by Meara Platt
“Very.” He came to her side and knelt beside her. “Edgeware insists on witnessing our wedding ceremony. We’ll go to St. Mary’s at matins. After that, it’s just us. Here. For the next few days.”
She nodded. “With nothing to do.”
He grinned. “We’ll think of something to occupy our time. Edgeware will send word once it’s safe for us to return to London.”
“Life will seem quite tame after this.”
“I know, brat.” He ran his knuckles across her cheek in a gentle caress. “But we’ll be married. And since we’re both stubborn and opinionated, I’m sure life will not be all that quiet for us.”
She laughed softly. “I’ll do my best to make certain it never gets dull. Nor will I truly rest easy until Somersby and his band of ruffians are captured and brought to trial.”
“They will be. Prinny and Edgeware will make certain of it. But there’s something else.” He cleared his throat. “I intended to hold off mentioning it until after our wedding, but I think you ought to know. I don’t want any secrets between us.”
Was he going to mention Selena? Admit they were more than fellow agents?
“The night my parents died…”
Nicola’s heart tugged. Of course, this wasn’t about Selena. John was the Earl of Hearts. One love. One woman.
He took a deep breath. “I vowed to avenge their deaths. I will not break that vow.”
She didn’t quite understand his point, so she kept silent and simply nodded to encourage him to continue.
“I’ve been investigating that crime for years now and haven’t turned up a single clue as to the identity of their killer.”
“I’m so sorry, John. That beast put those scars on you, didn’t he?”
He nodded. “I don’t care about those. What I care about is the conspiracy of silence that’s surrounded their murders. I think the royal family knows who did it. I think Prinny is ready to tell me now. That’s the reward I will ask of him, assuming there is any reward offered. That’s the truth I will demand from him.”
Now she understood. “Then you will go off and kill this man. You won’t seek a trial. You will be his judge and executioner.”
“Justice will be done.”
She cupped his cheek in her hand, needing to touch him as she spoke. His pain was so evident, it shattered her heart. But that pain would not allow him to think clearly on this extremely important matter. “John, why would Prinny suddenly do this after all these years of silence? Be careful. Things may not be as they seem.”
He drew away from her side and began to pace in front of her. “What are you suggesting?”
“The Prince Regent knows that if he gives you a name, that man will be dead before the week is out. What if he gives you the wrong name? What if he and the royal family are merely using you as an unwitting assassin?”
“I’d know if they were. That man’s face is etched into my nightmares. I see the burning evil in his eyes. I see his vile grin as he wields his knife. I hear his demented laughter. He showed my parents no mercy.” His voice began to shake with anger and so did his hands. “I’ve said enough.” He crossed to the table and poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle remaining from their supper.
He gulped down its contents in one swallow and was about to pour himself another when Nicola came to his side and took his hands in hers. “Leave it, John. I know how painful reliving those moments must be for you. Wine won’t dull your pain.”
He glanced at the bottle and then shrugged. “Those memories go away when I’m drunk.”
“Always?”
“No. Sometimes they do.”
“But they come roaring back when you’re sober again.”
“What’s your point?”
“Your pain is not about being drunk or sober. Indeed, I’ve rarely seen you drink more than a pint of ale or a glass of wine. I doubt you drink when on assignment unless you’re trying to fool someone, in which case, you probably spill the contents of your glass into a potted fern or some such useful vessel. This is about your thirst for revenge. Plain and simple.”
“You won’t talk me out of it.” He frowned at her, obviously angry. “Beg out of the marriage if you want. But I’m going to kill that man as soon as Prinny gives me his name.”
“I can’t beg out. Not that I would ever want to. I love you. I could be carrying your child, for all we know. And if I am, then why are you determined to do the stupidest thing imaginable?”
“I made a vow and I’m going to see it through.” His eyes were still blazing, but she knew him well enough to understand that her words had struck home.
“To whom did you make this vow? To yourself in memory of your parents? The best revenge is not administering death. The best revenge is happiness. Your happiness.” She ignored his continued glower and put her hands on his shoulders. She felt the ripples of tension coursing through him like a dangerous ocean undercurrent. “Do you think your parents want you to be just like the man who took their lives? Or do you think they want to look down from heaven and see you holding your own son in your arms and smiling with joy?”
“Damn it, Nicola. I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“Yes, you did. When you took me into your heart the first time you kissed me. When you gave me your heart the first time we… you know.”
Despite his obvious turmoil, he managed a grin. “Made love?”
She cleared her throat. “Yes. That. And when you confided in me just now. You wanted me to talk you out of it. Deep in your heart, you know it isn’t right. This isn’t who you want to be.”
He stared at her for the longest time, his hunter-predator eyes boring into her. “You think our first child will be a son?”
She laughed as she let out the breath she’d been holding. “Or a daughter. There’s a solid chance it will be one or the other.”
“I’ll think about what you said.” He took her in his arms and held her in a remarkably gentle embrace. “Let’s go to bed. We have a wedding to go to in a couple of hours.”
“You still want to marry me?” She had forced these horrid and bitter memories out of him, and he couldn’t be pleased with her right now. But he’d kept his heart wrapped in darkness for too long. It was time for him to heal.
“Yes. Even more so now.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her to bed. “But you’re still an irritating brat.”
CHAPTER 17
THE CHAPEL WAS a beautiful, stone structure with stained glass windows and graceful archways, but there was no heat in the place, so Nicola was glad she’d worn the plain woolen gown John had purchased for her on their first day on the run. Perhaps some of the new purchases would arrive for her today, but her only choices when dressing this morning had been this sturdy, brown wool or the delicate, beaded silk she’d worn at Somersby’s lodge.
There was no question.
She was never going to wear that silk gown again.
“You look lovely,” the Duke of Edgeware said, seemingly sincere as he politely bowed over her hand. But his gaze was sharp and assessing, no doubt trying to figure out what charm she held for John, for it could not have been apparent.
John said nothing, looking more like a man who just wanted to get this nuisance of a wedding out of the way. But when it came time to exchange their vows, he took her hand in his and his gaze turned soft and tender. “I take thee, Nicola Jennifer Emory…”
His voice held steady and there was no hesitation as he repeated the holy vows.
She did the same.
When the brief ceremony was over, the witness registry signed, and Edgeware off to London, John grinned at her. “You’re Lady Bainbridge now. Legal. Official. Unbreakable. How does it feel, brat?”
“As though I ought to be wearing a lorgnette and looking down my nose at everyone.” She shook her head and laughed. “I didn’t think it would feel different from our Scottish handfasting, but it does. I’m respectable according to English law. It is truly final and irrevocab
le. But it feels good, John. It feels very good.”
“Mutual, brat,” he said and kissed her lightly on the nose. “Now, to get us back to the inn without being seen.”
She sensed the moment his demeanor shifted from doting husband to hunter-predator again. Well, John was never the sort to dote. A smile. A squeeze of the hand. Those little gestures were the equivalent of fawning over her. But at night, when he took her in his arms, she knew he loved her.
What would these next few days bring? They weren’t like most newlyweds. There would be no wedding breakfast. There would be no family around to congratulate them. There might be a lot of lovemaking since they’d be confined to the inn for days. She couldn’t be sure, for John was just as likely to behave like a caged tiger, growling and pacing, and wearing a hole through the carpet.
“The sun’s up,” John muttered, regaining her attention.
She glanced up at the blue sky and the sun glistening off the sea. The waves and whitecaps, visible from the church steps, shone like silver. The harbor was filled with ships of all sizes, their masts still and bells lightly clanging with the ebb and flow of the water.
They weren’t far from the inn, only needing to turn a few corners and walk down a few streets that ran parallel to the dock. She held on to John’s arm as they walked along the narrow alleys, but noticed that he had his free hand poised on his weapon.
He suddenly stopped. “Get behind me, Nicola.”
They were in sight of the inn.
She wanted to ask a thousand questions, but this wasn’t the time. She obeyed and hurriedly moved behind him. “What do you see, John?”
“Nothing, but it doesn’t feel right.”
If John’s instincts were on alert, that was good enough for her. She held her breath. She made no protest when he nudged her into a shadowed doorway, understanding that he meant to hide her from view. “Stay here. Don’t move.” He handed her a pistol. “If more than one man approaches you, aim for the leader’s chest. It’s a bigger target.”
“What?” But he was off before she could protest, leaving her scared and worried, and holding his pistol in her inexperienced grip.
He’d told her not to move.
She meant to obey.
But as the minutes wore on, she grew concerned.
The streets were fairly quiet, for the hour was still early. Most villagers were not yet up and about. Suddenly, several men ran past her. They’d come from the direction of the Three Cups Inn. Another man ran past her. They looked like frightened locals.
A woman stopped another man as he ran by and asked what was happening. “There’s a fight. Some blokes are killing a man.”
John!
Nicola ran toward the inn. Her heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t hear her own footsteps pounding on the cobblestones. She rounded the corner and saw nothing. Where was the fight?
A barrel rolled toward her from a nearby alleyway. She hopped over it and ran to the alley. Six men had John. Another six lay on the floor unconscious. Mother in heaven! Twelve altogether. Who was their leader? Shoot him and the others will run. That’s what John had told her.
Which one was the leader?
Then she knew, for the coward stepped forward only after his cohorts had pinned John down. He raised his knife to stab John.
She was not going to be a widow on her wedding day.
“Let go of my husband,” she ordered, aiming the pistol John had given her at the villain’s chest. She closed her eyes and heard a loud burst emanating from its barrel. It echoed off the alley walls. She quickly opened her eyes again and saw the man she’d fired at turn to her. His eyes widened in astonishment. She lowered her gaze to his chest. Blood seeped from his shirt and dripped onto the ground.
He fell to his knees.
Her own knees began to buckle.
Mother in heaven! She’d just shot a man.
Two of his cohorts fled past her, making no attempt to disarm her. They simply ran. But others remained. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and began to shout. “The dragoons have been summoned. Over here! Over here, Captain!” Nicola began waving her arms frantically.
The remaining men fled, leaving their leader sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood. The men John had managed to knock senseless before she’d arrived were also motionless on the ground. But they weren’t dead. She ran to John, knowing she had to get him out of the alley before any of those men revived. She also couldn’t risk those other fleeing scoundrels realizing she’d tricked them and returning.
There was no regiment of soldiers coming to save her or John.
“John!” She knelt beside him, afraid to move him, but she had to get him away from here fast. Her eyes began to cloud with tears. She wasn’t certain that he was still alive. Then he moaned. “Thank goodness. Can you walk? Lean on me.”
“Damn it. I told you to stay put.”
“Shut up, you big oaf. Shout at me all you want afterward. Let me get you to safety. You look wretched. Is your nose broken?”
“Nothing’s broken. Somersby’s here. He went in search of you. I have to kill him first.”
“You can’t even stand on your own. Forget Somersby for now. We have to hide you and treat your wounds.”
“But Somersby—”
“He’s desperate to get his book back. He thinks we still have it. Let him waste his time ransacking our room at the inn. You know this town. Where can we go?”
“Bainbridge offices. Hampton Street.”
Nicola flagged down a passing cart. “I’m Lady Bainbridge. There’s a fifty pound reward in it for you if you can get us to Hampton Street at once.”
The driver stared down the alley and then back at her. “And who’s that bloke limpin’ toward you?”
John looked awful, but he was up and moving, so she breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s my husband. The Earl of Bainbridge.”
“I’m not gettin’ m’self mixed up in—”
He abruptly stopped talking. Nicola didn’t understand why until she turned around and saw that John was pointing his pistol at the man’s head. It was empty, of course. She’d already spent the shot. But the cart driver didn’t know it. “You heard my wife. Take us to Hampton Street.”
The man swallowed hard. “Hop on, m’lord.”
Within the quarter hour, they drew up in front of a stately building that had a fenced-in rear yard. A big, burly guard ran forward to assist John out of the cart, two dogs lapping at his heels. “Yer lordship! Let me help you down. What curs attacked you?”
“Never mind about that, Harry. Just get my wife inside.”
The driver raised his fist as the guard hurried to obey John’s command. “What about m’reward!”
Nicola blushed. “I promised him fifty pounds.”
John groaned. “This is turning into a perfect day. You could have offered him two shillings and he would have taken it.”
She tipped her head up in indignation. “Your life is worth more than that.” But she was relieved that he was cantankerous enough to complain about the expense. “Let’s get you cleaned up and your injuries treated.”
He hopped off the cart on his own, told the cart driver to wait, and then grabbed Nicola’s arm and limped inside.
The guard he’d called Harry followed after them.
John led her to an expansive office that she knew must be his. The desk was of solid mahogany, as were the bookshelves. His chair was of finest brown leather. There was a safe embedded in the wall. He went to it and withdrew the reward money. “Harry, give it to the driver. Tell him I’ll come after him if he dares tell anyone he saw us.”
He sank down in the chair the moment Harry ambled off.
Nicola took a step toward him. “Let me see—”
“Don’t.” He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck and scowled at her. “You might have been killed.”
“And you were definitely going to be killed. I saved your life. A thank you is in order.”
He glow
ered at her. “You disobeyed my orders.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Are you surprised? Did you seriously expect me to hide and do nothing?”
She expected a surly retort from him, but he buried his face in his hands and didn’t move for the longest time. “John,” she finally said in a ragged whisper and hesitantly moved closer to him.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her onto his lap.
He still said nothing.
“John, I’m so sorry. But I couldn’t let you die. I had to fight. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Let me see your injuries. Is your hand broken? How about your ribs? Let me see your eye.”
But when she tipped his head up, she caught her breath. There were tears in his eyes.
She started to edge off his lap, but he stopped her. “No, brat. Stay.”
She was going to ask if she could wet his handkerchief to wipe the blood off him, but he started to talk first. “I was six years old the night my parents were killed.”
She drew in a breath.
“We’d been living in Ireland all those years. My father was the king’s emissary and in charge of the daily communications between Dublin and London. Something important was going on, so my parents and I were invited to stay at the ambassador’s residence that evening. Men broke in. I still don’t know whether my father was the intended target. I don’t know if they cared. If you were English, you were going to die.”
Nicola’s hand was shaking as she set it gently on his arm.
“They killed him brutally while we watched. My father’s pistol had fallen out of his coat pocket and lay at my mother’s feet. She wouldn’t pick it up to shoot the villain. So I picked it up, but the shot went wide. I was too little and the pistol recoiled. All I could hear was their laughter. All I could see was the blood. First my father’s and then my mother’s.”
“John…”
“I’m not angry with you, Nicola. I’m relieved that you’re not helpless. I’m relieved that this morning did not turn into a tragedy similar to the night my parents died. But this latest encounter has shaken me to the depths of my soul. I can’t lose you. I’m going after Somersby before he hurts you.”