He had them. He had been right. The self-satisfaction that flowed through him made him smile. He had been right.
Urging the horse on, he approached the rear of the coach.
“Olivia,” he called out before he could stop himself. What a fool he thought, even worse, it had been dangerous to give them warning. But he needed to know she was all right.
“Bradford?” a feminine voice called from inside the coach.
He smiled to himself. She was alive. His heart threatened to burst with relief until he saw the man up next to the driver turn and level a pistol at him.
Cursing under his breath, he pulled the horse to the side just as the man fired. The whiz of the bullet passing close to his head made him shiver.
It would take the man forever to reload on a bouncing carriage, Bradford realized. Grinning to himself, he moved up alongside the racing coach and brought his weapon to bear on the man in the box. Without hesitation, he fired. The bullet caught the man in the shoulder, sending him into the driver.
Dismissing the threat from above, he called out, “Olivia,” again. They knew he was there. He had long ago lost the element of surprise.
Coming abreast of the coach he leaned out and tried to pull the curtain aside only to be confronted with another man and a very large pistol.
His heart dropped. The man had the advantage, Bradford would never get his pistol in line in time.
“No!” Olivia screamed from inside the coach. He caught a brief glimpse of blue as she threw herself across the coach and into the man, disrupting his aim.
The pistol fired and Bradford felt a sharp burning pain in his shoulder. It had been so stupid to call out for her. The fact that he had allowed Jocko to reduce her guard. He had failed at every step. he told himself. But he was so close, he would not fail her now.
The horse and coach continued to race side by side up the hill. Bradford aimed his weapon but held off, Olivia was too close. The man inside seemed to realize the situation at the same time as he reached out and pulled her to act as a shield.
Bradford watched as Olivia’s eyes turned to hateful anger. Lifting her arms up, she gritted her teeth and brought her elbow down into the man’s ribs.
He bellowed in pain as Olivia stomped on his foot then reached for the door. Bradford didn’t hesitate. Leaning out, he scooped her from inside the coach, laying her across his lap as he pulled away.
He had her. She was alive. He had her.
The coach continued on, the driver whipping his horses.
Bradford held the soft, curving form in his arms and brought his horse to a halt in the middle of the road. Turning, he watched as the coach crested the hill and disappeared over the other side. They were getting away. But he could not follow. Not and protect Olivia.
“Are you all right?” he asked, as he lifted her up to sit in front of him, afraid to hear the answer.
She looked back at him and smiled slightly. “It took you long enough.”
His shoulders slumped in relief. That was Olivia and she was unharmed.
Chapter Seven
Olivia’s world continued to spin out of control. Bradford had rescued her. Out of everyone in the world. He had been the one to find her.
His arm around her waist felt tighter than an iron band and she sank into it, enjoying the sense of safety. That delicious feeling of security made her feel as if it was truly over. As if she could finally breathe again.
Both of his arms securely locked around her. Sitting sideways on the horse, her hips rested in front of him. The intimacy of the situation flashed into her mind, making her blush.
“I can’t believe you found me,” she said, already regretting her earlier reply about him taking so long to rescue her. The fresh air mixed with the smell of horse and Bradford’s familiar sandalwood made her feel alive.
He laughed as he began to untie her hands. Once he was done and had tossed the rope into the road, she rubbed her wrists as she tried to get rid of any hint of those men.
“Yes, well, Nathanial would never have forgiven me if I let anything happen to you.”
Her heart fell just a little. Her knight in shining armor had done this for her brother. Why did Bradford always have to say the exact wrong thing?
Frowning to herself, she looked forward so that he would not see the pain in her eyes. It wasn’t like she particularly cared. But it would have been nice if someone worried about her and not for what her brother thought.
“I imagine he will be upset,” she said without turning around.
“Not at you Princess …”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “Never call me that. Do you understand.”
He balked then looked back up the road where the coach had disappeared, then slowly nodded. “Of course, Olivia.”
She relaxed just a little. It wasn’t his fault, she reminded herself. In fact, she must remember that the man had ridden all night to catch up to them. While she had been sleeping, he had been galloping through the dark. Risking his very neck to rescue her.
No, she must not forget that.
“What now?” she asked.
“Now we get you home. We’ll go back to the last Inn, I will see if I can rent a coach.”
“Another coach?” she asked with a hint of petulance. “I’ve been cooped up. Can’t we get a barouche or even a wagon.”
He laughed and slowly shook his head. “We’ll get what we can get. You’re not exactly dressed for riding, so that is out.”
She nodded, her dress would never allow her to ride side saddle, and riding astride was unacceptable. Sighing to herself, she relaxed in his arms and allowed her head to rest on his chest.
“Even though it pains me to say it, I must,” she said as she studied her hands. “Thank you, Bradford.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “My pleasure, Olivia. Although, I must request the next time you are kidnapped, I do hope you can convince them to remain in London. I never enjoy long rides.”
Olivia bit back a sharp reply and let him have the last word. It was the least she could do.
The two of them rode in silence. Walking the horse until they came within sight of the Inn. Bradford pulled to a stop a dozen yards away.
“Why are you stopping?” Olivia asked as a frustration began to build inside of her. All she wanted was to get home. Yet, at the same time, that meant obtaining transportation which would mean she could no longer rest in Bradford’s embrace.
The thought of losing those strong arms around her sent a sense of fear coursing through her. A surprisingly strong emotion that was both unexpected and frightening at the same time. Why?
“I’m making sure that we are alone.”
“Again why?”
He slowly shook his head. He was always perturbed by her constant questions. That was one of the many reasons she asked them. Perturbing Lord Bradford was one of her best enjoyments in life.
“Because,” he said with a heavy sigh, “if we are seen, people will ask questions. Make assumptions. A young couple. Alone, unmarried, at a distant Inn. They will assume the worst and you will be ruined.”
“Do not worry about my reputation,” she said. “I would not have a man who would believe such lies.”
He scoffed and slowly shook his head. “It’s not just you. I have a reputation to worry about also.”
Olivia frowned. The man was one of the most notorious rakes in town. Why would he worry about such things? “They would think I was just another of your many mistresses. I wouldn’t think anyone I know will be up and about at this hour.”
He frowned at her. “You never know who might be here. You need to think of your family. Lady Alice and the baby would be shunned. Nathanial would never obtain a title…”
“He doesn’t want one,” Olivia replied.
“He does, for Lady Alice more than anything,” Bradford said.
Olivia’s stomach dropped, was it true. Did Lord Bradford know something about her brother she didn’t? What
else did she not know? Why could men share information between themselves yet refuse to disclose it in front of women, even their own sisters?
She would never understand them.
Bradford slowly walked the horse into the Inn’s yard.
A young stable boy of about fourteen raced out of the barn to take the horse.
“Was I right, M’lord?” the boy asked with a large smile. “Was he fast?”
“Like the wind,” Bradford said as he swung down then lifted Olivia down from the horse. His strong hands around her waist sent a tingle through her entire body.
“We need a coach, and a driver,” Bradford told the boy with a weary sigh. “To take us to London.”
He’s tired, Olivia thought. Perfectly understandable.
The boy nodded as he glanced at Olivia from under his brow. What was he thinking? she wondered. Was he thinking that she was the Lord’s fancy woman from London?
“Of course, M’lord, we have one.” The boy said as he led the horse into the barn. “I will drive. Old Jack is not here.” To Olivia’s ears, the boy sounded as if he would love nothing more than driving a British Lord to London.
Bradford nodded as he twisted, scanned the yard and the sleepy Inn. “We will wait in the barn. No need to bother the keeper.”
The boy frowned for a second at the unusual statement. Olivia could see his imagination racing trying to understand why the Lord didn’t avail himself of the Inn.
Olivia allowed herself to be led into the barn. The strong smell of horses and fresh straw washed over her. Bradford’s concern for her reputation was touching but he really need not worry. There was no chance of anyone she knew finding her there.
She silently studied the man while he turned away from her and looked out over the yard. His eyes ever vigilant for any threat. His fine coat was ripped at the shoulder. Had he done that when rescuing her or during his midnight ride? An overhanging branch perhaps?
Her insides relaxed. He had found her. How was it possible?
As she silently relived her experience she examined every aspect. What could she have done differently? Why had she been targeted? Had it been solely for money? Nathanial’s wealth a treasure too rich to be ignored.
No answer came. And they never will, she realized with disappointment. It was one of those things she would never learn.
As she continued to watch him she noticed him favoring his left arm.
“Bradford, are you injured?” she asked with disbelief.
He turned and smiled weakly.
“You idiot,” she cursed as she hurried to him. “Why didn’t you say something?” The rip at the shoulder of his coat had turned a dark crimson. How had she missed it? Had she been so concerned with her own wellbeing that she had ignored his?
Or had it been those strong arms around her? It had been impossible to ever imagine anything hurting him.
He laughed, “It is nothing, besides I didn’t want you chastising me about it.”
She sighed heavily as she gently reached up to touch the wound.
He winced again and drew away. It must be worse than she feared. “Here, take that off and let me look at it.”
Bradford hesitated which made her anger grow even stronger.
“When are you going to learn to just do what you are told?” she said. “Your life would be so much easier if you just listened to me.”
He scoffed as he began to slowly shrug out of his tight jacket. “Perhaps. But when are you going to learn to not be so demanding? It does get tiring.”
Olivia balked. Was she demanding?
Not now, she told herself. This was not the moment to examine herself. See to his wound.
She gasped as he pulled his jacket free, his white shirt was covered in deep red blood. This was more than a flesh wound.
“Sit here,” she said as she gently pushed him to an old wooden chair in the corner. Bradford sighed heavily in resignation and sat. She tried to examine the wound but his shirt was clotted with blood. Realizing there was not much choice, she took the shirt in her hand, quickly ripping it apart, exposing the wound.
“Olivia,” Bradford barked. “This is one of my favorite shirts.”
She shook her head as she gently probed the crease across the top of his shoulder, “It has a round hole in it, burn marks, and is covered in blood. Were you really anticipating using it again?”
“Perhaps,” he said as little petulantly, “Mrs. Webb is very good with a needle and removing stains.”
Olivia sighed heavily as she realized the wound was not too serious. A bullet had torn through the fleshing part of his shoulder. Only a few inches from his neck. Even now the wound continued to seep blood. The thought of how close he had come to dying sent a cold chill down her spine.
“Bradford,” she said through tight lips, “You are rich enough to buy a linen factory. You can afford to lose a shirt. Now take it off and let me wash the wound.” Without waiting to see if he followed her instructions, she turned and tore a long piece of lace from the bottom of her petticoat.
Turning back, she was shocked to see him sitting in the chair, shirtless. His wide shoulders, strong chest, and thick arms were almost overwhelming. He was so male, she thought.
Taking a deep breath, she fought off the less than ladylike thoughts jumping into her head and proceeded to clean the wound.
“You know,” Bradford said. “If anyone saw us like this, they would never believe it.”
“What? That you are sitting in a barn half undressed,” she said as she continued to wash away the blood, exposing a nasty gash three inches long, across the top of his shoulder. A doctor would need to see to it. All she could do was ensure it was clean and the bleeding had stopped.
“No, that you were being nice to me,” he said. Not one of our friends would ever believe it.”
She froze for a second as she stared into his eyes. For just the briefest of moments, she became lost in their warm embrace. Her heart shifted a little before she forced herself to concentrate on her duty. Was he serious? Did he view her as mean and cruel? Did their friends? Should she add it to the list with her being too demanding?
Sighing, she finished washing the wound then bandaged it using pieces of his shirt and another strip of lace from her petticoat. Stepping to the side, she helped him slip on his jacket. A small sense of disappointment washed through her when he covered up those firm muscles. Without thinking, her hand rested on his back as she committed to memory his chiseled form.
Realizing that she was still touching him, she sighed heavily and turned away. Thankfully. At that moment. At last, an old but functional coach pulled into the yard. Driven by the young stable boy, now wrapped up in an old wool coat and cap. He pulled at the horses bringing the coach to a stop before the barn door.
Olivia noticed that the boy had placed the vehicle between them and the Inn. Providing further cover.
Bradford noticed it as well as he nodded his approval. “What’s your name?” he asked the young boy.
“John Stewart, M’lord,” the boy answered with a tug of his forelock. Olivia smiled to herself, the young man appeared to be both nervous and confident at the same time.
Bradford nodded then opened the coach door and twisted so that he could use his right hand to help her up. She frowned, even wounded, he was thinking of her.
Taking his hand, and gathering her dress, she stepped up into the coach. Bradford climbed up after her and tapped the coach ceiling. The young stable boy yelled at the horses and they were off.
They were truly bound for home, she realized. She was safe. All because of the man who sat across from her. Glancing at him from under her brow, she studied the Earl of Bradford while he looked out the side window.
He wasn’t the same lanky boy she had met all those years ago. He had grown into a tall, strong man. Now, sitting there with only a jacket, no shirt, his face rough with a two-day beard. His eyes drooping with fatigue. Even now, the man was devastatingly handsome. With high cheekbones
, piercing eyes, and strong chin. The kind of man that made a woman feel like a woman.
There had been many women, she believed. How could there not be? Nathanial had been just as bad until he met Alice. But she knew deep down that Bradford would never change. The man was a born Rake.
Did he really think she was cruel, frivolous, demanding? she wondered. Surprised to find out how much it bothered her what he thought.
Granted, she had a sharp tongue, but she had always believed her comments rolled off him. And heaven knew, he could be just as sharp with her. What was good for the goose was good for the gander had always been her belief. Yet why were they always like that with each other? Prickly, never able to just relax.
Perhaps things could change in the future. Silently assuring herself that she would endeavor to improve her behavior. It was the least she could do for the man who had saved her.
Bradford sighed heavily and closed his eyes as he rested his head against the side of the coach. Yes, she would work on being a nicer person to him.
Chapter Eight
Olivia sighed heavily as the coach turned onto her street. Yes, she was almost there. Would Nathanial be there? Although it had only been a day. It had bothered her that her brother did not yet know she was safe. That Bradford had rescued her. All this time, he would have been fretting and worrying.
Thinking of Lord Bradford, she smiled to herself. Once they had entered London, he had called the coach to a halt so he could climb up onto the box next to young John and guide him through the streets.
The stable boy had done an excellent job. Controlling the horses, following Bradford’s instructions sharply, and with efficiency. Pulling them to a soft stop directly in front of her house.
Olivia quickly jumped out of the coach so she could be there to help Bradford down from the top of the coach. The man’s wounds must surely hamper him. As she waited, she glanced at her home, so happy to see it again, then turned and examined the neighborhood.
Catching A Rake (A Rake's Redemption Book 3) Page 5