All About Passion (Cynster 7)
Gyles blinked. “Did any of these men harm you?”
Franni looked at him blankly. “No.”
Gyles didn’t know whether to believe her or not.
He felt a tug on the back of his coat. Francesca whispered, very low, “She answers direct questions literally-honestly.”
Small mercies. “Very well.” He captured Franni’s gaze again. “Now, you don’t want to hurt me, do you?”
“Of course not.”
“You want to make me happy?”
She smiled. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Then give me the pistol.”
Franni considered, then nodded. “I’ll give it to you after I’ve shot her.”
She moved to sight Francesca; Gyles moved, too, blocking her view. Franni frowned at him. “Why are you stopping me? We have to get rid of her-you know that. I’ll do it-you don’t have to.”
Gyles inwardly sighed. “Franni, I’m prepared to swear on that Bible behind you that I’ll only be happy if Francesca is my wife, alive and by my side. If you want to make me happy, then shooting Francesca isn’t the right thing to do.”
Franni’s face blanked; Gyles could almost see her mind working. Fingers touched his, slipped into his hand. He briefly squeezed-Francesca squeezed back, clung. He inwardly frowned. Was she trying to warn him?
“No!”
The negative thundered about them. He refocused on Franni to see her transformed. Her head was high, her eyes blazed; her spine was rigid. Her grip on the pistol had tightened.
“I won’t have it! That’s not how it will be. I want you to marry me, and you shall. I want it to happen so it will. I’m going to shoot her-”
Franni ducked to the side, trying to see Francesca. Closing his hand hard on Francesca’s fingers, Gyles held her down, kept her behind him.
“I’m going to shoot her, yes I am-I want, I want and I shall have! You don’t need her now-you have her land. There’s no reason for you to want her now. I want you to want me instead. You must!”
Franni’s stamp echoed through the chapel.
Francesca struggled to free her hand; Gyles crushed her fingers unmercifully. He shifted this way and that, constantly blocking Franni’s attempts to sight her. With his arm braced, she couldn’t stand, couldn’t try to distract Franni. Her cousin was mad-in her heart, she’d suspected it but had never let the thought form-but now Franni was close to threatening Gyles-didn’t he understand how the stories went? If she couldn’t have him for herself, then Franni would play out her plot t
o the end-she’d kill Gyles rather than let Francesca have him.
It was her grandfather all over again but worse. Francis hadn’t been insane; Franni was. Francis had been stubborn enough to cut off his nose to spite his face. Franni was capable of worse.
“Let me up!” she hissed.
“No!” Gyles hissed back.
He didn’t even look around. Francesca felt frantic. Franni would shoot-
“Franni-stop!” There was enough command in Gyles’s voice to stop everyone. Behind him, Francesca froze, quivering, waiting…
“Franni, I want you to listen to me-listen very carefully-because I want you to understand all that I say. I want you to look into my eyes so you’ll know I’m speaking the truth.” Gyles paused. “All right?”
Francesca waited, then she felt a slight relaxing in Gyles’s grip and assumed Franni had nodded.
“Very well-listen carefully. I love Francesca. I always have, from the first moment I laid eyes on her. I love her completely, unreservedly-do you know what that means, Franni?”
Bowing her head until her forehead touched their clasped hands, Francesca listened, then she heard Franni say, softly, weakly, “You love her?”