Final Hours (17 page)

“Up.” She obeyed, her own weapon tucked against her side as
she stood. The ploy didn’t work. “Drop it, or I’ll kill him right here.” She
let the pistol fall to the grass. “Now turn around, hands out where I can see
them.” She did, moving away from Kane. “That is far enough. I knew you were a
smart one, darling girl. You did go after the wealthiest man in the vicinity,
after all.”

“What?” She stared at him. “What are you—”

His raw laugh cut her off. “Kane didn’t tell you, did he?” He
winced, his free hand pressed against his left side. Hair blew around his face
as a strong gust of wind battered them. He stumbled, and jerked the pistol up
before she could take advantage. “Typical Kane. Always terrified the women are
after his title. Your beloved protector is a count. He inherited the title, the
lands, and the millions from his guardian, who adopted him on the sly.”

“Kane is…”

“Looks like your innocent misfit plan worked. The sot is in
love with you.”

“I—what?” She was still so shocked by the news she couldn’t
gather her thoughts.

“You may have fooled him,” Guy stalked forward and grabbed
her right arm. She bit back a scream. “But I know your type. He’s best off
without you. So I am going to give you a choice, my darling girl. You can come
with me, or you can watch Kane die before you join him.”

Elizabeth swallowed. He meant every word.

“I’ll go with you,” she whispered. “But—can I say goodbye?
He’s unconscious, but I will feel like I—severed the bond between us if I do.”

“Touch the pistol and I’ll kill him.”

It took all the control she had not to flinch. “I
understand.”

Guy let her go, and she knelt on the grass, taking Kane’s
outstretched hand. Her lips pressed to his warm skin, as her mind searched for
something, anything she could do to stall—

His fingers tightened around hers. She snapped her head up
and searched his face; his eyes looked closed, but she saw the glint, telling
her he had them slit open, enough to see her. His hand lowered hers until she
touched her left hip. To Guy, it would look like she lowered it on her own. She
hyped the performance and hunched over his hand with a low sob, her hair
blowing around them.

Her fingers brushed a hard, narrow bulge in her pocket.

Mac’s knife. She had completely forgotten about it.

She squeezed Kane’s hand, to let him know she understood, and
eased it back to the ground, hugging her waist to cover her hand as it slipped
into her pocket.

Obviously tired of the performance, Guy hauled her up and
led her away from Kane, toward the edge of the cliff.

“Touching, Elizabeth. Shame he wasn’t awake to witness it.”

She faked a stumbled and dropped to one knee, flipping the
blade open. She froze when Guy’s pistol slipped under her chin.

“Guy—”

“Whatever you are scheming, let it go. You can’t stop what
is meant to happen. And it will happen, as soon as I finish dealing with you. Now
stand up.” The pistol followed her as she obeyed, meeting his eyes. He studied
her, let out a short laugh. “I told him, didn’t I? Felt remorse after the fact,
and blathered to my oldest friend. For the life of me, I could not figure out
how you knew, exactly, when to show up.”

“The portal.”

“Oops. They forgot about that, did they?”

“Who, Guy? Is Harper forcing you—”

The pistol dug into her throat.

“Shut up.”

His vicious anger shook her, and Elizabeth knew her time had
about run out. Bracing herself, she used every ounce of strength she had left
and shoved the short blade into his wounded side.

He stumbled back, clutching the hilt.

“You bitch—” He raised his pistol and fired.

Elizabeth twisted away from the laser blast. She screamed when
it burned into her right thigh. Her leg gave out and she hit the ground. She
pushed herself up and kept sliding away from Guy, knowing she couldn’t escape—and
caught sight of her pistol, just out of reach.

“Elizabeth.” She lifted her head. Guy stood less than a foot
away. Blood soaked his trouser leg now, his left hand clutching her knife. His
other held the pistol, aimed at her chest. “Move again, and you will die by inches.”

She believed every word. That pistol was her only chance.

She did a quick calculation and let herself fall, her left
arm stretched out. Another laser blast burned across her forearm.

She threw herself at the pistol and closed her right hand
over it. In a move that sent pain through every muscle she swung her arm up and
fired.

The pistol jerked at her wrist, like each blast weakened
whatever stabilized it. She tightened her grip, her fingers shaking. Guy stared
at her, then down at his chest. With a ragged cry he raised his pistol. Elizabeth
shot him again, the jolt numbing her wrist.

Guy stumbled backward, and screamed as he fell off the edge
of the cliff.

“God…” She let the pistol go. Pain seared her leg as she dragged
herself to the edge. She held on with both hands before she peered over the
side.

Guy lay on the rocky beach below. From here she could see blood
swirling in the water that flowed around him. With a silent prayer, she eased
back, and pushed up to her hands and knees. Crawling across the grass toward
Kane left her breathless, and gasping with every movement. When she finally
reached him, she eased down on her left side, and touched his cheek. He opened
his eyes.

“Beth,” he whispered.

“How?”

“Mac—” Harsh coughs cut him off. Elizabeth searched for the
wound, and found fresh blood on his right shoulder. Damn Guy to Hell.

“Hey,” she pulled her jacket off, hissing when it brushed
the raw burns, and pressed it against his shoulder. He recoiled, and she
followed him, keeping pressure on the wound. “I need you to hold still for me.
Breathe, Kane. Slow and easy.”

“Skipping to—step three?”

“Yes.” She forced a smile. “Just keep breathing for me.”

“Bridget—says hello.”

“She watched you leave?”

“Without batting an eye. Bloody hell, that hurts.” He closed
his eyes.

“Kane!” She pushed down on the makeshift bandage. It
terrified her that he didn’t try to fight her this time. “Stay with me, Kane.”

He swallowed. “Here.”

“I’m going for help. I need you to keep pressure on the
wound.” She moved his left hand up, slid it under hers. “Push. Now.”

The muscles in his arm corded with the effort. “Go,” he
whispered. “I’ll wait here.”

She let out a breathless laugh. “You do that. Kane.” He
opened his eyes. “Thank you, for coming after me.”

“Couldn’t—stop myself.” His eyes slid closed.

“Kane—”

“Love you, Beth.”

His left hand slid off his shoulder.

“No—Kane—” She pushed down on his wound. “Don’t you dare, do
you hear me? Stay with me, Kane—please stay with me.”

She laid her head on his chest, every inch straining to find
a heartbeat. Finally, she heard it, past her panicked breathing. Too slow, too
faint.

“Kane! Don’t you die on me—don’t you dare—”

“Elizabeth!” Gryffyth charged over the top of the hill,
running full tilt. He skidded to a halt, his face white.

“Gryffyth—”

“Sweet God above.” He dropped to his knees beside her, did a
cursory exam of them both. “I’ve help coming. As soon as I heard you scream I
sent for them and headed this way.”

“You followed me.”

“Absolutely. Sorry, beautiful—I didn’t trust you, not yet.
Hold still for me.” He pulled a scarf from around his neck and eased her leg
up. Elizabeth almost passed out. He caught her, leaned her against him before
he tied off the scarf. “How are you still conscious?”

“Necessity.”

A smile flashed across his face, renewed some of the color. “Let
me see that arm.”

“It’s fine—ouch—ow, ow—”

She tried not to whimper when he wrapped a second scarf, this
one silk, around her forearm. He moved her hair aside and carefully opened her
shirt to get a better look at her shoulder. It burned like crazy. “The lookout
saw a body fall from the cliff. I thought it was you, until I got a better look
at the body.” He glanced down at Kane. “Where did he come from?”

“He’s with me.”

Gryffyth nodded, and to her relief, didn’t ask any more
questions. He moved to Kane’s other side and did a more thorough examination,
with the efficiency of long practice. This young soldier continued to surprise
her.

The pounding of feet brought her head up. Half a dozen
soldiers ran toward them, two of them carrying a stretcher.

“Let’s get you back down the hill.” Elizabeth let out a
hoarse gasp when Gryffyth picked her up.

“Please—I want to stay with him.”

“I’ll make certain you do, beautiful, once we get you to
hospital. But you’re looking after you first. We’ve talented doctors to take
care of him. Am I clear?”

She nodded, relaxed in his arms as he waited for Kane to be
transferred to the stretcher. It was over. Whatever happened next, Ramsay was
safe, and Guy had been stopped.

She planned to have a long sit-down with Kane about what he
said to her, about what Guy told her, before he—

Her mind flinched away from what she’d done. That was
another thing she would have to deal with, when she summoned the courage. For
now, she was thankful that they had survived, that Kane was here.

She could face down the rest later.

Kane spent three
hours in the operating room
of the local hospital.

Elizabeth spent almost as long with a Dr. Thomas Butler, who
didn’t say a word as he cleaned and bandaged her shoulder and her forearm. When
he started to work on her right thigh, he finally spoke.

“What kind of weapon caused this damage?”

“I don’t—I’m not sure I can explain it.”
Or that I should
even tell you.

“Military secret, then.”

She let out a quiet sigh. “Something like that.”

Clear, intense green eyes studied her for a moment. “I would
call you on it, Miss Barritt, were I not a gentleman.”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“I would prefer to think I have a more open mind than you
credit me with, but if you believe you can’t discuss it, I will not mention it
again.”

“Oh, you are good.”

He didn’t smile as he gently smeared something cool and
absolutely soothing over the burn on her thigh, but amusement filled his eyes.
“I like to think so.”

This time she blushed. The man was flirting with her, and
she didn’t quite know how to take it. Men didn’t flirt, not before Kane.

She forgot all of it when he started to stitch her leg.

“God—”

“I am sorry, Miss Barritt, but it must be done. I can’t be
leaving such a gaping hole to the open air. Please hold still for me, or I will
have to call someone in to hold you down.”

“Okay.” She gripped the edges of the bed, and got her first
good look at her leg.

Dr. Butler was right; Guy’s pistol did leave a gaping hole.
Fortunately, it was fairly small, and only took a few stitches to close.

“Good girl, nearly done now.” He bandaged her leg, then
carefully pulled the edges of her ruined trouser leg together. “I’m afraid you
will have to find more suitable clothing until that leg heals. Take a drink of
water.” He helped her hold the glass. She felt like an invalid; with wounds on
both arms, she couldn’t manage the glass herself. “Let’s settle you to the bed,
now.” He eased her back, until her head sank into the feather pillow.

“Can you tell me how my friend is doing?”

“Still in surgery would be my guess. It will be all right,”
he said, his hand warm on her wrist. “Dr. Norton is one of the best. I will
have a nurse come round to let you know when you can see him.”

“Thank you—and thank you for taking care of me.”

“My pleasure, Miss Barritt. Get some rest, now.”

He left her, and closed the door behind him. Elizabeth
forced herself to relax. There was nothing else to do, not until she could see
Kane again, talk to him. She had hidden the transport inside her boot when
Gryffyth left her in the room. It was safe for now.

The one Kane used to get to her had fallen apart around his
wrist, so she left it in the grass, hoping the fierce wind would scatter the
pieces. Once she was able to, she’d find a way to go back, to check for any
that were left and gather them up herself.

Her eyes closed without her permission. She started to turn
on her right side, her normal position for sleeping—and let out a gasp when her
shoulder met the mattress. With a sigh, she shifted to her back, and resigned
herself to not getting much sleep. She drifted off before she finished the
thought.

~ ~ ~

The pain woke
Kane, grinding into his
shoulder. Nothing else existed save that.

He took in slow, shallow breaths, and waited for it to ease
enough for him to think. Endless minutes later, he felt the warm, soft hand
that held his.

Elizabeth.

He gathered the strength to say her name—and memory slammed
into him. She knew.

Guy had told her Kane’s secret, the one thing he didn’t want
her to know before he—before they—

“Kane? I know you’re awake. Are you in pain?” Her low voice
brushed over him. He did not want to see the change in her eyes, now that she
knew the truth. Dread threatened to choke him as he realized this unexpected,
powerful connection they had was about to fall victim to his title.

 “Kane—look at me, please.”

It was the pain in her quiet plea that did it. He took in as
deep a breath as he dared, and opened his eyes, braced for the cunning and
avarice every woman had given him since his guardian left him the title.

Elizabeth met his blurred gaze—and it was just Elizabeth,
concern and exhaustion on her face as she studied him.

“Beth—hell—”

“Hush. Take your time.” Her grip on his hand tightened.

“All right.” He flinched at his rasping whisper, then
flinched again when the flinch hurt. It seemed that every muscle was directly
connected to his shoulder, and hurt less or more according to proximity. “How
long?”

“It’s been nearly a week.”

“What—” He started to sit; it took only a gentle push for
Elizabeth to have him flat on his back again.

“Guy is dead.”

Kane looked up at her. She sounded—despondent. A tight smile
covered it, but he knew she had to be suffering for what she had done. There
were more than a few deaths on his own soul. He would make damn sure she didn’t
allow this one to burden her more than it needed to—not over Guy. He had
created his own fate, and she didn’t deserve to suffer such grief for that.

He cleared his throat, tried out his voice. “How are you?”

“A little banged up.” She closed her eyes, and tears slipped
down her cheeks. With a choked sob she leaned in and pressed her face into his
good shoulder. “Oh, Jackson—I thought I’d lost you.”

“Hey.” He freed his hand and slipped his arm around her
waist. God help him, she felt so good, so right. “I’m here, love.”

“And you’re going to explain exactly how you got here, but
not now.” She lifted her head. “So—you’re a count.”

Every inch stiffened. Here it was, hidden under her concern.
“Yes.”

“Stop clenching your jaw. I don’t care.”

He stared up at her. “But—”

“I’m a Yank, your grace.” She winked at him. “We don’t have
fancy titles, so it really doesn’t matter to me that you can walk into a room
and have men bow to you, or that you have bucket loads of money. Unless—do you
have a castle?”

With a sigh, he closed his eyes. “I have a castle.”

Her lips brushed his cheek, her breath warm as she
whispered. “That is so incredibly cool.” Laughter burst out of him—immediately
followed by a groan. “Oh, Kane—I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, love. Right now, breathing hurts.” He
opened his eyes, studied her face. She was a miracle to him—a woman who saw
him, and not the title, not the wealth, not the prestige that would be hers if
she could snare him into marriage. Just him. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Come up here and kiss me.”

Smiling, she eased herself to the bed, winced when her right
leg moved. “I’m okay.” She stopped his protest before he could make it. “I have
a few battle wounds of my own, but they’re healing. Now, where would you like
that kiss, your grace?”

He quite liked the sound of his title, when she said it in
that low voice. As long as she didn’t curtsy and lick her lips, like he was
dinner.

“My lips seem to have survived intact.”

A smile curved hers. “Let’s find out.” She teased him with a
sweet, soft, brief kiss. “How was that?”

“Painfully short.”

“Hm. Maybe if I did this, it wouldn’t hurt.” The second kiss
was slow, deeper, her tongue tracing the line of his mouth. She broke it off
before he could take her in. “Better?”

“I believe,” he took in another breath, focused on keeping
his voice steady. “I may need a bit more—therapy.”

“What the patient wants, the patient gets.”

This time she dove in, her tongue sliding over his, slow and
seductive, until he couldn’t think straight. He pulled her down, and her
breasts pressed into his bare chest. His fingers spread across her back; he
needed her closer, needed to feel her, all of her. He raised his right arm to
keep her here—and stilled when his arm didn’t move.

Elizabeth broke off the kiss, searched his face. When she
spoke, her voice was soft, and achingly gentle.

“You have nerve damage, Kane. Dr. Norton doesn’t know how
much, and he won’t until the swelling’s gone down. There are things we can
do—massage, physical therapy. I won’t give up on you, and I won’t let you give
up on yourself.”

“Will I—” He swallowed, then faced the truth as he looked
into her eyes. “Will the wound cripple me?”

“Not if I can help it.” She sounded so fierce he couldn’t
help but laugh. It strangled to a moan when the movement jarred his shoulder.
“Kane—”

“All right—I think. No,” he tightened his arm when she
started to pull away. “Stay.”

She obliged, stretching out on her left side. Kane
understood why when he saw the bulge of a bandage on her right thigh, under the
nightgown. Her head settled on his shoulder, and he started to move his right
hand to run it through her silky hair. The angry flare in his shoulder reminded
him that he couldn’t use his arm.

Not now. Maybe not ever, despite Elizabeth’s militant
optimism.

As she fell asleep beside him, he made some decisions, each
more painful than the last.

~ ~ ~

Once Kane could
be moved, Admiral Ramsay
extended Elizabeth an invitation to stay at Dover Castle. As thanks, his note
said, for risking her life to protect him.

They settled in the small officer’s house on the castle
grounds, near the keep. They also slept in separate bedrooms while Kane slowly
regained his strength. It was his idea—and he had been methodically putting
distance between them ever since.

When she tried to talk to him, he walked away, or stared
over her shoulder until she finished, then walked away. And if he called her
Elizabeth in that infuriating tone one more time she swore she would punch him.

To add to her misery, the transport that brought her here
unlocked after Guy’s was destroyed in the fall. Kane could send her home at any
time. She dreaded the possibility of it.

After two weeks of enduring his behavior, it was easier to
leave than have another one-sided argument. So she did, wandering the castle
grounds with the cane Dr. Butler gave her. She became a regular fixture, and
the word must have spread about her, because the soldiers treated her with
something resembling awe. All of them except Gryffyth.

Thankfully, he teased her, talked to her, and walked with
her nearly every day, when he had time. She watched their side of the Dunkirk evacuation
from the cliff top, the words and accounts she’d read in so many books coming
to life before her eyes.

Gryffyth joined her, the final day of the evacuation, as ships
of all sizes limped in the harbour.

“It has been a miracle,” he said, his voice quiet. “Hundreds
of thousands of men. We only expected to save a few thousand, but—”

“Luck was on your side.”

He glanced down at her. “You knew, didn’t you? This was why
you risked so much to save the Admiral. To save them.”

“I can’t take the credit for—”

“Elizabeth.” He laid his hand on her left shoulder. “Thank
you.”

“Gryffyth—” He pulled her into a hug, careful of her
injuries. “I couldn’t have done anything else.”

“Someone else would have walked away.”

“Not with so much at stake—”

“I may be young, but I do know this: people can be horribly
selfish. Especially when it is their own life on the line. You deserve every
accolade, beautiful.”

She closed her eyes, and held on, tears threatening. Again.
These last few days, she had felt helpless as she watched Kane struggle with
his new reality, as he rudely refused every attempt to assist him. She kept
expecting him to finish it, to put her aside, like everyone in her life. He had
the means to send her home now, and why should he be any different? He saw what
she was—

She turned away from that, from the thought of how it felt
to pull the trigger, to kill without any remorse—

“Elizabeth.” Gryffyth’s quiet voice yanked her back.

“Sorry.” She smiled up at him, aware that she didn’t fool
him for a second. “Thank you.”

“Any time.”

He let her go, helped her down the steep path. Her leg still
wasn’t up to taking it alone, even with the support of the cane. They parted at
the entry to the tunnels, and Gryffyth promised to bring by a pot of soup from
the mess once he was off duty.

Elizabeth made her way back to the small cottage, the come
and go wind tugging at her calf length dress. She let herself in, and turned to
find Kane in the doorway of his room. The look on his face had her heart
racing. The moment she dreaded, waited for, had finally come.

“It is time we talked.” He sounded so stiff, so formal, like
they were barely acquaintances.

Well, he was about to get a wake-up call. Elizabeth had done
some thinking of her own during the long hours alone, and made some decisions.
Painful decisions.

His right arm was cradled in a sling she had made from a
silk scarf. It breathed better than the heavy thing the hospital gave him. She
noticed he’d dressed himself, wearing one of the oversized shirts he could pull
over his head.

Once word got out about them, people had been so generous, with
their offers of clothing, and other small necessities they could hardly afford
for themselves. The outpouring of care left Elizabeth in tears more times than
she could count.

Kane brought her back to the present when he moved into the
small living area and lowered himself to the arm chair. She set the cane in an
umbrella stand next to the door, limped over to the sofa, and eased herself
down. When she looked up, Kane had his gaze on her, pain in the grey eyes.

“I am sending you home.”