Emma Jensen - Entwined (35 page)

"Money," St. Wulfstan snapped. "Power. What does it matter?"

Nathan felt movement to his right. He doubted the other man would have any more luck with his bonds than he, but it gave him an idea. "Move toward me, toward my voice. If we get back to back..."

He did not need to explain further. St. Wulfstan was scooting quickly in his direction. It took a few minutes, but soon enough each had access to the knots binding the other's wrists. Nathan felt his fingers chafing, then bleeding. The knot turned slippery.

"Any luck?" he asked, panting.

"No." St. Wulfstan's hands would be bleeding, too. "Keep at it, boyo.

We've nothing to lose."

At first, Nathan thought he imagined the faint give. Another tug and he felt it again. The knot had loosened— just a little, but it was a start.

"I think," he said through clenched teeth, "I think perhaps—" He froze as he heard the door swing open.

All he could see for a moment was the hazy light of a lantern. Then, slowly, the shadowy outline of a figure appeared behind it. He squinted, trying desperately to see any identifying feature. From his vantage point on the floor, and with his vision, it could as easily have been the queen as Rotheroe.

St. Wulfstan let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be damned."

Nathan knew they had been fooled again.

"It occurred to me you might try something like this." There was a clink as the lamp touched the floor. "Careless of me. After all, I taught you—"

"Everything we know." Nathan closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself a single sigh. "Why, Matthew?"

"Silly question, Oriel." Gerard bent over him. "Money, of course. You wouldn't have any idea how poorly His Majesty pays a lowly corps commander. All for king and country, you know. Pride over pocket." He chuckled, an eerie sound. "Fools."

Nathan heard a heavy thud, heard St. Wulfstan gasp. Felt him slump over sideways. Gerard must have struck him. Hard, if the resulting tremor had been any indication. He steeled himself for a blow. It did not come.

"I never liked you, St. Wulfstan." Gerard had moved off again. "Always gave you the worst assignments, but damned if you didn't prove resistant to killing. I should have known you would come close to being my downfall here." To Nathan he said, "You, on the other hand, were my favorite. It was painful, arranging your death in Portugal. I was almost relieved when you survived."

"But you're going to kill me now."

"Of course I am, dear boy. I can't have any loose ends lying about."

Gerard was still bent over, arranging something on the floor. Nathan inched his arms back and groped for St. Wulfstan. His fingertips brushed the man's still wrists, then the knot binding them. Praying Gerard would not look up, Nathan tugged and again felt the rope loosen.

"Tell me, Oriel." There was a rustling of paper. "You never did receive any communiqués from the Continent, did you? No, I didn't think so. I wonder if there ever was one. Wouldn't it just be too unfortunate if there never was? All these deaths for nothing. I really thought I had been discovered."

"By one of the Ten?"

"I assumed so. I must say, it gave me quite a start, hearing an Englishman there was asking too many questions about me. Brandon, I imagine. He always seemed to be in contact with Dennison here. Well, I don't suppose we'll ever know." Gerard sounded almost cheerful.

"You killed him, too. And Montgomerie?"

"Oh, not with my own hands. I had Stone do that. The guilt would have been the death of me." Gerard laughed again, then gave an altogether too familiar groan as he mockingly repeated a familiar lament. "God, Nathan, if only I had known. I could have done something, anything—" He stopped abruptly. "Convincing, isn't it? You never suspected. Shame on you. A good agent never dismisses the obvious. Ah!"

Nathan cried out as a boot heel came down heavily on his fingers. St.

Wulfstan did not move at all.

"We can't have that, now." Gerard crouched and pressed his face close.

"All in good time, Nathan. All in good time."

"Why didn't you kill me while I was in the country?" Nathan forced the words past clenched teeth. Gerard must have broken fingers on both hands, the pain was so severe. "I was an easy target there. Few would have questioned it should I have had an accident." Perhaps, if he could just keep the man talking, there was a chance... "Why go to all the trouble of reactivating me, luring me back to Town?"

"Oh, Nathan. Always with the endless questions. It is quite simple, really. I needed to know how much you knew, if anything. And then it occurred to me that if someone were to try to contact you, he would be easier to track in Town. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak." Again the shrill laugh. "But Stone got careless. Never was terribly clever, but corruptible as the devil himself. And goodness, didn't he have a grudge against the War Department for removing him from the corps. Stupid man never realized it was my order."

Nathan bit back a cry as Gerard seized his arm and forced him onto his stomach. Then, with surprising strength for his age and condition, the man dragged him several feet away from St. Wulfstan.

"Hmm.
I really did hit our friend here hard that second time, didn't I? I wonder if I ought to wake him, thank him for his splendid showing at the tables last night. I will pay a visit on your wife, of course. Oh no, nothing like that. Shame on you for thinking any such thing, Nathan. No, no. It will merely be to offer my condolences at your untimely death. It will be her fault, you know."

"Damn it, Gerard, if you go near Isobel..." Nathan choked as the man's foot came down heavily on the back of his neck.

"Save your breath. You have so little of it left. Did you not know she sent a letter to St. Wulfstan, taking responsibility for her brothers' debt and vowing to clear it? In some manner. Oh, I have no doubt the offer was perfectly chaste, but just think what people will say when they find her note near your bodies. Really, I couldn't have planned it better myself. Oriel and St. Wulfstan kill each other over a woman. Perfect."

"You honestly believe," Nathan growled, despite the pressure on his throat, "no one will notice ten men dead and all connected?"

Gerard removed his foot, then bent down and patted him on the head.

"Naive to the end. We were a clandestine operation, my boy. Only
we
knew the names of the others. And as soon as I deal with Rotheroe, there will be no others. Now, let's see. How best to arrange this. I'll move the pair of you to the bigger room, of course. You will be found with a clean shot to the heart. Everyone knows St. Wulfstan has perfect aim."

He chatted on, as calm as if he were arranging a dinner party. "I think I'll just put a ball in St. Wulfstan's gut. Your dying shot. Damned awful way to die, you know, takes hours. Be grateful I like you, Nathan." There was a loud click as Gerard cocked his gun.

"No!"
Nathan bellowed and, using every ounce of strength he possessed, rolled over and lashed his legs toward Gerard. At the same time, St.

Wulfstan coiled, coming up in a blur of motion.

Nathan could not be certain of exactly what happened next. His feet struck something; he thought he felt Gerard stumble. There was a blast, a flash of fire, and St. Wulfstan went down again. At almost the same moment, there was a crash from the doorway. He heard the sound of a hard object meeting bone. Then he fell back again, landing heavily on his injured hands. He cried out once with the pain before everything went black.

Isobel was sobbing as she threw herself down beside him. He was so still, and there was blood all over the floor. "Oh, Nathan, please... Nay!"

From the corner of her eye, she saw the older man coming to his knees, saw him go down again as the pistol butt cracked once more against his skull. She saw St. Wulfstan, too, lying a few feet away. But her attention was centered on her husband.

"Nathan," she coaxed, his name mingling with fervent prayers as she ran her hands over his body, searching for wounds. "Nathan, come back to me.

Please."

Near blinded now by her own tears, she struggled to shift his weight.

Then she cradled his head in her lap. His beautiful face was bruised, his overlong hair tangled on his brow. And his mouth, that glorious, generous mouth, was marred by a jagged cut in the lower lip.

She jerked off the gentle hand that rested on her shoulder. "Nay! He will be fine!"

"Lady Oriel..."

"Nay!" Tenderly, she brushed the dark hair from Nathan's brow. "Hear me now, my love. I am so sorry I ran away, but I'm back now, and I'll not leave you again.
Tha gradh agam ort, mo cridhe."
Her loosened hair flowed forward, falling like a curtain around his face.
"Tha gradh agam ort."

"You pick the damnedest times to curse me, madam wife."

Heart in her throat, Isobel blinked the tears from her eyes. Then she was sobbing and raining damp kisses over his face.

It was some time before she was calm enough to draw a deep breath. "

'Tis not a curse, you great daft fool."

"No? I always meant to learn Gaelic, but never quite got around to it."

She laughed, then hiccuped.
"Tha gradh agam ort.
It means
I love you."

He gave her a shaky smile. "Do you promise? I won't find out later that it means stinking, three-legged cur?"

"Och,
Nathan, I do love you!" Ignoring the fact that his hands were still bound and that the assault was no doubt doing nothing good for his cut lip, she kissed him deep and hard.

"Isobel... Isobel." His voice was rough with emotion. "You came back.

Why?"

She smiled, feeling the ring on her finger as surely as if it were infused with heat. "That is a tale for a cold winter's night. I think now is a good time, though, to give a bit of credit where it's due." She leaned back then, giving him a view of her companion. "It might help if you were to say something, my lord."

Nathan frowned, confused. "Say what? How would it help?"

"Ah, not you, my lord. The other 'my lord.' " Nathan sensed another figure leaning in. The man removed the bonds at his wrists, then his ankles.

"I must say, Oriel, this was not quite how I had planned our reunion."

Nathan cursed his ears for playing cruel tricks. It could not be....

"Rievaulx?
Gabriel?"
Then he reached up and wound his arms around the neck of his oldest friend. Laughing, choking on his own tears, he clung tightly. "Dear God, I thought... I saw..."

Rievaulx returned the embrace, then drew back slightly. His voice hoarse with emotion, he explained. "They left me for dead in the alley behind the tavern.
I
thought I was dead. By sheer luck, I was found by a local shopkeeper. He saw money in saving the English soldier and carried me to his home."

"But it was over six months ago, so long not to hear a word."

"It took me more than two months to recover, still longer to find Brandon. I was with him when he died, just ten steps too far away to save him. I saw the man who killed him, Nathan. It was Henry Stone."

As Isobel and Nathan sat silently, he continued. "Brandon had intercepted a fragmented French message. It mentioned Gerard. After Brandon and Brooke were... gone, I had no idea who I could trust on the Continent. And I didn't want to put you in danger by contacting you. I got passage on a Dutch merchant ship, then I stayed as close to you as I could get without attracting attention."

"How long have you been back?" Nathan asked quietly, his hand tight around his friend's.

"Three weeks."

"Gabriel has been keeping an eye on us, Nathan," Isobel said softly.

"Stone nearly got to you that night in front of the Hampdens'," Rievaulx muttered. "Damn it, man, I almost didn't make it through the crowd in time to push you away."

"You should have come to me," Nathan insisted, "to us."

"And put your new wife in danger, too? I had no idea how closely you were being watched by Gerard or Stone. If they'd learned I was still alive..."

"We would have seen to each other's backs."

"As we did in Lisbon?" Rievaulx sighed at Nathan's curse. "Yes, I know. You blame yourself. Isobel told me. Don't you see, Nathan? I survived because I was with you. Had Gerard gone after me in the hills, there would have been no distractions. We would both have died. With no one knowing I was alive,
I
had the advantage."

Nathan wanted to argue, but he couldn't. "How did you find me here?"

"I was watching Gerard's house. He wasn't there. But then I went to yours and followed your wife. She had a note from St. Wulfstan that mentioned Ten House, and she allowed me to tag along." Rievaulx leaned forward, as if Isobel could not hear. "I like her, Nathan. A damned sight better than our Cecily." To Isobel, he said, "I don't suppose you have a sister."

Her laugh was magic, and Nathan absorbed it like sunlight. "I have two.

Perhaps someday, when I've come to know you a bit, I'll introduce you."

A faint groan from across the room caught their attention. "Gerard?"

Isobel asked.

Rievaulx was already moving. "Good God, he's still breathing! Wulf?

Wulf, can you hear me?"

St. Wulfstan, despite having a lead ball lodged deep in his chest, said something very clear and very rude. He followed it by grumbling, "Should the three of you wish to continue your oh-so-heartwarming reunion, you can bloody well do it later!"

It was much later, when the sun was just peering over the horizon, that Nathan found himself heart-and-body warmingly entwined with his wife in bed. Rievaulx had seen St. Wulfstan to the surgeons, Gerard into official hands, and was himself comfortably settled down the hall. His reintroduction to Society would, no doubt, take the last curious eye from the Marquess and Marchioness of Oriel.

"Tell me again," the marquess demanded.

"Ah, clever attempt," the marchioness countered, "but 'tis your turn."

Nathan chuckled. "I cannot fool you, can I?"

"I'd say you did a good enough job with your sight."