Chapter 19

Alex had finally returned from the church with good news. He began to strip off the layers of formal clothing that clung to his sweat-soaked skin and couldn’t wait to immerse himself in the bath Costa’s servant had filled for him.

The Reverend Roberts was overawed at meeting the Duke of Bedford, and saw no problem in performing the marriage ceremony the day after next. Alex wanted the wedding to take place tomorrow, but he sensed he’d lose the reverend’s support if he pushed. He did not wish the man of God to think there was anything scandalous about this marriage.

Alex had worked hard to convince him that Hestia wanted to get married in an area her father loved. He told the reverend Fredrick Cary’s version of events: that her father, the antiquities explorer, had died and that this was the place in Greece he loved most and Hestia felt closest to him here.

As Alex slipped into the cooling water, his shoulders and neck began to relax. His stomach was another story—it was tied up in knots. He was about to marry. He could not stop memories of Tulay—and the pledge they had made to each other. A pledge to help each other escape the horror of their lives and their captivity—filled his head.

He’d failed with a disastrous outcome.

If he still believed in God he’d pray that this wedding would have a better ending, at least for Hestia.

Hestia.

He smiled. Today she’d looked beautiful in her happiness at being on land again, and this being Costa’s house would not stop him from seeking Hestia out once he’d bathed. Only to talk of course. He needed to ensure she understood what she was getting into by marrying him.

Instead of David.

He wasn’t sure his friendship with David would survive his marriage to Hestia. David had fallen for her, and why wouldn’t he? She was beautiful, clever, compassionate, brave—all the things a man could love in a woman.

That is what ate at him. There was no doubt in his mind that David loved her. Yet Alex didn’t know if he could ever love anyone. After what had happened to him at the hands of Murad, how could he love anyone if he could not love himself?

He wondered if what he felt for Hestia was close to love. She certainly stirred something deep within him, but love? He did worry about her, but no more than he would about anyone close to him. He looked forward to seeing her, a lot more than he did most people. He loved making love to her—making love?

The soap slipped through his fingers and fell into the tub.

He’d never used that term with any other women. Mutual pleasure. Fantastic sex. Sensual gratification—but never making love. Yet what Hestia and he shared could not be called any of those things—or maybe they could be called all of those things and so much more. With Hestia it had been different.

Love. He loved Hestia.

The fact he loved her should have warmed him, because he thought he was incapable of love. Instead his blood ran cold. If Murad learned of this, she was not safe, regardless of whom she married or if she remained single. As long as she meant something to him, she would be a target.

He needed to talk to Hestia and explain the danger she was in if she stayed in Greece. He had to convince her that as soon as they married she should leave with Jacob on the Angelica. Jacob would sail to Corfu Town and pick up her father and then take them all home.

She would try to fight him on this, but if he had to, Jacob would drag her away.

He could not be responsible for Murad hurting another woman just because she had chosen Alex.

He felt around at his feet for the soap, cursing when it kept slipping away.

Just then Costa knocked and called through the door. “Are you alone?”

“Of course. Come in.”

Costa poked his head around the door, and seeing Alex alone in the tub, he frowned. “We may have a problem.”

Alex gave up searching for the soap and lay back in the tub. “What now?”

“Lady Hestia is not in her room. I thought she might be with you.”

Alex bolted upright and reached for a towel. “She must be here. Where was she last seen?”

“My daughter said after her bath she decided to walk in the olive grove. She should be perfectly safe there.”

“Have you alerted Jacob and David?”

“Jacob is already organizing a search, but I cannot find Mr. Foxhall.”

Alex stopped rubbing himself dry and jumped from the tub, fear encasing his skin in ice. David and Hestia missing could not be a coincidence. How stupid could he be? Alex knew David was not happy with his decision to marry her. David most likely thought he was saving the girl from being married to a laudanum fiend, but David could get her killed, or worse, captured by Murad.

He threw the towel in the corner and pulled on his breeches. “How long has she been missing?” He had to know the head start the pair had.

“At least an hour.”

Hestia would not go quietly. That should slow them down. He stopped pulling his shirt over his head with the dreaded thought that David might drug her.

“David’s taken her.”

Costa’s mouth fell open.

“Believe me. He has. It’s a long story, my friend.”

Costa ran a hand through his hair. “But where could he take her? Unless you know the path through the cliffs, there is no way out of this bay.”

“He’s been here before. He knows.” As he finished dressing, Alex came to the only conclusion. “Can he access any of your boats?”

“He could, but he needs to know the exact route to take through the passageway or else he’s likely to sink any boat on the rocks.”

At least David had never navigated the passage. “The path then.” Alex moved even faster at that. “We have to stop him whichever way he’s chosen to leave.”

Alex, with Costa close behind, made his way through the night following the white bricks at the edge of the path to the beach. Jacob met him as he stepped down on the sand.

“None of the boats appear to be missing.”

“Then where the hell are they? Costa, did you send any men to check the path through the cliffs?”

“Yes. No sign of anyone going that way.”

“Then where the hell are they?” Jacob asked once again.

Alex paced the foreshore. Think, damn it. Where would you take her? He stopped and turned and began to run back to the village. “He hasn’t left. He’s still in the village.” Was he waiting for someone to arrive? Had he sold them out to Fredrick Cary? Or worse still, Murad?

Alex began to jog back to the village.

Jacob was at his heels behind him. “He may want the girl, but he’d never turn you over to Murad.”

“No, but he would give up her father to Fredrick Cary in exchange for Fredrick agreeing to let him wed Hestia. He doesn’t care about her money. He’d likely give it to Cary as well, as long as he gets Hestia as his wife.”

Jacob spat. “He can’t be that stupid. Cary can’t be trusted.”

“Perhaps he has another plan?”

They reached the cluster of white houses and Alex stopped so abruptly that Jacob almost crashed into him.

“Where would you hide?”

Jacob thought for a moment. “It can’t be in a house, unless one of the houses is empty.”

Costa, who’d caught up with them, shook his head. “None of the houses are empty.”

Alex’s nerves jangled. Where? Where could he be?

“The church.” Alex turned to Costa. “Is it left unlocked?”

“Of course.”

All three men took off at a run. Alex liked the feel of his two pistols banging against his hip in his coat pockets.

When they neared the church the men slowed and tried to be quiet as they stealthily surrounded the building.

“Alex, you and I will take the cloister rooms at the back. Costa and his men will cover the front.”

He merely brushed past Jacob and began to move toward the back of the church.

“Come on, Roberts, you’ve been paid enough money. There is no need to wait until she wakens.”

“She is unconscious. You told me it was in the woman’s best interest to marry you so I had assumed she was in agreement. I am not sure about being party to a forced marriage.”

“This is not about me being after her money. It’s about protecting her.”

The clergyman looked at Foxhall in disbelief. “Perhaps I should wait until she awakens and ask the lady. His Grace thinks he’s marrying the young lady, and I will not be party to wrongdoing where the Duke of Bedford is concerned, unless it is to save the girl.”

Foxhall’s fists curled and he bit back his terse reply. He looked toward the doors and wondered how long it would take Bedford to realize that he had not left Pentati. Not long. Alex was not stupid.

“It is to save the girl. His Grace is a man who will hurt her. He’s enthralled with opium and her life will be a misery.”

“During our discussion he sounded very lucid to me. I thought the lady was in fear of him, and that’s why I agreed to this plan. When we met in Mallorca you implied it was a matter of life and death for this young woman. That is why I agreed to meet you here at Pentati. It does not seem that is the case. No, I will not marry you until she can confirm her agreement.”

“That won’t be necessary, sir.”

David slowly turned at the sound of the stranger’s voice.

“Lady Hestia won’t be marrying anyone but me.”

Those were the last words David Foxhall ever heard as a bullet hit him right between his eyes.

The sound of the gunshot woke Hestia from sleep. She tried to push out the fog inside her head. Who had been shot? She looked down to see David’s lifeless eyes staring back at her. She started to shake. A noise to her left made her peer up from the hard pew she was lying on and she looked straight into the face of evil. Fredrick Cary. She began to shake even more.

He turned from her and addressed the whimpering clergyman. “Now, sir, you will marry us, and the lady, if she knows what is best for her, will capitulate.”

Still struggling to function, Hestia could do nothing more than lie back on the pew and watch her wedding as if in a dream.