Page 74 of The Baron Takes a Wife

Finally, she knew the answer to the question, that forgiveness for herself and mercy for Anatole were the most powerful weapons she had in her arsenal. Even if she could never forgive him for what he had done, she could spare his life today.

“I give you your life, Anatole,” she whispered, though there was no reason to whisper anymore. “You are monstrous, but you won’t make a monster of me.”

Now, if Goliath could just hold him until help came.

She looked up as she felt the ground rumble. She had been so concentrated on Anatole that she hadn’t seen or heard David and Irene riding toward them with several men. David dismounted and strode over toward them, gun drawn. He looked so beautiful and strong, and she had never been so happy to see anyone in her life.

“Elena!”

David’s voice was harder than she’d ever heard it before, and he seemed unable to look at her. The relief she felt in seeing him was quickly replaced with fear that he was angry with her, that he thought she had sought Anatole out on her own, that he might have hurt himself riding out to save her. She stood, feeling dazed as if it had been years since she had seen her husband instead of hours.

“Goliath has him pinned,” she murmured. She could scarcely recognize her own voice. It sounded so faint.

David nodded. “Call Goliath off, and we’ll take him to the constable,” David addressed Anatole, his jaw clenched. “The Foreign Office will be particularly interested in why a Russian spy is here in the English countryside. You will be enjoying the pleasures of the local jail until the Foreign Office sends someone to collect you.”

She turned to glance at Anatole and could tell from his expression that he did not understand what David had said, so she translated for him. Anatole’s eyes went even wider, giving his face a carved-out, skeletal look. Out of nowhere, men appeared on either side of him.

Finally, David looked at her. She watched his gaze go to her face, which she realized was still smarting, and she put her hand on her cheek where Anatole had hit her. Elena saw an uncontainable rage, which she had never seen before, flash across David’s face as he rounded on Anatole.

“You came to her home, and you laid your hands on her,” David ground out and began to advance on Anatole. Irene, who had dismounted by then, put a hand on her brother’s arm, stilling him.

“Goliath,” Elena said gently. “Come here.”

Goliath slowly walked over to her. He was limping slightly, and she felt great sorrow at what saving her had cost him. As he came to nuzzle her hand, she felt a lump rise in her throat.

“Irene!” she called, her voice shaking. “Can you take Goliath back home and take care of his back leg?”

As the men began to drag Anatole away, never one to take defeat graciously, he started to shout in Russian. “Whore! I’ll tell them you betrayed your town! I’ll tell them how you seduced me and your English lord, Elena.”

Elena was grateful David could not comprehend Anatole’s words, but she could tell he understood the general idea of what Anatole was yelling at her. David pulled back his fist.

Smack.

Irene had beaten him to it, striking Anatole full across the face. Being so thoroughly smacked by so small a person seemed to stun Anatole momentarily, and he slumped against the men dragging him away.

“You will never speak her name again. You will never touch my sister again, or we will kill you!”

Both David and Elena turned to stare at Irene, suddenly so far away from the timid, waxen doll of the London ballrooms. She looked so spectacular that Elena knew she didn’t have the heart to tell Irene that Anatole did not understand what she was saying.

“Irene, I’m supposed to say that.” David looked both frustrated and impressed with his little sister.

“Well, I took care of it for you.” She shook her hand, wincing in pain. “I didn’t know hitting someone would hurt so much. I suppose I won’t be playing piano for a few days.”

“Why don’t you go back and get a compress on your hand?” David gave her a rueful smile. “You were quite the hero today.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” Irene gave them an impish grin, then hugged Elena, pulling back to look at her. “Are you all right?”

Elena looked over at David, who stood tense and rigid. She still felt as if he was avoiding looking at her.

“I’ll be all right.” She only hoped her marriage would be all right. Elena looked down and saw a silver glint among the lush green of the grass. She bent to pick up the knife handle, turning it over in her hands. She felt David observing her out of the corner of her eye. Suddenly, she realized that this was the knife that had scarred her. She was seized by a need to destroy it, to throw it as far away from her as she could, but she let the moment pass and instead held out the hilt to David. She hadn’t noticed they were now alone.

He walked over to her, took the knife, and tossed it back to the ground. In a blur, she found herself crushed in his arms.

I’m home, she thought. In those moments before Goliath seized Anatole, she had been ready to die and only wished she could have seen David one last time. She had something important to tell him, but first, she needed to know that he didn’t hate her, that he didn’t think she had devised this situation. She pulled back to look up at him.

“You’re not angry with me?” She knew better now than to shirk back from him, but she couldn’t hide the quiver in her voice.

“No, of course I wasn’t angry—I just let the soldier take over until I knew you were safe. Hard to step back out of it.” He pushed a strand of hair that had come out of her chignon behind her ear. Somewhere along the way, she had lost her bonnet. “I was worried,” he said softly. “Terrified, more like. I thought I’d lost you, Elena.”