Her Lord and Protector (formerly titled On Silent Wings) (26 page)

And now Mary was
here, Mary as she’d been at the beginning of their marriage. Carefree and
loving. And then four years later. Suspicious. Hateful.

She’d crouched
by her bed, snarling at him as he crept forward, hands outstretched. “Mary,
please.”

“You’re trying
to kill me. Get away. Get away!”

“Better go,”
Agnes had said from one corner.

He’d left the
room. And Mary jumped from the window.

“I couldn’t save
you,” Alex whispered now as he curled his body on the floor. “Any of you.”

Now the
murderer’s daughter shimmered before him—Katherine, her hand warm on his cheek,
her eyes full of love and acceptance.

“Katherine,”
Alex whispered. “Come back. I love you so much.”

In that instant,
he surrendered the past. Finally, the blades pierced his iron heart and ripped
open every buried hatred, every anguish, every shame he’d ever hidden away and
obscured with a mask of indifference.

He grieved. Dear
God, he grieved.

Alex clutched
his face and wept.

Later, Alex left
the bedchamber feeling different. Cleansed. Lighter.

He would bring
his wife home, where she belonged. With sure strides he headed down the upstairs
corridor.

Elizabeth was
almost at the top of the stairs. “I have been looking for you,” she said. “Why
did Katherine leave?”

He paused in his
stride. “Her father was a spy. He murdered my parents.”

Tears sprang to
Elizabeth’s eyes. “Oh, how terrible. And now you’ve sent her away?”

“No. ’Twas her
decision.”

“You-you do not
hate her for what her father did, do you?”

“Of course not. I
am going to get her now.” Alex started to turn but then noticed the card
Elizabeth held. “What is that?”

Elizabeth’s
smile brightened her face. “The baron is coming to call on me.”

“The baron?”
Alex frowned.

Elizabeth held
out the card. “Lord Wiltshire. He wants to see me!”

“No.”

“Alex—”

“I said no. We
did not part on good terms. He only wanted Katherine as a wife because she
couldn’t talk. What would he want with you?”

Elizabeth went
pale. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying the
baron likes women who have a disfigurement.”

“That’s not
true! He was a perfect gentleman when he was here that night.”

“He is a cruel
fop who enjoys belittling women. Elizabeth, I will not give consent for a courtship—if
that’s what he has in mind.” Alex crossed his arms. “What of Edward? I saw him
kissing you last night. Did he propose?”

Elizabeth
hesitated. “No. Agnes said she doesn’t think he will.”

“I will speak to
him when I return. It is time he asked for your hand.”

“But the baron
may wish to court me. He—he excites me.”

Alex grimaced. “You
are not serious. That old stinkard?”

“I like him.”
Elizabeth lowered her head.

Alex didn’t have
time for this. “All right, Bethie. I will let you choose for yourself.”

Elizabeth threw
her slender arms around him. “Thank you, Alex!”

His cousin had
never hugged him before, and Alex hid his awkward surprise by saying, “I need
to leave now.”

Elizabeth
released him. “Oh, I have sent for a midwife for Clara. She is ready to give
birth.”

“Send Stephen to
the barn if he doesn’t want to stay there,” Alex said as he escaped down the
steps.

Minutes later he
swung up on Neos and raced down the road toward Lobb’s Inn in Chiswick.

Halfway there,
he met the returning carriage. He stopped to tell the coachman to go back to
the inn for Katherine’s trunks, but his words were cut short when Millie, her
face reddened with weeping, stumbled out. Had Katherine come home on her own?

The open
carriage door revealed that she wasn’t here.

“M’lord,” Millie
began.

“Where is Lady
Drayton?” Alex demanded

Millie began to
sob. “She is in town, m’lord.”

“You left her
alone at the inn? Why?”

“The inn? I
wasn’t ordered to take her to an inn,” the coachman said, his face creasing in
confused worry.

Alex went rigid
as he swung his gaze up to the coachman. “What are you talking about? Of course
you were.”

Millie sobbed,
“Why did ye do this to her, m’lord? She’s done nothin’ to deserve it.”

Alex’s voice
rose to a near shout. “Where is she?”

“Patsy Eberly’s
brothel,” said the coachman, his voice shaking. “Lady Agnes said you asked her
to give me Lady Drayton’s destination.”

“Brothel?” Alex
choked. “No! You were to take her to Lobb’s Inn!” Without waiting for an answer
from the maid and coachman, he kicked Neos into a gallop off the road into the
forest. The shortcut would buy time—perhaps a half hour.

Alex prayed that
he wasn’t already too late.

“Fly, Neos!”

Trees blurred as
he raced through shafts of sunlight, through copses of fresh green growth.
Birdsong and the skitter of startled woodland creatures were all but lost in
the muted, rhythmic pounding of Neos’ hooves on the wet decayed foliage of the
forest floor.

He had to get to
her.

Would she ever
forgive him for this slipshod mistake? Likely not. She’d hate him.

“Agnes.” Alex
spat her name into the rushing wind.

Why had he let
Katherine go? God’s nails, she was his wife!

She was his, and
he might not reach her before the men got their hands on her. Hot viral dominance
filled him. He gritted his teeth and bowed low over Neos’ neck to give the
horse full rein down the woodland path.

“Fly!”

The crack of a
gunshot registered in his mind even as he felt a searing pain in his shoulder.

Neos, shying at
the sound, lurched to the left and threw him off the saddle.

Alex hit the
ground and rolled until his chest slammed into a tree. He lay still for a moment
and tried to force air into his crushed lungs.

He had no time
to react before a man was on him; no time to pull his rapier from its scabbard
before he felt a blade cutting his throat.

****

Katherine pushed
open the filthy window and gulped in fresh air.

“Better not be
tryin’ anything,” a thin but deadly voice yelled from the hallway.

The room stank
of sex, sweat, and vomit. The door wouldn’t lock, and a skinny snake of a man
stood in the hall to prevent her from leaving.

Despite his
sinewy strong arms, she would escape. No one could stop her. Did they actually
think she was a whore, come to make money for that horrid Patsy? The woman had
actually slapped her when she had tried to explain that it had all been a
mistake, that she would reenter her carriage and be on her way to the inn.

But the coachman
had insisted that his directions, given through Lord Drayton, had been to bring
her here. That was good enough for Patsy, and her man had practically carried
Katherine down the hall and dumped her in this room, then locked the door until
Patsy came to give her instructions on how to treat the men who would visit her
this night.

Katherine wiped
away fresh hot tears and swung one leg over the sill. She had no time to cry
over Alex, wouldn’t waste time on him. Their marriage was finished.

Her feet hit the
ground. Turning, she lifted her skirts and dashed toward the street.

At the corner of
the house, she skidded to a stop. Outside the front of the brothel stood a
throng of men. There was Patsy on the steps, hailing Katherine as her fresh
whore—not young, but beautiful nonetheless.

Katherine backed
away until she was out of sight, then turned and stifled a thin scream as she
found herself face to face with her guard.

He backhanded
her across her cheek, then shook her. “Where th’ hell ye goin’, slut?”

****

Alex gazed up at
the rogue’s face, almost hidden beneath a dirty tangle of thick brown hair and
beard. A hand rummaged through the pocket of his waistcoat and closed on his
leather money pouch.

Alex gripped the
man’s wrist. “I have to—” he choked, and with great effort sucked in breath.

The knife
pressed harder and split the skin on his neck.

“Now, now, sir,”
the highwayman soothed, his smile and soft voice a contrast to his heinous act.
“No need to die today, eh?”

Alex loosened
his hold, and the knife eased. Blood trickled down his neck.

Where was the
pistol? Certainly the thief hadn’t time to reload. But he also had a sword, and
the knife.

The rogue stood
and pocketed the pouch, then glanced behind him at Neos, who stood nearby
stamping and huffing. He turned back toward Alex. “G’day, to ye, sir,” he said,
ludicrously polite.

He ambled toward
Neos.

With a pained
groan, Alex sat up. The man’s hand was inches away from the bridle. There was
no way Alex would get to Katherine in time without the speed of his horse.

“Neos,” he said
gruffly. “Fly!”

Neos reared,
snorted, and backed away from the thief.

“Cur!” the man
snarled as he turned back toward Alex and withdrew his sword. “Should ‘ave cut
yer throat.”

Alex staggered
to his feet and realized with a shock that the other man almost equaled him in
size. He reached for his rapier but agonizing pain ringed his shoulder. His
right arm was useless for wielding the sword.

He stumbled back
as the thief came at him swinging both sword and dagger.

With his left
hand Alex tugged his rapier free. He parried the thief’s sword just before it
reached his throat. The dagger followed, slashing an inch from his chest.

They parried and
thrust, circling, lunging. Alex grew dizzy with pain. He fended off both blades
left-handed, but saw his own desperation mirrored in the calculating gleam of
the thief’s eyes.

Dear God, how
had this happened? Katherine needed him. He had to get to her.

This had to end.

“Give back my
gold and you may live to see another day,” he panted as he fended off yet another
drive of the thief’s sword.

Pausing, equally
winded, the thief took a step back. “Come now. Is it so important that ye’d die
fer it? Look at ye.” He gestured with his sword at Alex’s shoulder. “I shot ye.
Yer bleedin’. And now I gots ter kill ye.”

“Then keep the
gold.” Alex, gritting his teeth in pain, unclasped his cloak. “Allow me my
horse. A woman needs me.”

The highwayman
raised his brows and laughed, clearly enjoying the banter. “Needs ye? Aye,
needs yer cock, no doubt. Who is this wench ye fancy grindin’?”

Alex’s voice
went low with fury. “Get out of my way or I’ll kill you.”

“Ye’ll ‘ave to
kill me,” the thief said, his lips curled in a sneer, “because I want yer
horse, too.” With a yell, he leaped forward and lunged at Alex with his sword.

Shouting with
rage and pain, Alex twisted to one side as he wrenched his cloak from his
shoulders. He hurled the cloak over the thief’s head and drove his rapier
through the cloth.

A sickening
pressure slowed the sword. Jerking it out, Alex then yanked the cloak away to
reveal blood spilling from the highwayman’s eye.

With a cry, the
thief fell to his knees, staring in bizarre astonishment with his remaining
eye. He crumpled forward.

Alex dropped his
sword and stumbled back. He gulped air as he took in the highwayman’s limp
body, and then closed his eyes.

Blackness swam
into him, made him unable to focus. He slumped to the ground.

Warm nose on his
head. A nudge.

Neos stood over
him. With shaking hand, Alex gave his velvet gray nose a weak rub. Then,
grimacing, he crawled to the dead man and retrieved his money.

“How long?” he
asked the black clouds that were overtaking the sky. “Am I too late?”

A low rumble of
thunder to the west answered him.

“Easy, boy,” he
whispered to Neos as he got one foot in the stirrup. Grunting against the pain
of his wounds, he pulled himself up into the saddle. His neck was no longer
bleeding, but his shirt and waistcoat were crimson from the bullet wound. He
pulled his soiled cloak around him.

With grim
determination, he nudged Neos toward town.

One hour later,
when he got close to the brothel, he turned the horse down a narrow alley two
buildings up and slid off the saddle.

“You, boy.” He
held up a shilling to a narrowed-eyed boy who looked about twelve. “Hold the
reigns of my horse until I return. You will get two more.”