A Highwayman's Honor: (A Highland Highwayman Novella #1) (7 page)

Chapter Seven

Elizabet forced herself to hold his gaze. Not the easiest thing to do when he looked as though he’d rather throttle her than speak to her. She couldn’t fault him for that. After all, she had just blackmailed him into marriage. Well, almost. She wouldn’t rest easy until it was made public. Another glance at her soon-to-be husband and she amended that thought. She’d probably never rest easy again.

But once they were wed, she’d be able to help her family. And she wouldn’t have to spend her nights being groped by that little toad of a man. The mere thought turned her stomach. Instead, she would probably spend her nights alone. Surely Lord Ramsay would have no desire to have a true marriage with a woman who blackmailed him.

“Did you not promise you’d protect me, my lord?” she asked.

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. Finally he nodded. “Always.”

She took a step closer. “I have fought, and pleaded, and run off to live with a highwayman,” she said with a wry smile. “All to no avail. Short of murdering the man, a step I’d prefer not to take, I don’t have any options left. I may not have a blade to my throat, but if I have to marry that man, I’ll be miserable for the rest of my days. I’ll pray for death. I can’t allow myself to be shackled to him, to let him use me at his whim whenever he wishes. But I can’t leave my family to suffer either, no matter how much they may deserve it. So what am I to do?”

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for what felt like a very long time. Finally, he lifted a hand and brushed his fingers across her cheek.

“Well,” he said. “It seems as though I must go beg an audience with the king.”

Relief flooded her and she released a slow sigh of relief. “Considering the circumstances, it probably isn’t appropriate to thank you. But…you do have my gratitude. I know I’ve forced this on you, my lord. And I have no desire to inflict myself on you any more than necessary. Your life needn’t change. You are right about my father. I have no doubt he brought much of this on himself. But I had no part in his schemes. And neither did my mother. I merely wish to save my family without condemning myself to a life of misery. Lock me away in some country estate, if you wish. I will not complain.”

John stared at her, no sign of what he might be thinking showing on his face.

His silence unnerved her. She pressed on, knowing she was babbling but unable to stop. “I simply mean, if there is someone else…or if you wish to seek…companionship…”

His eyebrow rose and she cleared her throat. Things seemed to be going downhill quickly but try as she might she couldn’t make it stop. “I mean only to say I know I am not your choice, so if you choose to spend your time elsewhere, I will not stand in your way.”

“Won’t you?” he said, his voice thick with amusement.

It irked her. How dare he find this funny?

“No. I won’t. I have no expectation of truly living as man and wife. I desire only your name, my lord. Nothing more.”

He shook his head. “Oh no, my lady.” He ran his hands up her arms and pulled her close. “If you wish us to marry, you will be my wife in every way. You will honor me.” He gently kissed her cheek. “And obey me.” He kissed the other cheek. “And keep my home in order.” His hand trailed down to rest against her neck, his fingers brushing against the pulse at the base of her throat. “And bear my heirs.”

Her heart hammered in her chest but before she could say a word he bent to brush his lips across hers. “And you will warm my bed every night without fail.”

She couldn’t breathe. Her head spun. He’d barely touched her and she was ready to faint. The thought of what sensations he might draw from her within their marriage bed sent a tremor of anticipation down her spine.

His mouth hovered over hers. “And you will enjoy every moment of it, I promise you that.”

She raised her face to his though she made no move to close the distance between them. She hungered for his kiss. And feared it at the same time. He already consumed her thoughts, waking and asleep. What would kissing him again do to her?

“I still haven’t asked,” she reminded him.

He cupped her face in his hands. “I think a proposal of marriage is enough of a request to suffice.”

Before she could respond to that, his lips closed over hers, igniting her blood and searing her very soul.

He released her so suddenly she stumbled forward, her eyes still tightly closed. Her lips still tingled from his touch. If that was a taste of what marriage to him would be like, she could hardly wait for the wedding. Something she’d never anticipated and would certainly never admit to him. Though by his smug smile, he seemed to know exactly what kind of effect he had on her.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lady, it appears I have a wedding to arrange.”

He turned away but Elizabet reached out and grasped his arm. “Wait. How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

For the first time, John looked truly angry. “I may be many things, madam, but a liar is not one of them. I’ve given you my word. I’ll keep it.”

She swallowed and nodded her head, somewhat bemused at how mortified she was at having accused a thief of having no honor. “My apologies, Lord Ramsay.”

His anger melted away with an amused sigh. “My name is John. If we are to be wed, I suppose you should start using it,” he said with a smile that was tight, but kind.

“John, is it? Or do you prefer Jack?”

He smiled. “Either will do.”

“All right. My apologies. John.”

He took her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it. “I’ll see you soon. Elizabet.”

Before he could release it, a man came running up to them, his clothes stained from travel and his eyes wild with panic.

“My lord!” he said.

John’s hand tightened on hers and he pulled her to his side. “Phillip. What it is?”

“You are discovered, my lord. Lord Harding…” his gazed flickered to Elizabet. “My apologies, my lady,” he said with a little bow before turning back to John. “But Lord Harding has uncovered your identity and compiled evidence against you. He showed all to the king.”

“What evidence?” John asked, his voice low and hard.

“Witnesses, my lord. Villagers who say they’ve seen you at the cottage, riding up wearing a mask and leaving again without it.”

John snorted. “Nonsense. There are no such witnesses.”

Phillip just shook his head. “The likelihood they actually saw anything is slim, I’ll admit. But since when has that ever stopped someone from bearing witness. If they are paid well enough, they’ll say anything.”

Phillip’s gaze darted to Elizabet and back again. “I believe there is even a witness who will swear to having seen you at the cottage in the company of Miss Harding. The commander of the guard had your quarters searched and found your mask.”

John’s face hardened. “Who is this witness?”

“A soldier. He’s been wounded. He walks with a limp. When he was injured, he was transferred back to the regiment at court. He saw my lady and recognized her. He…” Phillip’s face turned bright red but he pressed on. “He swears he entered the cottage and encountered my lady in a state of undress. She fired on him and he fled. The cottage is on your lands, my lord. They drew their own conclusions.”

John nodded and even Elizabet knew what those conclusions would be. Ironic that they probably paid a fortune for the man to lie and he only needed to tell the truth to condemn them.

“My lord, please. I sent Will to keep watch but I think it would be wise to leave. I don’t think even your friendship with the king can save you now.”

Elizabet’s heart dropped at those words. “Go,” she said, turning to him. “You must go. Quickly.”

“Ready the horses,” he said to Phillip. But instead of following his friend, he turned back to Elizabet. “What of you? You can’t come with me. And I can’t leave you.”

That he would even think of her in such a moment made her heart flip in her chest. And sent fear for him rushing through her, tying her stomach in knots. “I’ll be fine. My life is not at stake.”

“No,” he said, pulling her close. “Just your happiness.”

She leaned into him for a brief moment. She’d been so close to being able to keep him. So close to all the possibilities loving him offered. “I…I’ll find another way. Somehow. Now go.”

He cupped her cheek.

“John. Go now.”

He nodded and released her.

But it was already too late.

Chapter Seven

The soldiers shouted as they converged on them and John’s heart plummeted. He should have left the moment Phillip had warned him. But the thought of leaving her had been more than he could do. Yes, she may have been trying to blackmail him into marriage but, despite his initial surprise he hadn’t been averse to the idea. In fact, if his life had been anything resembling normal, he would have negotiated for her hand. The week he’d spent alone with her in the cottage had been the best of his life. She’d saved him. In more ways than one. For the first time in years he’d thought of something other than revenge. She made him think of love and life and laughter. And he didn’t want to lose her.

But it didn’t look like he would have a choice. There was nowhere to run.

“Elizabet,” he murmured.

Before he could say another word she spun, pressed her back to his chest and a dagger into his hand, and brought his hand to her throat.

Stunned, John froze. The soldiers burst from the hedges began shouting.

“Drop the dagger!”

“Release the woman!”

John immediately started to comply but Elizabet grasped his hand and kept it at her throat, though from the soldiers’ point of view it must have looked as though she was trying to keep the blade from her skin.

“You aren’t getting out of here without a hostage,” she whispered to him.

It took him a moment to push past the abhorrence of having a dagger against her tender throat and then he wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her close. “You bloody brilliant, beautiful woman,” he murmured into her ear.

He began to back them up, shouting at the soldiers to keep back. Phillip had their horses ready at the stables. They just had to make it there. And then…he had no idea. He’d need to make himself scarce. With his line of work, he of course had several plans in place for just such a situation. But none had included a maddening woman insisting upon using her body as a shield for him. He’d throttle her later for risking her neck for him. At the moment, however, it was his only means of escape.

The soldiers glanced at their commander whose face had turned a delightful shade of purple as he watched his prey slip through his fingers. John and Elizabet had reached the point of the path where it curved, leading into a maze of hedges. If they could make it into the maze, they’d be able to turn tail and run. The stables lay not far beyond on the other side.

John looked at the commander. “If you want to keep this pretty neck of hers unmarred, I would suggest you and your men remain where you are.” Then he raised a finger to the tip of his hat in a mock salute, and pulled Elizabet into the maze. The moment they were out of sight he took her hand and they ran.

Hampered by her skirts and thin slippers, Elizabet couldn’t run. Not quickly at any rate. Nor could she breathe with the damn corset she wore. After a few minutes, she pulled her hand from his grasp.

“Leave me. They aren’t after me. You must go,” she said, her breath wheezing from her constrained lungs. “I can’t run any farther in this gown. We must part. Now.”

He grabbed her about the waist and kissed her, hard and fast. He would need to leave her. And soon. She couldn’t go with him when he fled. But the thought of leaving her standing there, never to see her again, went against everything he was.

“Not yet,” he said. He bent and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

The shouting from the soldiers drew nearer and he spun and ran again. Ran until his chest burned with the force of the air leaving his lungs with each breath. They’d reached the exit of the maze. John could see the stables. He just needed to reach them. Phillip would have the horses ready.

Elizabet…he put her down and took her hand again, pulling her with along him the final few yards. They’d have to say goodbye. For now. But he’d come back for her. In a few weeks, perhaps, he could come back. Or send for her…

He was so intent on reaching the stables, he didn’t see the soldier step from the hedges until it was too late. Until he saw the glint of a pistol in the sun. Heard Elizabet scream.

John turned. Her face was ashen, eyes wide with fear and horror. Blood stained the front of her gown, the red bleeding into the satin like ink on parchment. No. He couldn’t lose her now. Not like this!

She reached for him and he tried to raise his arms. But they didn’t seem to be working properly. His legs threatened to collapse, unable to hold his weight any longer. He dropped to his knees. She dropped with him.

Only it wasn’t her blood marring her clothing. He frowned. He must have been shot. That must be why the world seemed dull around the edges, why he was having trouble focusing. Why Elizabet was crying.

Shouldn’t it hurt?

“Elizabet,” he said. Only no sound came from his mouth.

He sank farther down, slumping forward. Elizabet caught him, resting his head upon her shoulder while she pressed against his chest, urging him to lie down so she could put pressure on the wound.

The soldier who’d shot him came forward, shouting at her to move. She looked up. The fury contorting her face was magnificent to behold. At the moment, she more closely resembled a warrior than a heartbroken maiden in a ruined dress. The soldier shouted again and drew his sword.

Before John realized what she meant to do, Elizabet reached beneath his coat and pulled his pistol from his belt. She aimed. Fired. And the soldier fell.

The pistol dropped from her shaking hand and she turned back to John. Without her strength to support him, he collapsed on the ground. She reached for him, the dead soldier forgotten.

“John. Stay with me,” she pleaded, again pressing her hands to his chest in a futile attempt to staunch the flow of blood. “Help will come. I’ll find help.”

John shook his head. Help wasn’t going to come. But soldiers were. And she couldn’t be found with a dead soldier lying at her feet. There was a way to hopefully save her. She wouldn’t like it. But he’d make her see reason.

He mustered what strength he had left and forced the words from his throat. “Elizabet, listen to me.”

“I’m here, John. I’m listening.” She stroked his hair back from his face with one hand. The other never left his chest.

“Take my gun,” he instructed. She looked at the one she’d dropped and he shook his head. “The other gun. In my belt.”

He waited until she had it in her hand. Then he took the hand that rested over his heart and pressed it to the pistol as well. She protested, trying to resume putting pressure on the wound. “No,” he said. “Elizabet, my love, stop.”

At those words, she froze. But John was already growing cold. It was no use. She needed to focus on herself.

He took a deep breath that rattled in his chest. “Wait until the soldiers come. They’ll be here any moment. And then shoot me.”

Whatever she’d expected him to say, it hadn’t been that. She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes,” he said as forcefully as he could. “I do.”

“No.” She gritted her teeth, her mouth pressed in a pinched line. “You just need a doctor. You’ll be fine. I’m not going to…to do that…not to you. No.” She dropped the gun on the ground beside him and reached for him, cradling his head in her lap, her hand cupping his face.

“Don’t make me do this,” she murmured. Hot tears spilled from her eyes to land on his cheeks. “I won’t do it. You’ll be all right. You’re strong.”

“Elizabet.” He stroked her cheek, wiping away her tears though more continued to fall. “I’m not asking you to do this for
me
.”

“Yes, you are. Why else would you want me to do something like that?”

“The soldiers will be here any moment. If they have a witness who swears you were with me at my cottage, then you will be suspect. And you’ve killed one of their men. No matter who you are, you’ll have to answer for that. Unless you tell them I did it. And prove your loyalty to the crown by shooting me.”

She gasped and pushed away from him. “No. How can you think I’d ever—”

“You must,” he said, putting the last of his energy into making her understand. “I’m done for, Elizabet.”

“No,” she said, her voice cracking. “No.”

“Come here, love.” He held out his good arm and she came back to him, pressing herself as close to him as she could get. He kissed the top of her head and she lifted her face to him. He kissed her, slow and gentle, pouring every bit of love he would never get the chance to show her into it. She broke away from him with a sob.

“I’m done for,” he said with gentle insistence. “There’s no time for you to run. Phillip must have been captured or he’d have been waiting here for us. You need to take the gun and when you see the soldiers, shoot me. Tell them I killed their man there. And you took my gun and shot me. They’ll have to believe you if they see it with their own eyes.”

“John. I can’t…” Her breath caught and she pressed the back of a bloodied hand to her mouth.

“Yes, my love. You can.” His breaths were coming in short bursts now. He couldn’t seem to get enough air. Elizabet had taken on an almost ethereal quality. Her face faded a bit, edged in a glowing light. He smiled at her. “You look like an angel.”

He reached up to cup her face and she pressed her cheek against his hand. “You can’t leave me. I love you,” she said, pain coating every word.

His fading heart jumped in his chest. Then faltered.

She turned her face so she could kiss his palm. “You said you were a man of honor. You promised you’d always protect me. Always.”

John smiled. “And so I shall, love. With my dying breath.”

A faint breeze blew over them, bringing with it the faint echo of the commander and his men.

“Now,” John said. He grabbed the pistol from where she had dropped it beside him and pressed it into her hand. Then he used the last of his strength to haul himself to his feet.

She lunged forward, sealed her mouth to his and kissed him with a passion born of love and desperation. Then she wrenched herself away, tears streaming down her beautiful face as she back away from him. She raised the gun.

The soldiers poured from the maze. John didn’t take his eyes from Elizabet, or she from his. He gave her a slow, sad smile. She pulled the trigger. A scream of anguish and rage rent the air, the sound ripped from her throat as John crumpled to the ground.

The soldiers shouted, rushed at them. Elizabet fell to her knees, dropping the gun to cover her face.

Then John saw no more.