Forsters 04 - Romancing the Runaway (21 page)

No, she could outwit the three of them because they underestimated the fierce determination of a woman in love to keep her man safe. Once Gabe was released, she would seek an annulment on the grounds of non-consummation. Quite how she planned to fight William off when the time came she hadn’t yet decided, but she would find a way. She knew the Wildes far better than he did. Perhaps she could have Mrs. Dalton put something in his food to render him senseless. Failing that, Jessie was bound to have ideas.

Cheered by the thought that she wasn’t alone in this, she allowed her shoulders to sag and pretended to be defeated.

“You’re right,” she said, treating them to a disdainful glare. “I really don’t have a choice, so let’s get this miserable farce over with.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Gabe strode into the stable yard at the Wildes to find the place in uproar. Any fleeting hope of discovering Miranda going about her daily business as usual evaporated at that point.

“Lord Gabriel, thank God!” Jessie ran up to him, wringing her hands. “Miss Miranda, she’s missing. We thought she might be with you, but it’s obvious now that—”

“What happen to you, m’lord?” Munford asked, taking in his dirty clothing. Presumably his face was equally filthy.

Tobias ran up to him, tail between his legs, more subdued that Gabe had ever known him to be.

“No time to explain.” Gabe remembered the sad selection of horses available to him and swore beneath his breath. “They’ve taken her to Polperro village to try and force her into matrimony.” He indicated Bill and Luke with a wave. “These two told me as much.”

Wright glowered suspiciously. “Hey, I remember you two. I knew you was up to no good.”

“They helped me, Wright,” Gabe said. “I’d still be at the bottom of a mine shaft if it weren’t for them. Now, I need to get to Polperro as fast as I can. They have an hour’s start on us.”

“You don’t look too good, m’lord,” Wright protested. “Let me go.”

Gabe barely heard him. My kingdom for a
decent
horse, he thought. But even he couldn’t magic fast horses out of nowhere, so one of the saddle horses it would just have to be.

“Did you get Sultan back, Wright?” he asked, more in hope than expectation.

Before Wright could respond, the sound of a horse repeatedly kicking its stable door answered Gabe’s question for him. He’d thought nothing could distract him from Miranda’s plight but the sight of a magnificent black horse’s head peering over its half-door briefly did so. Gabe had seldom seen a finer animal. Or a more angry one. His eyes rolled back in his head, his nostrils flared and he looked like he might actually break the door down if he wasn’t granted his freedom immediately.

“Don’t even think about it,” Wright said, placing a hand on Gabe’s arm. “The new owner was more than happy to part with him. Not a single person in his establishment has been able to get a saddle on his back, much less mount him. He’s an evil monster. I had to lead him back and he fought me every step of the way.”

Gabe barely heard Wright’s complaints. He had yet to find a horse he couldn’t ride and had little respect for this particular one’s temper tantrum. Besides, once he remembered his manners, Sultan would get him to Polperro at twice the speed of anything else in the yard. The time saved could make all the difference. He was convinced that Miranda would never agree to marry Peacock, even though she must be aware that he himself had been kidnapped to force her hand. Miranda was sensible enough to realise that even Nesbitt and Peacock wouldn’t go so far as to kill a man of his standing.

Wasn’t she?

But there was no saying what they might do to an unprotected girl like her in an effort to win her cooperation. A shiver passed down his spine and he returned his attention to Sultan.

“Well,” he said grimly. “If he doesn’t like saddles, we won’t put one on him.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Dalton said.

“Do you want her back or not?”

“Of course, but—”

“It’s my fault this happened. I should have thought they’d find a way to get close to her. All those mine shafts. Presumably there’s one that opens up on this land.”

“Aye,” Dalton replied. “But Mr. Cantrell had them all sealed. It was safer that way.”

“Apparently not all of them,” Gabe replied. “Now, help me get a bridle on Sultan and then stand well clear. I can’t predict how he’ll react when the door’s opened. Two of you,” he said, flicking his fingers at Wright’s crew, “saddle a couple of the others and follow me. Wright, bring the curricle. Bill and Luke, go with Wright. We’ll need transportation for Miss Cantrell. And, Wright,” he added, his gaze resting on Bill and Luke, “keep a weather eye on these two until we can be sure whose side they’re actually on.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Wright replied, cracking his knuckles.

No one else tried to argue but even Dalton couldn’t get close enough to Sultan to put a bridle on him. With no time to waste, Gabe took it from him and tried himself. He was probably the only person present not afraid of the beast, and Sultan appeared to know it.

“If you want out of here,” he said, “let me get the bit between your teeth and you can run as fast as you damned well like.”

Sultan tossed his head and tried to take a chunk out of Gabe’s arm. Gabe had anticipated that and tapped the stallion’s nose.

“Look, time’s a-wasting. They obviously didn’t look after you properly at your new home, but Miranda’s the one who fought for you to come back here. Now stop throwing your weight around and think about making it up to her.”

Astonishingly, Sultan calmed at the sound of Gabe’s no-nonsense voice, dropped his head and allowed Gabe to get his bridle on. Seemingly, that was the only concession he was prepared to make and he continued to snort, paw the ground or flash his teeth at anyone foolish enough to drift within range of them.

“Give me a leg up,” he said to Dalton. “Then open the door and stand aside.”

Gabe’s head had now cleared to the extent that the pain was a dull throb. He also knew precisely what to expect from Sultan when the door flew open. The horse sprang forward and reared up, hooves flashing as everyone scrambled for cover. Gabe grabbed a handful of thick mane, dug his knees firmly into Sultan’s flanks and hung on.

“Nice try,” he said, actually smiling. “Which way to Polperro?”

“Take the side road, and keep the sea on your left,” Dalton replied. “It’s the quickest way but the road’s not too even and turns into a track halfway.”

Sultan seemed surprised to discover that Gabe was still on his back, but he was far from defeated. He skewered his hind quarters and put in an almighty buck. And then another. When that failed to dislodge his rider, he decided to do what Gabe actually wanted him to and took off like the wind. Gabe turned him in the right direction and sat completely still, leaning forward over the beautiful stallion’s withers as his hooves ate up the ground at breakneck speed. Breaking his neck was what he’d finish up doing if he fell, because the horse was running away with him. Allowing any mount of his to run out of control wasn’t something he’d normally do, but the circumstances were far from normal. Besides, it wouldn’t be too long before Sultan got over his fit of pique and remembered his manners, such as they were.

Something flashed alongside them. Gabe took a quick look, unsurprised to see Tobias keeping pace with them. Removing his attention from the road, even for a second, affected Gabe’s balance and he felt himself slipping down Sultan’s sweat-soaked flank. The ground was suddenly a lot closer than it ought to be have been and Gabe, weakened from the blow on his head, was unsure if he had the strength to pull himself up again. Astonishingly the horse actually slowed, just fractionally, and Gabe was able to grab another handful of mane and right himself.

He laughed aloud and patted Sultan’s neck. It seemed they’d reach a position of mutual trust.

Mud flew up from Sultan’s hooves as he picked up speed again, landing on Gabe’s face and blurring his vision. He wiped it away with his sleeve and concentrated on keeping Sultan on track. The stallion began to slow up a little and appeared to be enjoying himself. Whatever prompted his dislike of saddles clearly didn’t extend to having a man on his back. As predicted by Dalton, the road became a rutted track and there was a large log blocking their path. The powerful horse didn’t hesitate. He simply pricked his ears, gathered his hocks beneath him and sailed across it without Gabe having to do a thing.

“You and I are going to be great friends,” he told Sultan when they landed safely and the horse continued to eat up the ground.

Suddenly the chimneys of Polperro were in sight, the church spire standing out. Perhaps, just perhaps, he would be in time.

*

Miranda felt like laughing hysterically as she walked into the church. A less likely-looking bride it would be difficult to imagine. She was wearing the old worsted gown she’d had on the day previously to root through the attic. She was without a bonnet and her hair had, as always, tumbled down. Having a sack thrown over her head was only partially to blame for her rumpled state, but she really couldn’t work up the energy to care.

The parson appeared, looking older than Miranda recalled. Only the calculating expression in his eye remained unaltered. His hands shook and she could smell brandy on his breath. She snorted with disgust, numb and completely distanced from what was happening to her. Remaining detached was the only way she could force herself to go through with this fiasco.

There appeared to be some confusion with the licence. Nesbitt was clearly holding on to his temper with great difficulty as he patiently explained to the parson why a daughter of Looe wished to marry a man from Dover in a different parish than either of them resided in. It clearly wasn’t the first time this conversation had been conducted. When she heard coin changing hands she almost felt admiration for the loathsome parson, who was obviously sharper than he wished people to know. Nesbitt wasn’t the only one who wouldn’t scruple to exploit a desperate situation.

“Right, I think we’re ready to begin.”

Miranda was calmly resigned. She didn’t listen to the words the parson spoke, but heard William make his responses. Now it was her turn.

“Do you, Miranda Abigail, take—”

“No, she does not!” The ancient double doors to the church banged open.

Miranda gasped with relief when she turned to see Gabe standing there, battered and filthy, but alive and in one piece. Her heart soared, her knees almost buckled with relief. She wanted to run to him but Nesbitt grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back against his body. A dagger appeared in his hand and he held it against her throat.

“Don’t come a step closer,” he said in a menacing tone. “I have nothing to lose and I
will
slit her throat if you do.”

Gabe held up his hands but Miranda could see he was far from ready to surrender.

“What’s the meaning of this interruption?” the parson asked. Everyone ignored him.

“What did they do to you?” Miranda asked, alarmed by the sight of his filthy face. “Are you harmed?”

“Their efficiency leaves a lot to be desired,” Gabe replied calmly, the hard shine to his eyes implying he was anything but calm.

“Get on with the service,” Nesbitt demanded.

“I can’t marry a woman who has a knife held to her throat.”

“Why not?” Peacock asked. “You’ve been well enough paid.”

The doors had closed behind Gabe but obviously hadn’t shut completely. One of them pushed open now and Tobias hurtled down the aisle, growling, hackles raised.

“Keep that mutt away from us!” Nesbitt held the dagger close enough to Miranda’s throat to draw blood.

“Come here, darling,” Miranda said.

“Stay!” Gabe commanded at the same time.

Tobias sat beside Gabe, but continued to snarl and growl.

*

When Gabe saw a drop of blood trickle down Miranda’s lovely neck, he felt ready to commit murder. Of all the cowardly acts he’d seen in his time, threatening a harmless woman cried of desperation. Surely they knew they couldn’t possibly get away with their scheme now, not unless they did away with both Miranda and him. He could see that Peacock had reached the same conclusion and was having second thoughts. It was Nesbitt who remained steadfast, Nesbitt who was clearly in charge.

“Let her go and face me like a man,” Gabe said. “Or are you afraid to?”

Nesbitt shrugged. “I have the upper hand here.”

Gabe sent him a withering stare. “By hiding behind a woman’s skirts?”

“What else would you expect?” Miranda said, speaking in a careless tone that made her sound as though she didn’t have a dagger pressed to her throat. Her courage was astonishing and Gabe had never admired her more.

“You keep her under control,” Nesbitt said, pushing Miranda at Peacock and passing him his dagger. “I’ll deal with this foppish fool.”

Foppish?
Gabe had been described as many things but never foppish. Before he could fully absorb the insult, Nesbitt was on him, punching, gouging, trying to bite him even—fighting like a girl. Gabe was hampered by his heavy greatcoat, which evened up the contest. As the two men fell to the floor and rolled together in the aisle, Gabe’s hands became trapped in the folds of his coat. Nesbitt delivered a lucky blow to his chin, reigniting the light-headedness from his earlier concussion. He barely noticed. What did engage his full attention was that the marriage ceremony was continuing with a knife held at bride’s throat.

Unbelievable!

“You really are insane,” Gabe said to Nesbitt as he managed to roll on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

“You wouldn’t be the first to underestimate me,” Nesbitt replied.

Gabe only realised that he had another dagger when he felt a sharp pain at the side of his neck. Nesbitt was a good decade or more older than Gabe, but his desperation and Gabe’s recent blow to the head evened the contest. His adversary’s expression was both triumphant and resolute as he held the knife to Gabe’s throat. Gabe had no doubt that he would use it.

*

Miranda glanced over her shoulder, mindless of the dagger resting against her skin. Lord above, Nesbitt was going to kill Gabe! She couldn’t let that happen. Tobias still sat where Gabe had told him to, quivering with expectation, just waiting to be given the word to attack. Why had she trained him so well?
Now would be a good time to become disobedient
,
Tobias.

“Do you take this man—”

“No!” Miranda yelled. “I absolutely don’t.”

“Yes, she does,” Peacock replied. “Just assume that she said it.”

“You can’t do that.”

Miranda’s attention swivelled between the drunken parson and the furious fight in the aisle. Gabe had been hurt even before he got here, she could tell. She couldn’t stand to see him so battered and bruised. This was all her fault.