The Impostors: Complete Collection Page 19

  Chloe’s heart cried out for poor Fiona stuck in her bed. She imagined what it must feel like to be trapped by the failings of your own body. Anger surged through her. Chloe wanted Edward to be afraid. God help her, she wanted to strangle him with her own bare hands!

  “If you have no fear of Ian,” she told him, clenching her teeth, “perhaps you may of Merrick.”

  He peered down at her, cocking his head, his brows colliding. “How is it you know that name?”

  Despite that Chloe was afraid, anger was her ally. The tiny note of panic in his voice gave her strength. She smirked at him. “He’ll hunt you down. And he’ll kill you with his own bare hands. Make no mistake.” That was… if Merrick had the first inkling where to look for her… or even to look for her at all.

  Chloe eyed Edward with disgust, seeing clearly for the first time in so long. She had mistakenly blamed Ian for the trials brought upon their kinsmen, but in truth it was Edward who held Glen Abbey’s purse strings, raising rents and bleeding them dry. It was always Edward who came to collect monies. It was Edward who’d come to baldly inform her that the cottage was no longer her own and that she must vacate the premises at once. It was Edward’s greed that killed poor Ana, she realized, and it was his wickedness that was slowly ravaging Glen Abbey.

  She must somehow get herself free and find Merrick, she thought desperately. It might be too late for Fiona, but it wasn’t for the others.

  Edward, the fiend, must pay for his sins.

  Chapter 22

  The manor was in ruins.

  Grief stricken, Merrick retreated with Fiona to the cottage.

  Everything was destroyed, from the portraits in the gallery to the ledgers that were left in Fiona’s room. Merrick had assured her that he’d had no knowledge of the fact that his father had ordered them kept. It should have been a first clue that every last ledger could be found on the estate. Merrick, who had kept the books in Meridian, had never once had one forwarded for his inspection. In fact, he’d never even heard of Glen Abbey until he’d read his father’s letters.

  Merrick would have told Fiona about the letters, but he’d determined that Ryo was right. It was his father’s place to tell Fiona, not his.

  Thank God they’d found no trace of Chloe within the house. All the servants made it out unharmed. His heart had never felt emptier than it had in that instant when he’d thought he’d lost her. And he still might lose her, but not if he had anything to do with it. His mother claimed that after Chloe showed her the ring, she’d sent Chloe to search for him.

  That was the last Fiona had seen of her.

  Clearly, Chloe hadn’t found Merrick, but it appeared someone else had found Chloe.

  Edward was missing.

  The constable came to make his report, but of course. And, in speaking with Tolly, Merrick determined that he was, indeed, a good man, who wanted nothing more than to save his beloved town from ruin. Merrick was honest with him and told him the truth—or most of it—that he wasn’t Ian. Tolly had likely guessed the rest of the tale, but it was understood that the matter would be dropped. It was no longer to be a concern. He’d already heard the news; Hawk was dead. As for locating Edward, Merrick awaited his men. One last time they would ride together, but this time with deadly purpose. The carriage was missing; Edward wouldn’t get far. And when he caught the fool, Merrick intended to be the man’s judge and his jury.

  Edward stopped at an inn for the night, leaving Chloe to freeze to death in the carriage. Her toes were numb from the cold and her fingers tingling from lack of circulation.

  She hadn’t the first inkling where Edward was taking her, but she sensed that now was her chance to escape. Whatever he intended to do with her, she knew it couldn’t be good. If he were willing to dispose of a woman he’d worked for for twenty-eight years, Chloe knew he had no reason to spare her. It was not very ladylike, but she cursed him beneath her breath. Not only was she trussed like an animal, but he’d tied her to the carriage as well, and she was bound so well that she could barely breathe, much less move.

  Shivering against the cold night air, she was unable to scream for the yards of material he’d shoved in her mouth. Her jaws were beginning to hurt.

  She heard voices outside and tried to scream for help, but her bellows sounded more like strangled murmurs. Desperate to free herself, she squirmed until her arms were chafed and her body ached, attempting in vain to kick at the carriage.

  She feared she would never be free. But suddenly the carriage door opened, and Merrick’s beautiful face appeared before her like a dark, blue-eyed guardian angel. All that was missing was his wings.

  Tears sprung to her eyes at once.

  “Chloe,” he said, sounding relieved as he pulled her at once from the carriage and removed the gag from her mouth.

  Unmasked, his men stood at his back. For the first time Chloe saw their faces. They were all-too familiar to her and she had to laugh.

  Donald Lowson, whose wife had only just borne him a babe. Angus Macpherson, whose brother owned the Pale Ale. Rusty she had already guessed. Lonny Macpherson, Angus’s youngest brother. And Jamie Brewer, Emily’s sweet, skinny cousin.

  “Miss Chloe,” Jamie said, nodding. “Emily says ta tell ye that she’s sorry. She said you’d know what that means.”

  Chloe smiled gently as Merrick worked quickly to untie her bindings. When she was free at last, she cried out in relief and threw herself into Merrick’s arms. His expression was sober, but when his gaze met hers, she saw the love there and felt safe at last.

  “Where is Edward?”

  “Gone,” Merrick told her. “He untied one of the horses from the carriage and fled.

  “Come,” Merrick said, taking Chloe by the hand. Leaving his men to fend for themselves, he led Chloe into the inn, certain she was tired. It wasn’t as though there was a house left to return to, anyway. Fiona was sleeping peacefully at the cottage; Chloe needed her rest, as well. Tomorrow was soon enough to face the rest of their lives.

  * * *

  Thanking God he’d reached Chloe in time, Merrick procured a room, ordered a bath, and lifted Chloe into his arms to carry her to their room.

  He didn’t want to live without her.

  Chloe clung to him, not speaking, clearly in shock. He brought her inside and closed the door. She gently touched his forehead. “You’ve burnt yourself.”

  “It’s nothing,” he swore.

  “Did he hurt you?” Merrick demanded. He would strangle the bastard when he found him.

  She shook her head and started to weep. “I’m so sorry about your mother,” she said, burying her face into her hands. “I should never have left her.”

  Merrick smiled at her, pulling her hands away so she could see his face. Tenderly he brushed his fingers through her hair. “My mother is fine,” he reassured. “More so than you realize, in fact.”

  Chloe furrowed her brow, tears swelling in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, she can walk,” Merrick said simply, shaking his head in wonderment that she’d kept it a secret for so long. “It seems it was all a ploy.”

  Chloe narrowed her eyes. “So it’s true. But why?”

  “To get you to come to the manor.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Merrick grinned. “She was attempting to play matchmaker, I’m afraid—and it worked, but not quite as she expected.”

  Chloe merely looked at him, studying him. It was quite clear she wanted to say something but didn’t know how to ask.

  There was a knock upon the door. Merrick left her long enough to open it and to help the attendants set up her bath. Once they were gone, he returned to the bed and, ignoring her protest, undressed her.

  * * *

  Chloe’s heart squeezed her painfully.

  She felt a sudden overwhelming shyness, studying his face, trying to see the differences between the brothers. Without Ian present to compare them, it was utterly impossible. They had the same face, the same
body, even, it seemed, the same voice.

  Everything she’d known about this man was a lie—from the very first to the very last. And yet… she was glad.

  Merrick lifted her from the bed and put her in the bath, then started to massage her shoulders. Chloe knew she was stiff beneath his touch, but she couldn’t help it. This wasn’t Ian. Nor was he Hawk. And she knew absolutely nothing of Merrick.

  Except that he had loved her so sweetly.

  The memory of that night brought a blush to her body that had absolutely nothing to do with the heat of the bath.

  “Does that feel good?” he asked, his voice gentle.

  Chloe nodded, feeling awkward.

  She waited a moment, letting the steam calm her, and then she confessed, “I showed your mother the ring.”

  “I know,” he said. His tone was sober. “It’s all true, Chloe.”

  Chloe inhaled sharply.

  Her hopes dashed. She hadn’t any chance when he was Ian. She hadn’t been good enough for a simple lord. Merrick was a prince—someday to be a king. She hadn’t anything at all to offer him—no dowry at all.

  Not a thing.

  Once upon a time, Fiona had made the mistake of aiming too high and look where it had gotten her.

  Alone.

  Merrick moved around the bathtub, washing her legs beneath the water, massaging them gently, lifting up her ankles to inspect the rope burns—not at all duties suited to a man of his stature. In fact, he was behaving more like a servant, in truth.

  “Chloe,” he began, and his tone was far too sober. Her heart began to pound against her ribs. She held her breath, knowing what was to come. He would tell her she was sweet and that he’d enjoyed himself thoroughly and he would explain how unsuited they were.

  He would apologize and then he would leave her. Men like Merrick did not linger over their mistakes, nor would he suffer for it like Chloe would.

  Already, her reputation had suffered.

  Still, she couldn’t quite think of him as a mistake.

  She averted her gaze, fighting back tears.

  She could go on with her own plans for her life… find a way to practice her medicine. There was so much good she could do with her life.

  * * *

  He took her gently by the hand, and for the longest moment Merrick couldn’t speak, so full was his heart, so thick was his throat with emotion.

  As he looked at her lying within the tub, so vulnerable, he knew he wanted to take care of her for the rest of his life. This is what he was born for—not thrones or crowns.

  In truth, he’d never been satisfied with the power of his position. It never made him smile, nor had it filled his heart as Chloe did.

  And suddenly everything was clearer than it had been in ages. He didn’t want to rule a nation; he wanted Ian to have the chance.

  He knew, with a certainty he had never experienced before this moment, that he didn’t wish to be king. For twenty-eight years, he’d had everything his heart desired, and nothing ever pleased him. In the few weeks he’d been here, he’d learned more about himself through Chloe’s eyes and through the hearts of the men his brother called friends. These men weren’t kings or dukes or earls or barons, but he knew this for certain… they would, indeed, kill to protect those they loved, and he needn’t pay them a fortune to do it. They looked after their own, and they loved Chloe as a sister. As soon as they’d been told what had happened, every single man had gone after his gun and his horse. He hadn’t had to ask them to join him.

  Merrick had never had friends before now.

  He’d rarely smiled.

  Never loved.

  Until now.

  “Do you think…” His voice broke. “That you could be happy to be a simple farmer’s wife?”

  * * *

  Chloe’s eyes burned. Was he trying to marry her off to some unfortunate man? God help her, she shook her head, not comprehending. Surely he didn’t mean that he would give up everything only to be with her?

  “I want you to be my wife,” he said with sincerity and conviction. “I want wee ones like Rusty Broun’s who’ll climb on my back and beg for rides. I want to be smothered in kisses by sweet-faced daughters. I want to teach my sons to hunt.”

  He made it sound like heaven on earth, but she knew he couldn’t possibly want that—not when he could have any woman he desired and any life he chose. Her eyes filled with tears. “How could I ever ask you to give up so much only to be with me?”

  Merrick’s eyes, as she peered into them, moistened with tears, mirroring her own. “Chloe… when I thought I’d lost you tonight, I realized… my life is nothing without you. Nothing, do you understand? I am not Ian,” he said. “Forgive me for that. But I am the same man who has loved you from the instant I saw you.”

  Chloe swallowed, terrified to believe in him, terrified to hope, terrified to lose him. “But… you were born to be a king,” she argued.

  He shook his head. “No, Chloe. I was born to be your husband. It will be my life’s joy to care for you until the day I die—hopefully in your arms.”

  Chloe’s eyes overflowed with tears. “You mean it truly?” she asked, overcome with joy.

  He nodded without hesitation. “I will build you a hospital here where you can treat patients for free. We can stay in Glen Abbey, raise our children together—let Ian take my place, if he will. He doesn’t realize it yet, but it’s his crown to do with as he pleases. He is the crusader… not me. I can see him now… helping the people of our nation.”

  Chloe’s throat convulsed. Her lips trembled. Her heart felt as though it would burst. She shook her head, wanting to believe in happily-ever-afters, but sorely afraid to. “You would loathe me someday for making you give up so much.”

  Merrick, too, shook his head very adamantly. “No, my love. I was imprisoned by my life before. Now I am free.”

  “Truly?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Truly.”

  “Then, yes,” she said, nodding happily. “Yes!”

  Merrick reached out and took her into his arms, not caring that she would wet his clothing. “Marry me tomorrow,” he demanded, spinning her about, and Chloe laughed.

  She wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him joyfully. And then, she suddenly felt extraordinarily wicked with him holding her naked to his chest. She smiled at him.

  Recognizing that look in her eyes Merrick grinned, and they fell together upon the bed. Chloe untied his cravat, her gaze never leaving his. Smiling impishly, she tossed it to the floor.

  Merrick shivered at her look, at the slow, deliberate way she removed his clothing. “I have corrupted you, I fear,” he said, but he grinned anyway, and his body hardened with her touch.

  Chloe nodded, her eyes shining with tears.

  Lying gloriously naked before him, her skin pink from the warm water, her lips wet from his kisses and her hair flowing down her back, she looked like a temptress… a siren.

  When he was naked, as well, she rose from the bed, luring him into the tub. They stood facing each other a moment and then she pushed him down into the water and sat on his lap in the most scandalous fashion. Her body fit over his like a velvety glove.

  Indeed, she was made for him, her body tight and warm and soft.

  “I will give you all the children you desire,” she whispered.

  “And I will love you until I die,” he promised, his voice hoarse with desire.

  And he meant it. With every fiber of his being.

  Chloe began to undulate over him. It was a wicked dance they performed, writhing in the tub together. She rode until he could bear it no longer and then he stood, holding her close so that they wouldn’t separate, walking with her to the bed, laying her down.

  Chloe moaned softly, writhing beneath him as he covered her completely. Pushing himself inside her, he increased the tempo, burying himself deeper and deeper with every thrust, until it seemed they truly were one. When at last they came together, the two of them collapsed wearily
into each other’s arms and fell asleep till the morning light.

  Epilogue

  Two months later…

  Merrick sat at his desk in the little cottage, penning the final draft of his letter to his brother. It was long and involved, with explanations that were better left for a face-to-face discussion. He blew a sigh, wadding up the paper, tossing it in the bin with all the rest.

  “Dammit all,” he said, frustrated by his lack of verbosity.

  “What is it, darling?” Chloe asked, coming up behind him to massage his shoulders.

  They married a month before in a small, but lovely ceremony that was attended by the entire town. Isabel, Aggie’s little sister, carried posies, smiling as she’d tossed them at every pew along the aisle. Aggie both sewed and carried Chloe’s train. Evidently, she was a master seamstress.

  For her part, Fiona sat, all the while weeping, in the front pew, with Constable Tolly patting her hand.

  Rusty, along with his wife and three daughters, all prettily dressed in new outfits from Mr. Duncan’s newly restocked general store, sat behind Fiona.

  Donald Lowson, his wife and two-month-old daughter sat in the back row—lest she begin to wail again. Merrick hadn’t minded. He wanted a few of his own someday.

  “I simply do not know what to say,” he confessed. Ian had yet to learn the truth and Merrick couldn’t find the words to explain all that had transpired, all that he felt. He wanted to know his brother—but more than that, he wanted to somehow make amends for all the years Ian must have felt like a beggar in his own home.

  Chloe rubbed gently at his neck, calming his nerves. His lovely wife had a way of making everything perfectly clear. “Are you still certain you wish to give it all up?”

  Merrick pulled out a clean parchment. “Yes,” he said, “Without question.” He stared at the paper a moment and then realized he needn’t say much at all—at least until they were face-to-face. Until then, Ryo would explain the rest. All Merrick needed to do was to give up the ring. So, he penned the following.