Page 49 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“You haven’t told me why you ran,” he said, gentling his tone. “You said you had a change of heart. But there had to be something more. Something of such urgency you were compelled to bolt into the night.”
“As I told you, Gideon is a very powerful man. He tends to get what he wants.” She let out a low breath. “But he didn’t count on my determination in the face of his anger.”
Pride rippled through him at the strength in her quiet voice. Belle had not crumbled. She had not meekly complied withwhatever demands the bastard made of her. No, she’d defied him. That was the Arabelle he’d known. A lovely face, a kind heart, and a will of steel. Thank God for that.
“When you darted into the pub, you’d run without even knowing a destination.” He met her deep blue eyes. “Tell me this, Belle... did the bastard hurt you?”
“No.” Her lip quivered. “I had to get away from him.” She glanced away, as if the words were too painful to face. “Before it was too late.”
Seeing the stirrings of emotion in her gaze, he tipped up her chin. Every instinct he possessed urged him to comfort her. But bloody hell, he wanted to kiss her.
She looked into his eyes. Her lips parted ever so slightly. Memories of her delicious kiss rushed unbidden into his thoughts. For all those lonely months that had seemed an eternity since he’d left New York, he’d longed for her touch. Longed for her, though he tried to deny it. Even to himself.
And now, she was so very near. Near enough to hold. Near enough to kiss. Would she welcome his caress? Would she respond to his touch? Or would he drive her away?
Blast it, this was not the time. Belle was frightened. Vulnerable. He could not take advantage of this moment.
“Oh, Jon, I don’t know what to do. If he finds me...”
“He won’t.” Jon believed the words as he spoke them. And if he was mistaken, he would deal with the bastard when the time came.
“I haven’t gone far. He must suspect I’m still in the city.”
“The man has no idea where you are,” Jon said truthfully. “Of that, I’m quite confident.”
Questions shone in her eyes. “But how... how can you be sure?”
“Come, sit with me,” he said. Taking her hand, he led her to the chaise. “One of Kentsworth’s hired oafs came into the pubagain this afternoon. Nosing about the place, the bloke was out to weasel information from the barmaids, but they would not tolerate the buffoon’s attempts to sweet-talk them. He then tried to find out what the barkeeper had heard about the runaway bride. For his troubles, Murray served the blockhead a wild goose chase that should set them off the trail for at least a day or two.”
“I owe Murray a debt of gratitude.” The faintest of smiles played on her mouth. “But it’s not quite so simple as distracting those ruffians. Those muscle-bound oafs may not be our greatest concern.”
Given that the men were ninety-five percent brawn and five percent violence-inclined brain, Jon was tempted to disagree, but he thought better of it. “You suspect another threat?”
“The rumor mill concerns me,” she said. “I have no doubt my aunt will spread gossip about this situation... scandalous lies which may work to Gideon’s advantage.”
“Scandalous, eh?” He mulled the word. When he’d offhandedly mentioned the possibility of a proposal of marriage, if only to silence any whispers of impropriety, Belle’s response had been incredulous. In all truth, she appeared somewhat horrified at the very thought. He doubted she had suddenly grown concerned over her good name.
“My aunt knows how to turn a situation to her advantage. It’s only a matter of time before she plants a well-placed rumor that works to her benefit. But what will her strategy be?” Belle pursed her lips, seeming to ponder the question. “Shewillget involved. After all, she is Gideon’s partner.”
Bloody hell.
“Belle, what are you saying?”
“My aunt, the woman I’d long considered one of my dearest friends, is allied with Gideon. In fact, she is the one who drew me into this ugly scheme.”
Chapter Fourteen
We cannot allowher to leave. Belle’s father will destroy me. And you... you will return to your bored widows and penny schemes.
Her aunt’s treacherous warning to Gideon echoed in Belle’s mind. Even now, the cold contempt in Vera’s calm, precise tone rippled a chill over her skin. Allowing herself a slow, calming breath, she met the questions in Jon’s dark eyes.
“You know of Lady Vera Willsbury, do you not?” she began.
His brow furrowed. “We have met in passing, at some infernal ball or another.”
“She is my aunt, though not by blood. Vera wed my father’s brother many years ago. At the time, I was a girl about Carrie’s age.” Belle pictured the woman she had once thought the world of, so vibrant and beautiful with a cascade of coppery red hair. “I always looked forward to her visits. Her arrival at our home always brought some new excitement. She would teach me something new—a fancy braid, a clever way to bring color to my cheeks, the latest in fashion from Paris. But then, my uncle suffered a heart attack, and Vera was left a widow. It wasn’t long before she married an Englishman and moved to London. Years went by with only the occasional card or letter in the post. Until her husband collapsed at his club.”
“As I recall, Lord Willsbury was not at an advanced age when he died,” Jon said. “He was an upstanding man. Bloody shame, really.”
