Two Wicked Nights

by Quince, Dayna

  A carriage came into view, coming toward Kirkland.

  Chester’s stomach tightened. It was a hired hack from town. It rolled past Kirkland’s drive and continued north.

  Something felt wrong. Everything inside him screamed for action.

  Chester cursed and threw on his coat. He ran down the back stairs, startling staff as he went, colliding with a maid and apologizing but not stopping. He darted through the kitchen, and once outside, he saw Jensen running toward him.

  “She’s not on the road,” Jensen yelled.

  Chester came to a halt. “What?”

  “She’s not there anymore. I went to watch after she went in that direction and lost sight of her, then I saw the carriage but I don’t see her.”

  Chester went cold. “Did you hear a scream? I heard something from my window.”

  “I heard a scream, my lord,”

  Chester turned to face Byron, one of the young stable boys. “My horse, Byron, as fast as you can.”

  “I’ll get your pistols,” Jensen said and disappeared into the house.

  Every second Chester waited was excruciating. He began pacing again until Jensen appeared, winded, gun case in hand. He held it as Chester opened it and loaded his guns.

  “What’s going on?” His father’s voiced boomed over the courtyard, still wearing his clothes from last night. His mother flew out behind him, also dressed.

  Chester paused only a moment and returned to priming his pistols. “I don’t have time to explain anything to you. I think Bernie’s just been kidnapped.”

  Byron arrived with the horse, and Chester tucked his pistols in his jacket and climbed into the saddle.

  “I’ll follow in the carriage!” his father called to him.

  He didn’t spare his parents another second and kicked into a gallop in the direction the carriage had gone.

  * * *

  Bernie woke to violent rocking, her head bouncing against a wood floor. A salty-tasting cloth filled her mouth, stretching the corners of her lips painfully. She tried to remove it but her arms wouldn’t budge. She wiggled her hands, and her fingers tingled in response. She moved her wrists but they were bound tightly with something.

  Her hair blinded her, but as she lay there, she recalled the moments before, the road, Rupert, his right jab to her chin.

  She pressed her eyes closed, tears flooding forth as her chin throbbed. She couldn’t tell if he had split her chin, but she would definitely sport a bruise. She tested her legs but was certain he’d bound her feet too.

  And here she’d thought Rupert an idiot. He was proving remarkably capable at kidnapping.

  “Are you awake?”

  Bernie didn’t move. She had no way of knowing how far they’d traveled, but a punch would not have rendered her unconscious for long unless she’d struck her head too hard. She took a moment to analyze how her head felt. Only the spot that rested against the wood felt achy, but otherwise she had no headache or searing pain indicating a true injury. Only Chester and Jensen knew of her return to Selbourne. Next time Chester insisted he escort anywhere, she was going to listen. Damn her stubbornness.

  And there would be a next time, because as far as she was concerned, this was only an inconvenient delay, and as soon as possible she would murder Rupert and return to Chester.

  No one would force her hand. Rupert was most likely taking her to Scotland. She had allies in Scotland, but even an anvil wedding could not be performed on an unwilling bride.

  Rupert was drunk with stupidity, and if the sickly sweet smell was any indication, he was more than jug bitten. As soon as they stopped moving, she would find a way to escape. He’d taken her by surprise the first time. She would not underestimate him a second time.

  He nudged her with his boot. “Are you awake?”

  Bernie grunted.

  He reached down and hauled her to a sitting position. “Good. Now we can have a sensible conversation.” He yanked the cloth from her mouth.

  Bernie spat out the awful taste and wiggled her jaw.

  She glared at him. “You have lost all sense.”

  He folded his arms. “This might be the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “You should reevaluate your life, Rupert.”

  “No, really.” He leaned forward, his gin-soaked breath bathing her face.

  Bernie gagged and leaned back as far as she could.

  “Lord Kirkland will pay me as he promised, and I’ll get rid of more than half my debt, and as a bonus, I’ll have myself a wife. That should make my mother happy.”

  “You’re forgetting that no one will perform marriage rites to an unwilling bride.”

  “Anyone can be bought.”

  “Not me.”

  He winked at her. “You’ll feel differently after a good tuppin’.”

  “You put one hand on me and I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your short life. If I don’t kill you, Chester will.”

  “You think he cares that much for you? He didn’t give a damn while you were in Scotland, carrying on as he was at the party, playing the pianoforte for all the lovely heiresses.”

  Bernie wanted to not be jealous. She shouldn’t be. Chester was doing no more than putting on a façade for his mother but irrationally she was. “Chester and I are going to marry. I never went to Scotland. I was in his room the whole time.”

  He curled his lip. “You’re nothing but a common whore.”

  “We’re in love. That is something you will never understand.”

  He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. Once I’m done with you, he won’t want you and you’ll be my wife. Be grateful I’ll give you my name. As long as Kirkland pays me, I don’t care whose babe you carry.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “I’m your only chance at respectability. You can live in a fine house and care for my mother while I—”

  “Gamble all your money away?”

  He flushed. “I’m getting better.”

  “You’re an imbecile.”

  He raised his hand to hit her again and Bernie flinched, but then he smirked and dropped his hand. “You’ll learn to bite your tongue.”

  Bernie kept quiet. She would bite her tongue but only because convincing him to do right was a waste of time. She needed to conserve her strength and wait for an opportunity to escape.

  The hack swung dangerously around a bend. Rupert cursed as he slid into a wall. “Mind the road!” he shouted.

  “You told me to drive fast. I’m driving fast!” the coachmen bellowed back.

  “How much did you offer him to take us all the way to Scotland?”

  “More than I’ve got, but once we’re there it won’t matter. It’s not like he’ll want to take us back.”

  The carriage rocked again, the wheels groaning in protest, giving Bernie an idea.

  It took a feat of strength, but she came to her haunches and pushed up to sit back on the opposite seat.

  He grinned at her. “Fancy a bit of play?” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “Oh yes, do you perchance know the game, Stormy Seas?”

  He frowned. “Does it involve a bed?”

  She shook her head. “It involves a boat.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “You’ve caught my interest. I’ve never tupped in a boat.”

  Bernie grinned. “We’ll make do with the carriage, shall we?”

  He reached for the placket of his breeches.

  “You’ll have to undo my hands and feet.”

  The poor idiot didn’t even stop to think. He hurriedly untied the silk stockings he’d bound her with. Bernie rubbed her wrists, wincing as blood and sensation rushed back into her hands.

  He sat up and grinned at her, blinking his bloodshot eyes.

  Poor fool.

  Bernie lunged at him, pinning him to the seat.

  He stared at her in shock. “What’s my part in this?”

  “Try not to die when the carriage rolls.” She panted as she
threw her herself against the side and the carriage rocked in that direction.

  The driver started cursing at them. “Wot you doing in there, ye bloody fools!”

  Bernie threw herself to the other side, her shoulder hitting the window and cracking the glass.

  Rupert gripped the seat. “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Bernie muttered. She held on as the coach swayed dangerously.

  “I’ve lost the reins,” the coachman hollered, his body flashing past the window as he dove from the seat.

  The horses bolted, the carriage rocking back and forth, the wood creaking in splintered screams.

  “You’re mad,” he screamed at her, holding on for dear life. “You’ll kill us both!”

  “I told you not to marry me. If you’d only listened, none of this would be necessary.” Her heart pounded. As the carriage began to fall apart around them, Bernie had a vision of her own body broken, splayed across the road. Is that how Chester would find her? Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, but what option did she have when she was alone, scared out of her mind, and her only goal was to get free?

  The horses whinnied with panic and Bernie said a prayer for them.

  Please don’t let them get hurt.

  She closed her eyes and launched herself toward the opposite wall. Colors shattered behind her eyelids as she hit the wall and her ears exploded with sound. Snapping wood, screaming horses, shouting. She was weightless and then tumbling.

  When she opened her eyes, all she could see was blindingly bright blue sky. Her entire body hurt and her lungs begged for air. She tried to take a breath but she couldn’t. Her eyes watered and she tried to cry out but nothing came. She closed her eyes. She’d done this to herself before when she’d tripped on the stairs and rolled down, landing on her back. Her wind had been knocked from her, that was all.

  Just breathe. Take one slow breath.

  She waited a moment, urging the clamoring of her heart to ease, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes, and then she slowly inhaled through her nose. Her lungs worked, expanding with her breath. She exhaled, shivering with relief.

  Next, she lay still and catalogued her body and where she might be hurt. She ached all over but not one place more than the other. She moved her hands and then her legs. No searing pain yet. She sat up, blinking, her vision blurring and then clearing. Pieces of the carriage lay around her and her ears began to ring. She looked around and saw the horses a few yards down the road, agitated but standing on all four legs.

  Thank God.

  She shook her head to clear it and saw Rupert, a few yards away, coming to his senses.

  She should run now. She staggered to her feet, her ankle making its complaints known by stabbing her with rusty nails as she put her weight on it. Her world spun, her temples throbbing like a galloping horse—no—she was hearing a galloping horse. She focused on the sound and a rider came around the bend, the horse eating the road with its hooves, billowing clouds from its nostrils like something from a nightmare.

  Bernie’s heart and lungs froze.

  Chester.

  She started to run, hitching her skirts to her knees and ignoring the stabbing pain of her ankle. Her only thought was of Chester. But then she passed Rupert, now sitting up, and some devil inside her made her do it. She slowed and with her good foot kicked him in his side.

  He yelped and fell flat again.

  Bernie took off running again, laughing. Whoever said to never hit a man when he’s down surely meant to exclude kidnappers in that proverb.

  Chester reined in his horse and jumped down and Bernie flew into his arms, crashing against him with a force that left her breathless. He squeezed her so tightly, spots floated before her eyes. Then he let her go and she sucked in a breath, her nose in his shirt, and her world righted itself. She was home. She was safe.

  “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

  “Well, yes, but I’m fine, truly. He didn’t do any permanent harm.”

  “I’m going to kill him,” Chester growled.

  “I’ll provide with you an alibi. Let’s just go.”

  “What happened here?”

  “It’s a long story. Can we just go?”

  “We can’t leave him here. He must face the magistrate for what he’s done.”

  “Did you pass the coachman? He dove off a ways back when he lost the reins.”

  “I didn’t see a coachman.”

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “I saw you from my window.”

  “You did?”

  “Did you think I’d let you leave and not watch you walk all the way to the castle?”

  “I will never refuse your escort again.”

  “I’m so glad it only took your kidnapping to learn that lesson. My father is coming behind me at a slower pace.”

  Bernie winced. “Truly? We must make haste and run then.”

  “No.” He kissed her forehead. “No more running.”

  She stared into her eyes, her heart glowing so brightly it must be visible through her skin. He smiled and bent to kiss her, but a single click, louder than all the sounds of nature, made both of them freeze.

  Chester looked past her. “Get behind me.”

  Bernie did, but not before looking back to see Rupert standing a few paces away holding a pistol.

  “Your idiocy knows no bounds,” she said loud enough for him to hear.

  Rupert shrugged. “I can’t let you go. I need that money. They will kill me this time if I don’t repay my debt in full.”

  “So let them,” Bernie said.

  “Quiet,” Chester whispered to her.

  “I’ll pay you,” he said to Rupert. “We can all walk away from this.”

  “She tried to kill me. She owes me.”

  “I did warn him,” Bernie whispered, peeking over Chester’s shoulder.

  Rupert was different than before, steadier, sober. Scarier. His desperation had reached its peak. His face had gone pale, and his eyes appeared all black. Bernie swallowed. Behind her, a carriage could be heard.

  “That is my father. Put your pistol down and we can return to Kirkland and you will be paid handsomely.”

  “I want more than what was promised.”

  Chester nodded. “You shall have it.”

  Rupert grinned. “Your father was willing to pay me to marry her, but how much more do you think he will pay for the life of his beloved son?”

  A chill went down Bernie’s spine. She hugged Chester from behind, spreading her hands over his chest as if she were his armor.

  “Back away from me,” he said, one hand inside his coat.

  Bernie could feel the bilk of a pistol there. “No. If he shoots you he shoots us both.”

  “Don’t do this.”

  The carriage came into view, grinding to a halt. The door launched open and Lord Kirkland shot out, hands raised, followed by her father. Lady Kirkland appeared in the door of the coach, visibly shaking.

  “Please, Rupert”—Lord Kirkland approached slowly—“this matter can be handled like gentlemen, with a good bottle of brandy and a cigar. How about we all return to Kirkland for some breakfast, eh?”

  Rupert’s gaze shifted to Lord Kirkland. “How much is your son worth to you? You promised one hundred pounds for the girl, but what of the life of your son? I’m thinking much more…thousands more.”

  Lady Kirkland moaned from the carriage. Bernie’s father rushed to her before she fell, catching her, helping her to her feet to sit in the entry of the carriage. The coachman remained still, one hand behind him. Bernie knew he must have a weapon. This was going to end in a maze of bullets with Chester in the middle if she didn’t think of something.

  “Go to her, Bernie. My father and I will deal with this,” Chester ordered.

  “Bernadette, come at once,” her father bid.

  Bernie shook her head and clung tighter. “I can’t.”

  “Go, we’ll see you back at Kirklan
d. All matters will be straightened out and will meet everyone’s needs accordingly.” Lord Kirkland waved her back.

  Rupert smirked. “Is that so? You haven’t answered my question. How much for his life? Five thousand?” He raised the gun up, aiming at Chester’s head. “Ten thousand?”

  Bernie shuddered. She tried to move to Chester’s front but he stopped her, holding her to his side.

  “Take her, Father.”

  Bernie attached himself to his arm. “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Come.” Lord Kirkland grabbed her shoulders. “Let the men deal with this matter.”

  “You started this!” Bernie snapped at him. She wiggled to Chester’s front. He held her arms as if to push her away but he didn’t.

  “For once, do as you are told,” he begged her, his gaze softening.

  “You’re telling me to get out of the way while someone holds a gun to you. I love you. If you die, I die.”

  He pressed his eyes closed. “Please go.”

  “I should kill both of you and save the world from that madwoman. What price to save them, Kirkland?”

  “Anything, dammit! Anything you want,” Lord Kirkland yelled.

  Rupert smirked, squinting as he aimed. “Give me a number. Let’s hammer out the details right here. Fifteen? I could do anything I wished with fifteen thousand pounds.”

  Bernie glared over her shoulder at him. She wished he’d broken his neck when the carriage overturned.

  “Take her.” Chester shoved her at his father, Bernie stumbled back, her ankle taking no more of her weight and rolling out. She screamed, the pain blinding her.

  Lord Kirkland caught her, but just as he did, the report of a pistol shot split the air. Bernie and Lord Kirkland fell to the ground together, Chester following them. More pistol fire rang out and Bernie covered her ears as Chester leapt over her. Lady Kirkland’s screaming filled the air.

  Then everything went silent.

  Bernie grabbed Chester, registering his breathing. He lifted his head, looking around.

  “Barnes?”

  “He’s dead, my lord.”

  Chester got off of Bernie. “Are you hurt?”