Page 89 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
In her life,Belle had thought she’d known true fear. Once, as a girl exploring the woods behind her family’s country home with her brother, she’d come frighteningly close to a bear. She’d stood frozen, pulling in ragged breaths as the large beast roamed past without a care. On another occasion in those very woods, she’dcome too near a snake that had scared her silly. Heaven knew she’d run as fast as her legs could carry her that day. And then, there’d been the time she and her cousin walked along a gloomy street, only to encounter a knife-wielding thief who’d cut the strap of her handbag and torn it from her grasp.
In those days, she’d believed she knew what fear was. But nothing she had ever experienced could compare to the quiet terror that surged through her at the sight of Gideon standing in the dining room, watching her like a hawk stalking a field mouse.
The tight-lipped bodyguard who’d betrayed their trust strode toward her. He’d closed the door to the corridor, shutting Heathy out of the room, but the sound of the dog’s vigorous barking provided a mild sense of relief. Heathy was alive and well, though Carrie didn’t understand that each franticyipwas in truth a good sign.
“I want to see Heathy.” The child gazed up at the treacherous guard with innocent eyes.
Dear God. The sight of the man who’d deceived them moving toward Carrie cut through the haze that had seemed to fall over her. She rushed to take the girl from his reach, to protect Carrie in her own arms, but he was quick.
Catching the child’s hand in his own, he met Belle’s desperate gaze with a quirk of his thin mouth. “She is safe.” His expression hardened. “For now.”
“Do something with that bloody dog, will you,” Gideon said as Heathy’s barking grew more insistent.
“Don’t you dare touch that pup,” Belle gritted through her teeth.
“Ye think to stop me?” Northcutt cocked his head. “Bold words, indeed.”
“Enough.” Gideon uttered the word as an order. Cold. Clear. Leaving no room for dissent. His narrowed eyes raked over her.“He will not hurt anyone. Or anything.” His mouth curved into a serpent’s smile. “Unless I say so.”
Belle pulled in a low breath. It wouldn’t do to show the extent of her fear. Gideon watched her with a hawk’s gaze. A silent prayer for strength whispered in her thoughts as she squared her shoulders and hiked her chin.
“My, Gideon, am I to understand you would stand by while your hired man uses force against defenseless females?”
“I would prefer this to be a peaceful reunion.” His eyes narrowed. “But if persuasion is necessary, I shall do whatever needs to be done.”
The curve of his mouth was meant to be taunting. He knew he could use the safety of the others against her. How had she been so blind to the deceit in his eyes? If only she’d seen through the charming veneer Gideon had worn like a mask.
“I would think you might offer a greeting,” he went on. “After all, I have looked high and low for you.”
Praying she could hide the slight tremor in her voice, she forced a steady tone. Calm. And reserved. “Hello, Gideon.” Each syllable tasted bitter on her tongue.
“A refreshingly civilized response.” His gaze drifted over her from head to toe. His expression showed his undisguised contempt. “Might I ask what in blazes you are wearing?”
“I believe you are familiar with the term, Gideon.” She forced a wan smile. “This is an apron.”
“I certainly knowwhatthat thing is.” His upper lip curled into a sneer. “But rather, why on earthyouwould don such a thing?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Mrs. Gilroy’s rolling pin. The cagy woman had curled her fingers around the handle, slipping it out of sight within the folds of her voluminous skirts. Belle endeavored to keep Gideon’s attention bearing down on her as long as she could.
She shrugged. “It’s rather helpful when washing dishes. And cooking. And cleaning. But of course, you wouldn’t know anything about that now, would you?”
He stared at her as if she’d grown a tail. “Am I to believe Jonathan Mason put you to work as a bloody maid?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Belle replied. Sliding her hand over the pocket of her skirt, she felt the skeleton key she’d stowed there. In a pinch, it might well serve a purpose. “I rather enjoy it.”
“God above,” he said with a curl of his lips. “I had not realized this was a rescue.”
“A rescue? Really, Gideon, you don’t have a clue, do you?”
“Have you gone a bit mad then, Belle?” He met her eyes. “That might actually prove useful. A delirious wife in an asylum—why, I wouldn’t even need to have you in my sight.”
“I assure you, I am not mad, Gideon. I am not in need of rescue—I’m quite content, if you must know.” She steeled her spine. “And I most definitely willneverbe your wife.”
His mouth thinned to a slash. “Ah, you wound me, Belle. And there I thought you were eager to get down off the shelf.”
“It’s actually quite comfortable up here.” She slid her hand in the apron pocket, feeling the tiny studs on the handkerchief Mrs. Johnstone had given her. The simple weapon might buy her time.
“You’ve put me to a great deal of trouble.” His gaze hardened. “I expect to collect my due.”
