Reckless (Mockingbird Square 4)

“Then we will say no more,” he agreed, and looked out of the window.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her open her mouth, and then close it. He knew she wanted him to argue his case again. She wanted him to plead with her to consider her future, and his, so that she could tell him no. Perhaps she was even hoping he would leap at her and wrap his arms about her and kiss her.

Or was she hoping he was planning to run away with her?

His heart beat steadily in his chest and he said nothing, waiting, watching. So much depended on the next few hours—his whole future happiness. And hers.

After a short time, Margaret leaned forward and frowned out of the coach window. “Where are we going? This isn’t the right road.”

“On a little journey,” he said calmly.

She turned to stare at him. She wasn’t panicking. Yet. She probably thought he was playing games with her, or teasing her, so she wasn’t angry. But she was about to be.

“I really must be back at the vicarage before supper,” she said reasonably.

“No.”

Her eyes were wide and startled. “What did you say?”

“I said no.” He shifted along his seat and leaned forward, so that their faces were only inches apart and he could see every eyelash framing those beautiful eyes. “We won’t be back at the vicarage before supper, Margaret. I plan for us to be far from the vicarage by then. We will return in five days, on Christmas morning.”

“What are you saying?” she demanded, her voice husky with emotion. “Are you insane?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he retorted. “What woman would allow herself to fall into the unhappy situation you are in and not put up a fight? You spoke of martyrs yesterday, but can’t you see you are the worst kind of martyr? You are allowing yourself to be forced into an intolerable position when you deserve so much more. When we were together in Mockingbird Square I said I was going to save you, Margaret, and that is what I have come to do. This is me saving you.”

Having spoken his piece, he sat back and waited. She stared at him, as if processing his words. Then, perhaps not quite believing him, she turned her head again to look through the window. If she was expecting to see Sir Cecil’s house then she was disappointed because now there was only wintery countryside all around them.

“Return me at once!” Margaret cried, turning to face him, hands clenched and cheeks rosy. “At once!”

“Certainly not,” he said.

“You cannot just—just take someone from their home and tell them you’re saving them! You cannot do that, whoever you are.”

“That is exactly what I have done. You needed saving, Margaret, and as you have told me often enough, I like to meddle. I like to see people happy. You are not happy.”

“This is—is …Who do you think you are?” she shrieked. “A respectable gentleman would never do this.”

“I have never said I was a respectable man,” he reminded her. “In fact, I am very sure that I am not. I do not fight cleanly. If I want something then I do everything in my power to secure it. My family began as kidnappers and marauders, and we have continued that way for centuries. If you mistook me for a gentleman, Margaret, then that was your mistake.”

Her face had paled now and her eyes grew bright with tears. “You are kidnapping me against my will.”

“Am I? Look into your heart, Margaret. I don’t think this is against your will at all.”

Margaret sat frozen in her corner of the coach and tried to pretend he wasn’t there. She had railed at him, tried to reason with him, called him names, begged him, and it was all to no av

ail. He would not listen. He would not change his mind. He would not take her back.

As much as she had always found the earl arrogant and annoying, she had never feared for his reason, not really. Now she knew how mistaken she had been. He was a lunatic and she was in his power.

The question was, what did he intend to do with her?

Should she be afraid? She gave him a sideways stare, but he was asleep, or pretending to be. His handsome face became even more handsome in repose, and his elegant, expensive clothing spoke for what he was. An earl and a gentleman. Except now she knew differently, he had admitted it himself. Dominic was no gentleman.

Her thoughts spiralled around and around, asking questions to which she had no answers. What would happen when she didn’t return tonight? Would her father search for her or would he shrug and assume the worst? Especially when it was discovered that the earl was also missing. And what of Louis and Lady Sibylla? They were both very reliable, and she had no doubt they could fill her shoes in many ways. But then there was her mother. Aunt Lily was supposed to be visiting for Christmas, but Dominic had said he wouldn’t return until Christmas morning, almost a week away.

So much could happen in a week. Her mother had told her to seek her own happiness, but the concept was foreign and frightening to Margaret. Suddenly it seemed that every possible, awful scenario was roaring through her head. Until it felt as if it was about to explode.

Margaret burst into tears. She put her hands over her face to stifle her sobs, but the tears ran between her fingers and dripped off her chin.