Page 86 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
“You know what happened to my brother. A terrible accident. Most tragic. It would be a shame if something similar were to happen to the duke, especially when it would remove you from his protection.”
“Ye would not.”
“You mistake me. I have no compunctions about such things.”
She thought wildly, trying to find something she could say that would convince him to take a different course of action. But of course, he wouldn’t. He’d come to silence her, and he’d seen her genuine affection for Adrian—he’d known the best way of getting to her would be to get to the duke.
And if Adrian was focusing on her survival, he probably wouldn’t be giving too much thought to his own safety.
“Ye won’t get away with this,” she said. “Targeting one of the most powerful people in the country. Do ye know how foolish that is? And ye’retellingme.”
“What are you going to do?” Lord Moreton raised a single brow. “Are you going to tell him? Think for a moment.” He chided heras though she was a child. “If you tell your husband, do you think he’ll sit back? Or will he strike out against me first? Do you think it will do anything other than make him a target?”
“I—”
“You know how to run, little thistle. Perhaps now you should run again. If you leave your husband, I won’t be forced to target him. We’ll return to our game of cat and mouse.” He leaned in even closer and she couldn’t breathe. “How long can you evade me? Will the mouse outwit the cat? Or will the cat prevail?”
Isobel refused to look at him. Her heart thudded in her chest.
If she told Adrian, would that still make him a target?
The only reason he had ever intruded on Lord Moreton’s attention was because she had married him. If they had remained separate entities, he might never have been thrown in danger’s way.
Adrian had promised to protect her, but now that she was faced with Lord Moreton, she understood how difficult that would be. Moreton had killed before; he could do so again with very little weight on his conscience—if he evenhada conscience. She knew all too well how easy it was to manufacture an accident.
Run away.
Before Adrian had found her on the patio, she had been on the brink of running away from London. If she had, would all this have been evaded? Yes, her life would still have been in danger, but at least Adrian’s would have been safe.
Her heart felt as though it had split in her chest. One half wanted to trust in Adrian’s promise that he would protect her. He was a duke, a man with more power than anyone else in England. He had promised to keep her safe, and she believed he would do everything in his power to ensure that happened.
Yet the other half of her heart balked at the idea of Adrian being hurt. She loved him, and the thought of him dying—because of her—was unbearable.
If she could do something to prevent it, shouldn’t she?
“A shame you had to marry a man you felt so strongly about,” Lord Moreton said when the dance brought them together once more. “Then all of this could have been avoided. Or perhaps, you should not have married at all. Did you think I would let you escape? You slipped through my fingers once; I won’t let you escape so easily again.”
“Ye don’t deserve the title ye stole,” she spat.
“Ah yes, my title. I believe, upon my brother’s death, it was awarded quite legally to me. There was no deception.”
“Except the manner by which your brother died!”
“Well,” he allowed with a small smile, “aside from that.”
Almost a confession. He had almost confessed to her so many times. For the length of the dance, he had allowed his true nature to show, and it rotted under his skin.
She had no doubt that he would do all the terrible things he had assured her he would. And to Adrian, too, if she couldn’t find a way of preventing it.
But even if he had told her everything, she could have done nothing about it. That was not in her power. There was nothing she could do about any of it, and that impotence hit her harder than ever before.
To protect her parents and herself, she had fled. And now it felt as though her only other option was to run away again. ToleadLord Moreton away so he would not harm the one person she loved more than any other.
Eventually, the dance came to an end, and Isobel ripped her hand away from Lord Moreton’s.
“Stay away from me and me family,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. “Or ye will regret it.”
He merely watched her with a small smile playing on his lips.
