Page 40

“Did you see that?” he asked his wife in a low voice.

“It’s probably another guest, Dominic. Or a servant,” Marianne replied, even as she looked toward the spot he was staring at.

“No,” he said. This time, he was saying the words more to himself than to her. She seemed unconcerned. “It looked like?—”

“Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” she said softly, comforting him a little.

Reassuring him, even as his suspicions grew.

She tugged his arm gently. Her body curved against his, and almost all thoughts were lost to the pleasure.

“I’d rather not waste another moment on whatever it was. It’s gone now.”

She then tugged at his collar, gripping it hard enough to pull him into a kiss. She was trembling, probably wanting it for a while like he was. The kiss was searing and unrestrained, and it silenced his protests and concerns.

Doing this on the street was scandalous, but Dominic did not care. He was doing it with Marianne, his wife. If the ton had anything to say about it, then let them say it.

When their carriage rolled up to them, they were still locked in that kiss. Somehow, Dominic managed to disengage, enough to open the door and pull her up with him by the waist.

They tumbled into the carriage. The tension that had been coiled within them for hours finally snapped. Their lips met again. This time, the kiss was frenzied, a crash of wild waves.

Marianne pulled at Dominic’s hair, and he welcomed it with a groan.

He pulled her into his lap, savoring her gentle weight on him.

The carriage rocked, heightening their need.

It fed the fire burning from the moment he had seen her dressed, which had roared even higher with the first waltz.

It was torture to feel her—watch her—even as they guarded Elizabeth.

“I missed you,” Marianne whimpered against his lips, their breaths mingling.

“You had me all night,” he reminded her, knowing full well that was what she meant.

“Not like this. Not alone.”

“We are not exactly alone,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

After all, the coachman was not too far away.

“He’s too preoccupied,” she protested with a sigh.

“I’m about to be preoccupied, too,” he whispered against her jaw, kissing her from there to her neck and shoulder.

She moaned as his hands caressed her body. It was the sweetest sound to his ears. He was ready to take her right there in the carriage, but then the world suddenly lurched.

“What?” he exclaimed, thinking that the carriage had run over a pothole. It was normal, but the coachman usually had more finesse than this.

The carriage jolted violently again. Even the horses knew it was unusual. They reared on their hind legs and neighed. When Dominic heard the wood crack, he wrapped his arms around Marianne. He was just in time because they were soon flung sideways.

She cried out in fear, all traces of desire gone. Meanwhile, his shoulder rammed the wall hard. Pain shot through him, but the whole ordeal was not over. The carriage veered once more, its wheels grinding. It felt like forever, waiting to find out when and how it would stop.

Finally, after rattling the carriage’s joints and Dominic’s bones, it came to a halt.

It was dusty. One of the lanterns inside flickered, its glass broken. Dominic could feel Marianne’s rapid and shallow breathing. He turned her face toward him and cupped her face in trembling hands.

“Are you hurt? Marianne? Marianne?”

She merely blinked, still in a daze. Her lips were pale, but her cheek was red. A bruise was already forming, and blood was seeping into her gloves.

“I t-think I’m all right,” she stuttered, even as one hand instinctively held the other. “You?”

“I’m fine, Marianne,” he lied.

He pushed the door open with a brute force that he hadn’t known he possessed. He half-carried her out into the road. She didn’t protest, which gave him an idea as to how shocked she was. He had lied about being fine, but she had lied more.

The horses continued neighing wildly. Their eyes were frantic but unfocused, and their bodies were still dragging the remains of the carriage. In contrast, the coachman was deathly quiet, slumped at the front. Dominic spotted blood trickling down his temple.

“Stay here,” he whispered as he eased Marianne into a seated position on the grass. One hand stroked her hair, worry etched on his face as he watched her rest her chin on her knees.

He sprinted to the front of the carriage.

Back at the scene of his near death, he could see that the front wheels were almost detached.

As he got closer, he saw the bolts. They were loose, but not the kind of loose that was caused by a collision.

They were far looser, and the brake lever had even been snapped cleanly off.

Dominic did not deem himself an expert, but he could see it clearly. Whatever happened was deliberate. His stomach dropped at the thought. Someone wanted them dead, or injured at the very least.

He scanned the trees, remembering the lurker he had spotted earlier. Whoever it was, they were already long gone. Still, Dominic was certain that what had just happened was not random.

It was Linpool.

Who else could it be?

There was a time when the Viscount could not find a weakness in him. He had nobody. But now, he was married—and Marianne was a much stronger woman than his mother. She knew how to avoid men like Linpool, and the latter would not like it.

Marianne was the target. She had to be. It was a means for Linpool to hurt him, and he was an idiot—he certainly was. He had let his guard down and let passion rule over him. One kiss could now undo him. His need took over his senses.

Dominic rushed back to check on Marianne. He knelt beside her to inspect her again. Yes, she was bruised and pale, but she was also alert. But when he reached for her hands, she winced.

Something was wrong, he knew. There was blood on her gloves, and he did not have time to check on her hands earlier.

“Please let me remove your gloves, Marianne,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“I-I…” she stammered, but she gave him her hands.

He gently peeled off her gloves, his breath held and his eyes focused. Then, he saw them. Scraped palms. Her hands were not the softest, being a rider’s hands, but they were still a lot more delicate compared to his.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked, as if he had done this to her.

It felt like it. The enmity between him and Linpool would continue until something terrible happened—something worse than this.

“For what?” she asked, meeting his eyes with her wide ones.

“I should have seen it coming. I have been too careless. Too blind. That man is not just toying with you or me. He’s not just trying to control you.

This time, he is trying to frighten you and, as a result, me.

It could have been worse. He is capable of it,” he prattled nervously. Uncharacteristically.

Marianne stared at her husband in disbelief at first. Then, realization dawned on her.

“You think it was Linpool,” she said.

It was not a question. She had read his eyes. It was another thing that he was getting weaker at. His defenses were falling apart in front of her.

“I know it was,” he declared.

“Then we need to tell someone,” she said, ever logical.

“We can’t do that yet. We are not certain. Well, I know he did it, but I don’t have proof. But from now on, you can’t go anywhere else without me. Or perhaps you should stay in London.”

Dominic could think of many more ways to keep her safe. If only he could carry her with him, or place her in a corner. But she was a living person, someone who was used to having her own adventures. Someone independent.

“You’re not my keeper, Your Grace,” she said defiantly, reverting to formalities.

Bruised she might be, but she was every bit as defiant with her tilted chin and blazing eyes. Never mind that she was still sitting on the grass.

“I may not be your keeper,” Dominic reminded her in a steely voice, “but I am your husband. Linpool will have to go through me if he wants to harm you.”

And that was final.

At least, in his head.