Ruthless (The House of Rohan 1)

Suddenly everything was made clear. She froze, looking up at him. “I’ve been very stupid, haven’t I?” she said softly.

“My dear?” He was tugging her closer.

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” she said, her voice deceptively calm. “I cannot imagine why, but that’s what you’ve planned all along, isn’t it?”

“Dear Elinor,” he said, pressing her hand. “Where did you get such a strange idea?”

“From your eyes, Marcus. I know your eyes. ”

His smile changed then, going from solicitous to something verging on evil. “I was hoping for your sake you wouldn’t realize until it was too late, my dear Elinor. You’ve been so distraught over your titled lover that you’ve barely looked at me, and I was afraid I couldn’t contain myself on a number of occasions. It has taken a great deal of time to get to this point, and you’ll allow me a moment of pride. ”

“Should I?” she responded calmly. “But why do you want to kill me, cousin?” He was pulling her closer and closer to the cliffs, and the ground was rough beneath her slippers. She was going to die, and for some reason she couldn’t view that probability with anything more than distant curiosity.

“My dear, I’m afraid that I lied to you. And most everyone besides. I’ve almost managed to convince everyone that I truly am your distant cousin, Marcus Harriman. Your marriage to me ensures that any remaining questions will be answered. ”

“If I die on my wedding day?”

“It will be a great tragedy,” he said in a solemn voice. “But you were ever known as a daredevil in your youth. Plus you’ve been moping around most conveniently, and I’ve let it slip that you’ve suffered an unfortunate love affair. I’ve managed to get rid of most of the old servants, but a few of the families remain in the area, and they remember you. It will be viewed either as one of those unfortunate, freak accidents or a melancholy suicide. I don’t really care which, but I always like to have a backup plan. ”

Author: Anne Stuart

“I could pull you down with me,” she said in a cold little voice, feeling the first stirrings of anger.

“No, my dear, you could not. I’m a great deal stronger than you are. ” He patted her numb hand again. “Come along, Elinor. I’d hope to be back home in time for tea. ”

Madness, she thought. This was real madness, not the crazy joyousness of falling in love. “If you’re not my cousin then who are you?” she asked.

His smirk was most unpleasant. “Haven’t you guessed? I must confess you’ve been surprisingly slow about all this. I’m afraid our relationship is much closer. In fact, I’m your half brother—unable to inherit by English law, while your sister, with her unknown father, has more right to this place. Surely you can see how wrong this all is? I had to do something about it. By all rights this place should be mine, not yours. ”

The shock of his words was enough to give her the strength to pull away. “You married me!” she said in horror. “You touched me…”

“And I would have happily bedded you. I’m not at all picky about such things. You spread your legs for Rohan, you could do the same for me. But since you were willing to come out here it seemed wiser to simply have done with it. ” He looked over his shoulder and frowned. “It looks as if we’re about to have guests. We’d best hurry this up. ” He moved toward her, but he’d underestimated her.

She didn’t want to die. It was simple, clear, and she wasn’t going to simply let him kill her. She held very still, and then at the last minute she moved, slamming her reticule against the side of his head. There wasn’t much inside, but it gave her the element of surprise. She ducked under his arm and began to run down the pathway toward the old ruins. There were a thousand places to hide back there. Pray God she could find at least one.

Francis Rohan had never been so terrified in his entire life. Not when he followed his father and brother into battle at the age of seventeen, facing almost certain defeat. Not when he’d cradled his dying brother in his arms and looked up to see one of Butcher Cumberland’s men bearing down on him with a pike.

Not during the long, endless night he’d escaped across the channel, curled up in the bow of a small boat, determined not to cry, trying very hard not to wet himself.

They’d been moving nonstop, racing across the southern coast. They’d lost Jacobs outside of Dover, but by then he’d told them all they needed of the layout of Dunnet and the great house. He only would have slowed them down, and Rohan had given him money and sent him back to Paris to watch out for Lydia, assuring him that they would bring Miss Elinor home safely.

He and Charles went directly to the registry office, only to find out they were mere hours late. Harriman had already married her. Which meant that Elinor would be a dead in a few short hours…or, if they reached her in time, merely a widow.

The local inn was just as helpful. The happy couple had headed toward the cliffs for a walk before returning to the Harriman estate—if they hurried they could reach them and offer their felicitations. Rohan hadn’t waited for Charles—he’d leaped onto his horse and taken off in the direction of the cliffs.

He could see the figure of a woman up ahead on the bluffs, racing across the grass with someone close on her heels, and his blood froze. They were almost too late.

He spurred his horse just as Charles caught up with him. He had no idea whether Harriman was planning on raping her or murdering her, and it didn’t matter. He was going to cut his heart out and make him eat it.

Rohan barely waited for his horse to stop before jumping down. They’d disappeared into the ruins, and he started after them, sword drawn, Charles close behind him. And deep inside his cold, black heart, he prayed.

Marcus was fast behind her, too close, and Elinor was sobbing with fear. In the distance she saw a dead branch lying on the ground and she allowed herself just enough time to snatch it up, whirling around as Marcus overtook her and smashing it across his face.

He let out a howl of pain, momentarily blinded, and she ran. The foundation of the old refectory was on the right, and she’d hidden down there any number of times. Lydia had never wanted to venture down there to find her—she firmly believed it was haunted by all the dead monks that King Henry had burned alive. She raced down the ancient corridor and found the small well she’d once used as a hiding place.

Climbing over it, she ducked down, crouching in the shadows, pulling the hood of her cloak over her face so that he wouldn’t see her fair skin in the darkness. It was smaller than she remembered, or more likely she was larger. She waited, listening to the hammering of her heart.

She heard his booted footsteps first, ringing on the old stone. “You’re down here, aren’t you, sister mine?” he called out in that smooth voice of his. “It’s useless to run—you may as well make it easier on yourself and come out now. ” The footsteps faded for a moment, but she didn’t dare move. And then they approached once more. “You know, you were very unwise to run down here, though I do thank you for it. I’ll simply break your neck and leave your body until the place is once more deserted, and then I’ll toss you over the cliffs. If the witnesses are produced and they ask where we disappeared to I can always tell them we were consummating our wedding vows. ”