But her premonitions had robbed him of his marriage. His wife. The chance for a future filled with happiness. And children. They'd left him with nothing but anger, pain, betrayal, and a heartache so deep he didn't know if he'd ever stop hurting.
He heard her crossing the room and he turned around freezing when he found her standing no more than a foot away from him. She appeared equally startled by this sudden nearness, and equally riveted in place. He had only to reach out to touch her… to take one step forward to hold her in his arms. His brain ordered him to move away, but his feet remained rooted to the spot as if someone had nailed his shoes to the floor.
He could see every pale gold freckle on her nose, every soot-colored eyelash surrounding her beautiful eyes… eyes he didn't want to look into because they'd fooled him too many times. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he immediately recalled the sensation of her soft lips crushed beneath his, parting to accept the thrust of his tongue. Desire slammed into him and he clenched his hands, forcing them not to reach out. Damn it, he had to get out of this room.
'You sleep in the bed,' he said, sidestepping around her. 'I'm going downstairs for a drink. I'll find somewhere else to sleep.'
She flinched, then stared at him. 'It is not necessary to flaunt your… sleeping arrangements in my face.'
He paused with his hand gripped on the doorknob. 'I beg your pardon?'
'Naturally I don't expect you to remain celibate for the remainder of our marital union, but I'd appreciate your discretion.'
An emotion he could not decipher glittered in her eyes. He made her an exaggerated formal bow. 'I see. Your generous willingness to share me overwhelms me, and should the occasion arise, I shall endeavor to be discreet. However, for tonight it is my intention to sleep in that chair'- he inclined his head toward the wing chair in the corner-'but first I want a brandy.'
He left the room, closing the door behind him, then drew a ragged breath into his lungs.
Bloody hell, he suspected an entire bottle would probably be necessary.
The packet docked in Calais late in the afternoon and Austin and Elizabeth were the first to disembark. He set out to arrange transportation to Marck and immediately realized what an asset Elizabeth was. She conversed in flawless French with the stable owner and ten minutes later they were presented with a handsome curricle pulled by two matched bays. God only knows what would have been brought had
At once grateful and irked Austin climbed onto the leather seat. Before he could reach down to assist Elizabeth, the stable owner helped her climb onto the seat. Austin noted the admiring warmth in the man's eyes and sizzled a glare at him. Bloody hell, he needed to master the French phrase 'stop staring at my wife, you bastard.' Clearly unfazed the man merely grinned then sauntered away.
Grabbing the reins, Austin set the curricle in motion and turned his thoughts to the mission that lay ahead. They would arrive in Marck in approximately an hour. If all went well, he'd locate Gaspard and finally get answers to the questions plaguing him-about the blackmail notes and perhaps even William's whereabouts.
They hit a rut in the road and his shoulder bumped Elizabeth's. Stealing a sideways glance at her, he noted that she appeared pale and her hands were clenched. There was no way in hell he was going to bring her along on his meeting with Gaspard. The man was dangerous. He'd have to find an inn at which to leave her. He suspected she wouldn!t like it, but-
She grabbed his arm. 'Austin.'
Turning, he saw genuine fear in her eyes. 'What is it?'
'We must hurry.'
Alarm edged down his spine at the urgency in her tone. 'Why?'
Pressing her fingers to her temples, she shook her head. 'I'm not sure. It's not clear. But he's close by. And I know we must hurry.' Her face turned chalky pale. 'Please. It's a matter of life and death.'
Austin nicked the reins, setting the horses off at a gallop.
Elizabeth held on tightly to her seat as the curricle raced down the path. Fleeting images flashed in her mind, none of them clear, but all of them dark and menacing.
'When we reach the village, I'm leaving you at an inn,' Austin said his face tense from concentrating on driving the speeding curricle.
She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, he reined the horses to a halt. They stopped before a fork in the road. Trees lined both paths. They looked identical.
'Damn it.' Austin raked a hand through his hair. 'Which way?'
Elizabeth stared alternately at both paths, but felt nothing. 'Help me down.'
He looked at her for the space of two heartbeats, then jumped to the ground to assist her. The instant her feet touched the ground, she ran to the fork. Drawing a deep breath, she knelt, closed her eyes, then placed her hands on the ground.
Images slashed through her mind and she forced herself to relax, to try to get a clear picture. It took several minutes, but when the vision appeared, it was crystal clear.
And devastating.
She saw herself. Bleeding. Losing consciousness. Dying.
Dear God, what was she going to do? If she told him what she'd seen, he would never allow her to go with him. He would insist upon bringing her to the village-and the time spent doing that would mean they'd be too late.
She knew someone was going to die.
But she also knew that if she went with him, she probably would not come back alive.
Opening her eyes, she stood and turned to face him. 'We need to take the left fork.'
Chapter 23
Austin closed the distance between them in a single stride and grabbed her shoulders. 'What's wrong?'
'Nothing. I-'
He gave her a hard shake. 'Don't lie to me. Your face is deathly white. You're frightened. What did you see?'
'We must take the left fork. We'll find him there.'
'I'm not bringing you-'
'If we don't leave
He caught up with her and grabbed her shoulder. 'Too late for what?'
She fought the urge to panic. 'Someone is going to die. I don't know who. I only know we're wasting time. Time we don't have.' Realizing she needed somehow to reassure him of her safety, she said 'I'll remain in the curricle, or I'll hide in the woods. I'll do whatever you think best, but we must go now.'
He didn't hesitate any longer. He quickly assisted her, then jumped into the driver's position. With a sharp flick of his wrists, he set the curricle in motion down the left path.
A quarter hour passed before Elizabeth saw it. Grabbing Austin's arm, she pointed. 'Look.'
He brought the curricle to a halt. In the distance, a thin plume of gray smoke floated above the trees. 'Looks like it's from a chimney.'
Elizabeth closed her eyes. 'Yes. A stone chimney. It's a cottage.' She opened her eyes and looked directly into his. 'It's Gaspard's, Austin. He's there.'
His face hardened. Without a word, he jumped from the vehicle. When she made a move to follow, he pinned her in place with an icy stare. 'Don't move.'
Snatching the reins, he led the horses and curricle off the road and into the woods, positioning them so that
