The Prince’s Bride (6 page)

Véronique dropped the keys into a flowerpot on the windowsill and ran quickly to reach
her sister.

*   *   *

By the time Véronique found Gabrielle, she was up against a tree behind the thick
cedar hedge, slapping and punching at Pierre, who was fighting to restrain her while
he tried to lift her skirts.

A violent shaking began in all Véronique’s extremities, and her vision turned red.

“Stop!”

She bolted forward and launched her body sideways into Pierre, knocking him away from
her sister. He stumbled and nearly fell, but managed to remain on his feet before
wheeling around to return and smack Véronique across the side of the head.

Pain reverberated in her ears. She responded by kicking him between the legs. He doubled
over, knees pressed together, and crumpled to the ground.

Staring down at him in shock—while her gut twisted fiercely and her muscles strained
against her skin—she was about to kick him in the stomach when Gabby dragged her away.

“If you come near her again,” Véronique shouted in a penetrating voice she barely
recognized as her own, “I will kill you! Do you understand?”

Writhing in agony on the ground, Pierre gave no response, which was fortunate; otherwise,
she might have broken away from her sister and followed through on that threat, right
there on the spot.

As Gabby led her back to the house, a sudden dizziness swirled in Véronique’s brain.
She stopped and grabbed hold of the cement post at the bottom of the stairs.

Gabrielle stopped as well. Her cheeks were pale.

“Are you all right?” Véronique asked. “You look like you are about to be ill. Did
he hurt you?”

Gabby laid a hand on her belly, turned away from Véronique, bent over the side of
the cement balustrade, and retched into the rose garden below.

Véronique hurried to her side. “Everything will be all right now,” she gently whispered.
“He won’t ever touch you again. I found the key to Nicholas’s room, and thanks to
Pierre—and what he did to you just now—any doubts I had about helping Nicholas escape
are now completely forgotten. I will tell him what Pierre tried to do to you, and
I am sure he will come to our aid in every possible way. I found his sword in Pierre’s
room. We will return it to him, and we will sneak away tonight.”

Gabrielle recovered from her sickness and turned toward Véronique in the warm sunshine.
Her face was gray, and there was a shiny film of perspiration on her forehead and
upper lip.

“I am not sick over what he tried to do to me,” Gabby said. “It is something else—something
which has caused me great anxiety over the past few weeks. I should have told you
before, but I thought I might be mistaken. Now, I do not think I am.”

Moving away slightly, Véronique began to guess the truth. “Is it what I think it is?”

Gabby nodded somberly.

“You are with child?” Véronique asked.

Tears filled her sister’s eyes. “Yes, I am so sorry. I know this is the worst possible
time to tell you such a thing, when we are about to be tossed out of our home. You
have more than enough responsibility, trying to manage this situation. I assure you,
I did not mean for it to happen.”

Véronique frowned. “Does Robert know?”

“Not yet,” she replied. “I haven’t told him, because I wasn’t completely sure, but
now I am. My worst fear is that he will think I did this intentionally to trap him.”

Véronique inclined her head a fraction. “You didn’t, though …
did
you?”

“Of course not!” Gabby replied. “I love him with all my heart and soul, and I know
he loves me, too. We have been waiting so long, hoping his father would change his
mind about allowing us to marry. We just couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Well, you
should
have!” Véronique sank down onto the steps and pressed her forehead into the heels
of her hands. “Oh, Gabby. What have you done? He is not free to marry you. His father
will not appreciate being backed into a corner. This will make no difference. In fact,
it will only worsen your chances of winning his approval. I thought perhaps when we
got our house back, Father would stop drinking, and Robert’s father might feel differently
about your marriage, but now…”

Véronique was only vaguely aware of her sister sitting down beside her, for her mind
was swimming with images of disaster. Just when she thought it could get no worse—when
her family was about to lose everything—her sister had thrown another log into the
inferno.

Gabby laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Everything will be fine. Robert loves
me. He would never abandon me.”

Véronique could feel the veins straining at her forehead as she turned to meet her
sister’s gaze. “Are you sure about that? Even if it means losing his inheritance?”

Gabby sat back. “I have to believe it, for the alternative is unthinkable.”

Looking across the lawn to where Pierre was hobbling back to the stables, Véronique
rose to her feet. She then stomped up the stairs. “You had better be right about that,
Gabby, because the alternative is indeed unthinkable.”

“Where are you going?” Gabby asked. “What will you do?”

Véronique stopped and turned to look down the steps. “I am going to unlock Prince
Nicholas’s door and have a private word with him. You had best pray to God that he
will be our friend and not our enemy when this over.”

She picked up her skirts and hurried into the house to fetch the key.

Chapter Six

When Véronique unlocked Nicholas’s door, she could barely contain the fear that was
blazing in her bloodstream, for it seemed as if her whole world was falling apart.

All she wanted to do was see him, apologize for everything, pledge her loyalty, and
put herself—and her family—in his capable, heroic hands. There was never a moment
in her life when she needed a hero more than she did now.

God willing, he would repay her actions today by ensuring that her parents would not
be evicted from their home and tossed out onto the streets like yesterday’s garbage.
And he would protect her and Gabrielle from Pierre’s unwanted attentions.

Everything would be better from this moment on, she told herself. It had to be. Surely
it was, as he said …
destiny.

Quietly, she pushed the door open and stepped across the threshold. The bed was unmade
and in shambles, and the window was open. A cool breeze blew the curtains in giant
undulating puffs of movement. She felt a slight shiver run through her, and continued
to gaze about the room cautiously.

A pile of books covered the floor by the upholstered chair in front of the enormous
fireplace, as if the prince had cracked the spine of each one, found it lacking, and
tossed it onto the floor to burn later.

She frowned at the stillness, and wondered suddenly if he had escaped out the window
while she and Gabrielle were distracted on the other side of the manor, fighting off
Pierre’s lecherous attentions and discussing their hopeless futures.

Then a hand covered her mouth. She gasped with panic. An arm snaked around her neck,
and she was dragged roughly around the back of the door.

Prince Nicholas violently kicked it shut with his boot and hauled her across the room
at such speed, her feet barely touched the floor as she struggled to kick free and
shout for help. Words were nothing but a muffled plea against his palm, however, while
his grip tightened around her neck, choking the very life out of her.

Before she could fight back, he swung around and flung her onto the unmade bed. She
landed in a sideways roll and ended up on her back, horizontal across the center.

She barely had a chance to catch her breath before his hand covered her mouth again.
He leaped on top of her and straddled her hips with murderous rage in his eyes while
his other hand braced her arm at her side.

She continued to kick her legs and tried to swing a punch at him with her free arm,
but he leaned back and dodged the strike.

“Where’s the key?” he demanded to know, ducking and darting to avoid her flailing
arm.

She tried to speak but could only murmur into his palm, which he still held over her
mouth, so she bit into it instead.

He yanked his hand away and shook off the pain, then wrapped it around her throat
to hold her down.

She gasped for air while she clutched at his muscled forearm.

“Tell me where the key is.”

“It’s still in the door,” she ground out as blood rushed dizzyingly to her head.

His angry gaze darted to the door, but he did not release her. “Damn.”

She bucked like an animal to free herself, and only then did he seem to realize that
he might kill her—or she might kill him—if he didn’t soon back away.

He let go of her throat but grabbed both her wrists and pinned them to the mattress
over her head.

“I ought to let you choke,” he said, “for what you did to me.”

Véronique would have liked to respond with a few colorful retorts, but she was too
busy sucking air into her burning lungs.

Finally she managed to utter a few words. “And I ought to stab you in the eye with
that key!” Chest heaving, she glared up at him with ferocious intent, while he glared
down at her like a lion with lips drawing back to reveal a sharp set of teeth.

For the longest moment they stared at each other willfully until Véronique shouted
at the top of her lungs and bucked her hips in all directions. He was too strong and
heavy, however. The fight was futile. He simply covered her mouth again with that
stifling hand and held her down until she tired of the exertion.

“Are you finished?” he asked with growing impatience.

Out of breath and accepting the fact that she was indeed conquered—at least physically—she
shut her eyes and nodded, which was a humiliating moment and completely frustrating
in all ways.

Slowly he slid his hand away, and his steely muscular body relaxed on top of hers.

She remained very still. “I thought I was your rescuer,” she said, “and you were mine.
Do you not remember that conversation?”

He almost smiled, but it was a bitter amusement that glimmered in those piercing blue
eyes. “I remember. I also remember waking up after the ball with a pounding headache
and no memory of how I came to be in this room. You lied to me, Véronique. You tricked
me and betrayed me.”

“I apologize,” she said.

He shook his head as if he did not accept it.

“Fine,” she said. “Hate me if you want. But where do we go from here? Are we enemies
now? Will you tie me up and leave me here while you make a run for it? Or do we still
have an agreement? And what about the kiss?” she asked foolishly. “Was that just a
lie to win my allegiance? If so, did you actually think that it would sway me? Because
I will have you know—I did not steal that key for a kiss from
you,
sir. I stole it because I believed you were a man of honor who would keep your word
and help me get back what d’Entremont took from me.”

“And what was that?” Nicholas asked, leaning over her on all fours. “You have yet
to reveal it.”

She felt suddenly overheated and wet her lips. “He took my home,” she explained. “Or
rather … he took my father’s home. He won it in a card game, knowing full well that
my father was flat broke and drunk, and had nothing else left to wager. He encouraged
the bet, and when he won the hand, he did not give my father a chance to win it back.
It’s a large property not far from here, worth a great deal, and it has been in our
family for generations. D’Entremont wanted it for his son. He was going to reward
him with it after Waterloo. But now his son is dead. The worst part is that my mother
is ill and they have nowhere to go. D’Entremont told my parents they must be out by
the end of the month, and she cannot stop weeping. It breaks my heart to see her like
that. She is a good woman with the heart of an angel. D’Entremont is a monster. He
trapped my father at the gaming table because he wanted our land.”

Nicholas’s eyebrows pulled together in a frown, but there was no sympathy there. “That’s
quite a woeful story,” he said. “And what has he promised you for the task of abducting
me? Has he agreed to give you back your home? Do you have it in writing?”

She nodded. “He holds the deed of ownership, which is why I did not think you could
help us. But if you could purchase it from him, or charge him with kidnapping and
force him to give it back to us…”

Nicholas rolled off her. At last she could breathe freely.

He lay beside her on his back and cupped his forehead in a hand. “Ah, Véronique. There
is a part of me that wants to drag you back to Petersbourg right now and throw you
in prison for life.”

She leaned up on an elbow and looked down at him. “But there is another part of you…,”
she said hopefully, urging him to continue.

He dropped his hand to his side and gazed up at her. “The other part of me must honor
the promise I made to you through that locked door.”

“Because you are a prince and a gentleman,” she added as her heart unwound with relief.

He regarded her coolly. “Prince? Yes. Gentleman? Absolutely not. I am a rogue and
a scoundrel. I will help you now only because I cannot have you sounding an alarm.”

For a long moment she peered down at him in the fading afternoon light. “Well, that
is disappointing—just when I was beginning to think your reputation was undeserved.”

He sat up and looked at her with a dark note of warning. “I assure you, it is
completely
deserved. If there is a scandal in Petersbourg, I am at the center of it.”

Véronique remembered that the key was still in the door, and he had not yet gone to
fetch it. “Perhaps it is time to redeem yourself and prove everyone wrong by doing
something heroic in this matter,” she suggested. “You could save my family. If you
did that, I would sing your praises, and so would my father and mother.”