt you down like the
rabid dog you are and kill you—slowly, painfully,
remorselessly.”

“As will I,” Henry added.

“Yes, yes. Clear a path to the door. You
too, St. Giles.”

“No. Your word as a gentleman first,” Marcus
sneered as he pronounced the word
gentleman
. “Give your word
that you’ll leave her on the front steps. In exchange, I promise
not to come after you. And my word, at least, you can trust.”

The fingers at her throat squeezed even
tighter and Sabine saw dark spots. Her hands rose and she clawed
once again at the hand at her throat.

Marcus said, “Go. I don’t need to kill you.
Society will shun you forever for your cowardly behavior. I’ll
enjoy your disgrace.”

“Not as much as I enjoyed being Sabine’s
first lover. It must kill you to know I was there before anyone
else. I took her virginal blood, and if you don’t step back, I’ll
take her life as well.”

Sabine could sense that a volcanic force of
molten rage about to explode from Marcus. “It’s alright, Marcus.
They’re only words and words can’t hurt me.”

Her two rescuers moved in unison over toward
the fireplace, leaving a clear path to the stairs.

Gower pushed her quickly before him, all the
while keeping the men in his sight. “Walk to the window. Keep
looking down. If I see either of you start to move before I’m
safely on my way, she’s dead.”

In a blur, they made it to the carriage.
Gower entered first, still holding her neck in his vice-like grip.
He began to drag her inside. She looked up and saw Marcus pounding
on the window before she was pulled inside. The carriage, on
Gower’s urgent command, took off at sped. Her last glimpse was of
Marcus and Henry dashing down the street after her.

“What have you done?” she cried.

“I need money. You have it. I’ll risk
Marcus’s wrath. He won’t hurt me with you still in my grasp.”

“We will drive to Calais. One in France,
you, my sweet, will organize funds for me, so that I may disappear.
I hear America is the land of opportunity. If you behave and
are—how I shall put it,
agreeable
,” his lecherous look made
her stomach heave. “Then I may set you free.” He pulled her roughly
onto his lap. “Or, once we become reacquainted, you might like to
come with me.”

Sabine feared she’d vomit. “You stupid man.
Now Marcus will come after us. If you touch me, there will be
nowhere on earth you can hide.”

“But he can’t do much when I hold what is
most precious to him—you, my dear.” He looked down at where her
gown gaped from where it had been ripped in the struggle. Sabine
tried to cover herself but he stopped her. A sinister look had
flooded his eyes and she froze with fear at the sight of it.

“It’s a very long drive to Calais. A man has
to have some entertainment…” and as fast as a cobra striking its
prey, he flipped her beneath him on the seat. She felt his hand
rummaging around the edges of her skirts. He started laughing. The
manic sound reminded her of a madman. “What have you got under
there? Trousers! As if they would stop me!”

He briefly let go of her hands and flipped
her skirts up over her head, trapping her under her clothes. Sabine
felt the panic rise in the darkness as his hands tore at the
protective breeches she wore under her skirts. Her breath came in
terrified gasps. A picture of Marcus and Alfredo swam into her
head. She took deep breaths, fighting desperately to get her fear
under control.

Slowly her hand reached to where her pocket
now lay within easy reach. She inched her hand into it, until she
felt the cold steel of her pistol. Her fingers gripped it and she
immediately felt a rush of courage. She’d rather die than let Gower
rape her a second time.

She closed her eyes and drew the pistol from
her pocket. Gower was so busy ripping her clothes from her body
that he’d not noticed how still and quiet she’d gone. She gave a
silent prayer for her son and drew her arm free of the tangle of
her skirts and touched the barrel of the pistol to Gower’s
temple.

“Not this time,” she said softly as Gower
went motionless, suddenly still in stunned silence. “Get off me and
move across to the other seat.”

He reluctantly did as she had asked, his
face a mass of startled disbelief.

“Now tell the driver to turn the carriage
round.”

Gower’s disbelief turned into calculation.
“That little pistol won’t kill me.”

She lowered her aim to his groin. “Maybe
not, but I’ll make sure you can’t rape again.”

He paled and crossed his legs.

“Order the coach to turn round.”

He hesitated. “If I do that, I’m dead.”

“For a man like you, better dead than a
eunuch I suspect,” she said harshly. “Quite frankly, I don’t care.
Either way, I’m happy to oblige.”

His lips tensed and an apprehensive silence
invaded the carriage. They sat facing each other for several
minutes, until slowly color began to seep back into his face. “I
think you’re bluffing. You don’t have the bottle to shoot me.”

Sabine tried not to let her hand shake. She
did wonder if she had the ability to coldly shoot an unarmed man,
but if he tried to hurt her again…

“Try it and see. If you’re not going to tell
the driver to turn round and go back to London, I will.” With that
she stood slightly to bang on the hatch. That’s when he moved.

Before she could even knock on the roof,
Gower was upon her, trying to wrestle the gun from her grasp.

“There they are,” Marcus yelled across to
Henry as they galloped toward the carriage. Less than ten lengths
behind, Marcus and Henry had been frantically chasing the carriage
as it thundered its way on the road to Calais.

He dug his heels into his stallion’s flanks
thankful he’d invested a lot of money in his horses. They’d made up
the lapse in time perfectly.

Marcus had realized Gower would aim for
Calais. Sabine was French and Gower would use her and her money to
help him flee. He should never have let him leave the house. He
cursed his own foolhardiness. If Sabine got hurt, it was his fault
for a second time. Worse, if she died… the pain in his chest at
this thought almost knocked him from his horse. He couldn’t lose
her again. He
wouldn’t
lose her again.