Page 46 of The Nightshade's Bride
"Open up!" roared Gideon's familiar voice.
CHAPTER 19
Deliverance
My husband’s heavy fist landed again and again on the door.
BAM BAM BAM
Blinking sleep from my eyes, I scrambled down to hide under the bed, but Bartholomew grabbed me.
"No!" he hissed urgently. "He will surely check there! Come up here instead!"
"The fireplace?" I squeaked, looking up nervously at the narrow dark tunnel.
"Yes, it's the only way," he insisted as he lifted me over the slumbering coals and raised me as high as he could. "And, Deliverance, you must hold on tight. No matter what happens. Hold on tight to the stone walls andmake sure you aren't spotted!"
I did not even have a chance to agree, only to draw my skirts higher and plant my feet as firmly on the opposite side of the chimney as I could before the door burst open and Gideon entered the room.
"Give me my wife," he ordered without preamble. "I have your Bishop here, and he will insist you do as I command."
"I do not have his wife," Bartholomew countered.
"Brother, Mr. Nightshade here says he saw his wife flee through the gates of this very Abbey last night! Are you sure she has not been seen here? Mrs. Deliverance Nightshade?"
"The Abbey of St. Mary takes in all poor women who need aid and assistance. But we do not have your wife. The only new person we have is a young Brother who is seeking to join our monastery."
"He is a liar!" Gideon roared.
My legs trembled, and I felt lucky to be hidden from sight. From my position, I could just barely see the bottom half of the man, his powerful thighs and legs so close I could almost have stretched my toe and touched him.
"If you would bring a copy of the marriage license," Bartholomew said, and I was astounded to hear the cool tone with which he lied to protect me, "I am sure we will keep an eye out if she does appear."
"I do not have my marriage license with me," Gideon seethed.
He suddenly bent his tall frame and jerked the mattress of the priest's bed up, then slammed the whole bed back on the ground in a rage when he didn’t find me.
I was thankful the Bishop's shocked gasp covered up my anguished squeak.
Gideon was a madman.
"As you can see," Bartholomew said calmly, "There is no one here. What has been happening with your wife? May we offer any assistance?”
My husband paced this way and that, and I could imagine the look on his face, his thick dark hair tied back, his dark eyes glowing with a diabolical fire.
“A misunderstanding only. She is under the–mistaken impression that she is in danger at Grayspires. Nothing could be further from the truth. I only want to–protect her.”
“I see,” Bartholomew said, but his disbelief hung suspended between the two men.
“Of course, naturally, Mr. Nightshade,” the Bishop went on, and I saw my husband’s fists clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing. . .
"Do you not light a fire in the morning?" Gideon asked coldly, pausing before the fireplace as my trembling arms and legs almost gave way. "It is very chilly."
"It is important to start the day with deprivation and want," Bartholomew retorted, "to put oneself in the mindset of prayer and fasting."
"We will send word immediately," the Bishop put in, "if we are able to find any trace of your wife."
Gideon snorted.
