Her Sister's Fiancé - Book #1

Chapter 23

For a moment after the shot went off, Ethan looked at the place Manuel had occupied, almost wondering if the man had never been there at all. He blinked and straightened; whatever had truly happened, Manuel was gone, and he, Ethan, was unharmed. The sooner he took Lavinia to Scotland, the better. The English law officials would get after Lord David Manuel, but somehow Ethan felt uneasy and unsure that they would get the man to a prison cell.

"Lavinia!" Ezra suddenly shouted, and icy fingers of dread covered Ethan's body in goose flesh. No!

Whirling about, he came face to face with an image that would resurface in his nightmares for years to come. Dark, red blood was dribbling down the front of Lavinia's wedding dress, staining the white material crimson. She was staring dumbly at the blood as though caught in a ball of shock.

"E-Eth-an?" She looked up at him, her eyelids appearing heavy, and then she pitched backwards. Ethan leapt into action, catching her in his arms.

"No, no, no, no!" He said quickly, holding her face between his hands. "Lavinia, look at me! Stay with my! Come on; keep your eyes open! Look at my face." She stared at him with her large, unseeing eyes, and then, the lids closed over the beautiful brown orbs. "Come on!" Ethan heard himself shouting, shaking her gently. "Wake up! Stay with me!" Tears caught on his eyelids and dropped onto her pale skin.

"Ethan, move back, come on." Ezra was suddenly at his side, his face pale and lifeless. Lady Maria had fainted altogether, and Cassandra appeared to be struggling not to follow suit. "You can't do anything for her; leave it to Doctor Benson."

Ethan gasped for breath as he was pulled to his feet and choked on his own tears. All their struggling, their fighting against his father and his preposed match to Cassandra, was it all for this? Did he have to come through that just to watch her die while he stood by helplessly doing nothing?

Through the blur of his vision, he saw the sun glint through the coloured glass of the church windows onto the gold of the ring he had just presented to Lavinia. An earthly show of his devotion to her. It seemed a mockery to him now, a cruel reminder that he had failed.

He closed his eyes against the sight, but his mind kept replaying to red froth on the white gown. He stooped his shoulders, unsure for a minute if he were praying or simply willing her to keep fighting for both their sakes. He clenched his fists convulsively, and then he remembered.

His head came up, his brows drew together, and in the depths of his eyes there was a terrible black rage and animosity far exceeding what he had ever felt before. David Manuel could come into his life; he could threaten and cajole; he could even bring bodily harm to him, but he had made one fatal mistake: in his attempt to fulfill his lust for revenge, he had hurt Lavinia, Ethan's wife. That was another matter entirely, and suddenly Ethan was shaking, but his trembling wasn't from fear. Straightening, he turned and raced out of the church.

Despite the clear of the morning, the sky was dark with clouds, and thunder rumbled ominously. Heedless of the approaching storm, Ethan swung onto the back of a random horse, spun it about, and charged out of the yard like a maniac, just as Ezra darted out the door and shouted something to him. There was no time to look back, no time to stop, Ethan's mind replayed images of his beautiful Lavinia, driving him onwards.

Leaning low over the horse's neck, he plunged down the road toward the faint cloud of dust that was all he could see of David Manuel. A bolt of lightning brightened the dark clouds, and roaring thunder answered without hesitation. The animal snorted with fear, but seeming to understand its rider's hurry, didn't shy. It was a good, thoroughbred and seemed to be built for hard, long runs, but it appeared to be nervous at thickness in the air.