His eyes narrowed and he stalked as close as he could, his strong fingers gripping the bars so hard each individual vein stood out.
“I am not going to murder you. I’m the one whorescued you, Deliverance. I could have sent you to the whorehouse, but instead I protected you. And this is the godsdamn thanks I get.”
But the bars in between us emboldened me.
“Youseduced and tricked me. I think you only wanted a well-bred womb for your babies. You don’t care about me.”
I felt Bartholomew’s hand gently laid on my arm.
“No,” he said. “I’m afraid he wanted more than your womb. Mr. Nightshade married you for your money.”
“But I have no money,” I protested.
“Oh, Deliverance,” the monk said, his kind, handsome face creased in concern. “I’m afraid you were lied to. Youdohave a lot of money. In fact, you are an heiress. A fact Mr. Nightshade was naturally very anxious to hide from you.”
Blood rushed in my ears and I could hear Gideon viciously cursing but it seemed to come from a great distance.
“There’s no connection between our families, is there?”
It explained so much.
It explained his “kindness” in rescuing me from the poorhouse.
It explained why he took me away from Gables so quickly, before I could discover the truth.
It also explained why he had manipulated me into raising my skirts for him.
And it explained why Ada kept taunting me with the hope he’d kill me. That had obviously been the original plan until I got pregnant.
“Well, you can’t kill me now, Gideon Nightshade,” I said triumphantly.
“Fuck you!” my husband spat at Bartholomew. “Deliverance, surely you can’t think I truly want to kill you.”
“Was or was that not the original plan?” I demanded.
“It was,” my corrupt and vicious husband agreed without blinking a wicked eye. “But that hasn’t been my plan for a long time.”
He hesitated, those eyes boring into mine. His white shirt was stuck to his powerful chest with sweat.
“I don’t believe you,” I taunted. If my husband was manipulative, I could be manipulative too, so I made sure to cradle my belly, pull my cloak tight against it so he could see the whole ripe swell of me. “And now we’ve gone where you can’t get us.”
"I think you need to leave," Bartholomew told him firmly.
"Never!" my husband snarled. "You think this has stopped me? I will bring the entire town of St. Mary’s down around your ears before I let her go."
He was so angry, his fury crackling around him like a burning fire. Even with the iron bars between us, I couldn’t repress a little shiver, a sudden throbbing between my thighs.
"He is an evil man," I said as Bartholomew began to guide me gently away from where Gideon was still rattling the bars.
He had struck them senselessly so many times blood was beginning to run down his palms.
"Deliverance!Deliverance!Come back to me! Get your hands off my wife, you bastard!"
The bars shook again, and Gideon's eyes were two burning coals in his face, like gaping openings to hell.
My skin tingled in the strangest way at the look in his face, and I suppressed the wicked feelings I knew were wrong—they would pass once I got some space between us.
But I could not seem to turn away from my husband, even as I stumbled backwards, his power extended like massive, ugly tentacles toward me.
