Prelude to Heaven (42 page)

Aubry was gone, and Tess, too, when he’d woken. The other man must have taken her by force, for Alexandre knew that without force, she never would have left him there. Thankfully, his horse had not deserted him, but had been standing nearby, pawing the ground as if impatient that he wasn’t getting up fast enough. He didn’t know how much time had passed before he’d come to his senses. Not too long, he judged with a glance at the sun overhead, but any moment Aubry had with Tess was a moment too long, and he could only pray that the earl had taken her back to the house.

When he arrived at the stables, he didn’t stop there. He couldn’t be sure about it, but he guessed that if a man intended to punish his wife for her infidelity, he’d want to do it in private, which meant that Aubry had taken her either to his library, or his bedchamber.

He raced on, circling the south face of the house and stopping his horst at the closest entrance to both Aubry’s library and the main staircase. He dismounted, raced up the wide front steps and entered the house, and the moment he did, he knew he’d guessed right. The shouting told him that—a woman's frantic voice and a man's enraged one. He paused a moment, listening, and once he was satisfied that the voices were coming from the library, he started across the foyer in that direction. He glanced up at the servants huddled on the landing as he passed the stairs, and though he felt a flash of anger at how they stood by doing nothing, he did not stop. Instead, he turned to enter the corridor, and found Margaret standing outside the double doors into the library, pounding on the door. “Stop, stop!” she was shouting. “Nigel, stop! Don’t do this, I beg you!”

Through the doors, he could hear Nigel raging and cursing, but he couldn't hear Tess's voice, and he went cold. His fear for her safety and his wrath at her husband fused within him to an icy calm as he stepped up to the door.

Margaret turned, sagging with relief at the sight of him. “You must stop him. He'll kill her this time. I’m sure he will! I tried to stop him, but he locked me out.”

“Stand away,” he ordered, and when Margaret stepped aside, he slammed the heel of his boot against the latch that held the French doors together. The bolt splintered from the wood and the doors gave way, swinging wide and hitting the walls on either side.

At the other end of the long room, Aubry whirled around as the doors crashed open, revealing Tess to Alexandre's gaze. She was on her knees, her arms above her head to ward off her husband's blows.

Alexandre looked back at Aubry. The other man’s face was twisted with fury, but that was nothing compared to what he felt. He felt as if rage were erupting inside him as he started down the long length of the library.

“Get out, Dumond!” Aubry shouted. “This isn’t your affair.”

Alexandre kept coming, and he saw something flicker in Aubry’s expression, something that made his lip curl with contempt, for what he saw was fear.

“I told you to get out!” Aubry shouted as he drew closer. “It is not your business how I discipline my wife.”

Alexandre ignored him. Instead, he spoke to Tess. “Move out of the way,
petite
,” he said.

Nigel reached for his wife as she struggled to her feet, but Alexandre was prepared for that. He lunged forward, catching the other man by the collar and hauling him back before he could pull Tess between them and use her as a shield. She scrambled out of the way, and Alexandre spun Aubry around to face him. Then he did what he'd been itching to do for weeks. He slammed his fist into the other man’s face.

He followed it with a blow to the ribs, and the earl doubled over. “How does it feel, Aubry?” he taunted. “How does it feel to have a taste of your own
discipline
?”

Aubry lashed out in retaliation, a wild strike that somehow hit the mark, catching Alexandre squarely under the chin. His grip loosened, but not enough for Aubry to break free, and the pain in his jaw only increased his fury. This was what Tess had felt, he reminded himself. This was what she had suffered.

“Chilton!” the earl screamed, struggling violently to free himself. “Chilton, by God, get in here!”

Alexandre shoved Aubry back, releasing him, and as the earl staggered back against the desk behind him, Alexandre saw his furtive glance about the room. “There's no one to help you,” he said. “No one to save you. You’ll have to fight your own battle.”

“And so I shall!” The earl flung himself at Alexandre. “I'll kill you, you French dog,” he shouted, pummeling Alexandre's face and body with his fists. “I'll kill you.”

Aubry was lean and wiry, but he was also strong and quick. Several of the blows found their mark before Alexandre managed an answering blow, one to the jaw that sent the earl staggering sideways. He tripped over a book on the floor, but he regained his footing and once again started for the door, but he stopped again at the sight of Tess.

She stood in the doorway, a long, shining steel rapier in her hands. “There’s nowhere to run, Nigel,” she said.

Alexandre thought Aubry would go after Tess, try to take the weapon from her, but the other man surprised him. He darted around Alexandre, lightning quick and managed to pull the other rapier from its place above the mantel before Alexandre could stop him. He turned, weapon in his right hand, his desperation turning into triumph as he pointed the steel blade at Alexandre’s chest.

“Well, well, Dumond, look what I’ve found,” he said, laughing as he brandished the weapon. “We’ll see who wins this battle now.”

“Fighting an unarmed man?” Alexandre made a sound of contempt. “How like you, Aubry.”

The other man lunged, slashing with the rapier, and Alexandre jumped back, but the point of the weapon caught his already bloody and ruined shirt, slicing open the white linen across his torso. “Did you really think you could kill me, Dumond? My wife knows I am very difficult to kill. She shot me with a pistol, you know.”

He must have seen Alexandre's surprise, for he nodded. “Yes, shocking, isn’t it? My dear, sweet wife tried to murder me.”

“Murder?” Alexandre countered. “Or self-defense?”

Aubry didn’t reply to that. Instead, he lunged with the rapier. Alexandre jumped back, but before the earl could straighten and lunge again, he lashed out with his foot, a hard kick to the other man’s hand that freed the rapier from his grasp and sent it flying. It landed on the carpet nearby, and though both men reached for it, Alexandre got to it first. Retrieving it in his right hand, he straightened, pointing the blade right at Aubry’s chest.

The earl froze.

Smiling, Alexandre pressed the tip of the rapier against the other man’s heart. He made a delicate, downward movement, slicing open Aubry’s fine tweed jacket and waistcoat. “That’s for my ruined shirt, Englishman. For shooting me, I’ll have some sport. For hurting Tess, I’ll kill you.”

He stepped back, keeping the blade pointed at Aubry. “Tess? Toss me that rapier of yours.”

She hesitated. “He’s a very skilled swordsman, Alexandre.”

“I’m better,
petite
. Trust me on that.”

The blade landed with a soft thud on the carpet nearby, and never taking his eyes from Aubry, he moved to pick it up. Retaining his own sword in his right hand, he tossed the other with his left. It landed at the earl’s feet. “Take it up, Aubry,” he said. “Take it up and fight like a man.”

“That was foolish, Dumond,” Aubry said, retrieving the weapon. “I am the best swordsman in England.”

Alexandre faced him in fencing stance, retaining his sword in his right hand. “Prove it, then.”

Aubry attacked at once, advancing, forcing Alexandre to retreat, and for the moment, he allowed it, assessing the earl’s skill with a blade, and it didn’t take long to appreciate that Aubry had not been merely bragging. Not only was he skilled with the rapier, he was also very quick. Though Alexandre was able to parry each lunge, he knew his movements were slower right-handed and it showed. When the earl caught him open and jabbed the sword at his flank, he wasn't able to completely parry the thrust, and the point of the sword pricked his thigh, drawing blood.

He heard Aubry's laugh of triumph, and he knew this was his opportunity. He deliberately left himself open again, and like a wolf sensing vulnerable prey, Aubry attacked, thrusting just as he’d expected.

He parried the lunge, then shifted his sword to his left hand, and feinted toward the other man’s thigh. Caught off guard, Aubry tried to parry the blow as if his opponent was right-handed, twisting the rapier out and down and leaving his torso wide open. Alexandre lifted his sword over the top of his opponent's and lunged, sinking the rapier straight into the shorter man's midsection like a knife into butter.

Alexandre pulled out the sword and recovered backward, then watched as the earl sank to his knees, emitting a gurgling sound of surprise and terror at the sight of his own crimson blood spilling onto the luxurious Axminster carpet.

Aubry's astonished gaze lifted to his face. “You Frog bastard,” he mumbled. “You've killed me.”

He saw no need to reply. He simply stepped back as the earl fell forward and sprawled at his feet. He felt no pity. The man’s brutality to Tess left no room for that. Perhaps
le bon Dieu
would have mercy on him, but Alexandre had none.

He stared down at the man's motionless body for a long moment, and then, taking a deep breath, he bent and grasped Aubry’s wrist. There was no pulse, and satisfied, he straightened, releasing the earl's limp, lifeless wrist.

Alexandre turned toward Tess, who was still standing in the doorway. “It's over, my love,” he said and tossed aside the rapier. “He’ll never hurt you again. He is dead.”

“He shot you. I saw your body on the ground. You didn’t move.”

“The bullet grazed my arm, nothing more,” he assured her. “The fall from my horse knocked me unconscious, or I would have been here sooner.”

I thought...I thought—” She broke off, taking a step toward him. “Oh, Alexandre, I thought you were dead.”

He started toward her, smiling a little. “I told you I wouldn’t die. I have too much to live for.”

She took a step toward him, and then another. And then, with a sob, she broke into a run. He opened his arms, the safest haven he could provide, and she ran into them, burying her face against his neck. He held her, stroking her back, kissing her hair, waiting for the shuddering in her body to stop.

“It was true what he said,” she told him, pulling back to meet his gaze. “I shot him once before. I thought I'd killed him, and I panicked, so I ran away to France. I was so afraid the authorities would find me. I was afraid they'd arrest me for murder. But I had to shoot him. He would've killed me and the baby.”

“I know,” he said, cupping her cheek, his heart clenching at the sight of her cheek where bruises were starting to form from her husband’s blows. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Perhaps we should fetch the doctor for you.”

She pulled back. “Or for you,” she said, examining his shoulder and the prick on his thigh. “Oh, Alexandre!”

He could feel her body begin to shake, and he wrapped his arms around her again. “I don’t need a doctor,” he told her, holding her tight, looking past her to meet the sad gaze of the woman in the doorway. “But we will need to send for the magistrate.”

“What?” Tess pulled back again, looking at him in dismay. “Is that necessary?”

He cupped her face in his hands. “My darling, a man cannot kill an earl and just expect to be allowed to go on his way. This fight would not be considered a duel. Let us hope they believe me when I explain that it was self-defense.”

“And if they don’t?”

“They will believe me.” Margaret's voice rang out, and both of them looked at her. Tears stained her cheeks, but her voice was firm and resolute. “I am the daughter of a duke, and no one questions my word. When I tell them what happened, no one shall doubt that it was self-defense.”

Alexandre nodded. “Thank you, madame.”

“No thanks are necessary, monsieur.” She looked at Tess, then looked away. “It’s the least I can do, God knows.”

Alexandre took Tess’s hand. Together they stepped over the smashed remnants of the door and crossed the foyer. Behind them, Margaret called to Chilton to send for the magistrate as they left the house and paused in the drive. There, in the sunshine, Alexandre pulled Tess back into his arms.

She cupped his face. Almost fiercely, she kissed his mouth. “They will let you go. They must.”

“And when they do, my love, what shall we do?” he asked, kissing her palm.

“We'll go home. It's blackberry time in Provence.”

He smiled, remembering the last time they'd had this conversation. “And we’ll make blackberry tarts?”

“Every summer.”

“And you won't put my paintbrushes away without telling me where?”

“I'll put them in the studio.” She reached up, tangling her hand in his hair. “And I'll make certain there are always plenty of ribbons for your hair.”

“I was thinking of cutting it short, now that I am once again a man of the world.”

She scowled at him. “Don't you dare.”

Smiling, he bent his head. When his lips were an inch from hers, he murmured, “I won't, my love. I promise. I'll let it grow to my ankles.”

She laughed at that ridiculous notion. “That will take a long time.”

“Indeed.” He kissed her. Against her lips, he added, “The rest of our lives.”