Page 59 of A Bride By Morning
Gabriel panted as everything went silent. The gunshots still rang in his ears—or was that his blood? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was . . .
Lydia.
Gabriel dropped to his knees near the carriage and found his wife there. Her eyes were tightly shut, and her small hands clenched into fists.
“Lydia,” he whispered. She didn’t move. Did she hear him at all? “Lydia, love.” He gently touched a hand to her hair.
Lydia’s eyes opened slowly. “You’re all right?” Her voice trembled.
He didn’t answer her. “Come out from under there, love.”
He helped her to her feet. When Lydia’s head started to turn in the direction of the bodies, an instinct came over Gabriel—a sudden desire to protect her from the things he had done. A part of him wondered if he should do so deliberately, to disabuse her of the notion that he was worthy of her. But it was overshadowed by the part of him that remembered her asking him to stay and wishing that he could be a better man for her. The man that the boy she knew would have grown up into if his choices had been different. But they weren’t, and neither could return to the children they were.
“No, don’t look,” he said softly, taking her gently by the shoulders. “I don’t want you to see this.”
“Gabriel . . .”
“I don’t want you to see this,” he repeated, more firmly this time. Hadn’t Lydia seen enough?
She kept her back turned and waited while he grabbed each of the corpses and hauled them to the ditch on the side of the road. The horses, he’d have to leave where they were.
He took note of the markers to indicate their location: the twisting tree to his left, the length of time they had been traveling. In the morning, he would send Wentworth a telegram informing him where he could find Medvedev’s men. Someone else would have to dispose of the corpses.
When he looked back at Lydia, he found her hugging herself, her arms wrapped around her middle. Though he couldn’t see her face, he hoped it was a revelation for her: he would only ever bring her trouble.
Yet . . . he hated to lose her again. He had let her go once, and now he would have to do it again.
Lydia cleared her throat. “What will we do about the—about Medvedev’s men?”
“Wentworth will have a cleaning crew come for the corpses. They’ll arrange everything to look like a carriage accident.”
Medvedev’s men had left their own horses tied to a tree just beyond the side of the road. Gabriel went over to the creatures and gently soothed the agitated animals with a soft murmur, releasing them from their tethers. He grabbed the reins of the calmest.
“And if someone steals our luggage?” Lydia asked.
Gabriel patted the horse on its neck and murmured to it softly. It wasn’t this creature’s fault it was involved in this awful business. “I sent a few small items on a conveyance earlier. The servants at Langdon Manor will know to prepare for our arrival,” he said, gently stroking the horse. “If something like this happened, I didn’t wish for you to be without belongings.”
Lydia was quiet for a moment. Then: “And our bodyguards? Will Mr. Wentworth notify their families?”
He winced at the catch in her voice and his expression softened. “They had no families,” he said gently. “But I’ll have Wentworth ensure that they’re buried properly.” He held out a hand to her. “Come. We’ll have to make the rest of the journey by horseback.”
She allowed him to help her into the saddle. Gabriel swung up behind her, trying not to notice how warm she was.
How alive she was.
His dead heart beat now only for her.
“Gabriel,” Lydia said as she relaxed against his front.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For thinking the worst of you all those years. For what happened to you.”
He loosed a breath. “You owe me nothing.” Before she could argue, he kissed the top of her head. “Sleep now. I’ll let you know when the horse needs rest.”
He was the one who owed her a lifetime of apologies.
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