Page 143 of The Lyon Returns
The corners of his eyes tightened. “It was all a game to her.”
Gwen gave him a disbelieving look, meant to incite him to keep talking. It worked.
“That day, she came to the river with a basket lunch—for him. He refused it, at first. She had to talk him into accepting it.” He huffed out a laugh of astonishment. “Mayhap that’s what makes him so irresistible. He’s always been so bloody aloof, unattainable, and yet…” He broke off, appearing to search his mind for the correct words.
“Noble,” Gwen filled in. “He’s also beautiful, intuitive, and artistic, and unlike some, does not grant his favors to every woman who shows interest—”
“Enough,” Brice barked. “He’s a fool, that’s what he is. Sure, he could have had Fannie. But he was too caught up in not stepping out of line to take what she offered. So I availed myself.” He gave her a crafty smile. “I admit I lost my temper that day. I really didn’t intend for him to drown. I just…I saw the rock, saw him eating the lunch that should have been mine, and I hurled it.” His mouth quirked. “He went down like a felled log. Right over the chalk cliff.”
Gwen stared, stunned despite the fact she’d suspected just that.
He tapped his thigh with the pistol. “I pulled him out,” he said, his tone defensive in a playful way, as if they weren’t discussing Gideon’s very life.
“Yes, but why did you?” she wondered aloud. “Was it because Grayson was coming? He would have died to save him, if necessary, and then what would you have done? Explaining your standing on the shore, doing nothing while the two of them struggled, perhaps died, would have been difficult.”
Brice blinked, then laughed with evident delight. “You are tooclever by half. By God, that is precisely what happened. I confess, Gwen, I find you exceedingly entertaining—not to mention quite pretty.” He gazed at her in an assessing manner. “No wonder Gideon can’t get enough of you. Too bad I can’t amend my plan.”
“Which is?” she demanded.
A cagey look crossed his face. “As you guessed, you are the tasty bait I’m using to draw your husband out. The story that will spread like wildfire will be this: Gideon discovered you had commenced an illicit affair—with me.” He smiled magnanimously. “Unfortunately, your husband became enraged by your infidelity. Fearing for your life, you fled to Averly Abbey, where he hunted you down and, in a fit of jealousy, killed you, dumped your body in the river, and then took his own life.
“As for me, I too, will have fled to avoid Gideon’s wrath. A holiday, in the South of France, I believe, will do nicely. Then, after the scandal has died down, I’ll return to London.”
Even as fear hollowed out her insides, she snorted, as if amused, then forced a hardy laugh.
“May I ask what you find so funny?”
She sobered, and sent him her haughtiest stare. “The idea of me having an affair with you is ludicrous. I would never involve myself with a man like you. Certainly, no one will believe I would choose you over Gideon.”
His lip curled, and for the first time, Gwen felt she was seeing the real him. “You think you’re better than me because I come from common origins? Yet you willingly lie with a dirty, half-breed, bastard.”
“That’s the crux of the issue for you, isn’t it, Brice? You felt he should be seen as beneath you, and yet, time and again, Gideon rises to the top while you are forced to lie, scrape, and thieve like the small, grasping man you are for every gain.”
“Shut up,” he said. “Shut your mouth, or I’ll rethink my plan andtoss you over the escarpment before Gideon arrives.”
The fact she had wiped his smug grin from his face provided little comfort, not when Gideon’s life was in danger. If only Gideon would not come after her. But he would, of that she had no doubt. Because he loved her.
By the timeGideon reached Averly, a deadly calm permeated his very bones. He must save Gwen, no matter the cost. Any price, financial or otherwise was too little in exchange for her life. His life was too little to pay.
Gideon dismounted at the top of the gravel access road that led from the abbey to the riverbank. He tied his horse’s reins to a bush and started down the winding path, his boots crunching into the earth with each step.
A three-quarter moon, reflecting off a cover of low hanging clouds provided the only illumination. Squinting, he could make out some shapes. Boulders, trees, scrub. Luckily, he remembered the terrain. He’d spent a lot of time here as a boy—especially when the duke was not in residence—writing in his journals, trying to stay out of the duchess’s way, trying to avoid Fannie and her relentless pursuit.
So Brice had wanted her for himself. Was that where all his enmity for Gideon started? Because it certainly seemed like a personal vendetta, long nursed.
He snorted as it occurred to him how Gwen, years late to the scene, had pegged Brice. She made no secret over the fact she did not trust him. She had suspected Brice of attempting to drown Gideon years ago. Now Gideon had to consider the possibility she was right about that, too.
If so, Brice had made a fatal mistake by not finishing the job.
He spotted Brice’s carriage before the last bend in the road. Abandoned, upon investigation. So he’d come via carriage, which meant he also had another pair of hands.
Gideon continued, finally coming up on the escarpment. Visible against the night sky, he made out one distinct figure. Arms behind her and no doubt tied, Gwen stood too near the edge of the precipice where the ground was unstable. One false move, and she could tumble over the edge, without even the benefit of her hands to brace herself. It was all he could do to not run to her.
Then he spotted Brice, at the midway point up the rise, his body half-shielded by a thick box tree trunk.
“Brice,” he called. “Send Gwen down. We’ll leave and forget all about this nasty affair. I’ll pay whatever you ask. You can take the money and go wherever you want. No one will follow. You have my word.”
Brice chuckled. “After all I’ve done to set up this happy reunion? I don’t think so. Now toss your pistol behind you. I know you brought one.”
