Read Online The Mask Revealed (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 2) by Julia Brannan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julia Brannan
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to say. “I don’t know what I would have done,” she continued after a pause. “I just wanted to know who you were if I met you again. I hadn’t thought beyond that.”
His eyes were closing, the warmth of the fire lulling him, but he still caught her sudden movement as she took her opportunity and made to run for it. His hand shot out like lightning, grasping her wrist as she moved past and stopping her in her tracks.
“Don’t,” he said quietly, almost wearily. “Even if you were to escape me, which you won’t, you won’t be allowed to leave the house until I say so. I can’t let you go just yet, you surely understand that?” He held her gaze with his own. She expected a threatening glare, but his eyes held apology, a plea for understanding, although the grip on her wrist was relentless. She tugged experimentally, to no effect.
“You were lucky that night,” he continued. “If I’d known you understood Gaelic then, I could not have let you live, do you know that?”
She blanched. Was he trying to tell her that he was about to finish the job now? Was that why he’d married her, to give him an excuse to get her on her own so he could silence her? She pulled against his grip more frantically, trying to prise his fingers open with her free hand.
“I didn’t want to hurt you then, and I don’t now, although I will if you give me no alternative,” he said, leaning across to capture her other hand. “I didn’t intend for all this to happen.”
“How long were you going to keep pretending?” she cried. “Were you going to wait until I was asleep before you murdered me? Or were you going to do it in Italy or France, where no one knows us?”
He looked at her in shock for a moment then laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.
“I hoped to bring you here tonight as Sir Anthony’s wife, and tomorrow, when we were both refreshed, I was going to tell you the truth about myself, in private, giving you time to come to terms with it before discussing the various options open to you. Your premature recognition of me spoilt things a little.” He yawned and stood, retaining his grip on her wrists. “Let me make a suggestion. Let us go to bed and get some sleep. You can have your own room. I will not disturb you. In the morning we will both be more refreshed, and we can talk then. I have a lot to tell you, and I’m sure you have a lot to ask me.”
“How do you expect me to sleep?” Beth retorted, as he started to lead her towards the door.
“If you are as tired as I am, long and deeply, the moment your head touches the pillow.”
He led her upstairs, opening the door to a room on the first floor.
“Your bedroom,” he said, pushing her gently inside. “As I said, I will not disturb you. I have never murdered anyone in their sleep yet, and I am not about to start now. I’ll see you in the morning.” He left, closing the door behind him. She heard the key turn softly in the lock, and she was left alone in the dark with no alternative but to undress and lie down, where, in spite of all her belief to the contrary, she did indeed fall asleep the moment her head made contact with the soft feather pillows.
CHAPTER FOUR
When Beth awoke in the morning, the sunlight was slanting in through the pale green curtains, bathing the room in a light so reminiscent of her bedroom in Didsbury that for a moment, in her pleasantly semi-slumberous state, she thought she was at home, and half expected Jane or Grace to knock lightly on the door at any moment to announce that breakfast was ready.
Then the last vestiges of sleep cleared from her mind and she remembered with a sickening lurch to her stomach that Jane and Grace were far away, and the chances of her riding to join them today were non-existent. Instead she was a prisoner in this house, in the custody of a man who…
Who what? Who he was and what he intended to do with her, she had no idea. She sat
His eyes were closing, the warmth of the fire lulling him, but he still caught her sudden movement as she took her opportunity and made to run for it. His hand shot out like lightning, grasping her wrist as she moved past and stopping her in her tracks.
“Don’t,” he said quietly, almost wearily. “Even if you were to escape me, which you won’t, you won’t be allowed to leave the house until I say so. I can’t let you go just yet, you surely understand that?” He held her gaze with his own. She expected a threatening glare, but his eyes held apology, a plea for understanding, although the grip on her wrist was relentless. She tugged experimentally, to no effect.
“You were lucky that night,” he continued. “If I’d known you understood Gaelic then, I could not have let you live, do you know that?”
She blanched. Was he trying to tell her that he was about to finish the job now? Was that why he’d married her, to give him an excuse to get her on her own so he could silence her? She pulled against his grip more frantically, trying to prise his fingers open with her free hand.
“I didn’t want to hurt you then, and I don’t now, although I will if you give me no alternative,” he said, leaning across to capture her other hand. “I didn’t intend for all this to happen.”
“How long were you going to keep pretending?” she cried. “Were you going to wait until I was asleep before you murdered me? Or were you going to do it in Italy or France, where no one knows us?”
He looked at her in shock for a moment then laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.
“I hoped to bring you here tonight as Sir Anthony’s wife, and tomorrow, when we were both refreshed, I was going to tell you the truth about myself, in private, giving you time to come to terms with it before discussing the various options open to you. Your premature recognition of me spoilt things a little.” He yawned and stood, retaining his grip on her wrists. “Let me make a suggestion. Let us go to bed and get some sleep. You can have your own room. I will not disturb you. In the morning we will both be more refreshed, and we can talk then. I have a lot to tell you, and I’m sure you have a lot to ask me.”
“How do you expect me to sleep?” Beth retorted, as he started to lead her towards the door.
“If you are as tired as I am, long and deeply, the moment your head touches the pillow.”
He led her upstairs, opening the door to a room on the first floor.
“Your bedroom,” he said, pushing her gently inside. “As I said, I will not disturb you. I have never murdered anyone in their sleep yet, and I am not about to start now. I’ll see you in the morning.” He left, closing the door behind him. She heard the key turn softly in the lock, and she was left alone in the dark with no alternative but to undress and lie down, where, in spite of all her belief to the contrary, she did indeed fall asleep the moment her head made contact with the soft feather pillows.
CHAPTER FOUR
When Beth awoke in the morning, the sunlight was slanting in through the pale green curtains, bathing the room in a light so reminiscent of her bedroom in Didsbury that for a moment, in her pleasantly semi-slumberous state, she thought she was at home, and half expected Jane or Grace to knock lightly on the door at any moment to announce that breakfast was ready.
Then the last vestiges of sleep cleared from her mind and she remembered with a sickening lurch to her stomach that Jane and Grace were far away, and the chances of her riding to join them today were non-existent. Instead she was a prisoner in this house, in the custody of a man who…
Who what? Who he was and what he intended to do with her, she had no idea. She sat
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