The Blood of a Baron - K.J. Jackson Page 0,52
crusting on the swirling eddies. His breath back in control, he looked to her still huddled into a ball, hovering above the ground. “And the cruelty of it was that he could have told me before the wedding what he’d done, how he’d lost it all—but he was too damn proud, too damn scared—and he ruined the both of us instead. So bloody weak. That was his way out. Our pain was the price to pay for covering up his sins. He could have told me and I would have married you anyway, with or without the dowry.”
Both of her hands moved to her face, hiding her completely from him.
“Seven years, Laney. I could have had you as my wife. Seven years that he took from me—from us.” His voice cracked and he had to heave a breath. The disgust—at Morton, at himself—filled his chest and his words went raw. “So, yes, I killed him. His blood is on my hands. I let him walk out of that hellhole knowing what was waiting for him. I let him walk out. Drunk. Barely able to walk. Bloodthirsty cutthroats on the street. I didn’t have it in me to protect him one more time. Not on that night. That night of all nights.”
The softest moan came from her, gurgled, a sob that couldn’t break free.
She started to rock back and forth, swaying, looking to topple over with each movement.
The very sight of it dragging a torturous blade across his chest, slicing deeper every second that throbbed past.
Until he could take it no more.
He took a step toward her, his boots crunching onto fallen twigs. “Laney.”
Her head snapped up, her red-rimmed eyes locked onto him as tears wavered on her lashes, dropping indiscriminately onto her cheeks. “Go, just go.”
He took another step toward her, his fingers wide, pleading. “Laney.”
“Go!” A scream. A ragged, tormented scream from the depths of her agony.
Wes nodded, retreating the steps he’d taken.
His hands fell to his sides. “Rune will be here. He will accompany you the rest of the way to Troubant’s estate.”
{ Chapter 21 }
”Where is he?”
Riding beside her, Rune looked to her from atop his horse. His dark left eyebrow lifted, slowly, as though he couldn’t quite believe she’d bother to ask.
And why would he?
She’d done nothing but rail at what an odious beast Wes was the entire day, ever since Rune had collected her from beside the river. The poor man had had to sit through her tears, then her ranting, then her tears and ranting again. Then a repeat of that. That Rune hadn’t abandoned her by the roadside four hours ago was testament to how loyal he was to Wes.
“Where is he? Did he set off to London?”
The incredulous creases across Rune’s brow deepened. “Off to London? No. Far from it. He’s behind us.”
Laney’s upper body swiveled on the sidesaddle and she searched behind her. Nothing but roadway. A grove of trees that led to the river on the left of the road. A field to the right was outlined by low stacked stone walls holding swathes of fresh growth that turned the undulating ground into a sea of bright green.
She shifted forward. “I believe you’re mistaken.”
“You’ve been looking over your shoulder for him all day.”
A flush crept up her neck. She had been. But she hadn’t thought she’d been that obvious about it. “And he’s not there.”
“He’s there.” Rune said the words simply, his focus forward, his copper-green eyes scanning the roadway before them. Wary, as he’d been the whole day.
She glanced over her shoulder one more time.
No one. Not a soul on the road. Certainly not Wes. It was impossible to miss him.
Rune was addled.
She sighed, her mouth pulling to a terse line.
“You are tired of riding, Lady Helena?”
She’d given Rune permission to call her Laney during her second tirade of the day, yet he had stuck with the formality. She shifted on her saddle. “It is the saddle. It’s not as comfortable as the one from yesterday.”
“Apologies. The one from yesterday had a loose girth and wouldn’t have been safe to ride. This was the only sidesaddle available in the stable. We can procure a new saddle in Sparkford.”
“That is where we are stopping for the night?”
“Aye. And then it is only a half day to Lord Troubant’s estate.”
Laney nodded, trying to set her focus forward. It worked. For nearly thirty seconds. Then she was right back to where she started this ride.
Imagining Morton in his last moments. His striking