She dropped her reticule and shot out of her chair with a startled cry. “Royal, my God!”
They met halfway across the room. He swept her into a tight embrace, half lifting her off the floor. She threw her arms around his neck and burrowed close, clinging to him like moss to a tree.
“Royal, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” she choked out.
As relief flooded through his body, his muscles relaxed and his mind started to fully clear, now that he knew she was safe.
He checked her broken litany of apologies. “Hush, love. No more apologies, remember?”
She half swallowed a sob and nodded. But she maintained a deathlike grip on his shoulders.
“He didn’t hurt you?” he asked.
“I’m fine, and so is Tira.”
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs with a maid. And a guard.”
“That’s enough, Ainsley,” came a haughty voice from behind them. “Not another word. And step away from Kendrick immediately.”
Royal turned, still holding Ainsley in a loose embrace. The soldier in him was already taking over, walling off his emotions and helping him to focus on the enemy and the battle ahead.
The marquess stood on the other side of the formally appointed drawing room, looking as if he’d just dropped in for afternoon tea. He gently swung a quizzing glass in one hand. His demeanor was almost languid, as if bored by the scene playing out in front of him.
But his expression gave the lie to that. It was frozen in lines of utter hatred.
“I said, step away, Ainsley,” he repeated. “I allowed your good-byes to your erstwhile husband, but that’s over now. Do not make the mistake of disobeying me.”
She responded with a suggestion that turned Cringlewood’s face a bright red. It had Royal mentally blinking that she knew such language.
“Not a particularly helpful suggestion, love,” he murmured.
“Sorry,” she whispered, “but I’ve been holding that back for the last two hours. It simply had to come out.”
God, he loved her.
The marquess took a hasty step forward. “Ainsley, I order you—”
“You’re a bloody idiot, Cringlewood,” Royal interrupted. “You kidnapped my wife and my daughter. Step away from this now, or face the consequences.”
“Really? What might those be?”
“My brother, Lord Arnprior, will be taking legal action against both you and your men. You attacked my grandfather and abducted a woman and her child at gunpoint. You can’t possibly hope to get away with that.”
“Nonsense. Tira is my daughter, and her mother voluntarily chose to come rather than be separated from her child. Nothing illegal about any of that.”
“You coerced me,” Ainsley said. “You left me with no choice.”
“You came of your own free will, which I expect you to make clear to Kendrick and then we’ll be done with it. My intention is to leave for England tomorrow, taking my daughter with me. If I do so, however, you will never see Tira again. The choice is up to you.”
“You’ll never separate me from her,” Ainsley exclaimed. “No matter what.”
Cringlewood flashed a malicious smile. “Then the choice is made. In that case, we will remain in residence here for the obligatory six weeks, and then you can sue your husband for divorce. So, say good-bye to him now, Ainsley. It’s the last you’ll see of him for some time—possibly forever.”
She turned a white, anguished face up to Royal. “Can he really do that? Can he really keep me away from Tira if I don’t do what he wants? I can’t bear to lose her, not again.”
“No one will take her away from us, I promise,” Royal replied.
“Kendrick, you are as big a fool as I thought.” The marquess glanced at Smith. “Get them out of here, and make sure it hurts.”
“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Royal said. “The Kendricks have friends in high places. Lady Arnprior, in particular, has a great deal of influence.”
The flicker in Cringlewood’s gaze told Royal he’d scored a hit. The marquess obviously knew of Victoria’s close connection to the royal family.
A moment later, however, he shrugged it off. “I also have connections in high places, Kendrick. And, in case you’ve forgotten, the law is on my side. Tira is my daughter, not yours.”
Ainsley breathed out a tiny, heartbreaking whimper.
“There’s another way to handle this,” Royal said. “One that doesn’t involve dragging in various members of the royal family, which I’m sure would be unpleasant for everyone.”
Cringlewood’s mouth twitched with displeasure. “I’m losing my patience, Kendrick.”
“I challenge you to a duel, right now.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Pistols? You must be joking.”
“No, swords.”
“He brung this along.” The thug held up Royal’s short sword.
The marquess stared at it for a moment, then laughed. “Madness, even for a Scotsman. Why would I bother dueling with you when I have everything I want?”
Royal let go of Ainsley and stepped in front of her. “Because if you don’t, I’ll hound you to the ends of the earth and destroy your life. My family will destroy your family, and by the time we’re through, there will be nothing left of your ridiculous name but bitterness and ashes. And,” he said, taking another step forward, “you will never lay hands on my wife again. My wife, never yours.”
The marquess glared at him, his complexion mottled with rage as he wavered in silence.
“Ah, you’re a coward,” Royal said. “But we already know that.”
“What do ye expect from a Sassenach ?” Angus said with a dramatic sigh.
“Give Kendrick back his sword,” Cringlewood snapped to Smith’s henchman. “And go fetch mine from my luggage. My valet will know where it is.”
“What are you doing?” Ainsley hissed, yanking on Royal’s sleeve. “Cringlewood is an accomplished fencer, and he doesn’t have a bad leg.”
“I’m better, even with the limp,” he whispered back.
“But he trained with the best Italian masters. He’s incredibly good.”
“I trained on the battlefield. I’m better.”
“But—”
He turned and dropped a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, as he always did when he wished to comfort her. “Love, I know what I’m doing. Please trust me.”
She breathed out a funny little growl. “I do, you impossible man. Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
“You should listen to her, Kendrick,” the marquess said as he struggled out of his tight-fitting tailcoat. “She knows I’m lethal with the blade.”
“You’re a braggart, too, I see,” Royal said.
He glanced at Angus, who stood near the door under Smith’s guard. The old man gave a tiny shake of the head. Royal mentally cursed, since his grandfather had yet to hear any indication from downstairs of their impending rescue.
They waited in fraught silence until the thug returned, carrying a highly ornamented scabbard.
“I suggest you prepare,” Cringlewood said as he rolled back his ridiculously frilled cuffs.
Royal turned to his wife. “Please return to your chair, love.”
She grimaced. “But I have—”
“Now, Ainsley.”
She muttered another earthy curse and stomped back to her chair. She grabbed her reticule and plopped down on the seat, glaring at him.
“That’s my girl,” Royal said, unable to repress a smile.
The lethal hum of a blade swishing through air had him turning around. Predictably, Cringlewood was warming up with a series of extravagant flourishes and parries, no doubt hoping to frighten him. Royal thought he looked like a bloody ponce, but there was no doubt the man was skilled. The duel would be far from a stroll in the park.
Royal stripped off his coat and rolled up his sleeves.
After Smith directed the other thug to push the chaise and a few ch
airs out of the way, the combatants moved to the center of the room.
“Good luck, lad,” Angus called.
“You’ll need it, with that leg of yours,” Cringlewood said with a sneer.
Royal brought up his sword. “En garde.”
They engaged with a hiss of Sheff ield steel, blade sliding on blade. Royal immediately lunged, using the strength in his arm and wrist to push hard, forcing the marquess to fall back. The man recovered with a skillful parry, holding his own against Royal’s risky, full-on attack.
His leg wouldn’t hold up for long. He had to take Cringlewood out quickly or hope Logan would appear in time to save them.
Even though Royal kept up a fierce pace, Cringlewood was as skilled as he’d boasted. He parried with dexterity, escaping the lethal slide of Royal’s blade again and again as their boots alternately pounded with a lunge or slid when they disengaged.
The minutes stretched in a dangerous and swift thrust and parry of steel. Royal’s focus narrowed to the tip of the blades and the reach of Cringlewood’s arm. The chance of death didn’t matter. All that mattered was saving his wife and daughter. If he had to die, so be it.
He blinked sweat from his eyes and saw an opening. Disengaging, he passed his blade under Cringlewood’s point and slashed through the man’s right sleeve. The marquess cursed and fell back, allowing Royal a few precious moments to catch his breath.
Smith leveled his pistol at Royal, obviously preparing to defend his master if necessary.
“Here, now,” barked Angus, turning on the man. “Ye’ll not be—”
A thundering crash and a shout from somewhere in the house froze them all in their tracks.
“What the hell was that?” the other thug yelped.
Royal wiped his brow on his sleeve. “You’ll see. Best give it up now, Cringlewood.”
“One of you, go see what’s going on,” the marquess ordered.
Smith jerked his head at his henchman, who lumbered out the door. Angus smiled at Royal and casually reached for the top of his boot.
“It’s done, Cringlewood,” Royal said. “Those are my men. They’ll be up here momentarily.”
“Too late for you, unfortunately,” the marquess snarled.
Cringlewood lunged, and the point of his blade flashed dangerously close to Royal’s shoulder, forcing him to twist violently to the side. His thigh muscles cramped, and blazing pain shot up his leg. He stumbled, falling heavily against the chaise.
The marquess let out a breathless laugh and pressed forward, his eyes blazing with triumph. Royal dragged his blade up, trying to block him, but he was exposed. He was . . .
Boom.
Gunshot echoed off the walls.
The marquess jerked, and dropped his blade. He swayed as a red stain bloomed in his shoulder, spreading rapidly.
With a snarl, Smith turned and pointed his weapon at Ainsley. “You bitch!”
But a moment later, Smith let out a startled yell. He staggered forward a few steps before crashing heavily to the floor. The handle of a knife stuck out from his back at a wicked angle, having been neatly slid under his ribs. Smith gurgled and thrashed for a few moments, then lay still.
“You killed him,” Cringlewood gasped.
“Aye, looks like it.” Angus stooped to retrieve his blade.
Cringlewood’s gaze filmed over with shock and astonishment. The color drained from his face as the bloodstain spread from his shoulder down to his chest.
“I suggest you sit down,” Royal said as he kicked Cringlewood’s sword out of the way.
The marquess staggered around to stare at Ainsley, who was standing by her chair.
“You . . . you shot me,” he croaked.
She finally lowered the small pistol. “And I would do it again,” she said in a voice that barely trembled at all. “No one hurts the man I love.”
“Good for ye, lass,” Angus said. “That’s a nice little popper ye have there. Where did ye find it?”
“I had it stowed in my reticule. They never thought to search it.”
“You goddamn whore,” Cringlewood choked out.
Royal grabbed the marquess by the back of his shirt. “That’s enough out of you,” he said, shoving him onto the chaise.
Cringlewood yelped and collapsed into a half swoon.
Ainsley rushed across the room and threw herself into Royal’s arms. “Are you all right?”
He held on as tightly as he could, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. “I’m fine, my love, thanks to you. You truly saved the damn day.”
“As usual.” Then she pulled back to anxiously inspect him, and a sob caught in her throat. “I thought he was going to kill you.”
“Nay, lass, Royal would have gotten the better of him in the end,” Angus said. “Although yer intervention was most timely,” he added when Royal stared at him with disbelief.
“Tira’s upstairs under guard,” Ainsley said. “We need to get up there.”
“I’ve got her,” said Logan, striding through the door with a cashmere-swaddled bundle. “All is well.”
With a cry, Ainsley hurried over to him, and Logan carefully placed Tira in her arms.
“She slept through the whole thing,” he said, “even when I tossed the guard into the wall. The wee lass is a grand sleeper, she is.”
“What took you so long?” Royal asked his brother.
“Sorry. Just a spot of trouble in the kitchen with one of the guards, but it’s all sorted now.”
Ainsley nestled the baby against her chest. “Can we go now, please?” she asked Royal.
“Yes.” He nudged Cringlewood with his boot. “Wake up, you idiot.”
The marquess roused long enough to glare up at him. “I’ll see you hang for this, Kendrick.”
“If you ever come near my wife or daughter again, I will slit your throat. I’d gladly hang to protect them, Cringlewood. Don’t forget that.”
“Royal, time to get a move on,” Logan said.
As he passed Smith’s body, Royal threw Angus a glance. “Good work, but it’s unfortunate you had to kill him.”
His grandfather shrugged. “Didn’t want to take any chances with the bastard.”
“True, but it’s thrown a spanner in the works,” Logan said as he led them down the hall. “It’ll be harder to hush this up with a dead body lying about.”
“Och, Nick will handle it,” Angus said, not sounding particularly bothered.
When Royal put an arm around Ainsley to guide her down the stairs, she gave him a worried glance. “What’s going to happen now? The marquess is sure to send for the magistrate and anyone else he can think of.”
“Just watch your step, sweetheart. We didn’t go through all this trouble to see you pitch headfirst down the stairs.”
“Wretch,” she said with a reluctant smile. “You’re the one who needs to be careful. You hurt your leg, didn’t you?”
“It doesn’t feel particularly good at the moment, but I’ll recover.”
“Don’t ever scare me like that again, Mr. Kendrick.”
“I might say the same to you, Mrs. Kendrick.”
Henderson was standing by the front door, next to Lady Montgomery’s footman.
“Everything all right, Henderson?” Logan asked.
“Yes, sir. The rest of the villains are tied up and locked in the pantry, and I’ve explained the situation to the butler and the housekeeper. Needless to say, they are extremely perturbed by Lord Cringlewood’s gross abuse of Lady Montgomery’s hospitality.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Logan said wryly.
Royal nodded to the footman. “Lord Cringlewood will need a surgeon, and with some urgency. You might want to inform her ladyship’s butler.”
“But not too quickly,” Angus added.
“We don’t need another dead body on our hands, Grandda,” Royal said.
“I’ll take care of it, sir,” the footman weakly responded.
Royal escorted Ainsley out to th
e waiting carriage. Angus climbed in first, then turned to take the baby.
“Henderson can go with you,” Logan said. “I’ll round up the others and meet you back at the house.”
Ainsley put a hand on Logan’s arm. “Thank you, sir. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
He briefly enfolded her in his massive embrace. “Just make that brother of mine happy. That’ll be thanks enough.”
“I’ll do my best,” she said with a teary little sniff. “Although I’m clearly a terrible wife.”
“Don’t be daft.” Royal picked her up by the waist and plopped her onto the carriage step. “In with you, now.”
Once she was inside, he hauled himself up and settled next to her with a quiet groan.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked, twisting to get a good look at him.
His leg was killing him, but he didn’t give a tinker’s damn. “I’ve never been better.”
“You’re lying,” she fussed. “We need to get you to a doctor.”
He put an arm around her shoulder. “Hush, love. I’ve got you and Tira back, and that’s all that matters. Everything else can wait.”
Angus, who’d drawn back Tira’s shawl for a quick inspection, gave a satisfied nod. “Aye, and ye both seem fine, thank the good Lord.” Then he sniffed. “Although I’m thinkin’ the wee one might need a change. She’s smellin’ a bit ripe.”
Ainsley let out a watery laugh. “I didn’t have a chance to change her, what with the kidnapping and dueling and such.”
“God, Ainsley,” Royal said, hugging her close. “I’m so sorry I put you through that. Can you ever forgive me?”
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she said, her voice muffled against his coat. “I should have told you the truth long ago.”
“You did nothing wrong. You were trying to protect your daughter and yourself in the best way you knew how. I was simply too pigheaded to see it.”
“Maybe just a little bit,” she said. “But I didn’t wish to criticize.”
“He gets that trait from the Kendrick side of the family,” Angus said with a twinkle. “Thick as planks, the lot of them.”
The Highlander Who Protected Me (Clan Kendrick #1) Page 38