Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It was dark as Caspian rode his horse; not so much as a sliver of light was available. The danger of riding as fast as he was could not be denied, but that did not stop Caspian from slowing down. If anything, he rode faster.
He was angry; of that there was no doubt. The need for vengeance burned hot inside of him; he would see it sated before the night was through. And more than once, he pictured what he might do when he came face to face with Lord Witherington.
Mostly, on that ride, Caspian found himself thinking about his wife.
Yes, some of it was conjuring of the danger she was in. Much of it was horrid images of her suffering; the fear that he was too late to save her. But through that, there was a light at the end of the darkness, and that was what Caspian tried his best to picture.
Caspian let his mind wander to the future.
Tomorrow, the day after, and the one after that.
He pictured himself and Arabella together, Timothy by their side, thinking about the family they might create once everything was settled.
Most of all, he immersed himself in the feelings of what it meant to be both a father and a husband.
He was not his father. He had never been.
For a time, he had worried that he might become that, and that if he were to let another into his life, they would pay the consequences.
But if anything had been proven from tonight, it was that he had the capacity to care and to love and to put others before himself.
What was more, tonight proved beyond question what Caspian wanted most of all. Her name was Arabella, and he would save her.
Just as she has saved me…
Caspin followed the main road that Mr. Tibbs had told him about. It wound through forest and marsh and then more forest. For a time, he worried that he had been lied to and cursed himself for being such a fool for believing those lies.
But as that sense of dread started to compound, the road became more worn and narrower, the sense that this was a place few had ventured.
Around him, the forest grew darker, creeping closer to the edges of the road, and if it had been dark before, that was nothing compared to the blackness that consumed all in sight.
Through the darkness, just as Caspian began to lose hope, he finally came across a cabin.
It sat alone in a small glade. Rundown with a sunken roof, overgrown trees, and shrubs crawling up the walls, he might have guessed that it was abandoned.
However, the carriage parked beside it told Caspian immediately that he was in the right place.
And if not that, the soft glow of orange light from the windows was the final indication.
He pulled the horse to a stop by the carriage and leaped down. Slowly, careful not to make a sound, Caspian crept inside.
Immediately, he heard soft voices… Pleading, it sounded like. A female’s voice that could only be Arabella’s. Over that voice, there was a dark growl, mocking laughter, and the final bit of proof that Caspian needed to know that he was in the right place.
He hurried through the small cabin, keeping silent, until he came upon an open doorway. There, he stopped short, and the moment of relief he had felt vanished quickly because what he saw sent fear through him the likes of which he had never known. Fear, and fury.
Lord Witherington stood with his back to Caspian, holding an iron bar in his right hand. While she was out of view, there was no missing Arabella; she was pressed against the wall, on her backside, looking up at her father with fear.
Caspian wasted no time.
“Lord Witherington…” He whipped out his pistol and pointed it at the man’s back. “Step away from my wife.”
“Caspian!” Arabella cried.
Lord Witherington clutched the iron bar firmer as he glanced over his shoulder. He saw Caspian, as he saw the pistol, and while most might have cowered back in fear, Lord Witherington did no such thing.
“Ah, Your Grace…” He flashed an evil smile. “This is a surprise. I take it that your being here means that my men failed? It is so hard to find good help these days.”
“I will say it again.” Caspian took a step forward, pistol still pointed. “Step away from my wife.”
“Do you mean to shoot me, Your Grace?”
“If I must.”
Lord Witherington continued to smile, and he kept the iron bar raised so that one quick stroke would see it come down on his daughter. “I hope you are a good shot. If you are not, you will not be given the chance for another.”
“Caspian—”
“Quiet!” Lord Witherington snapped at his daughter. He did not look at her, however. While he continued to stand facing her, he had his head turned so that Caspian was in his sights. “I did not want it to come to this, Your Grace. All I wanted was what I am owed.”
“And you thought that kidnapping your daughter was the way to get it? Threatening her and her family?”
“As you well know, that was not my first attempt. Alas, I have raised a rather petulant child who seems to take pleasure in testing the limits of what she can get away with.”
“Mourn your failed fatherhood all you want.” Caspian took another step into the room. “But first, step away from Arabella. Now!”
Lord Witherington looked at Caspian and the pistol, his mind turning. Then he turned back to Arabella, and Caspian saw his arm raise just a little.
Caspian fired the gun into the air. The shot was like the boom of a cannon, splitting Caspian’s ears. Arabella shrieked, and Lord Witherington jumped.
“That was a warning,” Caspian growled. “You will not have another.”
“I am at a loss,” Lord Witherington said, not moving. “If I do as you say, what then? Arrest me? Put me in chains? And all the while, I will be forced to watch my daughter live a life she would not have if not for me?”
“That or I could kill you now.”
“Perhaps that is for the best,” he sighed as if in acceptance. “But in death, it might be nice to know that my daughter will join me. We were so close once, you know? I would hate to lose her.”
“Wait!” Caspian cried out just as Lord Witherington lifted the iron bar. “We can… There is a third option!”
“Caspian…” his wife’s voice cracked, and through her father’s legs, Caspian saw the terror in her eyes. It was like a knife plunging through his chest, and he knew that there was nothing he would not do to save her.
“A third option, you say?” Lord Witherington said. “Pray do tell, what is it? But unless it ends with me getting what I want, I doubt it will be enough. I have always been greedy.”
“You leave,” Caspian said. “Tonight. You climb into your carriage and go far from here, never to be heard of again. I want you gone from not just this county, but the country. You exile yourself from high society, a ghost, so that you are forgotten by all unfortunate enough to have ever known you. If you do that, I will pretend that tonight never happened, and you can spend the rest of your life not having to look over your shoulder in fear, that niggling worry deep in the recesses of your depraved mind that I am hunting you.”
“Hmm…” Lord Witherington frowned. “That sounds suspiciously like me not getting what I want.”
“Your life is your reward.” Caspian pointed the gun at his head. “Which is more than you deserve.”
Caspian could see almost right away that Lord Witherington was not going to accept the offer.
He still stood facing Arabella. He still held that iron bar in the air.
And he still had a look on his face that reeked of depravity.
The man had lost his mind, and Caspian had no doubt that he was willing to die.
He looked at his wife, pleading for her to trust him. She stared helplessly at him, not daring to move; her eyes flicked to the iron bar.
There was a fourth option, a dangerous one, and that was where Caspian’s mind settled. Where he might have liked to have just shot Lord Witherington, he could not guarantee that it would stop him from attacking Arabella, and that was a risk Caspian could not take.
“I have a fourth option,” Caspian said. “A final one.”
Lord Witherington laughed. “You are not much of a negotiator, Your Grace! But come on, let us hear it.”
“Catch.”
Caspian tossed the pistol in the air, straight towards Lord Witherington. Lord Witherington’s eyes lit up in surprise, then hunger, and on instinct, he turned fully to snatch the pistol from the air. That saw him lower the iron bar, which took Arabella out of danger, which gave Caspian his opening.
He charged forward like a bullet from a pistol.
Lord Witherington caught the pistol, and just as he did, Caspian wrapped his arms around the man’s waist, hoisted him from his feet, turned them both away from Arabella, and slammed the spindly lord into the hardwood of the cabin floor.
The earth groaned and shook as his body crunched and shattered.
Lord Witherington cried out, and the gun flew from his hand. Caspian, still on his feet, pressed one foot onto Lord Witherington’s chest and kept him pinned. And then, he bared his teeth like a wolf about to feast.
Lord Witherington held his hands out and smiled. “So… About that third option.”
“Arabella,” Caspian said. “Please fetch the pistol.”
She did so without hesitation, at which point she stood beside Caspian and aimed the gun at her father. Caspian glanced at her; he saw the rage in her eyes, and he worried for a moment that she was about to shoot him.
“Caspian,” she said as she pointed the gun. “Please, find something to tie my father up with.”
Her father’s eyes widened. “You said that you would let me go!”
“I have changed my mind.”
Caspian nodded once at her command and then hurried from the room in search of something. As luck had it, he found some old rope in the main room. It was worn and moldy, but it would more than do the job.
When he returned, he was delighted to see that Arabella had not moved an inch; she pointed that gun as if she meant to use it. As if she wanted to. She did not tremble. She did not balk. She stared her father down in a way that proved his words beyond question.
She was no longer trapped by him, no longer under his control, and Caspian had never been prouder.
Caspian quickly tied Lord Witherington’s hands behind his back, hoisted him to his feet, and led him from the house with Arabella by his side. The carriage Lord Witherington had arrived in sat parked and waiting, and Caspian opened the door and shoved him inside.
“What will you do?” he asked as he fell onto his face. “If you allow me to leave, I promise that you will never hear from me again! I will leave.” He looked pleadingly at his daughter.
Arabella stared coldly at her father. “Caspian, please close the door.”
“Wait!”
Caspian did as bid and slammed the door closed.
They followed him outside from there and watched as he climbed onto the carriage. He took the reins and looked down at them a final time.
Once the door was closed, Caspian turned and found his wife.
She had lowered her pistol. She had started to shake as the adrenaline left her.
But when he met her eyes, when he held them in his gaze, Caspian knew one more thing to be true of tonight: never had he seen someone so beautiful, and never had he loved someone as much as he did her.