by Shana Galen
Mr. Dover stepped out of the coach, followed by Ashley, and Maddie gave her a tired smile. Ashley looked like she'd have enjoyed a long, luxurious bath as much as Maddie. As it was, they'd probably have to make do with a quick wash using a basin and ewer. Maddie didn't care. Anything to rid herself of the grime from the past few days.
"I hope he orders us warm water," Ashley said. "And a big tub."
Maddie shook her head. "Unlikely, and you know it."
"I can dream, can't I?"
"Dream away." Maddie leaned back against the coach and rolled her shoulders. Her back creaked as she worked out some of the tension, and she opened her mouth to yawn in a decidedly unladylike manner.
"Stop right there!" a voice boomed, and Maddie froze. Her eyes popped open and she scanned the street. It was crowded with carriages and people. No one stood out or appeared to be interested in them.
But she knew that voice. Knew it well.
"Oh, good God!" Ashley was saying. "Now what has that imbecile gone and done?"
Maddie opened her mouth to answer, but she was unable to speak. She looked frantically about, searching for the source of the voice.
And then she saw him. Lord Castleigh, dressed impeccably in a morning coat and breeches, stepped out of the building across from the carriage.
To Maddie's shock, her kind, even-tempered father was pointing his hunting rifle at Mr. Dover.
"Daddy!" She grabbed Ashley's arm for support.
"Thought you could run off with my daughter," her father shouted as he moved forward. As one, the people on the street seemed to notice the man with the rifle. A woman uttered a long scream, and then everyone was running, scattering for cover.
"Daddy!" Maddie cried, pushing Ashley behind her. "Put that rifle down."
"Stay out of this, Madeleine Richael Fullbright."
Oh, dear. He'd used her full name, which meant he was very angry. She had to calm him down.
Beside her, Mr. Dover threw up his arms and began to tremble. "Don't shoot!" His voice was high-pitched in the sudden silence. The busy street of a moment before was now deserted. Maddie looked about wildly for Jack and Lord Nicholas and prayed for them to stay wherever they were.
Keeping her father in sight, she inched closer to Dover. "Get behind me, Mr. Dover," she said quietly. "Move toward the carriage."
But then, just when she got Mr. Dover's attention, Ashley put herself at risk. She moved out from behind Maddie and called out, "Uncle William, you're scaring everyone." Ashley put her hands on her hips in a foolhardy gesture.
Not like Lord Nicholas indeed, Maddie thought. The two were both incredibly stupid.
"Put that rifle down right now, Uncle William."
"You hush, now, Ashley Gweneira Brittany," Maddie's father said, waving the rifle like an accusatory finger. "Your father will deal with you when he arrives."
"Wonderful," Ashley muttered. "Now we'll never get a bath."
Maddie's heart leapt into her throat as her father's rifle swung back toward Mr. Dover's heart.
"Mr. Dover!" she hissed. "Get back!"
Why now? She wanted to cry. They'd been so close. Eight little miles to Gretna Green. Eight, after so many.
And now she'd go home again. In disgrace. "Daddy, please put the rifle down. You don't need to shoot anyone. I'll come with you."
"Maddie!" Ashley hissed. "What are you doing?"
Maddie continued to stare at her father, but she spoke out of the corner of her mouth. "As soon as Daddy's distracted, you and Blackthorne run. You can still make it to Gretna."
"No!"
"Daddy, please put the rifle down," Maddie called.
And she took a step forward and another, but before she could take a third, a hand reached out, grabbed her, and thrust her back toward the carriage.
A gunshot exploded, and Maddie was pushed down hard and covered by a familiar muscular form.
Lord Blackthorne.
"What are you doing?" she screeched, spitting dirt out of her mouth. "Get out of here." Why hadn't he stayed hidden?
"I'm not leaving without you," Blackthorne said. He pulled her up, shoved her in the carriage, then went back for Ashley, who came scrambling in on hands and knees a moment later. The two women crouched on the floor.
Inside the coach, Maddie heard another gun-shot. "That wasn't my father," she told Ashley. The sound had come from behind the carriage, which meant it was aimed at her father. She crept up to the window, followed by Ashley.
"Oh, no," Ashley moaned, and Maddie followed her gaze. Lord Nicholas, pistol in hand, was sprinting for the carriage.
"Lord Nicholas!" Maddie screamed. Where had he found a gun?
And how dare Lord Nicholas shoot at her father? "Daddy?" she cried, trying to leap back out of the coach.
But Blackthorne appeared in the carriage door, blocking her exit. "Get down, you little fool."
He pushed her back, and Maddie tumbled onto the floor again. Blackthorne climbed in behind her, keeping his hand on her, forcing her to stay down. Maddie heard another gunshot, but she couldn't lift her head. She listened hard as Lord Nicholas clambered on top of the coach and whipped the fresh horses into action.
The carriage jerked violently, and Maddie fell back against the squabs then almost tumbled over. Blackthorne caught her arm and steadied her. Ashley pulled her onto the seat.
"My father?" Maddie cried, fear making her heart clench. "All those gunshots ..." She tried to look out the window, but everything was bouncing too much and she couldn't see. "Daddy!"
"He's fine," Blackthorne said, reaching across to take her by the shoulders. "Calm down."
His voice and his touch soothed her, made the terror flee, but not the fear.
"I don't know how the hell he found us, but Lord Castleigh is undoubtedly right on our heels now. Even if we make it to Gretna before him, it'll be a close thing to marry before he stops us." He glanced at Ashley.
"But he's unhurt?" Maddie asked, the fear beginning to claw at her again. "How could Lord Nicholas shoot at him! How dare—"
"Isn't there anyone else you're worried about?" Jack asked, and his dark tone felt like an icicle sliding down her spine.
She looked about the carriage, saw Ashley's shocked expression and Jack's grim one.
"Oh, Lord! Oh, no! Mr. Dover!"
"I'm sorry," Blackthorne said quietly, releasing her and averting his gaze.
"Is he—is he—" But she couldn't say it. If Mr. Dover were dead, she would never forgive herself. His death would be on her conscience, and she knew she would burn in hell forever for ending the poor man's life. All he had wanted was a mother for his children, and she'd given him shootouts and carriage chases, angry dukes and irate earls.
The hatch above them slammed open and Lord Nicholas peered down. "Hold on!" he called. "They're coming up behind us."
Chapter Twelve
Jack didn't have time to worry about Maddie. He would have liked to pull her into his arms, stroke her back and stop her trembling. The look of pure shock and then guilt that passed over her face when she realized that Dover was not with them was heart-wrenching, even for a man like he, who everyone said had no heart.
At that moment he would have done anything to give her the prissy little professor back, if it would just erase the anguish from her features.
But her father was unhurt—at least the earl had appeared hale enough when Jack had last looked back. The white-haired man was plum-faced, shouting, and still waving that hunting rifle.
Jack turned from Maddie and tried to see out the window. "Bloody hell," he cursed. There was a coach right behind them and gaining ground. He popped the hatch open again and shouted to his brother, "Faster, man. They're right behind us."
"I'm doing the best I can," was Nick's strained reply.
"Damn it." Jack slammed the hatch shut. He was going to have to go up there. He didn't think he would do a better job than Nick at escaping the irate earl, but he couldn't sit here with his hands clasped, twiddl
ing his thumbs uselessly either.
If he'd made one promise in his life, it was never again to do nothing.
With another curse, Jack moved toward the door and reached for the handle.
Maddie grabbed his arm. "What are you doing?"
"Going up there." He shook her hand off and reached for the door again.
"No! You'll never make it. Or you'll be shot."
He gave her a quick grin. "Your concern is touching, sweetheart. But I'll be back."
He swung the door open, grasped the coach's frame, and pulled himself out and up. Jesus, he'd obviously spent too much time sitting at his club and drinking port because it was damn hard hauling himself on top of the carriage. He huffed and puffed and sweated, but he finally made it, then reached down and slammed the carriage door shut.
Holding on tightly, he glanced behind him. Just rounding a corner was a nondescript town coach.
Normally, he would have assumed it was Castleigh, but there were so many people after them that he was making no conjectures. He narrowed his eyes to observe the green and gold livery on the coachman, then popped the hatch and peered into the carriage.
Two pairs of anxious eyes blinked up at him. He found the bright sapphire ones. "What color is your father's livery?"
Maddie stared at him as though he'd gone daft. "I— What?"
"Lord Castleigh's livery is green and gold," Ashley supplied for her.
Jack nodded and dropped the hatch closed. Well, at least he knew it wasn't Bleven again. Holding onto the sides of the carriage, he managed to push himself forward until he could climb beside his brother on the box.
Thanks to the quick work of the grooms at the posting house, Jack and Nick had been able to ensure the change of horses before Maddie stepped out of the carriage and the shooting began. But this new team was rather spirited. Nick had his hands full trying to control them.
"How close?" Nick asked through clenched teeth.
"Less than a quarter of a mile," Jack answered. "And gaining."
"Still seven miles to Gretna Green. We may be able to outrun them."
Jack doubted it. They were in an old carriage with second-rate horses. He and Nick were exhausted. The earl was in his shiny town coach and had probably paid for the best horses in Carlisle. And who knew how long he'd been sitting there waiting for their arrival? His coachman and footmen were probably rested and ready to fight.
"How the hell did he find us?" Jack said to no one in particular. "And why the devil weren't we more careful? We should have known."
"Too late for all that now." Nick reached under the box and handed Jack a pistol. "There's one shot left. Make it count."
"Right," Jack said, turning to observe the earl's progress.
Still steadily gaining.
Well, the good news was that his brother had acquired a pistol.
The bad was that Jack wasn't a very good shot. He decided to wait until the earl closed the gap between them rather than risk shooting out of range. While he gauged the narrowing distance, he tried to wedge himself into the box so his aim would be steady.
They were on flat land now, and the earl's men pushed their horses faster. Jack could see their faces, see their determined expressions. He decided his best hope was to wound the lead horse. That would force Castleigh to cut the animal free and harness the other horses before continuing on.
By then, Jack thought, he would be married.
His stomach gave a heave that had nothing whatsoever to do with the bumpy road, but he swallowed the anxiety and returned to the task at hand.
He raised the pistol over the top of the carriage, squinted, tensed his finger on the trigger—
And the hatch popped open.
Jack jerked and his one shot went wild. "What the hell!"
"How close are we?" Maddie called from below.
He peered down and saw her hand still outstretched from opening the hatch. Damn fool chit had ruined his one shot.
Without a word, Jack slammed the hatch closed again. He turned back to Nick. "Got another plan?" he asked.
Nick gave him a disgusted look and tensed his jaw in concentration. Jack glanced back at the earl's coach, which was now neither gaining nor falling behind. No need to worry that the earl would try to run them off the road or shoot at them. With Maddie inside, he was certain that the earl would not allow his men to take any chances.
Once they arrived at Gretna, however, Jack had a feeling that all bets were off.
"My advice?" Nick said over the roar of the horses' hooves. "Pray."
They covered the last few miles to Gretna Green with the earl's coach close on their heels. But with the city in sight, Nick pushed his horses faster, taking risks by running off the road and going over uneven ground.
Jack considered it a miracle that the axle didn't snap or one of the horses falter and break a leg, but the end result was that they arrived in Gretna Green without the earl in sight.
Jack, keenly conscious that Castleigh was right behind them, didn't even wait for the coach to come to a stop in front of the blacksmith's shop before jumping down and flinging the door open.
"We're here," he barked. "Let's go."
Ashley scrambled out and rushed to the blacksmith's door, with Jack right behind her. It wasn't until he was inside and the rotund priest was rising unsteadily before them that Jack realized Maddie hadn't followed.
Nick was standing in the door, and Jack swung around to face him. "Where's Lady Madeleine?"
Nick shrugged.
"She's still in the carriage," Ashley told him in a rush. "Without Mr. Dover here, she has no reason to come inside."
"Damn."
The priest cleared his throat. "Ye'll be wanting ta marry, then." The man's Scottish accent was thick, his words marred further as he lifted a jug of brandy and took a swig. A good portion of it dribbled back down his chin.
Jack let out a long sigh. Leave it to him to find the drunk priest. Not that the man was actually a priest. Scottish law didn't require one to officiate at a marriage. From the look of the man and the plethora of brandy jugs in the shop, this anvil priest was probably a smuggler.
"We're in a hurry," Jack said.
"Och, a hurry." The man's tongue rolled over the r's and got stuck. "No' heard that before." And then he burst into laughter.
Jack scowled. He needed to get this over and done. Now, before he reminded himself that Dover might be dead, and Maddie was free. Damn it.
He looked at Ashley and took a deep breath. He was going to marry Ashley Brittany. She was safe. She posed no risk to his heart.
And yet, he couldn't leave Maddie in the carriage alone. He couldn't even leave her unmarried. He didn't want to imagine what would happen to her when she returned to London, still unwed after a failed elopement and several nights spent in the company of men who were not her relatives.
Hell. He looked to the priest, who was asking if they had two witnesses, and then at Ashley.
"Lord Blackthorne," she said, "should I ask Maddie if she will serve as our second witness?"
Jack shook his head. "She'll have to be more than that."
He knew what had to be done. He clenched his fists and told himself he was doing what was best for all of them, especially himself. But then, he'd always been a selfish bastard, hadn't he?
Jack turned on his brother.
Nick looked behind him, searching for Jack's intended victim, then realized Jack was looking at him. He raised his hands in surrender. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it."
"I need you, Nick," Jack said quickly. "We need you."
Nick narrowed his eyes. "I don't mind being a witness."
"No." Jack took a step forward. "You must marry Lady Madeleine."
"Oh, no." Nick backed up, shaking his head. "This is your wedding, not mine."
"He's right, Nicholas," Ashley said, coming between them. "If she returns to London unwed, her reputation will be ruined. Her life will be ruined. She has to be married."
"
But that's not my fault," Nick argued. "I didn't touch her. I barely know the chit."
"What does it matter whose fault it is?" Ashley demanded. "Thank God I'm not marrying you. You're the most selfish man in England. Scotland, too," she added after looking about her.
"Don't start." Nick pointed a finger at her, then looked at Jack. "Where's the bloody professor?"
"Back in Carlisle. Probably dead."
"No thanks to you." Ashley began to rail again, and Jack pushed her aside.
"Let me handle this."
Jack advanced on his brother until Nick had nowhere to go but out the door. As soon as they were away from Ashley and the priest, he hauled Nick up by the shirt collar and pushed him against the building's wall.
"Listen, Nick. I've done a lot for you over the years. I've stuck my neck out for you more times than I care to admit, and you can do one small bloody thing for me."
"Small? This isn't like not telling Father when I drank a bottle of his best wine," Nick argued. "This is marriage. Forever."
Jack tightened his grip. "You're always talking about good causes. Here's a good cause."
Nick shook his head. "But—"
"Yes or no, Nick. We both know how much you owe me."
"Oh, goddamn it." Nick sighed and scowled. "Fine. Bloody fine."
* * * * *
Maddie hunched in the carriage, her arms wrapped around her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. Inside the blacksmith's shop, Ashley and Lord Blackthorne were being married. Meanwhile, she was out here alone. She was a widow before she'd even said her vows.
Poor Mr. Dover. He'd only wanted a mother for his children.
He'd only wanted to arrive in Gretna Green on time.
In the end, they'd been too late. And now he lay dead in Carlisle—well, perhaps not dead, but wounded. And she'd just left him there, left him for strangers to—
The carriage door was wrenched open and Blackthorne reached in, grasped her arms, and pulled her out. "What are you doing?" Something in the stony expression of his face made her struggle to get away. "I prefer to wait in here."
"Well, you can't get married in the coach." He pushed her forward, and before she could ask what he meant, she heard the clatter of hooves nearing.