The Postilion (The Masqueraders #2) - S.M. LaViolette Page 0,132
even imagine—being stabbed in such an area wouldn’t necessarily have killed him. In any case, if not for the metal bedpost, there is a good chance that he might still be alive.” He winced. “Although he probably wouldn’t have been, er, functional.” He cleared his throat. “Do go on.”
“I was nerving myself up to retrieve the knife when I heard something outside the cottage and became frantic.”
Half-mad would have been a better way to describe her state of mind.
“Instead of taking the knife, I grabbed the poker and ran for the door.” She swallowed. “What I would have done if it had been Michael waiting for me, I’ll never know,” she said.
“It wasn’t your cousin?” Jago asked, confused.
“It was Geoff; he had followed me.”
Jago merely stared, looking as amazed as Benna still felt—even all these months later.
“I almost brained him with a poker,” she admitted.
“Good God! What’s all that blood from?” Geoff had blurted, his eyes wide with horror. Geoff had a great dislike of blood and had once almost fainted when he’d seen Benna cut herself while carving.
He had quickly held up a hand. “Never mind, don’t tell me; I don’t want to know.”
“What are you doing here?” she’d demanded.
He’d ignored her and strode back to the horse he’d tethered at the post. “We don’t have time to argue right now, Benna,” he called over his shoulder. “You can hit me or cut me later.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You don’t have any choice,” he said as he swung himself into the saddle, “I believe I just passed your cousin’s carriage on the road no more than ten minutes ago.” He held out his hand. “We don’t have much time.”
When she’d hesitated he’d given her an exasperated look. “I’m all you’ve got.” His gaze flickered over her blood-soaked arm. “And it looks like you’re going to need some help.”
“I knew he was right,” Benna said to Jago. “And so I went with him.”
“Where did you go?”
“First, we headed down the beach rather than the road. Michael must have seen us, but there was no way he could follow over the mudflats and sand in a coach. Geoff knew we couldn’t go to a small village—we’d be too easily remembered. So, he looped back around and we returned to Carlisle, to the townhouse.”
“What happened then?” he asked when she paused.
Benna met Jago’s curious gaze. “I cleaned myself up, packed my valise, and left.”
He blinked. “And he didn’t try to stop you?”
“No, he knew it was over,” she lied, shoving away her memory of her last conversation with Geoff. Not because it was painful, but because she simply didn’t know what to make of it.
He had begged her while she packed. “I made a mistake, Benna—a horrid, dreadful mistake. Can’t you forgive me?”
That had been one question she could honestly answer. “I will never forgive you, Geoff.”
He’d flinched as if she’d shouted.
“Doesn’t me showing up to help you mean anything?”
“Do you really expect me to praise you for doing the decent thing, Geoff?”
“Please, Benna. I—I—” His expression had been one of pure anguish. “I love you.” He’d said the words with quiet, desperation.
“I hope that’s true, Geoff. Because you deserve to suffer.”
“You don’t have to marry me—I don’t care if you ever claim your inheritance. I just … I want you with me, Benna. Wasn’t our life together good?”
“Benna?”
Benna blinked and saw that Jago was looking at her, his brow furrowed with concern. “Are you all right?”
She cleared her throat. “Yes, of course, I am.” She recalled where she’d left off with her story. “I knew I couldn’t go on the mail coach, so I parted with a great deal of money to hire a post chaise.” Her lips twitched into a smile.
“What?” he asked.
“You won’t believe this, but I was robbed not far out of Carlisle—in broad daylight.”
“You were robbed a third time?”
Her face heated. “Actually, this was the second time. I, er, changed some of the details when I told you the story before. Although they really did take everything I had—that was the truth.”
“You do seem to get more than your share of trouble, don’t you?”
Benna studied his face, looking for any sign of disgust or apprehension.
“What is it?” he asked her, inching closer, until their thighs were pressed together. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I love you, Jago. But I will understand if what I’ve done is just too—”
He jerked her against him so abruptly that Benna squeaked with surprise. His arms closed around her