Page 60 of Sinfully Mine
“I figured that part out. Eventually. I’m a complete half-wit, Hester. I should have known—”
“Andrew Sinclair,” she said in her usual no nonsense tone. “You can admit to me what a bloody idiot you areafterwe are gone from here. Martin might arrive at any moment.” A ragged sound came from Hester, her body trembling beneath his fingers. “Hurry.”
Drew slashed through her binding with the knife. “Stupid of me to accuse you. To argue about it. You never would have wasted the coin required to hire an assassin. Not when there is fertilizer to purchase, and animals to feed. You’re far too practical and frugal.” He leaned over to cut through the rope still binding one of her ankles. “You were more likely to have Mrs. Ebersole poison me. That’s what I determined.”
Freed, Hester threw herself into his arms. “You are correct on both points. But more importantly, I don’t want to be rid of you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Ever.”
Drew pulled her into his arms. “I know.”
“You are what matters most to me.” Hester pressed her nose into his chest. “Far more than Blackbird Heath. I should have told you.” Another tiny sob left her. “But you made me so bloody angry, Drew. Thinking I could—I assumed you were only using it as an excuse to leave me. I’m no Lady Downing.”
No, Hester would never be Constance and Drew was grateful for it.
“I will never leave you, Hester Black,” he whispered into her hair, meaning every word. “Not ever. But let us discuss my stupidity and our stubborn natures in the comfort of our own bed once we are home. The constable is on his way, but I don’t want to encounter Martin Godwick. Not when all I have is this blade.” He slid the knife back into his pocket.
Hester nodded and lifted her head. “He’s truly mad, Drew. Obsessed with me and I’ve no idea why. He believes us to be star-crossed lovers.” She gave him an urgent look. “Martin killed his wife. And his father.”
After speaking to Mr. Stone and hearing his suspicions, Drew was not surprised at the revelation. “We should go.” He came to his feet and took Hester’s hand.
The door to the cabin flew open, one of the boards falling free and toppling to the floor.
“Well, well.” A disheveled, and frenzied looking, Martin Godwick stood in the doorway. His eyes were wild as he took in the two of them, mouth jerking about as he spoke. Disheveled, coat buttoned incorrectly, Martin advanced on them.
Drew barely recognized him.
Where is the constable?He dropped Hester’s hand and felt for the reassurance of the knife in his coat. Not that it would do much good. Godwick had a pistol clutched in one twitching hand. One slip of the finger and the thing might go off.
“If it isn’t Andrew Sinclair.” Godwick’s arm came up, shaking and unsteady, to aim the weapon directly at Drew’s chest. “I can’t possibly miss this time.”
Chapter Thirty
Hester stared inhorror at Martin for less than a minute before wiping her features clean of any emotion. He must not see her fear or disappointment at his appearance. Nothing must be said or done to set him off, not when he had a pistol pointed at Drew’s chest. Martin’s hair stood on end, left eye twitching so violently he appeared to be winking at her.
Whatever waswrongwith Martin, was getting worse.
“I can’t believe I missed you on the road from Horncastle.” Martin’s entire body made an odd jerking motion as if he weren’t completely in control of his limbs.
“The Sinclairs are tough to be rid of,” Drew replied, sliding away from Hester as Martin’s pistol followed the movement. “Just ask Lady Longwood. She’s compared us to ants who infest the flour in one’s pantry.” He was trying to protect her by moving away, ensuring that Martin wouldn’t accidentally shoot her.
“At this short distance, I’m unlikely to miss,” Martin snarled at Drew, before finally sparing a glance at Hester. “How could you? We are to be married tomorrow, Hester. I’ve bought a dress. A ring. Found a vicar who has few objections.” He waved the pistol about, fingers jerking over the trigger. “Weare supposed to be together, darling Hester.”
“And we will be, dear Martin.” It was all she could do to get her mouth to form the words, but they had the desired effect. Martin was focused completely on her.
Hester stepped carefully in her captor’s direction, ignoring Drew’s panicked look. “He,” she pointed at Drew, “stormed in here. I tried to tell him that I was in no need of his assistance. Dear Martin,” she implored. “Why would I want some,” the words thickened with emotion, “some gambling wastrel? I told Sinclair to go away.”
Confusion darted across Martin’s features, already contorted by the force of whatever fanatical notions gripped him. He no longer looked like the dashing, handsome solicitor of Horncastle, but instead, something monstrous and terrible.
“You told him to leave?” he whined. “For us?”
“Your affection for me—well, it was frightening at first. But now I realize that you have been right all along. We are meant to be together.” Hester smiled, hoping Drew understood what she was trying to do.
“But Hester.” Drew gave her an anguished look. He placed a hand over his heart. “I thought—”
“I only wanted you to give me Blackbird Heath,” she sneered, making sure to keep her gaze firmly fixed on Martin. “Not you. But now that you’ve given it to me, I’ve no further use for you, Mr. Sinclair. Our relationship is at an end.” Hester said exactly what Martin wanted to hear most and she prayed it would be enough to convince him.
“I did so much for you, darling Hester,” Martin choked. “My father nearly ruined all my plans by forcing me to marry Ellie. I never would have sent for him,” he jerked his chin in Drew’s direction. “That was my father’s doing and Stone’s. But I fixed all of that. For us.” His head shook as if something were lodged in his ears. “Well, except for Stone.”
“You are so brave, my dearest. You’ve done so much for me. And now we have Blackbird Heath. I promise not to give you cause to sell it. I want nothing more than to be your wife, Martin.”
