The Elusive Bride

Using his major’s voice, Gareth commandeered a carriage horse. It had no saddle, but the long reins were still there. Grabbing the horse’s mane, he swung up to its back.

“Gareth!”

He looked down into Emily’s eyes.

“You can’t leave me here!”

He could. But…teeth gritted, he beckoned her closer, bent, gripped and hoisted her up to the horse’s back before him. “Hold on. But if we need to ride hard, I’ll have to set you down.”

“No, you won’t.” Locking her hands in the horse’s mane, she stated, “I have it on excellent authority that I’m a devilish good rider.”

Be that as it may…he guided the horse, a steady beast, into the traffic thronging Westgate Street. Bury was a market town; from what they’d seen, today was market day. Which was helpful-the crowds in the street kept Ferrar to a slow walk, and gave them excellent cover as they followed him. “Not that he seems at all supicious,” Gareth said. “He hasn’t looked around once.”

“Overconfident,” Emily stated. He had to agree.

He tacked around a curricle, only to have a big gray horse fall into position alongside.

Even before his eyes had reached the rider’s face, Wolverstone drawled, “I might have known.” His gaze was resting on Emily.

Gareth shot him a look that stated very clearly: Yes, he might.

Emily ignored him. “We thought you’d lost him.” She wriggled and tried to look back. “Where are the others?”

Wolverstone regarded her for a moment, then decided not to take issue with her first statement. “Delborough, Gervase, and Tony are behind me. The Cynsters and Chillingworth remained to engage the cultists. Sadly, only eight stayed to play.”

Emily looked into his eyes, and got the impression she was treading very close to some edge. She looked ahead, nodded forward. “Jack and Tristan are closer. Do you have any idea where he might be going?”

“No.” On the word, Ferrar turned into a commercial stable. Royce angled his horse across Gareth and Emily’s, steering them to the curb. “We’ll wait here and see what he’s up to.”

Up ahead, Jack and Tristan had similarly halted by the opposite curb. They were chatting as if they were neighbors.

Royce looked at Emily, then Gareth. “If Ferrar comes out, try to keep your heads down-we don’t want him to recognize you. Although I have to admit he’s been singularly unwatchful thus far.”

Emily was too keyed up to even pretend to chat. Then Ferrar came striding out of the stable and crossed the street. He passed within yards of Tristan and Jack. They shifted to keep their faces from him, but he didn’t even glance their way.

Looking at Royce, Emily saw that his head was up, that with a glance he was collecting his men.

Ferrar strode on, oblivious, heading away from the center of the town, then without breaking stride, he turned through a wide gateway set in the thick stone wall bordering the other side of the street.

Royce frowned. “The abbey ruins are through there.”

As soon as Ferrar passed through the gateway and out of sight, they all hurried across the road, closing in on Tristan, who stood waiting in the gateway’s shadows. Jack had already slipped through.

Delborough, Gervase, and Tony joined them as they halted by Tristan’s side.

Jack reappeared. He looked faintly surprised. “He’s…wandering. Aimlessly ambling as if he had not a care in the world-as if he’s out for a stroll among the ruins, as, incidentally, quite a few others are.” He glanced back through the gateway. “I had no idea ruins in winter twilight were so much in vogue.”

Emily frowned at him. “You should read the Ladies’ Gazette.”

To a man, they stared at her, then Royce said, “Is he early for a meeting? Or…is he a student of ruins?”

“He stabled his horse, so his lair must be near,” Delborough pointed out. “Within walking distance.”

“Which covers the whole town.” Royce walked through the gateway, rapidly scanned the area, then came back. “Here’s how we’ll handle this.”

He directed Emily and Gareth to stroll through the gateway, then along the stone wall to where they could observe the grassy promenade that ran across the backs of the buildings built into the west side of the ruins-houses filling the arches of the old abbey, as well as the town’s cathedral built out of the old abbey’s main gate. “You’ll be able to keep your distance, but still see if he goes into one of the houses, or even into the cathedral. From there he can reach the rest of the town.” Royce looked at the others, his expression predatory. “He might have seen all of your faces, but he hasn’t seen mine. I’ll follow him directly-or as directly as I can without alerting him-while you five take the flanks. If he’s meeting someone, I want to know who.”

Everyone nodded and set off, quickly disappearing amid the huge stone blocks littering what proved to be a very large expanse, eyes scanning the deepening shadows for a glimpse of Ferrar.

“That misbegotten idiot!” From the top of the cathedral’s Norman tower-the tower that had once housed the abbey’s main gate and now afforded an unrivaled view of the abbey ruins far below-Alex stared down at Roderick-and the men who were fanning out ominously in his wake. “Just look how many followers he’s managed to collect!”

Daniel stared in disbelief. “He doesn’t even seem to know they’re there.”

Horror-struck, they watched from above, as Roderick paused, leaned back against a large fallen stone, reached into his coat, and drew out a rolled white paper.

“He’s got it-copy or original, it matters not.” With one last deadly look over the parapet, Alex whirled and strode for the stairs. “Come on!”

As they clattered as fast as they could down the dark stone stairs, Alex thought furiously.

When they reached the bottom and stepped out into the cathedral foyer, Alex seized Daniel’s arm. After one quick glance around to make sure no one had seen them, with head lowered Alex steered them quickly out of the cathedral and along the narrow passage down the side, then leaned close and hissed, “Roderick’s gone. Nothing we can do will save him. He has the letter, and those following him know it. Did you see the men hunting him? See how they moved-see their faces?”

When Daniel returned a puzzled look, Alex shook his arm. “Aristocratic faces-the faces of men of power, of the ton, who will be listened to.”

They emerged onto the promenade at the back of the cathedral and swiftly crossed into the ruins. Alex’s eyes scanned the deepening shadows, the fallen stones.

Alex’s voice lowered even more. “They’re going to catch Roderick, and this time, he won’t be able to talk his way out of it-not even our sire will be able to explain why he’s got that letter in his hand. Any second, and they’ll have him.” Halting, Alex looked into Daniel’s dark eyes. “No one knows of our involvement. We can just walk away. But Roderick can’t. Not this time.”

Alex paused, then asked, tone colder than the descending wintry chill, “Do you think, once caught, he’ll let you and me slip away?”

Lips tight, Daniel shook his head.

“Nor do I. And I’m not about to let all we’ve worked to create with the Black Cobra be wiped out by Roderick’s insufferable belief in his own superiority.” Turning, Alex led the way deeper into the ruins. “Come on. We have one chance-only one-to escape.”

Daniel might have inquired as to how, but Alex had always thought faster than he. Much faster than Roderick. And there was Roderick ahead of them. He was ambling along, the letter-their vital missive-in one hand, tapping it nonchalantly on his other palm. He saw them, waved the letter.

Alex halted in the center of an archway, three steps above the broken floor Roderick was traversing. Daniel halted one step behind.

Roderick smiled, a smile of overweening superiority, and came on. As he neared, he said, “O ye of little faith. You have no idea how easy this was.”

He looked down as he climbed the steps.

Alex stepped forward as Roderick reached the last step. He looked up.

Just as the bells summoning the faithful to evensong started carolling.

Just as, aided by Roderick’s momentum, Alex slid a dagger past Roderick’s ribs, directly into his heart.