A Scandal By Any Other Name

Delaney grabbed the side of the doorframe, preparing to jump out into the dirt.

But as she was about to leave the carriage, she felt a large hand grab the back of her white silk dress.

Lucas had recovered faster than she expected. Driven by pure, insane rage and agonizing pain, he grabbed her forcefully. He yanked her violently backward, his fingers tangling tightly in the expensive white lace and the silk.

"You little rat!" Lucas roared, his voice cracking with fury.

His sudden, violent pull threw Delaney completely off balance. She was already leaning out of the open door.

His weight pulled them both entirely out of the small cabin.

Delaney screamed as she fell through the open door. Lucas tumbled right after her, entirely unable to stop their momentum with only one good arm.

They fell out of the moving carriage together.

Delaney hit the hard, rocky dirt road with a terrible, sickening thud. The breath was knocked completely out of her lungs. The rough gravel tore at the delicate white lace on her sleeves, scraping her skin. She rolled several times in the dirt, her body bouncing painfully against the hard ground.

Her beautiful wedding dress was immediately dirtied by the thick dust and the damp mud of the road.

Lucas hit the ground a few feet away. He landed heavily on his bad shoulder. He let out another ragged scream of pure agony, but he did not stop moving. His survival instincts and his blinding hatred pushed him forward.

Above them, the carriage rolled to a slow, chaotic stop near the thick trees. The horses neighed loudly, confused by the sudden loss of control.

Delaney gasped for air, her lungs burning. She pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her head was spinning wildly, and her ribs ached terribly from the fall.

She looked up quickly toward the front of the carriage.

She saw Hamish fighting brutally with the hired driver. The two large men had fallen from the high box and were now grappling violently in the mud near the horses’ hooves. The thug was holding a long, wicked-looking knife, trying to stab the Hamilton guard. Hamish was blocking the blade, throwing heavy, brutal punches to the man’s ribs. It was a desperate fight to the death.

Delaney knew Hamish could handle the thug, but she was completely exposed.

She tried to push herself up fully onto her knees. She needed to reach down under her dirty skirts. She needed to grab the silver pistol from her lace garter.

But before her fingers could even touch the white silk of her skirt, a heavy weight crashed down on top of her.

Lucas tackled her back down into the dirt.

He was completely feral. The pain in his shoulder had driven him entirely mad.

He straddled her hips, his heavy weight pinning her firmly to the ground. She kicked and thrashed her legs, but her heavy skirts tangled around her ankles, making it impossible to dislodge him.

Lucas raised his good right arm.

He grabbed her forcefully by the throat.

His large hand wrapped completely around her delicate neck. His long, strong fingers dug brutally into her soft skin. He squeezed hard, instantly cutting off her air supply.

Delaney gasped, her mouth opening wide in a silent, desperate scream. Her hazel eyes widened in sheer, absolute terror. The pressure on her windpipe was immense and incredibly painful.

"I knew it," Lucas said, panting heavily. Sweat poured down his pale face, mixing with the dust from the road. His dark eyes were completely wild and empty of any human mercy.

He tightened his grip slightly, letting her feel the absolute power he held over her life.

"I knew you were planning something, Delaney," Lucas hissed, his voice dropping into a dark, terrifying whisper. "I could see it in your eyes yesterday. You were too calm. I just didn’t know exactly what it was."

He turned his head slightly, keeping his hand clamped tightly around her throat. He looked over toward the struggling men near the carriage wheels. He watched Hamish land a brutal, crushing blow to the hired thug’s face.

"Seems your footman is very, very skilled," Lucas noted coldly. "He is much more than a simple servant, isn’t he? Who sent him? Who is helping you?"

He looked back down at Delaney.

Delaney could not answer. She was gasping desperately for air. Her lungs burned like fire. Dark spots began to dance at the very edges of her vision.

She did not simply lie there and accept her death. She fought back with everything she had.

She raised both of her hands. She grabbed his thick wrist, trying to pull his crushing hand away from her throat. Her fingers scrabbled uselessly against his thick coat sleeve.

She used her nails. She scratched his hand and his wrist violently, digging her fingernails deep into his skin to force him to release her throat. She drew small, bright lines of red blood on his pale skin.

Lucas didn’t even flinch. The pain of the scratches was absolutely nothing compared to the agonizing pain in his dislocated shoulder. He completely ignored her desperate struggle.

He pushed his weight down harder, using his knee to pin her thrashing arm to the ground.

"I told you," Lucas spoke, his voice completely calm and utterly chilling as he watched her struggle for her last breath. "I told you yesterday in the foyer. If you spoil my plans... if you try to stop me from taking my gold... or if you do something stupid..."

He leaned down incredibly close to her face. She could smell the tobacco on his breath.

"...I will kill you."

He let the terrible words hang in the cold air for a brief second.

"I warned you, Delaney," Lucas whispered.

He smiled. It was a wide, sick, completely terrifying smile that reached all the way to his dark, empty eyes. It was the smile of a true monster who was finally getting exactly what he had wanted for years. He was finally going to end her life.

"Now," Lucas commanded softly, squeezing his hand as hard as he possibly could, completely crushing her windpipe. "Go and meet your miserable parents."