Emma wanted nothing more than for this episode to be complete. Having turned five-and-twenty, she wanted nothing more than to be in London. Her birthday had been a sad affair with Alistair offering to make it grand, even presenting her with a small parcel she had not bothered to accept. She wanted all this behind her. She wanted their marriage resolved in some manner that might suit them both, and she wanted to return to the country to live out the rest of her life in peace.
Hamish strode by and led one of their old horses away. He glanced at her and jerked his head to the remaining horses where MacKenzie was reattaching another. They would have only one horse remaining. They were nearly free. The thought caused her tension to ease somewhat.
“It is only that you have a considerable amount of cravats, my lord,” Jefferson said. “Even for an earl.”
“Am I being admonished for the number of cravats I own?” Alistair rounded on Constable Wiggins. “I will not abide by this impudence. I have done as you asked, I have entertained your request to show you what we travel with and have gone so far as to lift the trunk that you might view the effects within. I will refuse, however, to allow your man to paw about my belongings. I believe this concludes your curiosity regarding my cargo.”
Constable Wiggins’ pink face went to a new shade of red. “Of course. Jefferson, we must let—”
“What if I were to knock on the side of your cart?” Jefferson narrowed his eyes. He bent down with intent.
Beast leapt at him, tail wagging, and lapped at his face as if all of this were the greatest fun. Jefferson reared back, wiping at his cheek while Beast pranced about him with a wide grin.
The final horse was being removed from its tethers and they were nearly clear. Emma could not allow them to be caught. Not when they were so close to escape.
Swiftly, before she could change her mind, she unfastened her mother’s emerald bracelet from her wrist. “Constable Wiggins, our swift departure is one of great urgency and importance.” She handed him the bracelet. “Take this by means of our appreciation for allowing us to return on our journey.”
She’d had a tale ready to spin about a sister who was in a delicate way and of dire circumstances urging Emma’s presence in London. However, it was not necessary. The constable’s eyes lit up and her mother’s delicate emerald and pearl bracelet disappeared into his fleshy hand in the snap of a second.
He waved off Jefferson before the man could attempt to rap upon the side of the cart once more. “We’ve occupied enough of Lord and Lady Benton’s time.”
The lanky man straightened. “But—”
“That is all.” Constable Wiggins cast him a glare and then bowed elegantly to Emma. “Good day to you, my lady.”
She smiled. “Thank you for your consideration, Constable Wiggins.”
He grinned up at her and spun to collect Jefferson. It wasn’t until they were both walking away that Emma could finally breathe once more. Alistair closed the trunk and pulled down the cart’s canvas over it, securing their secret. He didn’t speak until they were once more on their way. Beast panted from where he lay between their feet, happily oblivious of the threat.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Emma.” He looked pointedly at her empty wrist.
She missed the comforting weight of the bracelet with a poignancy she did not care to dwell on at present, not when her emotions already boiled over.
“It was your mother’s.” He shook his head. “I would have gotten us out of this.”
“And if you hadn’t, the price was too great.” Emma tried to swallow down the ache in her throat. “I may be angry with you, Alistair, but I could not bear the thought of seeing you hanged.”
She focused on the trees passing outside the window rather than let his desperate gaze search hers for something he might use. She couldn’t let him see what she already knew herself. Inasmuch as she could no longer trust him, through his betrayal and the agony she’d endured at his actions, she still loved him.
Chapter 16
It was on the outskirts of London that the carriage slowed. Far too soon to be arriving within the city and encountering the congestion on the busy streets. Alistair glanced out the window, where nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
“What is it ye want?” Hamish asked from outside.
A man’s voice replied, muffled.
The hair along the back of Alistair’s neck rose on end. Something was amiss. Beast issued forth a low growl.
Emma sat forward to brush a soothing hand over his hackles. “What is it?”
Alistair shook his head and motioned for her to stay where she was. The door flew open and a man with dark hair stood before them. Jefferson, the Runner from the village they had stopped at the day before.
“I knew you were hiding something, but I didn’t think it was with your missus.” He jerked his head at her. “Come on with you then. You’re being arrested on account of the murder of Jenny Feldings.”
“Jenny,” Emma gasped. “No, I didn’t—”
“It’s not my job to convict, only to see you brought in.”
Beast snarled and crept forward with a ferocious demeanor Alistair had never seen. Jefferson’s lip curled back and he pointed the pistol at the dog.
“Stop.” Emma leapt to her feet, at least as much as one can in their limited confines. “Stop, leave him be. I’ll come with you, only please put the gun aside.” Before Alistair could stop her, she eased outside.
She gave a sharp gasp and Alistair flew out after her. Not ten paces away stood her uncle, his thick brows furrowed forward.
Two other Runners stood near the cart with guns aimed at MacKenzie and Hamish. They were surrounded.
“You couldn’t hide forever, niece.” Evans put his hands in his pockets and slowly approached in a menacing manner. He caught sight of Alistair and chuckled with a shake of his head. “You. I should’ve known it was you who helped her out of the house. It had to have been someone.”
“I did not kill Jenny.” Emma glared at him. “It was you. And Conrad. The servants can vouch for me.”
The snobbish blond man Alistair remembered from when they searched the house party stepped forward with a sneer on his face. “The servants have been sacked for aiding in your escape and have been imprisoned. It’s against the law to aid a murderer.”
Emma staggered as if she’d received a blow and Alistair winced for her pain.
“Evans hired us,” Jefferson said, pointing to Emma’s Uncle. “We’ve been searching for you for a long time. Even your servants didn’t know where you’d gone.”
“Don’t you want to know how I found you?” Evans crooned. He lifted an item from his pocket. It glinted in the late afternoon sun, but Alistair immediately recognized it. Emma would as well. His stomach sank.
Her mother’s bracelet.
“If you were so innocent, you would not have bribed a constable to allow you to escape.” He smirked. “Fortunately they both recognized you from the papers. This evidence gave me exactly what I required to ensure it was actually you.”
“That wasn’t why she gave him her bracelet,” Alistair said. Everyone turned their focus on him. Emma shook her head.
“You were right, Jefferson,” he nodded to the Runner, appealing to his ego. “The cart is amiss. As is the carriage.”
Jefferson perked to attention.
“Don’t do this, Alistair,” Emma whispered. “I can’t let you do this.” Her blue eyes swam with tears and a worry he’d grown too familiar with himself. “I love you,” she whispered.
God, such words from such a woman could bring a man to his knees. He gritted his teeth against the powerful pleasure of her words. “And I love you,” he said raggedly. “Which is exactly why I’m doing this.”
“What’s in there?” Jefferson prodded, stalking closer. “What is it?”
“Run,” Alistair said softy. “Run as far as you can and don’t you dare come back. Go, and know I love ye more than anything else in all the world.”
<
br /> “It’s whisky,” he said aloud. “Twenty casks of it. Go on, have a look.”
The Runners lowered their guns and moved forward with interest. Twenty casks was a great portion to transport. Alistair inclined his head at MacKenzie, who had remained where he sat at the driver’s seat. This was what they had discussed, how MacKenzie would see Emma safe if things when awry.
She shook her head. “Please don’t do this,” she whispered.
“It’s done.” Alistair stared down at her and memorized every sweet line of her face from her impassioned blue eyes to the lush fullness of the lips he’d spent the two weeks missing. “I love ye.”
She opened her mouth, but whatever she might have said was interrupted by the lid of the trunk smacking open.
MacKenzie tried to get Emma to go with him, but she shook her head. The valet met Alistair’s eye and Alistair nodded once more. No matter what, Emma must be saved. He didn’t make this sacrifice for nothing.
Mackenzie grabbed Emma around the waist, covered her mouth, and dragged her away. Beast shuffled after them with his tail tucked between his legs, the anxious dart of his worried expression indicative of his confusion and fear. At least he would be safe along with MacKenzie and Emma.
Evans spun from the cart and narrowed his eyes. “Where is my niece?”
The Runners ignored him in their excitement over the obvious hidden compartment within the trunk. Alistair approached the cart, stood before Jefferson, and tripped the secret latch to expose the whisky.
“Amazing.” Jefferson opened the second and yanked out stacks of waistcoats.
A crack split the air, deafeningly loud, and something whizzed past Alistair’s face. He jerked back in time to see a spray of red mist to the right of Jefferson’s head.
The Runner fell to the ground at an awkward angle, blood pooling under his temple.
In that one moment of shock, the world stood motionless, every eye drifting to Emma’s uncle where he stood holding the smoking weapon in his hand. He tilted the gun as if in simple apology. “I meant to kill him.” He pointed to Alistair. “My niece is getting away, and not a one of you fools would listen.”
His son lifted a pistol and shot the Runner nearest him. His aim was better than his father’s and the man crumpled forward. One witness to Evans’ crime forever silenced.
The third Runner fired a shot, a wild, panicked attempt that disappeared into the surrounding meadow. Fear showed in his eyes. He backed away slowly and ducked behind the cart for better coverage.
“Get down,” Alistair gritted out to Hamish. He was too late. Evans swung the discharged weapon at Hamish and landed a solid blow along the man’s temple. He fell to the ground and did not rise.
“I’m going to kill the lot of them and put their deaths on you, Scotsman,” Evans said, approaching. “Tell them how you panicked to save your whisky and killed the lot of them. I shot you and lived on to tell the tale.” He grinned. “I emerge a hero. A very wealthy hero.”
Alistair threw himself to the grass, directly beside Jefferson’s body.
Evans’ son knelt to claim the other fallen Runner’s gun and lifted it while shooting in a deft motion. The third Runner fell.
The breath huffed out of Alistair where his face lay against the soil. He wasn’t a betting man, but even he knew his odds in this game were dismal. And then he remembered one thing that might be a pivoting point. Jefferson’s pistol had not yet been fired.
***
Emma flinched at the crack of gunfire. There had been four shots. Dear Heavens. Four shots.
Beast hugged himself to the ground and trembled.
“Alistair.” Her cry was muffled against MacKenzie’s hand. She struggled in earnest, shoving and kicking, whatever she could do to make him release his hold. Her elbow connected with his solid body and he gave a surprised oof. His grip relaxed for a hair of a second, but it was all she needed.
She spun around. “We cannot leave them there to die, MacKenzie. Surely we can save them.”
His worried expression said everything she felt. “Stay here. Ye canna come with me.”
She pulled her dagger free, the one Alistair had lent her when they met, the one she’d secured to her belt under Madge’s instruction. “If you try to stop me, we will only both waste time.” She pointed the dagger at him and hoped she looked menacing.
MacKenzie uttered something in Gaelic, no doubt words a lady ought not to hear. He pulled his own dagger free from his boot and together they ran back the way they’d come. Beast slinked between them, hesitant.
“If you want to save him, this is your only chance.” The mocking tone of Emma’s uncle rang out over the deceptively peaceful meadow.
Emma choked back a sob and sprinted harder. Her heart wanted to burst free of her chest. She would do anything, anything, to ensure he was safe.
“Stay where ye are, Emma,” Alistair called in a clear voice. “Dinna-”
His voice broke off with a dull smack.
Whatever trepidation Beast had possessed, he threw it aside in light of his master’s voice and charged forward like a valiant soldier, which only made Emma run faster. Beast made it to the men first and Conrad grabbed for him. Beast snarled and snapped and was rewarded with a hearty kick.
“No,” Emma shrieked. “Leave him be.”
Conrad smirked. “We’ve reloaded the guns, you daft fool.” He cocked his pistol and pointed it down at Beast.
Emma drew back her blade and held her breath the way Madge had told her, keeping her fingers lightly pinched on the metal, and threw it. It soared cleanly through the air and landed in the soft grass five feet from Conrad’s Hessians. Emma’s heart crashed in her chest.
Conrad gave a bark of laughter. He put his attention back to Beast, which meant he didn’t see the second dagger sailing over Emma’s head, nor did he expect it as it plunged into the tender skin of his neck.
“Beast!” Emma bellowed his name from the depths of her soul.
The dog leapt and had already begun running toward her by the time the gun exploded, the bullet lodging into the earth where Beast had once stood.
“My son,” her uncle ground out. “My son, my son. What have you done?”
Emma staggered forward to where Conrad’s body twitched and the blood soaking into the earth glistened wetly. She snatched up her dagger and hoped he would not see how it trembled in her hand. “Let Alistair go.”
“I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.” He turned to where Alistair lay on the ground with his eye blackened. He lifted his pistol, aimed it at Alistair, and the explosion of a gun went off.
Only it wasn’t Alistair who was struck by a bullet, but her uncle. Blood blossomed in a wet red stain on his chest that grew and grew and grew until it covered his chest and he gave a strange, gurgling, choking sound.
“Alistair.” She went to him and dropped to her knees at his side. Beast joined them and nervously licked any visible skin he could connect his tongue to.
A smoking weapon lay beside Alistair. “Jefferson’s gun,” he said by way of explanation.
MacKenzie squeezed Emma’s shoulder as he passed and knelt beside the first Runner. Most assuredly dead, given the amount of blood pooling around him. Everywhere there was blood, everywhere there was death.
Hamish.
She searched the ground and found the thatch of red hair. “MacKenzie - Hamish.”
The valet leapt to his feet and darted to where the young man lay, his tam several feet from where he’d fallen.
The bravery she’d held tight to crashed around her, leaving her terribly aware of what could have happened - the death, the devastation, the loss. Beast, MacKenzie, Alistair.
And perhaps Hamish already was…
Alistair angled her face away from where MacKenzie crouched over the young Highlander.
Alistair’s gaze went glossy with palpable anguish and fear. “My God, Emma, why did ye come back?”
“Because I could not stay away,” she said
on a sob. “Because I cannot imagine my life…without…”
He closed his strong arms around her and crushed her to his chest. “Emma, I could have lost ye.” His voice broke. “Ye could have been…” He pulled her back and pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. “Dinna ye understand I love ye too much to ever lose ye?”
“I’m beginning to understand as much,” Emma said against his lips.
He drew her from him and stroked her face. His fingers smelled like the damp earth where he’d been lying and were cool against the heat of her cheeks. Never had anything felt more glorious than the touch of this man she had almost lost.
This man she loved.
“I love ye, Emma. I dinna mean to ever hurt ye. Aye, I tried to keep some things from ye, to protect ye. My God, I wouldna ever hurt ye.” He stroked her hair from her face. “Ye truly are the bonniest lass I’ve ever met.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.” The pressure of her tears and emotion built to a steady, unbearable ache. “It felt too perfect to have you love me. I didn’t trust it.”
“I understand.” He put a finger to her lips, gently quieting her. “I’d ask ye to marry me,” he confessed.
She smiled sheepishly. “If we weren’t already married?”
Beast bounded away from them, toward MacKenzie who was helping Hamish to his feet. The young man pressed a hand to his head and squinted his eyes. “I tried to get up, but think I’ve been a mite too…” He drooped once more. MacKenzie tightened his grip and kept Hamish upright.
“The lad will be fine, but the Runners are all dead,” MacKenzie said.
Alistair got to his feet and assisted Emma to hers. “Get a physician for Hamish,” he said to MacKenzie.
The valet did not move immediately as he often did. Instead he eased Hamish to a sitting position against the wheel of the cart and stripped off his coat. “If I might make a suggestion, my lord. We can ensure everyone who can be saved will be, and see the whisky properly delivered. I have an idea.”
Chapter 17
The Earl of Benton_Wicked Regency Romance Page 13