rooms.” He quickly pocketed the money, flashing a gap-toothed smile. Handing Garrett a key, he pointed toward a rickety staircase. “Up those. Last room on the left.”
With trepidation, he mounted the creaking stairs and continued to the far end of the unlit corridor. He slipped the key into the lock and slowly pushed open the door.
The light from a dirty window revealed a lumpy bed and a stack of trunks. There was no sign of Madeleine. He couldn’t imagine Henri staying in such a place for very long.
Garrett moved toward the trunks stacked in disarray near the corner. Behind them, under a dirty blanket on the floor, he spied movement. Reaching over the trunks, he gently lifted the blanket.
He stared at the pile of rags for a moment before recognizing an arm, then a tumble of hair. His stomach lurched. He quickly hauled away the trunks around her and knelt.
Madeleine lay on the floor, a small pool of sticky blood under her cheek. How he recognized her, he wasn’t sure. Filth matted her long, golden hair. A mass of bruises covered her face. Blood trickled from her nose. One eye had completely swollen shut. Around her throat deep purple contusions were evenly spaced, as if someone had tried to choke the very life from her.
He removed the strips of cloth that bound her wrists to her ankles and lifted her onto his lap, rocking her, stroking her hair, whispering comforting nonsense.
He fought the rage that pulsed with every beat of his heart. Hot tears fell from his eyes as fast as a brook ran.
He shuddered at how savagely she’d been beaten. He would kill the demon known as Henri de Picassaret on first sight. For now, though, he must find help for his beloved. He refused to let her die.
She struggled to open an eye. “You must leave,” she said haltingly. Her voice was raspy, much deeper than normal. “He will kill you if he finds you here.”
“Who, Madeleine?” He had to hear it from her.
“Henri. De Picassaret.” She hiccupped. “My . . . husband.”
What it must have cost her to tell him that.
Madeleine had fled from the fiend she’d married. She bore the scars and the limp from their time together. She’d faced horrors no one should undergo. She’d hid her identity from everyone, even from the man who loved her.
But then they’d found each other. How it must have eaten at her soul when he’d raged on about Lynnette abandoning her marriage when she’d done the same thing, albeit for far different reasons. She must have been terrified he’d learn of this and turn on her.
Garrett cradled her to him. Oh, God in Heaven, he loved this woman.
She tried to speak again. “Please,” she begged in a whisper. “Leave. He mustn’t find you here.” Her eyes were dull, lifeless, and he saw she had resigned herself to whatever fate de Picassaret had chosen.
He shook his head. “I will not leave you, Madeleine. Ever.”
He managed to lift her and carried her to the bed. He hated to place her on the rotting mattress but thought it better than the floor. He gently moved his hands over her, searching for broken bones or other injuries. She grimaced as he grazed her ribs.
She began babbling. “He wouldn’t let me curl into a ball. I always know to do that. I know to protect myself. What to do. I . . .”
Her voice faded out and she mumbled words in rapid French that he couldn’t understand. Garrett wondered just what she had suffered at her husband’s hands. He removed his cloak and draped it over her. He wished to kiss her but her lip was split and bruised. He was almost afraid to touch her anywhere.
“I will send for a physician, my love.” He brushed the hair from her face, wincing at the new crop of bruises that had been hidden.
“No!” she cried, weak as a kitten’s mewl. “I’d rather die than live without you.” Hot tears streamed from her swollen eyes. “You foolish man! Why can’t you understand? I am married until death parts me from this devil. God has already let Henri punish me for going to your bed.”
“You think God wanted Henri to do this to you?” Garrett balled his hands into fists. “You are sadly mistaken, Madeleine. I don’t know what nonsense he’s tried to fill your head with but—”
“Just go,” she said quietly. “I don’t want you here.” She turned her face away, the tears sliding onto