The Marriage Bargain (29 page)

“Save your breath, Worthington. If you plan to kill me now, I wish you luck. You may have me outnumbered, but I will most certainly be taking you with me.”

Worthington smiled. “My dear Lord Ravenwood, you misunderstand. I came to offer my help. For a price of course.” He motioned for the pirate guarding Beckett to lower his pistol.

Beckett stood slowly, considering the man’s words. “Of course.”

“For the right price, you could hire me and my crew to help rescue your lovely wife.”

Beckett cocked his head. “Why the change of heart? You were willing enough to let me hang. Now you want to act the gallant hero?”

“You’re right, of course. I would have let you hang. You see, I make it a point never to interfere with my paying customers. Lennox hired me to do a job. It was nothing personal, I assure you.”

“And now that you have fulfilled your obligations to him?”

“I am free to offer my services to whomever can pay.”

“What kind of price did you have in mind?”

“Oh, a thousand pounds or so.”

Beckett paused. It would certainly be useful to have Worthington and his men along. The money was no object, at least now.

“You have a deal, Worthington—a thousand pounds to your bankers, post-haste. Shall we shake on it? I should like to go get my wife.”

They stepped forward and sealed their agreement with a firm handshake.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Worthington nodded. “Shall we be off? I have a carriage waiting just up the road, there, and the horses are fresh. We’ll be at Hampton Park before long, I’ll wager.”

Beckett followed Worthington toward the roadway, with the band of pirates close behind. “Lennox should be surprised to see you again. And me.”

“So he should.” Worthington chuckled. “He’s an odious excuse for a man.”

“Just stand there and perform the marriage, you idiot!” Sir Harry snapped at the parson, who was looking a trifle uneasy about the whole scene in the huge drawing room.

“Please!” Isobel implored. “You must help me. I am here against my will. I do not wish to marry this man!”

The little cleric eyed Isobel with uncertainty, then addressed her captor. “Forgive me, Sir Harry… but it would seem that the bride is voicing some objection.”

“Don’t listen to her, Parson.” Her would-be-husband smiled, looking unconcerned. “She is nervous, that’s all.”

“I’m not nervous!” Isobel protested. “I’m mortally opposed to being in the same room with him, let alone becoming his wife. I’d rather be fed to an ill-tempered tiger.”

The parson frowned.

Sir Harry merely shrugged. “A lover’s quarrel.”

“It is not a lover’s quarrel, sir! Look! He has me here against my will.” Isobel raised her wrists so the parson could see her bonds.

“Oh, my.” He glanced at Sir Harry, alarmed. “It is most unusual for the bride to be bound in such a way, my good man. Most unusual, indeed.”

Sir Harry looked at the parson with deadly eyes and spoke in a low voice. “My fiancée has just suffered a great loss. She has been beside herself with grief. The doctor has ordered her to be bound thus for her own protection.”

“That is not true!” Isobel cried.

“You see?” Sir Harry nodded. “She is beside herself, as I warned you. Not that it is any of your concern.

You know my standing in this community. Now, I wish to marry the girl… to bring some joy back into her life. Surely, you will allow me to do that by marrying us sometime between now and the next century!”

“Oh… oh, yes.” The parson nodded, still seeming unsure. “Of course. The poor girl. Well, where was I, then?”

“You weren’t anywhere! You haven’t even started,” Sir Harry spat.

“Oh… of course. Now, let’s see,” the parson said, slowly turning the pages.

Isobel looked away. It was no use. This country preacher would not help her. He would do as Sir Harry bade, no matter what she said.

“Oh, give me that, you buffoon!” Sir Harry grabbed the book and flipped through the pages. “Here!

Now, read it.”

Isobel noticed the two pirates standing by the wall. They were here to act as witnesses, but they were chuckling. Stranger bridesmaids she had never seen.

Isobel waited for the parson to send her to her fate.

She absently looked around the drawing room. This place, where she had enjoyed so many quiet evenings with her parents, would now be the setting of a nightmare.

Suddenly, something in the corner caught her eye. It had looked like the shadows moving. Or something in them. Was she imagining things?

“Ahem.” The parson cleared his throat and looked at Sir Harry and then at Isobel. “Dearly beloved… we are gathered here, today….”

Isobel watched the expression on the parson’s face change slightly as he stared at something behind them. His expression changed quite quickly from confusion to fearful disbelief.

“Oh, what on earth is the matter, now?” Sir Harry huffed.

“How unkind of you,” a familiar voice said from the doorway. “Not to invite a man to his wife’s wedding.”

Isobel turned.

Beckett.

Alive!

And standing in the doorway with Worthington and his pirates.

“You!” Sir Harry hissed, staring in shock.

“Yes, me, Lennox.” Beckett stepped into the room, his powerful frame poised for action. “Very much alive, and very intent on reclaiming my wife, if you please. And even if you don’t please.”

Isobel felt life pouring back into her heart, warm and light, coursing through her veins in a flood of joy.

Her whole body sang with a love that was painful in its intensity.

Beckett was alive! And he had come for her as he’d promised.

She moved toward him, but Sir Harry grabbed her arm and whirled her in front of him. He whipped something off the table beside them. With one hand, he covered her mouth and with the other he held a letter-opener poised to stab her throat.

Beckett aimed a pistol at her tormentor, regarding him with ice-blue eyes.

“Let her go, Lennox.”

The man backed toward the wall, taking Isobel with him. She knew where he was going and tried to tell Beckett, but Sir Harry’s hand muffled her voice. So he did know about the secret—

“I said release her,” her husband ordered, his voice commanding. “There’s nowhere for you to go, Lennox. There is only one exit to this room and as you can see, it has been blocked. You’re surrounded and outnumbered. You can’t win.”

Sir Harry’s mouth curved into a belligerent frown. “I may be surrounded and outnumbered, Ravenwood, but I’m still going to win. If I can’t have Isobel, no one will… including you!”

Sir Harry pushed back against the wall and the secret door opened. He pulled Isobel through and shut the portal behind them, bolting it quickly. They were plunged into pitch blackness.

Isobel heard pounding on the door and Beckett’s muffled voice fading away as Sir Harry dragged her through the dark, narrow corridor. She struggled and kicked at him but he grabbed the silk bonds that tied her wrists and pulled her behind him. Isobel was forced to keep up or be dragged across the ground.

“I knew Beckett wasn’t dead. He came for me, just as he promised.” Isobel tried to catch her breath.

“You’ve lost, Sir Harry. Do you hear? You’ve lost!”

He stopped short and Isobel slammed into him. In the pitch blackness, she heard his awful, menacing voice as his hand encircled her throat. He pushed her up against the wall.

“I have lost nothing! It is not yet over, I assure you. Just because your husband has risen from the grave doesn’t mean he can’t go back there just as quickly. The detestable man is like a cat with nine lives! But I assure you, my darling bride, his luck is about to run out.”

Isobel gasped as she felt something furry move past her leg. A rat? Oh, what did it matter when she was in the hands of a madman?

Sir Harry released her and took hold of her bonds again.

But a strange, otherworldly cry echoed through the passageway, and Sir Harry was screaming in terror.

Isobel shrank back against the wall, paralyzed with fear. Something was attacking Sir Harry. He cried out for help, and she heard his arms flapping uselessly as he tried to fight off his assailant.

Isobel could hear the mysterious presence hissing as it bounced off the walls near her. But it never touched her—it only seemed to want Sir Harry. He screamed pitifully for mercy. From the sound of it he was being ripped to shreds.

And it went on. Again and again, Sir Harry cried out, each sound more desperate than the last. Finally, she heard him sink to the ground, whimpering like a wounded animal, and the assault was over.

Would she be next?

Isobel stood against the wall, unable to move. Her shallow breathing made a light rhythm, and turned Sir Harry’s eerie moaning into a melody that echoed down the dark corridor.

“Isobel?” she heard a muffled voice call from far away.

It was Beckett.

“Here! I’m here, Beckett!” she cried.

“I’m coming, Isobel.” The sound of his voice grew closer.

She only hoped the ferocious creature wouldn’t attack her before Beckett arrived. To be safe, she crept further away from where she knew Sir Harry lay.

Then, she saw light bouncing across the floor, and her eyes searched the shadows. And then—

Beckett.

His eyes—his face—all of him, his arms around her, his lips on hers, his hands in her hair, stroking her, soothing her, loving her.

She heard boots trample by and knew it was the pirates going to see to Sir Harry.

But she didn’t care.

She didn’t care about anything but this moment, and this man, and the love that threatened to burst her heart open with its beautiful power.

“I—I feared you were dead,” she whispered, as tears filled her eyes.

Beckett held her in front of him, and she looked through the dimness into the brightest, bluest, most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. It set her to crying even more.

“I would have been, if I hadn’t found you again, Isobel.”

His mouth covered hers and he kissed her with such fierce passion, Isobel wondered fleetingly if they might shock the pirates. But she didn’t care.

She was in the arms of the man she loved, and nothing else mattered.

Nothing else ever would.

“Ahem,” someone said.

Beckett broke the kiss and they both looked at Worthington, who stood with arms folded and an amused grin on his face. “My apologies for interrupting your reunion, Ravenwood. My lady. But there is something I think you should see.” He motioned to where Sir Harry was lying.

They came closer, and Isobel couldn’t stop a gasp from escaping her.

Sir Harry lay on his side, seemingly unconscious. His clothes were torn and bloodstains marred his shirt.

His face and hands were covered in scratches and cuts, all of them bleeding. It looked as if someone had taken a knife to him.

Behind him, sitting just in the shadows, was a cat… calmly cleaning its paws.

“Captain Black,” Isobel exclaimed. “But how?”

Beckett shook his head, and grinned. “I’m certainly glad he turned up—though I have no idea how he did.”

“He must have hitched a ride on Lennox’s carriage,” Worthington said. “After all, that cat does have a fondness for you, Lady Ravenwood.”

At that, the cat looked up at his growing audience. His green eyes glowed, and as he walked toward Isobel, she could see bloodstains on some of the white patches of his fur. He stopped at her feet and meowed up at her. Isobel lifted him in her arms and snuggled him close.

“I guess Captain Mayfield was right—you did protect me.” Isobel scratched his ears in gratitude. The cat purred and closed his eyes.

Beckett grinned. “Thanks for looking after her, old boy.” He reached over and stroked the cat, too.

Isobel looked down at Sir Harry, then at Worthington. “Is he—?”

Worthington smiled. “Dead? No… the silly sap just fainted from the shock of it all. His wounds, while painful, are unfortunately not fatal. Still, he’ll have some nice scars. Ought to fit right in with the lads at Newgate. I have ‘connections’ that will make sure Sir Harry is taken into custody.” He sneered down at the unconscious heap at his feet. “I must admit, I never liked the man—”

Isobel took a step toward him. “But yet you did his bidding onboard ship. You kidnapped us because of him!”

“That I did, Lady Ravenwood, but as I explained to you, it was a business transaction. I had nothing personal against you or your husband. That is why I helped him to rescue you.”

“Another business transaction?” Isobel asked, warily.

“Yes, Isobel,” Beckett said.

“And what was the price?”

Beckett looked at her with a serious expression. “A thousand pounds. I thought it quite steep, myself—”

“What?” Isobel exclaimed.

Beckett smiled and pulled her close. “I’m teasing. I would have given up my entire fortune, my dear, if that was what Worthington had asked.”

Now it was Worthington’s turn to cry, “What? Damn me—if only I’d known!” He chuckled. “Ah, well, I still made a tidy profit. It should cover the ship’s repairs….”

He reached for Captain Black, and Isobel reluctantly handed him over.

“Now, you and your husband must be tired. You should get yourselves home. I and my men will take care of everything here.”

“But this is Isobel’s home.” Beckett regarded her with concerned eyes. “Perhaps you want to stay here for the night?”

“No, Beckett, it is ours, now. But I don’t want to stay here. Let us go to Covington Place.”

Beckett kissed the top of her head. “I would like that very much indeed.” Then he looked down at Sir Harry, who was still out cold, and addressed Worthington. “My wife and I are going home. Might I hire two of your men to drive us?”

Worthington held out his free hand and shook Beckett’s. “Of course. Mr. Evandale and Mr. Martin will be happy to escort you. Best of luck to you, Ravenwood. My lady.” He kissed Isobel’s hand.

Isobel took one last look at Captain Black, and then she and Beckett headed out of the passageway.

Soon they were rumbling down the road, away from Sir Harry and the nightmare that had almost come to pass.