Love Conquers All: Historical Romance Boxed Set

by Laurel O'Donnell

  “The upper windows might provide a good view,” Hawke suggested. “But how?”

  “The rear entrance perhaps?”

  Keeping their distance from the building with the hope no one noted their arrival, they hurried to the back of the warehouse. The area was mostly deserted.

  “I’ll be back in a moment.” Oliver quickly climbed the rear stairs that led to a small upper loft door. From there, he jumped to the narrow ledge of one of the large windows.

  Though coated in dirt and soot, he could just make out the interior. Julia stood beside the man who’d abducted her by a desk near the center of the building. She appeared to be unharmed and, by the way she shifted, he’d guess she was arguing with her captors. The man behind the desk must be Jasper Smithby. About ten other men worked inside, carting goods in and out.

  Oliver made his way back down to Hawke. “The good news is that she is in there and appears unharmed.”

  “The bad news?”

  “We’re sorely outnumbered. We need to even the odds.”

  “A distraction to lure the men outside?”

  “I believe I saw a kerosene shop down the street. Nothing like the suggestion of a fire to create a little panic.”

  “How do you intend to ‘suggest’ a fire?”

  “Smoke. Lots of smoke.”

  Hawke smiled. “Excellent idea.”

  They rushed back to the busy street and purchased rags along with a gallon of kerosene from the nearby shop. Hawke found an enterprising lad interested in earning a few coins to watch his carriage so his driver, Samuel, could aid them in the distraction.

  At the rear of the building, Oliver tied the rags into several tight bundles, soaking each one with kerosene. “We’ll light these and toss them inside through those upper windows. With luck, they should create more smoke than fire.”

  The idea of Julia being trapped in a burning warehouse had him hesitating. Fear choked him, but he shoved it aside. He needed to control both his fear and his rage to save Julia.

  “We’ve no time to waste.” Hawke lifted two of the bundles gingerly. “I won’t be of much assistance crawling onto the window ledge with my bad leg, but I can hand these to you from the stairs.”

  Samuel picked up two more of the bundles and studied the windows. “Which side do you want me to take?”

  Oliver pointed to the right, which was closer to the stairs. “I’ll take the left. Do you have a tinder box?”

  “Yes. There were two in the carriage to light lamps.” He handed one to Oliver. “After you, my lord.”

  The three men moved quietly up the stairs with Hawke bringing up the rear. Oliver knew his friend carried a pistol, but hoped he could avoid using it. The sound of a shot would draw too much attention. Besides one pistol would be ineffective against so many.

  Oliver and Samuel left the bundles on the small landing at the top of the stairs with Hawke while each jumped to the window ledges. As Oliver had noted, the windows opened from the top. Unfortunately, the latches were coated with filth and rusty from disuse. The last thing they needed was to break the glass.

  After some effort, Oliver managed to open the window and had a better view of the interior. Julia remained by the desk, still holding the wrapped book. He longed to tell her to forget the damned book. He had. He only wanted her out safely.

  Watching her only made him question whether he was doing the right thing. This seemed far too risky an idea yet nothing else came to mind. He clenched his fists, struggling for that elusive control.

  With a shake of his head, he returned his attention to the task at hand. A glance at Samuel showed he had pried open that window as well.

  Keeping his balance on the narrow ledge, Oliver pulled the tinder box from his pocket and lit the first bundle, watching to make certain his timing matched the driver’s. Samuel gave a nod. Oliver had already told him to aim for the floor. The last thing they wanted to do was set the goods on fire. That would put Julia in far more danger.

  With a careful aim, holding a long tail of the rag, he tossed the burning bundle to the floor below. It landed silently and drew no notice. Smoke seeped from it just as Oliver had hoped. Hawke threw him another bundle, and he repeated the process two more times. Already smoke rose from the tightly tied rags, slowly filling the area. It should soon draw notice.

  Oliver jumped back to the landing as Hawke opened the loft door and peeked inside. A glance over his shoulder had an idea forming in Oliver’s mind.

  “I’m going in using the loft,” Oliver told Hawke. “Why don’t you enter through the front?”

  “Good plan. As soon as the majority of men leave because of the smoke, we’ll go in.”

  “My focus will be on freeing Julia. I’ll leave Smithby for you.”

  “What about the book?” Hawke asked.

  “I don’t care about it.” It no longer seemed important. Not compared to Julia’s life. “I only want Julia out safely. If we catch Smithby, that will be a bonus. Hopefully, the police will arrive by then and can arrest him.”

  “Maybe Rutter will be inside, and we can have him captured again as well.” Hawke paused before going down the stairs, his gaze holding Oliver’s. “Take care, my friend.”

  “You do the same.” While Oliver’s anger simmered just below the surface, he had no intention of unleashing it completely. Not this time.

  He opened the loft door and slipped inside. The loft only extended over a small area of the lower level. A rope and pulley hung at the far end to raise items.

  He slowly lowered the rope to the floor and tied it off on a rafter. He could easily climb down the rope once the men smelled the smoke and started leaving. Julia wasn’t visible from this vantage point, which set his nerves on edge.

  Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long.

  “Fire!” The cry created panic among the men in the warehouse. They dropped whatever they carried and rushed toward the front door, stumbling over the top of each other. “Fire!”

  Oliver couldn’t help his own swell of panic at the words. Surely those men had only seen the smoke from the bundles, not actual flames. But he couldn’t quell his worry when not all of the bundles were in sight. What if one had caught some of the goods on fire? He wouldn’t feel better until Julia was in his arms.

  Billows of smoke filled the air along with the stench of kerosene as he started down the rope. If Smithby and the man holding Julia left, Hawke and Samuel should be able to catch them.

  However, Oliver doubted Smithby would leave his livelihood so easily. Already he could hear someone calling out for the men not to panic, demanding they locate the source of the smoke.

  “Stop, you bloody fools,” the authoritative voice continued. “Find the damned fire and put it out.”

  Heart pounding, Oliver reached the ground. The smoke was thick here, making it difficult to see and breathe. Based on his memory of the layout, he moved as quickly as possible toward the desk and Julia.

  As he rounded a row of stacked crates, he came face-to-face with a man who must’ve come in search of the fire. Surprise was on Oliver’s side and he clipped the man under his chin. Out cold, the man collapsed bonelessly to the floor. Oliver kept moving.

  The desk came into view, along with the man he presumed to be Smithby. Oliver’s breath stopped until he eased forward and saw Julia next to her initial captor.

  Oliver clicked off his emotions, aware his worry for Julia would only hinder him. He hurried forward, hoping the concern about the fire held their attention. His first target was the man who’d taken Julia.

  Julia saw him first. Her eyes widened in surprise. She turned to face her captor, whether to distract him or somehow aid Oliver, he wasn’t certain. Her movement revealed the pistol the man held.

  Oliver realized at once that he couldn’t shut off his feelings—not with that gun pointed at the woman he loved. He channeled his rage, using it along with his training and instinct to rush the man.

  Julia stepped aside, shoving the man’s ar
m down as he caught sight of Oliver.

  “Hey—” The man caught Oliver’s intent too late. “No.”

  Oliver finished what Julia had started, grabbing the man’s hand and holding it down. The gun fired but, as it was pointed at the ground, did no damage.

  “Frost?” Hawke’s voice called out from the front of the building.

  Releasing his anger, Oliver punched the man, landing two blows before he fell to the ground with a groan. Oliver spun toward Julia only to see the other man, whom he assumed was Smithby, now held her.

  Oliver’s blood ran as cold as ice at the sight of the gun the man held at her cheek. Her blue eyes were dark with fear as she stared at Oliver. He’d never felt so helpless.

  “Jasper Smithby?” he asked, brushing his hands together and straightening his jacket as though he had all the time in the world.

  “Who the hell are you?” The man’s eyes held an intelligent gleam that concerned Oliver all the more. He was no simple thug.

  “Release her.” He couldn’t look at Julia and remain calm, so he kept his focus on Smithby.

  Hawke limped forward, cane in hand. “Smithby.”

  The thief’s gaze narrowed. “Not you again.”

  Hawke smiled without a hint of apology. “I’m afraid so. It appears all of your men have fled. Have you met Viscount Frost?”

  The growl that came out of Smithby sounded like a feral dog. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate Hawke’s attempt at introductions.

  Oliver chose to ignore Smithby’s reaction and took another step forward. “Release her.”

  “I’m going to leave with the lady and, if you value her life, you two will remain here.”

  “I can’t allow that.” Oliver refused to even consider the idea. Now that Julia was so close, he never intended to let her go.

  “You have no say in the matter.” Smithby’s gaze dropped to his desk. “Get the book,” he ordered Julia.

  Julia stared at Oliver so intently that he felt it. Unable not to, he looked at her.

  She raised her brows deliberately.

  Before he could guess what she was about, she retrieved the book from the desk only to moan as she stumbled then crumpled to the ground.

  Oliver’s heart stopped before he realized she was providing a distraction.

  Smithby’s attention shifted to Julia, trying to hold her up with one hand while still aiming his gun.

  Oliver leaped forward, reaching for the weapon. The balance of thought and emotion for which he strived was a new experience for him. He found it difficult to keep his focus on gaining the weapon when his heart urged him to lift Julia into his arms and keep her there.

  With both hands, he squeezed Smithby’s hand that held the pistol, unleashing his anger at last.

  “No.” Smithby’s cry echoed in the warehouse as he released Julia to struggle with Oliver.

  “Hawke, get Julia to safety,” Oliver requested.

  Oliver gripped Smithby’s wrist, banging the man’s hand against the edge of his desk until the pistol fell to the ground. Still Smithby fought, landing a blow to Oliver’s stomach.

  Aware that Hawke had Julia, Oliver released his rage, his fist striking Smithby’s nose with a satisfying smack. Blood spurted forth, but it took two more blows before Smithby turned and ran for the rear of the warehouse.

  Hawke’s shot rang out and Smithby hollered.

  “Damn you.” The man fell to the ground, holding his thigh. “Damn you both.”

  Hawke rushed toward the wounded man as Samuel entered with two policemen.

  Assuming Hawke would keep the situation under control, Oliver turned to Julia who rose to her feet.

  Her eyes were wide with worry...and held a tender regard that stole his breath once more.

  “Are you all right?” He drew her into his arms.

  “Yes. Are you?”

  Her question made him smile. Her concern for others never ceased to amaze him. “Julia—”

  “Is everyone all right?” Hawke asked as he drew near.

  Oliver realized now was not the time or place to tell Julia what was in his heart. But he wasn’t going to allow her from his side until he had a chance to do so.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “When [a man] has gone from less to greater, and has proved himself indurated in crime, we are forced to protect society by removing him from it.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  Julia was content to stay in the circle of Oliver’s arms during the carriage ride home. She had so much to tell him but couldn’t resist taking these few moments to savor the comfort of his embrace.

  Captain Hawke had remained at the warehouse to make certain Smithby and Crawford were hauled away by the police. Both Oliver and the captain had been furious that the man they’d thought murdered in his cell, Culbert Rutter, hadn’t been among those who’d fled the warehouse nor had he been anywhere else. With luck, the police would be able to track him down now that they had Smithby in custody.

  Oliver’s attentiveness through the events gave her hope, though she had yet to find the courage to say all that needed to be said. The Book of Secrets lay wrapped on the opposite bench, a reminder of what remained between them, holding them apart.

  “I’m so sorry,” she muttered at last, while against his chest, unable to bear her nerves any longer.

  “Not nearly as much as I am.”

  “You?” Surprised, she tipped her head back to look up at him. “Whatever for?”

  “For putting you in danger.”

  “None of it was your fault. I shouldn’t have taken the book. I thought to show it to Father and then return it. I never expected that awful man to be waiting outside.”

  “Nor did I.” He pulled her closer. “But I don’t care about the book. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

  “Thanks to you,” she whispered.

  “You are the one who saved me. Since the day I came upon you in the bookshop, you’ve been saving me.” He drew back and held her gaze once more. “Julia, I love you with all my heart. I am only whole when I’m with you.”

  Tears filled her eyes at his words. “I must tell you something.” She hesitated to tell him the full truth, but she wanted only honesty between them. She dropped her gaze, unable to watch to see if what she told him changed his feelings for her. “I wasn’t planning on seeing you anymore. I was going to return the book, of course, but I thought to end our...relationship.”

  His hold loosened, causing pain to swell through her. Yet she forced herself to continue. “For years, I watched as my father told my mother how much he loved her and she said nothing in return. He slowly died inside, leaving nothing but a shell. He became incomplete, a shadow of himself after trying so hard to win her love. After she died at her lover’s holding, my father’s memory of her shifted, changing to what he wanted it to be rather than what it was. But it was too late.”

  She drew a deep breath, determined to say it all. “He had nothing left for anyone, including my brother and me. He was already destroyed inside. Very little brings him true happiness. I was so afraid of having the same sort of marriage as my parents—of existing rather than living—that I was too scared to risk telling you how I felt. I feared you could never love me as much as I love you.”

  His intake of breath had her shifting her gaze to meet his. As he opened his lips to respond, she shook her head, holding a finger to his lips. “Please, allow me to finish. I didn’t trust you or my feelings for you. I let fear rule my behavior. I’m sorry for that.”

  Before she could say anything more, Oliver took her hand in his. “Your courage has amazed me from the start, especially since I chose to hide in my house with my books rather than risk dealing with my past. It is I who should apologize. I have not been honest with you either.” He glanced away briefly then seemed to steel himself before looking back at her. “I’m not proud of all I’ve done. Malverson was correct in some respects. I was involved in a terrible battle.”

  As he told her of
the fight where he was forced to kill or be killed, how the enemy soldiers were no more than boys, she began to shake her head, interrupting him.

  “Oliver, I know who you are. You don’t need to tell me any of this. There is no doubt in my mind that you did the only thing you could. You may not appreciate your abilities, but I do. They helped you save me today.” She laid her hand along his cheek, holding his deep-green gaze. “You must forgive yourself. I already have.”

  The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, and he drew her into his arms once more, holding her as though she was more precious than an ancient text. He took her lips with his and happiness soared through her, filling every part of her. For once, her joy was not contingent on someone else’s happiness, nor defined by how she’d helped another. It was only because of how Oliver made her feel.

  And he made her feel glorious.

  The carriage came to a halt before her house, dimming her joy and reminding her the future was still uncertain despite all they’d shared.

  As though sensing her worry, Oliver tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I want to spend the rest of my life telling you how much I love you, each and every day. Please say you’ll marry me.”

  Julia frowned, certain Oliver didn’t understand how dependent her father was on her, how closely she had to watch him. “My father—”

  “Will be our concern from this day forth. We will watch over him together, you and I. He can remain here or live with us. Perhaps some of both. As long as I’m with you, the details don’t matter.”

  “Oh, Oliver.” Emotion clogged her throat at the idea of having this amazing man at her side for the rest of her life. At sharing the care for her father with him. This was her dream come true, and she could hardly believe it. “He cares so much for you already. He’ll be thrilled for us. I would be honored to marry you.”

  Oliver kissed her again, his tongue swirling with hers. Passion simmered between them along with love so deep that it buoyed each breath she took, promising a lifetime of love.