Lord Hunter (Secrets & Scandals Book 6)

by Tiffany Green

  “Two men rushed from the alley. As I turned, I felt the hit.” He raised his other hand and pointed farther down the street. “I woke up near the apothecary and come back now.”

  Lucian stepped forward. “Can you describe the attackers? Did you recognize them?”

  “I could only tell one was my height, the other about this tall.” His hand rose to the center of his chest. “That is all I could see, janaab.”

  Emma gazed at the gathering crowd and bit her lip. Samir’s description fit any number of the men. A moan came from somewhere beside the busted livery door and she turned to find the short, round man who owned the building struggling to his feet in the shadow of the building.

  Lucian lurched to the man and helped him up.

  “Thank you, milord,” the man wheezed, then winced as he pressed fingers to the growing goose egg on the side of his forehead.

  “Can you tell us what happened?” Lucian asked.

  “Two men.” He turned and pointed to the dark alley beside the livery. “Must have been waiting for us to come outside. He got hit first,” he said, pointing to Samir. “Then me.”

  Emma gasped. “Where is Joe?” she asked, scanning the crowd.

  “Helping to put out the fire, piyaa,” Samir said, lowering his hand from his wound. “He is not hurt.”

  Lucian nodded to the livery owner. “Can you describe the attackers?”

  “I do not know if it was he who hit me, but when I was on the ground and roused a moment, I saw a man lean over me with a scar on his face,” the man said, running a finger from the beginning of his left brow, down across his nose, and ending at the center of his right cheek.

  Lucian turned and raised his brows. “Shouldn’t be difficult to identify with a scar like that.”

  Emma crossed her arms, her anger surging up her body, and shook her head. “Not difficult at all, my lord. His name is Murdoch.”

  Surprise flared in Lucian’s eyes. He stomped forward. “You know this man?”

  She nodded and felt the chill of the night for the first time since the fire broke out. “One of Lord Sorrington’s men. The short one is Murdoch’s cousin, Burke.”

  His brows shot up, then lowered. “Yes, I remember the scarred man on the road before we arrived at the inn.” His eyes flashed. “When Sorrington greeted us.”

  Emma’s anger churned within. The evidence continued to mount against Sorrington. That snake killed Jonah and had her brother on the run, no doubt trying to kill him, too. Well, she would get to Sean first and see him safe.

  Cheers rose up and Emma turned to the crowd.

  “The fire has been put out,” Lucian said and glanced at the sinking moon. “The hour grows late. Come, let us return to the inn.”

  “The horses,” Emma said, crossing her arms against the cold sea breeze.

  Samir spoke before Lucian had the chance. “Will be boarded at the inn, piyaa. They have the room.”

  A warm coat settled around her shoulders and Emma sighed, catching the scent of smoke mingled with Lucian’s male spice. He leaned down, his words tickling the fine hairs near her cheek. “Come, minx, else I will carry you to the inn.”

  The statement sent a delicious shiver down her spine and she turned, her lips a hairsbreadth from his. “You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered, fighting the urge to lean forward.

  Lucian’s right brow shot up. “I certainly would.” His words came out slow, each one caressing her lips, sending waves of tingles through her.

  For a moment, she thought to let him sweep her up into his arms and hold her against his solid chest. With a contented sigh, she would settle against his warmth and let him take her wherever he wished. Yet, catching the devilish gleam in his eyes, she decided not to give him the satisfaction. With her best wicked smile, she swiveled around. “You mistake me for one of those silly, swooning debutants of the ton,” she said over her shoulder. “I have no need for anyone to carry me anywhere, my lord.” Then, with shoulders set, she began down the street.

  Hearing Lucian chuckle as he caught up made her smile. At least the man wasn’t one of those rigid ‘by the rules’ types she had come across in London. Due to the admonished glances and affronted huffs she received at the British Museum with her father, she remained at Hartford the last three trips. No one gave Sean the same trouble. No one scoffed how improper it was for him to hunt for treasure. No one hissed how he would never find anyone to marry.

  Emma squared her shoulders and tossed back the unpinned, ragged curls reeking of smoke. She had decided to never marry, anyway. The thought of all her freedoms taken away made her recoil. Never would some husband tell her she could not go wherever she wished and do whatever she wanted. Never!

  A hand on her shoulder made Emma slow. She turned to Lucian as he slid his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “You did well to get those horses out.” He gave her another kiss. “I am proud of you.”

  Emma almost tripped on her own feet. She swallowed hard, having never heard anyone say those words. “Thank you,” she managed through a tight throat. Most men would have been angered for her help, not praising her. An odd man, Lucian Townsend, Lord Hartford.

  Warmth flooded her middle and Emma resisted the foreign feeling. She had no time for such a distraction. Finding Sean required her full attention.

  The innkeeper, Duffy, met them at the door. “I heard about the fire,” he said and lifted the lamp, eyeing them with a frown. “Shall I order a bath?”

  Emma nodded. “Please,” she said as Lucian led her into the warm interior. She found the taproom empty but for an elderly man sipping ale at the far corner, the same table she shared with Lucian earlier.

  “Come, take a seat while your bath is prepared.” Duffy set the lamp aside while speaking to a yawning servant girl, then led them to the table near the roaring fire.

  Emma sighed as she lifted her icy hands to the hot flames, making them tingle and sting, then turned when the serving girl ambled forward with a tray of tea and biscuits. Placing a good dollop of honey in her tea as the servant moved off, Emma took a careful sip, and almost groaned as the warmth soothed her scratchy throat.

  Lucian leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You said something about having to recalculate the coordinates.”

  Reaching for a biscuit, Emma’s hand stilled as she glanced at Lucian. “Yes.” Making sure they were not being overheard, she continued. “When the starting point on the map changed, the course calculations will have to be refigured.” She could feel her brows rising to her hairline, a smile pulling at her lips. “Are you telling me you are interested in locating the treasure, my lord?”

  His eyes sharpened on her and, instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Does Sean have the map?”

  “He does,” she admitted.

  Lucian nodded and reached for his tea, as if satisfied in some way.

  Emma pursed her lips. “He has a copy of the map, if it matters. The original was too fragile for the journey.”

  Leaning back, Lucian crossed his arms. “Where is the original?”

  She reached for a biscuit, frowning at the soot on her hand. “Well hidden.”

  “How many copies were made and who made them?”

  Emma munched on her biscuit, trying to follow Lucian’s logic. Giving up, she asked, “Why are you asking these questions?”

  Lucian heaved a sigh. “I am trying to reason Sorrington’s next move. If he killed Jonah and is after the treasure, why would he have set the fire tonight?” He unfurled his arms and leaned forward. “Why would he kill you, the only person who can lead him to Sean and the map? Why not just follow us to your brother?”

  Setting aside her half-eaten biscuit, that now tasted like ash, she wiped the crumbs from her fingers and lifted her tea. Lucian had a point. If Sorrington was after the treasure, why would he kill the only person who could lead him to it? Having come across the man earlier, it was obvious he had no idea where to find Sean.

  Duffy shuffled
forward. “Pardon, milord, the bath is ready.”

  Lucian nodded. “You, first, darling,” he said, a wicked glint in his eyes.

  Hoping her cheeks weren’t as pink as they felt, Emma rose and followed the innkeeper to a bathing room at the rear of the building. A hot fire crackled in the grate, and in the center of the small room, a good-sized copper tub had been filled with steamy water. The serving girl who brought them tea earlier was setting out Emma’s pale blue dress.

  “Shall I assist, milady?”

  Emma shook her head and dismissed the girl. She did not need assistance, having all her dresses fashioned with buttons down the front. Nor did she ever use a corset. Funny how no one noticed. For years, Emma never knew when her father would find a breakthrough and have to leave that very minute. Long ago, she decided to rely on herself or get left behind.

  After shedding the soot-stained dress and peeling away her thin chemise, Emma sank into the warm water with a long groan. Her muscles were sore. Getting the horses out of their stalls had taken a toll.

  As much as Emma wanted to linger in the delicious warm water, she hurried to wash her hair and body with the soap left on the stool, surprised to smell a hint of roses in the lather. No doubt, Lucian would wish his bath before long. Swallowing back a yawn, she slipped into a fresh chemise and dress. Knowing her hair would take too long to dry, she used the brush set out on the stool beside the fire and worked for several minutes to rid some of the dampness from her long, auburn tresses. Then she found the few pins she had left and worked to pin her damp hair.

  Once the last pin was in place, Emma turned to the door. Perhaps the serving girl would get fresh water for Lucian, she thought, as she pulled on the latch. A shadow unfurled from the end of the hall and walked toward her. “The room is yours, Lucian.” She smiled and patted her hair. “You might want to call for fresh water. I did not realize how much soot had attached to me.”

  When Lucian did not respond, Emma squinted in the darkness. The lumbering shadow, limed in the lamplight behind him, continued forward, and somewhere in the recesses of her tired mind, she knew the shape did not fit Lucian.

  Stumbling back into the bathing room, she caught sight of a nasty scar running down the man’s face as she slammed the door and turned the key with trembling fingers. Glancing from one bare wall, to the fireplace, to the other bare wall, Emma backed away from the door. Her mind spun with visions of the man crashing through the wood. If Lucian could do it earlier, this giant could come in with ease. Crossing her arms, she bumped into the stool, scattering the hairbrush and soap across the stone floor.

  The latch jiggled, and Emma caught her breath. Her heart hammered in her throat. She backed up another few steps, her rear bumping into something beside the fireplace. Reaching behind her, she came up with the heavy poker and held it out, ready to battle to the death when Murdoch decided to smash through the door.

  Her hands shook so hard, the black tipped poker joggled before her. Her palms grew slick and she had to grasp the handle hard with both hands to keep hold of the thing.

  The latch clattered and Emma froze, unable to move, unable to breathe. And one thought entered her mind. Oh, God. Not again.

  Chapter 6

  Lucian sipped his whiskey, trying not to think of a certain lady taking a bath. But the more he fought for other things to ponder, the more his mind showed him soapy water sluicing over naked pink skin. With a groan, he threw back his drink and let the liquid burn a path down his throat.

  The stuff was disgusting, but it did dull the pain. Lucian rotated his right shoulder, then rubbed the soreness. Getting through the stable door would cost him a few bruises, but well worth not losing Emma. Mopping a sooty hand down his face, he drew in a breath, wondering how she had come to mean so much to him in so short of time.

  Well, hell. He was the protective sort, Lucian reasoned. But as he rubbed the soreness in his shoulder again, he knew there was more to it than that. Much more. He wasn’t ready to delve into it, though. They had to find Sean and learn who killed Jonah, first. There was time enough for… For what?

  Lucian shook his head as a fresh whiskey appeared on the table before him. He smiled his thanks at the serving girl, who flashed him a sultry grin in return, then sashayed into the kitchen.

  Lifting his drink to his lips, Lucian took a sip and noticed a large shadow move across the hall at the back of the building. Thinking it was Duffy checking on Emma, he raised his glass again, but stopped, listening to the raised voices coming from the kitchen. One of them was Duffy and he bolted from his chair. Heart pounding, he raced beyond the kitchen, to the back of the building. Behind the stairs, a sharp right turn showed a long, dark corridor and a wooden door at the end. A low lamp flickered on a shelf and revealed the corridor empty.

  Lucian could hear his breathing sawing in and out of his lungs as he glanced around. He knew what he saw. A large shadow turning this corner. His mind whirled. Perhaps, the evening had taken its toll. Then he heard wood bumping against wood and felt the cool ocean breeze against his skin, could smell the brine. The air blew against the lamp, making the flame sputter, and he walked forward.

  Midway down the hall, to the left, a door bumped against the frame. Not his imagination, then, he thought as he latched the handle. Turning to the bathing room, he saw the yellow strip of light beneath the door and walked forward. He had to be certain Emma was safe.

  Lucian pressed knuckles to wood and gave three knocks. “Emma, are you well?”

  Receiving no answer, Lucian spoke louder. “Emma,” he called, rapping harder against the wooden slats, “tell me you are safe.” He reached for the latch but found the door locked. “Emma, are you in there?”

  “What is this?” Duffy asked as he came down the hall.

  Lucian turned to the innkeeper. “I saw the shadow of a man heading this way.” He nodded to the door that led outside. “And found that door open. Now, Emma does not answer,” he said as he swiveled back around. Jiggling the handle, he called, “Open the door, Emma.”

  Duffy came to his side and stroked the whiskers on his chin. “She must be inside,” he said, eyeing the door.

  “How do you know for certain?”

  “The door is locked.” Duffy grabbed the latch and confirmed the fact with a nod. Then he hunkered down and glanced into the keyhole. “Aye, the key is there,” he said, rising to his feet.

  “Why will she not answer?”

  Duffy’s meaty shoulders rose and fell. “Dunno. Maybe she saw what you saw.”

  Lucian nodded his agreement, then frowned at the door. “How will we get the door open?” His aching shoulder did not relish another go, but he would crash through if necessary.

  “With this,” Duffy said, fishing out a long iron key from his pocket.

  With a relieved sigh, Lucian stepped back and let Duffy work the lock. When the man inserted the key into the hole, he heard the other key fall and plink across the stone floor on the other side. Twisting the key, Duffy swung the door open and stepped aside.

  Seeing Emma standing beside the fireplace made Lucian’s heart settle back into place. He drew in a deep breath and stepped into the room. Then he noticed the shaking poker she held out and his steps slowed. Lifting his gaze to her wide eyes, Lucian spoke in soft tones. “Emma? It’s me, Lucian.”

  At first, he didn’t think she heard him, but then her lips parted. “Lucian?” she whispered.

  “Yes, my sweet, I am here.” He skirted the hairbrush on the floor and stood inches from the poker tip. “You have nothing to fear.”

  She blinked. Her body gave a jolt, then she lifted her gaze to his. “There was a man.” Her voice grew stronger with each word. “Merdoch. He was coming down the hall.”

  Lucian reached for the poker and took it from her trembling fingers. “He is gone.”

  She nodded and a damp auburn curl slipped down her pale cheek. Something was amiss. Faced with being locked in a burning stable with screaming horses had not scared her so. He b
lew out a breath. Perhaps, it was the culmination of the evening’s events taking its toll.

  “Come, let us get you to the room.” He wanted to put his arm around her shoulders but decided not to soil her clean dress.

  With a jerky nod, she stepped forward and followed him to the room. Lucian closed the door and turned, frowning at Emma standing beside the bed, arms wound tight around her body. The rosy glow of the lamp showed her pale cheeks and trembling lips. He came forward as one would a frightened animal. “Tell me what happened, Emma,” he said in a soft voice.

  She drew in a shuddering breath. “Merdoch gave me a fright.” Her arms unfurled and she sat on the edge of the bed as though deflated.

  Lucian eyed her, doubting that was all there was to it, but decided to let it go. For now. He nodded to the bed. “Get some rest. It will be dawn in a couple of hours.”

  Her head came up. “You will remain here?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Emma nodded and stretched out on the bed. Lucian turned away and ambled toward the washbowl. Perhaps the cold water would help get the pictures of Emma curled up on the bed out of his mind.

  What did Murdoch want with her? Did he mean to frighten her, or did he have another, more sinister objective? Lucian peeled away his waistcoat and shirt, then used a wash cloth to clean the filth from his skin. Like before, he wondered about Sorrington’s motives. If the man was desperate to locate Sean for the map leading to the gold, why scare Emma? Why not leave her alone and follow her?

  Hearing a soft purr, Lucian glanced over his shoulder. Emma lay on her side with a hand curled beneath her chin, pink lips parted. A wayward curl rested against her cheek. He moved forward as if his feet had a mind of their own. Reaching down, he moved the lock of hair behind her ear, his finger grazing her soft skin. “I won’t let them harm you,” he whispered.

  Overcome with the strongest urge to protect, Lucian leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Emma’s cheek. She mumbled something as he straightened, but she slept on. After watching her another minute, he went to his valise and withdrew fresh clothes. As he dressed behind the screen, his mind whirled with plans. He needed to get Emma somewhere safe. He could find Sean on his own. But where to take her? Not back to Hartford. The sound of the pistol still rang in his ears. Emma splayed over the stone walk among red rose petals would forever haunt him.