pull that sweet little face from the glass and out of sight. “I have to . . . I have to—”
Gabriel grasped her shoulders so she would be forced to look at him. She stubbornly regarded his black cassock instead, realizing with disappointment that h e di d wear trousers beneath it.
When her face warmed, she lowered her head and focused on his shoes.
“Lace, please look at me?”
She shook her head.
“No? Well it doesn’t matter; you’ll hear me anyway.” His sigh, heavy with regret, got her attention despite her stubbornness. “Back when you lost the baby, I wanted you gone, Lace, so you wouldn’t be hurt in the exact way you were just now—by ignorant, callous fools who have nothing better to do than criticize everyone else. People like that put others down to raise themselves up, Lace. You had just lost your child; you didn’t need to be flogged any more than life had already done.”
Lacey faltered, but she couldn’t let him turn her up sweet. Not this time. “You wanted me gone, Gabriel Kendrick,” she snapped, looking right at him. “Because you didn’t want those same fools to know tha t yo u had been so wicked as to succumb to my wiles.”
Ivy whistled, turned on his heels, and walked away.
“Don’t go, Ivy. I need you to get me out of here,” Lacey called after him, but he kept walking.
Gabriel knew a panic, frightening in its power. “Lace, don’t be a fool,” he said, desperate to get through to her. “There’s too much between us to allow ourselves to be torn apart by spiteful words.”
“Torn apart by you, you mean.”
Gabriel tried to take her into his arms to calm her and show her he cared, but she fought him, which angered him all over again, blast it! “Ivy,” he shouted, “Is the wagon locked?”
Ivy turned. “It’s open.”
“Good.” Gabe swiftly swept Lacey off her feet before she realized what he was about and set her in the puppet wagon. Then he shut out her righteous indignation by closing the door and locking her in. Ignoring the sound of her pounding fists and oaths of retribution, he climbed up on the box and flicked the reins.
The window behind him on the gypsy wagon opened before they cleared the drive. “You’ll go to hell for this, Vicar Kendrick,” Lacey shouted.
Gabe laughed where she was concerned for the first time in months, now absolutely certain he was doing the right thing.
Grin wide, Ivy waved. “Bye, little girl. Bye, Gabe.”
“Take care of Bridget, you and Mac,” Gabe called. “It could take years to knock sense into Lacey’s stubborn head.”
Their friend all-out laughed while Lacey tossed a threa t hi s way.
With no other choice, Gabe headed toward St. Swithin’s, Lady Prout and Olivia still there, burning gullible ears. They didn’t look too happy when they spotted him.
He looked behind him, and sure enough, Lace stood at the big side window, her fury of a moment before replaced by a wide happy smile as she waved at her detractors.
Gabe barked a laugh and urged the horses faster.
On the church steps, the stunned gossips scattered when a dark cloud scudded by, split open, and poured its contents in a torrent.
Gabe hunched forward against the water pouring down his neck and kept driving.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The beating rain made Gabe reconsider his extemporaneous flight, but drat, he had to make Lace listen. Yes, he’d been furious at Nicholas five years before—he remained furious to this day. Yes, he’d been devastated that Lacey betrayed him with another man. But he’d never wanted to hurt her.
Having her leave Arundel had made him feel as if every vestige of goodness and hope departed with her. He had not had her banished in retaliation. He had not had her banished at all. If she’d stayed, she would have been eaten alive, which would have hurt her, and him, worse than it did this morning.
Go home, go for Lace? Or let her go? The questions ranked right up there with, “Give up and die?“ or “Fight
Gabriel grasped her shoulders so she would be forced to look at him. She stubbornly regarded his black cassock instead, realizing with disappointment that h e di d wear trousers beneath it.
When her face warmed, she lowered her head and focused on his shoes.
“Lace, please look at me?”
She shook her head.
“No? Well it doesn’t matter; you’ll hear me anyway.” His sigh, heavy with regret, got her attention despite her stubbornness. “Back when you lost the baby, I wanted you gone, Lace, so you wouldn’t be hurt in the exact way you were just now—by ignorant, callous fools who have nothing better to do than criticize everyone else. People like that put others down to raise themselves up, Lace. You had just lost your child; you didn’t need to be flogged any more than life had already done.”
Lacey faltered, but she couldn’t let him turn her up sweet. Not this time. “You wanted me gone, Gabriel Kendrick,” she snapped, looking right at him. “Because you didn’t want those same fools to know tha t yo u had been so wicked as to succumb to my wiles.”
Ivy whistled, turned on his heels, and walked away.
“Don’t go, Ivy. I need you to get me out of here,” Lacey called after him, but he kept walking.
Gabriel knew a panic, frightening in its power. “Lace, don’t be a fool,” he said, desperate to get through to her. “There’s too much between us to allow ourselves to be torn apart by spiteful words.”
“Torn apart by you, you mean.”
Gabriel tried to take her into his arms to calm her and show her he cared, but she fought him, which angered him all over again, blast it! “Ivy,” he shouted, “Is the wagon locked?”
Ivy turned. “It’s open.”
“Good.” Gabe swiftly swept Lacey off her feet before she realized what he was about and set her in the puppet wagon. Then he shut out her righteous indignation by closing the door and locking her in. Ignoring the sound of her pounding fists and oaths of retribution, he climbed up on the box and flicked the reins.
The window behind him on the gypsy wagon opened before they cleared the drive. “You’ll go to hell for this, Vicar Kendrick,” Lacey shouted.
Gabe laughed where she was concerned for the first time in months, now absolutely certain he was doing the right thing.
Grin wide, Ivy waved. “Bye, little girl. Bye, Gabe.”
“Take care of Bridget, you and Mac,” Gabe called. “It could take years to knock sense into Lacey’s stubborn head.”
Their friend all-out laughed while Lacey tossed a threa t hi s way.
With no other choice, Gabe headed toward St. Swithin’s, Lady Prout and Olivia still there, burning gullible ears. They didn’t look too happy when they spotted him.
He looked behind him, and sure enough, Lace stood at the big side window, her fury of a moment before replaced by a wide happy smile as she waved at her detractors.
Gabe barked a laugh and urged the horses faster.
On the church steps, the stunned gossips scattered when a dark cloud scudded by, split open, and poured its contents in a torrent.
Gabe hunched forward against the water pouring down his neck and kept driving.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The beating rain made Gabe reconsider his extemporaneous flight, but drat, he had to make Lace listen. Yes, he’d been furious at Nicholas five years before—he remained furious to this day. Yes, he’d been devastated that Lacey betrayed him with another man. But he’d never wanted to hurt her.
Having her leave Arundel had made him feel as if every vestige of goodness and hope departed with her. He had not had her banished in retaliation. He had not had her banished at all. If she’d stayed, she would have been eaten alive, which would have hurt her, and him, worse than it did this morning.
Go home, go for Lace? Or let her go? The questions ranked right up there with, “Give up and die?“ or “Fight
Similar Books
