Music for My Soul (29 page)

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 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
.

She had run away 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 chose.

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 curl. 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. 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 by the curls.

“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 the stained pillow.

He strode to the window and leaned out. He searched for a moment and then yelled, “Boy! Boy!”

A youth of about ten ran to the base of the building and looked up. “Yes, m’lord?”

Garrett tossed him a coin. “Fetch a doctor here at once. There’ll be another piece for you when you return.”

The boy took off running.

Garrett came and sat on the bed next to Madeleine. “I’ll take you far from Henri de Picassaret. I give you my promise. You need never see him again.”

“M’lord! Come to the window.” The boy had returned, hollering for Garrett.

Garrett went to the window and saw the boy was alone.

“No one’d come, m’lord. They be scared or didn’t believe me that a real lord had need o’ them. The waterfront is a bad place.” He tipped his hat to Garrett. “But I thank ye for the coin all the same.”

Garrett cursed softly to himself. He went back to Madeleine and took her hand. “Sweetheart, we must leave now. I’ll do my best not to jar you.”

He wrapped the cloak around her, the same cloak that had warmed her what seemed like a lifetime ago. He slipped his arms under her and eased her from the bed. He had some idea of how she suffered. Ryker had beaten him many times before he had finally stood up to him. He still remembered the deep aches, not only in his body, but in his bruised spirit. He would commit himself to nursing Madeleine back to good health, both in body and soul.

He picked his way carefully through the unpaved street with Madeleine passed out in his arms.

He spied Raleigh and moved in his direction.

The harbormaster hurried to him. “What’s this?” He gaped at Madeleine.

“I need a cart. Fast. I must get her from this place. See to it.”

The man ran off on bowed legs. Within five minutes he’d returned, leading Ebony. His horse had been hitched to a small cart.

Garrett climbed up awkwardly with Madeleine in his arms and eased her down onto the cart’s bed, hoping he’d arranged her comfortably.

“Drive me, Raleigh. I can’t leave her.”

Raleigh gazed at Madeleine with sympathy. “O’ course not. Where be we going?”

Garrett quickly instructed him as Raleigh climbed up into the driver’s seat. He flicked Ebony’s reins lightly.

Garrett closed his eyes.
Just let her live, God. Let her live
. The prayer became a chant in his mind, its rhythm soothing him.

“
Fornicator
!” A devil-like shriek pierced the air.

Garrett’s eyes flew open as the cart came to a jarring halt. Henri de Picassaret stood in Ebony’s path, his eyes wild.

“You snake! You debaucher of God’s laws!” He pointed at Madeleine. “She—
my wife
—will pay every day of her life for falling to temptation. You English swine, with your courtly manner and seducing smiles. To think I almost gave you my land.”

Madeleine moaned softly.

Garrett rotated her face away from Henri, who frothed at the mouth as if rabid.

Garrett restrained himself from jumping out of the cart. He had to protect Madeleine. He would deal with her husband in time.

“Drive through him if you have to, Raleigh, but get us from this place,” Garrett ordered.

Raleigh tried to turn Ebony, but Henri grabbed at the reins. The horse snorted and whipped his head about, but Henri held him firmly. He shook his finger at Garrett.

“You filthy English lecher. I will punish you in God’s name as I have punished her.”

Garrett could stand it no longer. The thought of Henri’s repeated beatings of Madeleine raged through his head. He would tear the man’s limbs from his body.

As gently as he could, he swiftly moved from under Madeleine, where he’d been cradling her against his body.

She clutched his arm. “No,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he returned firmly.

He leapt from the cart, his body shaking with pent-up fury. “You’re nothing but a spineless bastard, de Picassaret. You beat those too helpless to defend themselves, you worthless scum.”

In a blurred motion he rushed toward Henri, his fist smashing directly into the Frenchman’s nose. The crack could be heard over the shouts of the crowd that quickly gathered around them, cheering on the bloodshed.

Henri slumped for a moment and then let out a ferocious cry. He slammed his fists into Garrett’s ears. Garrett reeled from the strength of the fierce blow. Henri cackled with glee over the pain he’d inflicted, his eyes lighting up with sick pleasure. His hands clamped around Garrett’s throat as he began to choke him.

The pressure Henri’s fingers exuded amazed Garrett. The strength of a man gone mad. He wondered how Madeleine had survived as long as she had.

He clawed at Henri’s hands and forced them from his throat. Then he gripped the front of Henri’s rich, black tunic, now wet with blood. He slammed him against a nearby barrel and pounded him in a blind frenzy, delivering blow after blow to his stomach.

“This is for Madeleine!”

As Garrett heard a rib cracked, Henri emitted a high, girlish scream and collapsed. The crowd roared its approval.

Garrett dropped to one knee and mopped the sweat from his brow as he tried to gain control of his anger. He wanted nothing more than to kill Henri de Picassaret. But could he do so without losing Madeleine’s love and trust? Once free, would she want to be with her husband’s murderer?

He glanced at her, undecided. Their lives, their love, lay in the balance with his next action.

She cried out, “Garrett! His dirk. ‘Tis poisoned!”

Garrett reacted instantly, moving in one swift motion, rushing Henri. He latched on to his wrist and squeezed with all his might, but the madman refused to drop his jeweled dagger. With superhuman strength he brought it up under Garrett’s chin.

Garrett knew with sudden clarity that they were locked in a death struggle. Only one of them would survive this battle.

Not a sound came from those gathered as they each fought for control of the deadly blade.

“Bastard!” Henri cried and spat in Garrett’s face.

Garrett wrenched Henri’s hand, and forced the dagger against the tip of the Frenchman’s throat, cutting the tender flesh. Blood creased and trickled slowly down onto his tunic.

Henri’s eyes grew large in his pasty face. A faint sound came from his narrow lips as he went rigid. A spasm crossed his face then froze in a ghastly mask of death.

Garrett eased his hold and Henri fell lifeless to the ground.

The mass that had assembled shrugged and went on their way, their afternoon’s free entertainment coming to an end.

Garrett returned to the cart and climbed up. At his order, Raleigh flicked the reins and started away from the ugly scene. Once seated, Garrett eased Madeleine into his arms again, stroking her cheek lovingly.

“He’s dead?” she asked, lips quivering.

“Yes.” Garrett touched his mouth gently to her forehead. “Henri is dead. And you must fight to live, Madeleine. Don’t give up, dearest. I need you too much. I’ll always need you, my love.”

Madeleine smiled weakly. Her nightmare had ended.

Chapter 24

Madeleine awoke to the scraping sounds of a fire being laid in the hearth. A damp chill hung in the early morning air in the master’s chamber.

She eased up from the mass of blankets and recognized the tiny servant struggling with the task. “No, Maude, please don’t bother. You know we return to Stanbury today. There’s no sense in lighting a fire.”

Maude faced her, hands on her hips. “The master be wanting ye to have a fire, dearie, and a fire is what ye’ll get. Now stay in that warm bed and drink the soup I brung ye.” She motioned to the table next to Madeleine.

Sure enough, a wooden bowl of broth stood awaiting her, steam rising in swirls.

“Maude, you spoil me.”

The servant winked at her and turned back to her job at hand. “No, I believe that’d be the master who done spoiled ye. I just do his bidding.” Maude deepened her voice in a gruff imitation of Garrett. “Maude, make up the master chamber. Maude, warm bricks for the bed. Maude, send for the doctor again. Maude, tend to—”

Madeleine interrupted her, laughing shallowly so as not to torture her ribs unnecessarily. “And you’ve done it all, Maude. I cannot thank you enough for your kindness to me.”

The fire now lit, Maude came to her. “And I thank ye for the change in Lord Montayne. ‘Twas always a good man buried in a hard shell till ye came ‘round.” She beamed at Madeleine mischievously. “But now that he has spoiled ye, in truth, ye’ll be rotten to the core now, I fear.” She patted Madeleine’s hand and smiled fondly at her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Let the fire do its task, then we’ll see ‘bout getting ye ready for yer journey.”

Madeleine finished the broth and placed the bowl on the bedside table. She sank back into the pillows, her eyes closed, feeling content.

Garrett had indeed pampered her these last three weeks as she healed in his home, indulging her in ways she’d never dreamed.

But she remembered very little of those first few days. Images and sounds came and went in a blur. Yet he was always there. He’d rubbed lotion into her bruises every day. He’d washed her hair and worked for hours combing out the many tangles. He’d sat and read to her and talked to her.

He rarely left her side, and when he did, he always called Maude to stay with her.

He even slept in the chair next to her each night, though she’d begged him to rest in a bed. He’d refused, a gleam in his eye.

“Every time you’re out of my sight, you get into trouble,” he’d said. “If I have my way, you’ll spend the next threescore years with me by your side.”

She smiled at the memory. She wanted to remember everything about him—every look he gave her, every word he spoke. He had gone into battle for her, slaying the dragon that menaced her, almost losing his life in the process. Thanks to him, she could now wash clean her past. She reveled in her freedom.

And she welcomed their future. Because they would live it together, as one, their love ever strong forevermore.

The door creaked and she opened her eyes. Garrett came in and quickly closed it behind him. He came to the bed and sat down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek.

“Ebony is ready.”

Madeleine knew how he longed to leave for Stanbury. Whatever had happened to Lynnette could only be answered there. Still, he’d nursed her until she was whole before they would discover the mystery of Lynnette’s disappearance together. They could build no life together until they learned the truth.

“Are you sure you are strong enough for the journey?”

She saw his concern. She had a few qualms, but she knew he would refuse to leave her behind. She couldn’t deny him this.

“Yes, my lord, as soon as I dress, I will be ready to ride.”

“Yes,
my lord
?” His eyes sparkled at the address. He leaned over her, his hands cupping her face as he bent to kiss her.

Her pulse raced in anticipation.

He gently touched his lips to hers, slowly teasing back and forth. She reached up and caressed his cheek. He turned his head and pressed a fiery kiss to her open palm.