Hunter looked to Jon.
Both men were silent. As Alexandra watched their faces, she could almost see the wheels of their minds turning.
"Angry I took your title, Hunter?" Jon asked slyly.
"Um-hmmm."
"Angrier I could well take your wife?"
"Most certainly." Now Hunter was smiling.
"How's your acting, brother?"
"Fair to middlin'. Yours?"
Jon's eyes narrowed daringly. "Better than yours, I'd vow."
"What are you two talking about?" Alexandra demanded. "You have to tell me!"
Jon grabbed Alexandra's arm and started for the gamekeeper's cottage. "Inside. Hurry. We've only got a few minutes to make plans and then I'll have to get back to the house to set things up."
"You got a musket, Hunter?"
"On my horse." Hunter sprinted for his mount.
Jon ushered Alexandra inside the cottage.
"What's going on? Tell me!"
"Get inside," Jon ordered, pushing her ahead of him. "We can save his hide, but we're going to need your help . . ."
Ten minutes later Jon walked out of the gamekeeper's cottage, mounted his horse, and rode off through the woods toward Dunnon Castle. Hunter and Alexandra stood arm and arm in the shadows of the oak trees that stretched high above their heads and sheltered the cottage.
"You ready?" Hunter asked calmly.
"I'm scared."
"But are you ready?"
She turned to face him so that she could look deep into his hazel eyes. "I can do this."
He squeezed her hands. "I know you can."
"I just don't want you hurt. If anything goes wrong . . ." She sighed. They had no choice. She knew that this was the best plan they could have come up with considering the circumstances.
"You want to see pain?" he said gently. "See a man trapped in a fetid cell in Newgate prison with no one but the rats and the vermin for company. I'll not go, Alex. I'll die before they take the sun away from me, before they take you and our child."
They kissed one last time, his lips lingering over hers. "I love you," he whispered. "Always."
She smiled up at him, taking his strength and making it her own. "I'll love you always."
"Something goes wrong, you do what you think's best. Jon will always see you cared for. Stay here and let him love our child. It's doubtful he'll ever have any of his own. Hell, marry him if you like. He'd be my second choice for you right after me."
"I couldn't do that. This isn't my home, not any longer."
"Then go back to Shawnee country and raise our son or daughter. You'll always be welcome among Creeping Turtle's people."
She pressed her fingertip to his lips, silencing him. "Don't speak of it. It's ill luck. Nothing's going to happen. We're going to be together."
He took one last look at her, touching her cheek with the back of his hand, brushing a stray lock of dark hair off her shoulder. "It's time."
Hand in hand they walked to the horses. Hunter boosted her up into the saddle. Somewhere she had lost her straw bonnet—on the ground where they'd made love, no doubt.
Hunter pushed the reins into her hands. He gave her a wink and flashed that charming smile she had fallen in love with. Then he slapped her gelding's hind quarters and the horse bolted. Alexandra leaned forward in the saddle, hell-bent on Dunnon Castle.
She rode straight up the woods road through the barnyard toward the front door of the castle. Sure enough, soldiers on horses and a high sheriff waited. She pushed her horse through theirs. "Jon! Jon!" she cried.
On cue, Jon appeared in the front doorway. "Alex." He came running down the stone steps. "Alex, are you all right, what's happened, love?"
She pushed back her hair, loosened and tangled from making love on the ground with Hunter. "He attacked me," she cried. "Geoffry! I went to say good-bye, to tell him I was in love with you and that we were to wed." She grasped Jon's hands, leaning against him for support.
"But what?" Jon stared into her face, utterly serious. "Tell me, Alex. Tell me what the whoreson cur has done."
She hung her head; miraculously tears began to slip down her cheeks. She could hear the soldiers talking in hushed tones among themselves. They were obviously catching every word. "He . . . Geoffry wouldn't listen. I told him no. I told him our marriage was to be annulled, but he said I was still his! He said—" She dropped her head to his shoulder. "Oh, Jon."
Hoofbeats thundered as a rider approached Dunnon Castle at a full gallop. Alexandra looked up to see Hunter riding straight for them, his hair blowing off his shoulders, a musket cradled in his arms. The only thing that appeared different about him now was the coat he wore pulled high to his neck. From the ground, his eyes wide and wild, he truly looked like a madman.
"Alexandra!" Hunter shouted as he came into voice range. "Come back here. You're my wife! Mine to do as I please with! He'll not have you! I swear by God I'll kill you both first!"
The high sheriff wheeled his horse around, but before he could ride toward Hunter, Jon darted forward, dragging Alexandra with him and cutting off the sheriff's path. "She's mine," he cried venomously. "It's all mine now, bastard! Bastard son! My title, my lands, my monies—" He grabbed Alexandra and kissed her hard on the mouth. "My woman!"
Hunter pulled back hard on the reins, and his horse reared to a halt. "No. You can take everything else, but not the jade. She's mine. I'll not give her up!"
"Don't do this!" Alexandra screamed, pulling away from Jon, attempting to add to the confusion. "Please don't do this!"
She heard the sheriff behind her give his soldiers orders to take Hunter. Another moment and all would be lost.
"Give her to me, or I take her," Hunter challenged. He swung his musket with one hand, directly toward Jon.
Jon moved so quickly that Alexandra saw nothing but a flash of flesh and steel. He drew his pistol from the waistband of his violet-colored breeches and fired, his shot echoing Hunter's.
Hunter flew backwards off the horse.
Alexandra screamed, not for the sake of the scene they had orchestrated but out of true fear. Blood, she had seen blood . . .
The horse reared as the rider flew off his back. Alexandra ran for Hunter. "Oh my God! Oh my God!" she cried.
The horse thundered past her.
"Alexandra!" Jon hollered after her.
She ran for Hunter and fell to her knees beside his still body. He was lying face down in the dirt. There was blood, blood everywhere!
Jon knelt beside her, brushing his mouth against her ear as he reached out to touch Hunter. "A game," he whispered. "Just a game, sweetheart."
"Oh God," Jon groaned loudly. "I'm so sorry, Alex. I've killed him. I've killed my brother!" He threw himself across Hunter's back, pulling at his dark coat.
The soldiers rode up and formed a circle around them. The high sheriff dismounted, coming to stand directly behind Jon and Alexandra.
"Is this him? Is this Geoffry Rordan?" he asked.
Jon lifted his head from Hunter's body. Alexandra could have sworn she saw real tears. "Yes. It's him. I didn't mean to kill him. You have to believe me. He fired first. I had to protect myself. I had to protect the lady."
"He fired first," one of the soldiers echoed. "I saw him. The horseman raised his musket first."
Alexandra could do nothing but keep her face buried in her hands. Her heart was racing. She was petrified Hunter was truly hurt. She was petrified the sheriff would not believe what he had seen.
The sheriff shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Is he dead, my Lord Dunnon?"
Jon showed his bare hands now covered in blood. "Dead. My brother's dead," he muttered as if in shock. "It's not my fault my father lied. It's not my fault I was the heir and not him."
The sheriff looked to his men. "We'll need to take the body."
"No!" Alexandra screamed, throwing herself across Hunter dramatically. "He's dead! His body must be prepared for a decent burial. You can't take him! I won't let you.
" She lifted her face staring at Jon. "And you!" She smacked him hard across the face. "You killed him! You killed my Geoffry."
Jon stood. "You said you loved me. You said you never cared for him."
"Go away," she cried. "Go, all of you!" She laid her cheek on Hunter's warm back. "Leave me be! Leave me to my grief."
Jon turned to the sheriff. "It was self-defense, you saw it yourself," he said.
The sheriff nodded, glancing down at Hunter's still body one last time. "Self-defense. Aye. There'll be no need to waste taxes hanging the poor bastard." He turned toward his horse, grasping the reins in his gloved hands. "Men!" He mounted. "There'll be a report filed, Lord Dunnon, but no charges." He lifted his reins. "I'm sorry for your loss."
Alexandra looked up at the sheriff through teary eyes. He was actually leaving!
"Mistress." The sheriff touched his large brimmed wool hat and then turned his horse around and rode away, the soldiers following behind him.
"Hunter," Alexandra whispered. She shook him gently. "Hunter, are you all right?"
"Shhht," he answered.
She felt his body move ever so slightly as he spoke.
"We have to carry it out," he whispered. "Remember, I must be dead to all. The servants mustn't know."
Servants were beginning to spill out of the house and barns now. One of the maids wept.
Jon stood by the front steps. "Malcolm," he called. "You help me carry him inside." Malcolm was the manservant Hunter and Jon had grown up with. He could be trusted. "Caleb, run for Mab in the village. She'll prepare his body for burial. I want no man, woman, or child to touch the body," he ordered harshly. "That is a direct order from me, from Dunnon. You might as well get used to your new master now."
Another wave of whispers rose among the servants.
Jon and Malcolm walked to Hunter's body. Jon took his arms, Malcolm, his feet. Alexandra followed them up the steps through the front hall and into the antechamber off the orangery.
"That will be all," Jon told Malcolm as they entered the dimly lit room. They laid him gently on the floor, still face down.
The manservant just stood there as if in shock staring at Hunter's body.
"I said that will be all, Malcolm," Jon repeated.
Still, Malcolm didn't move.
Hunter lifted his head off the floor. "Did you hear your master, Malcolm, get the hell out of here!"
The man stumbled backward in surprise. "I knew you couldn't have done it, Master Jon. Knew you two wouldn't fight like that, not even over the mistress!"
Hunter pushed up on one elbow. His face and chest were covered with pulpy blood but it was obvious to Alexandra that it wasn't his. He was looking too pleased with himself to be in any pain.
"You must keep this to yourself to the grave, Malcolm," he whispered. "You heard the sheriff had come for me. I did indeed kill Cain back in the colonies, but he well deserved it. Now, Jon will tell you what you must do to get the lady and me out of this in one piece." Hunter smiled up at him. "Go. Do as you're told."
"Be back." Jon winked at Alexandra and followed Malcolm out of the room, taking care to close the door behind him.
"Hunter . . ." It was all Alexandra could say. She was still so frightened. She couldn't believe they had pulled it off.
Hunter sat up on the floor, wiping the blood from his face. The floorboards where he'd lain were bloody as well. "Think I went a little heavy on the stag entrails?" he asked.
She covered her mouth with her hand. "You did it," she whispered.
Jon came back into the room. "We all did it." He came to Hunter and Alexandra, grinning. Then he frowned. "Superior acting Alex, but what the hell was the slap for?" He touched his cheek. "Ad's blood, I'll have a welt come morning for certain."
She dropped her hands to her hips. She was beginning to relax now. Everything really was going to be all right. "What was the kiss for?"
Hunter leaped up, slapping Jon hard on the shoulder with one bloody hand. "Yes, brother, what was the kiss for?"
Jon tugged on his inky black queue, still grinning smugly. "Figured it would be the only chance I ever got at a real kiss from Alexandra without having to worry about you taking my scalp for it."
Their laughter mingled as they gathered to make their final plans in their charade.
Chapter Thirty
"You ready?" Jon whispered, slipping her hand into his. "Last leg of the journey."
She pulled down the dark blue veil that would shield her face from prying eyes. Her hand trembled in Jon's. She knew Hunter wasn't dead. She'd made love with him only a few hours ago in the gamekeeper's cottage where he'd been hiding the last two days. Still, it was upsetting to attend his funeral.
"I'm ready," she finally whispered.
"Good girl," Jon intoned. "It'll soon be over. Tonight you and my brother set sail on the evening tide for paradise."
He was teasing her, of course, but his words steadied her hands. Once she got through the funeral, they would stage her fight with Jon and then she would ride off in Roland's carriage, never to be seen again.
They had decided Roland must be let in on the farce because they had to have a way to disguise her disappearance. Hunter, of course, was already taken care of. To all who attended the funeral today, to all of England, he would soon be buried six feet under, beside his father's fresh grave.
Jon gave a nod to the doorman. The front door of Dunnon Castle swung open and together they stepped into the morning sunshine.
The yard was filled with coaches. Everyone who was anyone in London had turned out for the funeral, perhaps not so much because they cared for Geoffry Rordan but because they were eager to see what was passing between his widow and the new Earl of Dunnon, Jon.
Jon led her on his arm past the coaches down the road toward the family cemetery, to the east of the castle. There on the hillside the Rordan family had been burying their loved ones for four centuries.
Alexandra walked at Jon's side, her head held high, a blue handkerchief knotted in her gloved hand. Funeral guests parted to allow them to pass. Everyone spoke in hushed tones, but they were all staring.
Jon, like a true Lord of the manor, strutted through the crowd already gathered at the grave site. Once he and Alexandra stood before the mahogany coffin, he nodded regally to the reverend who stood to the side, a leather-bound Bible in his hands.
The holy man began his eulogy, and latecomers hurried to the circle around the coffin. Alexandra looked up through her veil to study the crowd cautiously. She had no doubt there were more jewels and fine clothing present here than in the queen's drawing room this morning.
Alexandra's gaze wandered back to the coffin. She had to keep her mind on the game they played. It was imperative that all who were present believe Hunter was truly dead. She sniffed loudly.
Several guests' attention fell upon her.
The priest went on speaking of the unfortunate circumstance of Geoffry Rordan's death and reminded the crowd to think of the man they had known in the past.
Alexandra drew her handkerchief beneath her veil and dabbed at her eyes as she attempted a sob.
A smile tugged at the corners of Jon's mouth, but he went on staring sternly. He was dressed this morning like a barnyard cock in a hideous red-and-yellow shirtwaist and coat with matching red-and-yellow silk stockings and a feather hat.
Alexandra managed another sob, getting the hang of it, almost enjoying the attention she was drawing. She purposefully pulled her hand from Jon's. He took it back. She removed it again.
A murmur rippled through the aristocratic crowd. Alexandra spotted her mother sagging against her father. Roland stood to the side, his face completely passive.
Alexandra smiled behind her veil and let out a little moan.
The minister was bringing his eulogy to a close. Heads bowed and he began to pray. Then it was over and Jon gave a nod. Two gravediggers began to lower the coffin into the ground with wide cloth strips.
"One moment," a voice cal
led from behind.
Alexandra looked up at Jon, panic rising.
"A moment," the voice repeated. The crowd of ladies and gentlemen parted to allow the high sheriff to approach Jon. "My apologies, my lord," he murmured. "But the lord chancellor has insisted that the body be viewed before burial."
Alexandra gave a strangled cry of fear.
Jon grabbed her arm. "I beg your pardon," he addressed the high sheriff haughtily.
The sheriff refused to make eye contact. "I said I must see the body before burial," he repeated. "Merely a technicality."
"How dare you come to us in our time of grief and make such demands," Jon shouted.
Alexandra lowered her head, too frightened to move. Play the part, she heard Hunter say in her mind. Play the part of the grieving widow and you'll be fine.
"You'll have to bring the coffin back up," the sheriff told the scraggly dressed men.
The gravediggers began to raise the coffin up and out of the hole.
Jon leaned over and rested his hand on the polished mahogany. "How dare you. I won't permit it."
"I'm afraid you must, Lord Dunnon."
The funeral guests were speaking louder now, all talking at once. They had come for a show and it seemed a show they'd indeed get.
"You must allow me to view the body now, or else I'll be forced to come back with a writ to have him dug up." The sheriff lowered his voice. "You don't want that, do you, my lord. Just let me have a look and be done."
"No," Alexandra wailed. "Leave him in peace. Leave him be." She fell to her knees, throwing her arms over the coffin. All she could think of was that if the sheriff opened this empty casket, she and Hunter would lose all they had fought so hard to gain.
"I'm sorry," the sheriff said quietly. "But it has to be done. I must know that Cain's murderer is dead. I must report back to my lord chancellor."
"No, no," Alexandra cried laying her cheek on the coffin.
Jon grabbed her forearm. "Enough, Alex," he said harshly. "You've shamed this family enough! Get up!"
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