Page 58 of Married to the Rake

“I need to talk to Miss Larkin,” he called to the driver.

The man shook his head, glancing him over. The chances were he thought it a trick to get him to stop. Brook did not blame him. Highwaymen were known to pretend to be in trouble to force carriages to a halt.

“I’m Mr. Brook Waverley,” he said, keeping pace with the carriage. “You must know me.”

“Even if you are, you will have to wait,” the man shouted back. “We are late as it is.”

“It is an urgent matter!”

The driver shrugged and turned his attention back to the road. Damn it. As much as he was glad the Larkin’s driver was a cautious man, well capable to taking care of Chloe, he’d hoped it would not come to this.

He propelled the horse forward, ensuring there was a large gap between him and the carriage before dismounting and tethering his mount to a tree at the side of the road. The carriage bore down upon him, the horse’s hooves making the ground vibrate. Brook swallowed and tugged at this collar. The man wouldn’t risk running over a Waverley…would he?

Palm out, Brook held his ground. The driver waved his hand frantically, motioning for him to move aside. Brook planted his feet firmly, his shoulders squared. This was going to hurt a great deal if the driver did not slow down soon enough.

The gap between them closed. The horses neared. The vibrations of the wheels and hooves pounding the ground rumbled up through his limbs. Brook half-closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact.

A whinny of horses and the uncomfortable screech of a carriage rocking on its suspension, and the driver brought it to a halt, a mere foot or so from Brook. He felt the hot breath of the horses on his face.

“You bloody idiot,” the driver shouted. “Do you want to die.”

“Not particularly,” Brook quipped, “but I do thank you, sir, for not crushing me to death.”

The carriage door opened and Mr. Larkin popped his head out. “What the devil is going on?” His gaze landed on Brook. “What areyoudoing here?”

Hands held up in surrender, Brook took a few steps back as Mr. Larkin stepped out of the carriage and stalked toward him. He should have guessed Chloe would be travelling with both parents.

“Mr. Larkin, I just wish to have a word with your daughter,” Brook tried.

“You will do nothing of the sort. You will stay far away from her.” Chloe’s father thrust a finger out at him and moved closer. “What the devil sort of game are you playing? Get out of here before I shoot you.”

“Just a brief word, Mr. Larkin, I promise.”

“Johnson, hand me your gun.” Mr. Larkin gestured to the driver who reluctantly handed over what was likely to be a loaded pistol.

Brook lifted his hands higher. “I do not want trouble.”

Chloe’s father aimed the gun at Brook’s chest. “You Waverleys are always trouble.”

“What is going on?” came a soft voice. Chloe’s mother, elegant in dark red with a high collar, stood by the carriage. “Marcus, why are you trying to shoot Mr. Waverley?”

“Mr. Waverley?” Chloe leaped from the vehicle, her eyes wide.

Brook might well have been shot in the chest for all he knew. Seeing her made his entire body hurt. In a delicate pale green gown, overlaid with a sheath of lace and her hair coiled delicately up with sprigs of curls around her face, she looked every inch the bride to be. He clenched his jaw. He didn’t want her looking beautiful for that bloody Lawrence. He wanted her beautiful forhimself.

“Get out of here, Waverley, before I do something we both regret,” Mr. Larkin spat.

“I am sorry, sir, but I cannot.” He glanced over at Chloe. “I must speak with your daughter.”

“I’ll kill you first.”

Brook looked into Mr. Larkin’s pale gaze. He might be aged but his hand was steady and Brook did not doubt the man would follow through on his threat.

“I am not moving,” Brook insisted. “I cannot you see.” He looked past the man to Chloe. “You can’t marry Lawrence, Chlo,” he said. “I won’t let it happen.”

“But, Brook—” Chloe took a step forward and stilled when her father whirled on her.

“Brook?” he spluttered.

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