by Heather Boyd
Right now, she could not dream of getting to her feet again. She would be no help to anyone in her condition and would likely be in the way. She dragged herself to a sitting position, groaning against the pain, and held her head while the stars behind her eyes faded.
When she could see again, she reached for the rag at her neck and pulled it off, squinting at it in the faint moonlight as she searched to find a clean patch to wipe over her face. She must look like a chimney sweep.
“That dog deserves a ball between its eyes.”
Lilly spun on the ground to locate that voice and heard metal click on metal.
~ * ~
“Nice to see you, cousin.”
Fortune smiled upon Bartholomew at last. He had Lillian alone in the dark of night, and all to himself, no less. He giggled then pressed his lips together. They had to be silent, lest someone hear them. As it was, he was sure they had little time enough before that scoundrel, Daventry, came looking for his whore.
It was true. She had shared his bed and done things with him that ought to be reserved for her husband. Her betrayal cut him to the core, and he shifted the pistol in his hand, debating how he might kill her.
There was a nice pond of water behind her back. He could grasp her with two hands, and force her head beneath the surface. He glanced around. Moonlight illuminated the garden, and he might have the joy of watching her face as she drowned.
That would provide far better enjoyment than the last time. Last time he had rushed, and not stayed to ensure the deed was done. His cousin would not be alone this time. He would stay until her end came.
“What are you doing here, Barty?”
Her gaze flickered around the garden and back to him. Even though she was impure, touched by that swine, Lord Daventry, Bartholomew still desired to bed her. He would show her how a real man took his pleasure. “You have always been my favorite cousin. How could I bear to leave you be?”
Lillian shifted to her knees, and he decided he liked her in that pose. He could approach her, grasp her neck and squeeze until she took her last breath. The thought was appealing, so he slipped the pistol in his jacket pocket, and took a step toward her.
The dog stepped to her side and watched him. He paused. The dog was a complication. To dispatch the beast with little fuss, he would need to use the pistol. But the noise would surely attract the notice of others unless they moved farther away.
“On your feet.”
The bitch licked her lips. “Why?”
He could always count on Lillian to be difficult. Her response pleased him. He would distrust her more if she suddenly became compliant and willing. He wanted her to fight, to battle with him to make his success all the sweeter.
“Let me give you a choice. Either you get to your feet, or I shoot the dog. I know how you love to dote on the poor creatures. You can count on me to ensure that his end is agonizingly slow. Perhaps I could shoot one of his feet off first, or perhaps his tail. Do you wonder how he would feel about it?”
Lillian whimpered. Pleasure raced down his spine. He’d had no idea that killing her in person would bring him so much joy. He’d forgotten so much of his earlier attempt. He pulled the pistol from his pocket and took aim at the dog.
As he expected, Lillian surged to her feet.
“Now walk.”
“Where are we going?”
Bartholomew pressed a hand to his forehead. “I should have known you’d find a way to ruin the moment for me. Always talking, always babbling, and wanting to know things beyond your ken. Do you ever think to shut your mouth?”
“No. Papa taught me to speak my mind.”
“My uncle is a foolish man. He would have done better to have listened to his wife and smothered you where you lay all those years ago.” At Lilly’s gasp, Bartholomew stepped closer. “She could have succeeded, too, if he wasn’t so weak. Your hands looked so pretty as you scratched at the pillow.”
“Lillian, where are you?” A voice called.
Bartholomew turned as his foolish uncle stumbled toward them. As a cloud scuttled before the moon and darkened the spot where they stood, Bartholomew backed away. He skirted the blundering man and, when he reached Lillian, Bartholomew swung the pistol hard at his uncle’s head.
The baron slumped to the ground and did not move again. Bartholomew crowed with delight. Now he had two things he wanted, and all in one night. Lillian on her knees, and his uncle one step closer to death.
He’d be Baron Barrette before the night was through.
~ * ~
Giles rushed up the stairs, opening every door he came to. Outside, servants ran back and forth from the well and stream, carrying anything that could hold water. He searched inside the house checking how far the fire had spread and looking for signs of Lilly. He hurried along the guest wing, opening and closing doors as he went. He found her bedchamber door unlocked and pushed it open.
No sign of her. Although he was relieved she was out of her room, he worried that she might not be out of the house. He looked about for Atticus, but the hound was gone, too. He’d keep looking. He moved along to check Carrington’s door and found it locked.
When he knocked, he heard a voice. It seemed far away, perhaps across the other side of the room. Using the housekeeper’s keys, he fumbled to open the lock. Since the ceiling of the manor was feet thick with smoke, he knelt low under the rolling filth and opened the door, only to be bowled over by Carrington.
Giles hit the ground hard.
“Sorry about that.” Carrington pulled him to his feet. “Damn door was stuck. I was just debating jumping.”
“Not stuck, locked,” Giles managed to gasp out.
Carrington ducked back into his room, returning with a pistol in his hand. “Better to be careful then. Where’s your Lilly?”
A pane of glass broke below them, and he turned his friend toward the stairs. “I haven’t found her yet. Get yourself outside and look for her. I will check the rest of this floor.”
“Be careful.”
Giles pushed him on his way and checked the rest of the floor. The rooms were all empty. He re-closed the doors as he went and headed down the stairs into thick, swirling smoke. He checked along the edges of each step, making sure that no one had stumbled or been overlooked. Giles was gasping horribly by the time he reached the front door, but he was confident that everyone was out.
Outside, the air was blessedly cool and clear. He dragged the fresh night scents deep into his lungs. The cooler air irritated his throat, and he coughed until his lungs hurt. A grunt opened his eyes and he looked about him.
Across the drive, Lord Winter lay beside the pond. Poor man must be done in. But at least he’d found Lilly. She and Atticus were huddled around the older man and it wasn’t until the dog started growling that he realized they were not alone.
Barrette stood over them.
Atticus edged between Lilly and Barrette, teeth bared and snarling. The dog was enraged. Giles ran as fast and as quietly as he could. Just as he neared, the dog gave his presence away by turning toward the sound of his approach. He found himself facing a dueling pistol.
The last time he had seen this man, he’d desired to have a dueling pistol near. He just wished he had one, too. His aim would be pretty good, given his motivation tonight.
“Stay back,” Barette warned.
Lilly wrapped her arms around her father. Winter was not moving. Lilly was covered in soot from head to toe, her white hair dull in the limited light, but she did not look badly hurt.
Giles took two steps back as the sound of more footsteps could be heard coming up behind him. The pistol swung to Lilly, and then back to him.
“Put the gun down, Barrette,” Giles ordered, using false bravado to intimidate the man.
Barrette curled his lips into a sneer. “This has nothing to do with you. I suggest you go take care of your own affairs.”
“Lilly is my affair. I’ll not leave her.”
Barrette laughed. “Then
I shall have to make sure I do a better job of helping her leave you.” He waved the pistol at Lilly. “Get back on your feet, wench.”
Giles held his breath. He was afraid for her. Terrified to lose her. But he had no gun or weapon on him to fight with. He’d have to be cunning and damned fast about it. He could attempt to tackle Barrette, but the gun might just go off and hit one of them. Giles needed to stall for time, but he did not know what he was waiting for.
“I’m not going anywhere with you again,” Lilly began. “I’ll not be a fool like last time. Put the gun down. What can you hope to gain from this?”
“Dumas, you idiot.”
“I’ve never wanted Dumas.”
Barrette growled. “You still don’t understand. Your dowry sustains Dumas. The estate will be as crippled as you.”
Lilly looked at Giles. She sought confirmation in his gaze and he let his head nod infinitesimally. The loss of her original dowry would do what Barrette feared, and leave the property in dire straights. But Giles had negotiated, settling for a lower sum.
More footsteps sounded behind him, and Giles spread his arms wide. “You cannot hope to harm Lilly and get away with it. There are too many witnesses.”
Barrette pointed the pistol at him instead. “She was supposed to die. None of those doxies was ever worth the coin spent to poison her. If you want something done, you just have to do it yourself. It should have worked the first time,” Barrette complained, adjusting his grip on the weapon.
“The first time was when you threw her off the bridge, wasn’t it?” Giles asked conversationally, unsure where he was going to go with this, but anxious to draw out the exchange.
“Damned dog. Should have known she would have spoilt the brute.” He waved the gun towards Atticus, and Atticus growled until Lilly laid a restraining hand on him. “She quite ruined that hunting dog of mine before I got him. Had to starve and beat the beast before he would behave like a proper dog.”
Barrette laughed, a cruel smile tugging his lips upward.
Lilly scowled, her tiny fists clenched.
All he needed was for her to fly into a temper over a long-dead dog to provoke Barrette into doing something foolish. Like shoot the pistol at her.
Winter chose that moment to groan, and his eyes fluttered open. But he did not see the situation before him. Barrette waved the pistol erratically, and Giles prayed it would not fire accidentally.
“Just lay there, old man, and die. You should have brought her to me when you wanted to be rid of her. I would have done the deed myself. Did you know the cork brain was planning on packing you off to some pissing little estate?” Barrette hissed. “A waste of effort. All that was needed was a shovel and a ditch full of dirt. No one would have missed you. They all think you’re dead anyway.”
Lilly flinched and clutched her father’s hand. “I know what Papa planned, Barty. It is not news,” Lilly told him, her voice strong, despite her tight grip.
Giles nodded his head at her in support and inched closer. Barrette swung the pistol back at him, and he lost the ground he had gained.
“You don’t want to do this, Barrette. Consider what you are doing. You’re not alone. There’s a dozen or more people on this estate, and they must all be watching you by now. You won’t be able to hide.”
“She said it was all mine. She never lies. A cripple doesn’t deserve to be a Winter.”
Barrette renewed his grip on the pistol, and aimed at Lilly. Giles threw himself forward as a pistol shot rang out. Giles landed hard on the ground.
When he glanced about, Barrette lay beside him, eyes wide, a gaping hole oozing blood from his forehead. Barrette didn’t move.
Lord Carrington strode forward, pistol in hand, and nudged the fallen man with his foot.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
GILES SHOULD HAVE thanked his friend immediately, but he was too anxious to reach Lilly. He eased her from under her father, lifted her to her feet, and then kissed the breath out of her.
The sheer terror of the past moments could only be assuaged by the joy of holding her close against his chest, feeling her warmth in his arms. He did not turn away from the spectators. He did not pretend to feel anything but the utter relief of the moment.
Lilly was safe and whole, still here with him. If she ever left him, Giles did not know what he would do. Those moments when the pistol barrel was aimed at her chest had stopped his heart.
Giles pulled back and breathed deeply, allowing Lilly to do the same. He rested his head against hers and their breath mingled hot between them. He held her up off the ground and Lilly wiggled her legs slightly, rocking them both. She was safe. She was safe.
He twisted so Lilly would not have to see her cousin’s body removed or see the pain cross Carrington’s features as the truth of his actions registered. The servants, perhaps noticing Carrington’s stricken expression, rallied around him and led him to the house.
Giles pressed his lips back to Lilly’s again, gently this time. He tenderly swiped the tip of his tongue across her lower lip, tasting the warm sweetness of her mouth and the gentle response she gave him. Her hand lay against the side of his face and her fingers traced the edge of his ear.
He loved this little bundle of trouble, and the relief of finding the one person he adored above all others sent him a little wild. He increased the passion of his kisses and used the hand on her derrière to show Lilly how much she meant to him. Giles knew he would have to say the words aloud soon but, just for now, he did not want to stop kissing her.
“Ahem.”
Giles lifted his head to find his butler waiting.
“The fire is under control.” The butler croaked. “A few of the neighboring gents have ridden over after hearing the warning bell and are inside the manor with your friend and future father-in-law. The viscount is badly shaken, milord. You should speak to him.”
“I will come directly.”
Giles smiled at Lilly. “We have guests. I suppose I shall have to behave now.”
Here at Cottingstone they had lived in a fantasy that no one could see them. It had allowed Giles to get to know Lilly better and fall in love with her, temper and all. He did not want to force her into a marriage with him if she hated the idea, but he would have to be far more circumspect now.
After dropping Lilly to her feet, he held out his arm for her to take. After the first few paces, he noticed a limp to her step. Giles slowed so his butler moved past them. “Are you hurt?”
“I fell down the stairs,” she told him. Her prompt response was a nice change from having to pry answers out of her.
“Where exactly does it hurt?” Should she be walking at all? Perhaps he should carry her.
Lilly tugged on his arm and Giles lowered his head closer to her lips so she could whisper her answer. His eyebrows shot up, and she giggled at his reaction.
“Something to look forward to tending. How delicious.”
Lilly might have blushed at his remark, but he could not tell in the dark.
Dithers waited at the steps, and prevented their progress. “The smoke is still very strong throughout the house, milord. There could still be embers burning beneath the rubble. Perhaps the stable would be more comfortable and safer for Miss Winter tonight. At least the air would be fresher. She could rest in one of the carriages.”
“No thank you. No carriages.” Lilly shuddered. “Some hay in the stables will be good enough.”
Giles took a pair of blankets and a lantern from Dithers, then led Lilly toward a clean corner of hay. He swiftly made as soft a bed as he could and lifted her onto it, then draped her with the second blanket.
“Not comfortable enough by far, but it will have to do for one night. Mrs. Osprey is settling in to keep you company, and I will send your father along in a little while.”
He brushed a few long strands of hair back from her face and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. She was safe now. There was no longer any threat to her from Barrette. He was laid out in an o
utbuilding somewhere and tomorrow, the priest and the magistrate would be called.
Lilly clutched his arm. “Will the manor recover?”
“She might be a little scorched on one side, but I think the damage can be repaired easily enough. Barrette seemed intent on driving everyone from the house, not burning Cottingstone to the ground. The worst of it was out long before I found you, but I need to ensure the embers are all dug out. I am so sorry you have to sleep out here. Stay warm. If you need anything, ask Mrs. Osprey. I will see you in the morning.”
“I’m sorry.”
Giles frowned. “For what?”
“For my cousin. Tell Carrington I’m sorry too. Be careful, Giles,” Lilly murmured.
A thrill raced through him. No one had concerned themselves over his safety in a long time. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and whispered, “I will,” before he left.
~ * ~
Giles worked his way through the house with a few staff and Carrington, removing debris and extinguishing any glowing embers that still burned. The remaining dark made them easy to find. Then he planned to catch a few hours sleep somewhere. As much as he might wish it, he could not sleep beside Lilly in the stables. There were just too many eyes watching her now.
“Thank you for your assistance tonight,” Giles said, seizing a moment when they were free of the servants’ company.
Carrington shrugged and continued shoveling.
“She means the world to me. I could not bear to see her suffer more hurt than she has.”
Carrington shifted another pile of debris to a barrow for removal. “I knew that,” Carrington said, words whispered in a sad rasp of sound. “You love her, would have died for her tonight.”
“I do.” It surprised Giles how little those words frightened him. In a month, if he were persuasive enough, he would say them to Lilly. She might have understandable misgivings about marriage to him, but he would promise his fidelity before all of society if she asked him to.
“Can I get you anything, milord?” Dithers stood in the doorway, not quite as prim and straight as usual. His voice was a husky rasp.