A Rake's Midnight Kiss (Sons of Sin 2)

“You mean to kill us?”

Disbelief overwhelmed her. She realized that Lord Neville was base. Good heavens, hadn’t he attacked her last night? But staring into his self-satisfied face, she couldn’t help remembering how he’d been a guest in her house, eaten at her table, praised her work. The idea that someone she knew planned to shoot her left her staggering.

“Not in so many words.” He waved the gun at them. “If you please?”

Richard’s hold firmed in silent reassurance. Because she couldn’t think how to defy the fate bearing down upon them, she walked with him toward the chapel’s east end. Ahead rose empty stone tracery that had once contained glorious stained glass.

Genevieve stopped, astonished. The stone altar, worn and covered in lichen, had shifted to reveal a gaping hole beneath.

“Move.” Lord Neville’s gun poked her in the kidneys.

“How—”

“You never guessed that the altar covered the crypt’s entrance, did you?” he scoffed. “I found the abbey papers in my nephew’s library.”

“You’re not going to shoot us?” Richard asked steadily.

Lord Neville shook his head. “Too quick and easy. The altar can only be moved from above. Once down there, you’re caged like rats until you starve or suffocate.”

“People will look for us.” Blind terror overcame Genevieve at the prospect of being buried alive.

Lord Neville smiled. “No, they won’t. You two are the talk of the village. When I announce that I saw you eloping on the north road, nobody will doubt my story.”

“Aye.” Greengrass dragged a stiff-legged Sirius toward the crypt. “Every bugger knows you’re gagging for it.”

Genevieve muffled a sound of distress. Lying in Richard’s arms, she’d felt brave and strong. Listening to Lord Neville and Greengrass, she felt dirty.

“You have no need to be ashamed, Genevieve,” Richard said softly.

But the truth was that she did. She’d given herself to a man outside wedlock. She’d die at Lord Neville’s hands with that stain on her name.

Pride bolstered failing defiance. “I regret nothing.”

Lord Neville laughed. “You will before you’re done.”

“What about Sirius?” Richard asked.

Lord Neville shrugged. “I could shoot him here. Seems kinder.”

“Don’t,” Richard snapped.

“For you, dear sir, I make the concession.” He pointed the gun toward the descending staircase. “Pray take your places.”

As if his thoughts were written on a parchment, she watched Richard consider throwing himself at Lord Neville. But with him unarmed, Genevieve’s presence made heroics too risky. Again she berated herself for following him.

With a grace that made her heart dip in admiration, he stepped over the stone rim and onto the descending staircase. As calmly as if he asked her to dance, he extended his hand. “Come, Genevieve.”

“With pleasure,” she responded steadily.

Surprisingly she meant it. While her response to Lord Neville had been pure bravado, she realized that at this moment, she didn’t regret a second of what she’d done with Richard. She’d acted out of love.

There were worse epitaphs.

Perhaps they’d win through. It was impossible to see Richard standing tall and steadfast, staring at her as if she carried the moon in her hands, and accept that Lord Neville had prevailed.

No, they weren’t beaten yet. And something in Richard’s eyes told her that right now, he considered her the best companion a man could have in adversity. His unconditional belief made her straighten and step forward. She couldn’t disappoint him by playing the coward.

His hand closed around hers and he helped her onto the worn stone steps, letting her enter the crypt first. She had a second to take in a cavernous space lined with stone tombs. Then with a scrabble of paws, Sirius tumbled after her.