The Gallows Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

water, when a
foul smell assaulted her nostrils. It was so cloyingly sweet that
she immediately felt sick, and her head began to swim alarmingly.
Fighting the wave of dizziness, she sucked in a deep breath.
Turning, she tried to peer through the gloom for the source of the
stench.
    She
didn’t even have time to cry out before the world went
black.
     

 
    C HAPTER ONE

    “ God, you bastards,” Peter spat. “I’ll never forgive you for
this.” He rubbed the fresh drops of blood off his nose and glared
balefully at Dominic. In that moment he could have pounded his best
friend to within an inch of his life, without regret. If only he
could stand without being sick.
    “ Where is she now?” Peter’s stomach clenched as a look of
bitter regret settled over his friend’s face, and knew without
hearing the words that it was already too late.
    He
quickly glanced out of the window at the brilliant golden sunshine
streaming through the window, and felt the heavy weight of grief
settle over him that was so strong that he wanted to cry aloud in
denial. He knew in that moment that she was gone; snatched from him
in the cruellest way possible.
    He
stared blankly down at his hands, hanging uselessly between his
knees. He had lost. Failed. He had made promises he hadn’t been
able to keep and, as a result, Jemima, the only woman he had ever
loved, had died. She had died trying to protect him, and
Eliza.
    “ I’m sorry, Peter,” Dominic offered, wondering if their
friendship would ever be the same again. He couldn’t be perturbed
by Peter’s anger at him. After all, being knocked out had rendered
him useless to do anything to help Jemima. Even though they had
already been too late by the time they had arrived at the gaol, it
was inevitable that there would be recriminations and accusations
when they had to leave empty-handed. If being angry at Dominic
helped Peter to deal with his grief, then Dominic was more than
willing to take whatever Peter threw at him, fists and
all.
    It was
the desolate calmness about his friend that disturbed him most.
Instead of the wild shouting and pleading they had all witnessed in
the Mr Simpson’s office, his calm defeat was almost
worse.
    Throughout their friendship, Peter had always been a warrior,
willing to go into skirmishes with a recklessness that at the time
had made him one of the best soldiers in the British army. It was
disturbing to see him so defeated. It was as though something
inside him had simply given up, and it disturbed Dominic
greatly.
    Peter
glared at the man he had considered his friend. He knew it wasn’t
Dominic’s fault. The man had, after all, eschewed the warmth of his
bed and breakfast in order to accompany him in his desperate quest
to save Jemima, but it didn’t ease the thick fog of anger and grief
that burned in his veins.
    “ I won’t say it’s all right,” he growled, his voice as cold
and emotionless as the green eyes that glared across the small
tavern table at Dominic. “God, I hate you,” Peter snarled,
snatching the brandy from the table and downing it in one huge
gulp. He gestured to a serving wench, demanding the bottle, as he
slammed his goblet down on the table.
    “ Don’t drink too much, Peter,” Dominic ordered, sitting back
and watching as Peter refilled his goblet, downing the contents
just as swiftly as the first. “We have to go back to
Havistock.”
    “ Go to hell,” Peter snarled, defiantly refilling his glass and
downing that too. He was about to refill his glass for a fourth
time when Dominic’s hand on his stopped him. Rage began to build in
his chest and he snatched his hand away from Dominic’s.
    “ We have Jemima’s body to take back to Havistock.” Dominic
watched as Peter froze and stared blankly at him as the
significance of his words sank in. “Edward and Sebastian have
remained at the gaol, to ensure her body is kept separate and
returned to us. He is returning to Havistock with her as we speak.
She deserves to be