A Scoundrel by Moonlight

by Anna Campbell

  “And I’ve got a pistol leveled at your kidneys,” James said.

  “One flick of my finger and she’s dead.”

  “James, I’m so sorry.” Nell squinted to see him, but the gloom defeated her. Every time she shifted, the pistol barrel chafed her temple. The sensation wasn’t pleasant.

  “Has he hurt you?” James asked.

  “No.”

  “Thank God.” She heard his overwhelming relief. She hoped Greengrass didn’t. It gave him too much power.

  “Well, this is an interesting bind.” Greengrass’s tone was mocking.

  “Grounds for negotiation at least,” James said with equivalent mockery. “Return to the clearing. And don’t try anything.”

  Nell held her breath. Would Greengrass resist the order as she knew he wanted to?

  After a pause, Greengrass grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Walk, flower.”

  When they emerged from the shrubbery, the moon shone clear. Nell chanced a peek at the men behind her. Greengrass looked stolid and menacing. A quick turn of her head, although every instinct screamed to stand still with the gun so close, revealed James behind Greengrass.

  “Let the girl go,” James said.

  Greengrass laughed softly and jerked Nell back against him. “Why should I do that when she’s my only counter on the board, now you and those bastards gypped me?”

  “We can wait here until dawn when I’ll undoubtedly have reinforcements,” James said calmly. “You can’t imagine that you’ve got a chance in hell of getting away.”

  “The whore dies in any case. If I’m cornered, why keep her alive?”

  “Release her and I’ll let you free.” Nell couldn’t see James’s face, but she knew what that offer cost him.

  Greengrass chuckled. “The minute you’ve got her, I’m dead as a haddock.”

  “I won’t risk her life in a scuffle.”

  “James, don’t trust him,” Nell begged. She heard seething hatred in Greengrass’s voice and guessed that he’d sacrifice his safety to kill his enemy. “He wants you dead.”

  “I do indeed.” His grip on her arm tightened until pins and needles pricked her fingers.

  “Be brave, Eleanor,” James said. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”

  “Rash words, laddie,” Greengrass scoffed.

  “I promise that I’ll see this lady safe, even if it means rattling the gates of heaven.”

  James declaration rang with certainty and valor. But God help her, she heard more. Anyone listening would know immediately that he loved her.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs. Upstairs when he’d declared his love, she’d believed him—up to a point. Now when they both faced such danger, she couldn’t mistake that love invested every word he spoke to her.

  She’d been such a blind fool. How could she hesitate to become his wife? How could she weigh worldly considerations against their chance to live as one, to have children, to grow old together?

  Nell desperately wanted to believe James when he vowed to save her, but at this moment, she couldn’t imagine that they’d both escape. Dear Lord above, she didn’t want to die. Most of all she didn’t want to die without telling James that she loved him.

  She sucked in a deep breath and leveled her shoulders. A preternatural calm descended. She shut Greengrass’s loathsome presence from her mind. She shut everything out, except the endless universe of love she heard in James’s voice.

  “I love you, James,” she said, surprised at how firmly the words emerged. “No matter what happens, I will always love you.”

  “Eleanor?” He sounded shocked.

  “Believe it, my love,” she said.

  “I love you too.” Such simple words, but each heartfelt syllable reinforced her courage.

  “How touching,” Greengrass said sarcastically.

  Nell was immune to his jeers. Her heart felt clean, and finally her brain started to function. There must be some way she could help James and give them both a chance to seize the bright future that until now had seemed out of reach.

  She’d wanted a weapon. What a ninny she was. God had given her two good hands, hadn’t he? And Greengrass currently held only one of her arms, leaving the other free to do some damage and hopefully create a diversion.

  Without taking time to count consequences, she stretched up and back to dig her fingers into Greengrass’s eye.

  “Bloody hell!” He lurched and his hand clenched painfully on her arm. Gritting her teeth against surging revulsion, she clawed deeper.

  Fleetingly, the pistol slipped away from her head. Knowing it might be the last thing she ever did, Nell collapsed as a dead weight against his legs, screaming for help.

  “You little bitch!” Like the sound of doom, she heard the click of the safety lock just above her, far too close to her ear. Automatically she curled up as small as she could.

  Through James’s despairing “Eleanor!” the pistol blasted. The world turned black.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Sick with horror, Leath watched Nell slump to the ground. Without making a conscious decision, he jammed his pistol behind Greengrass’s ear and pulled the trigger. The hulking brute grunted, staggered forward past Eleanor’s body, and fell with a thud.

  His enemy was dead. Apart from the cessation of immediate danger, Leath couldn’t give a damn. He flung the pistol into the darkness and fell to his knees beside Eleanor.

  “My darling…” he choked out, hauling her into his arms. Her proud, astounding declaration of love echoed in his heart.

  Her head flopped back, tilting her pale, perfect face to the moon. When they’d first met, he’d thought of flawless white marble. Now that memory turned his blood to ice.

  Desperate for any sign of life, his shaking hand brushed untidy tendrils of hair back from her bloody forehead. Her eyes remained closed, thick lashes shadowing her cheekbones.

  “Don’t die. Don’t die,” he whispered, clutching her to his chest as if his warmth could revive her. His hands were sticky with her blood. His gut knotted in denial. Why in blazes had she done that crazed thing? Why had she risked her life?

  Except that he knew. She’d trusted him to use the moment. How ironic that so often he’d begged her to trust him, and right now, he wished to the depths of hell that she hadn’t.

  “Eleanor, darling, for God’s sake, don’t leave me.” He plastered her to his body, rocking back and forth. “Don’t ever leave me. How can I go on without you?”

  The agony of losing her shuddered through him. How could fate give him this magnificent creature, then snatch her away? By God, he wouldn’t let her die. He’d defy heaven and hell to keep her.

  He bent his head to feel her breath on his skin. He didn’t trust his hearing. His ears still rang from the gunshot. Or perhaps he was deaf to everything except his pounding need to know she was alive.

  “What the devil’s all this?”

  “Greengrass shot her.” He didn’t look up at Sedgemoor’s arrival. “I think she’s dead.”

  Eleanor’s frozen features cut Leath like a saber. In the moonlight, the blood matting her hair was black as pitch.

  Sedgemoor glanced toward Greengrass’s unmoving bulk, then bent to take her dangling wrist between his fingers. Leath’s grip tightened as the bristling silence lengthened.

  Sedgemoor sent him a quick, reassuring smile. “There’s a pulse.”

  Leath regarded him in disbelief. The prospect of her death was so crushing that he hardly dared hope. She felt so ominously still. “You’re sure?”

  “I think so. Let’s get her inside, out of this cold.” He paused. “And if you don’t loosen your grip, you’ll smother her, no matter what damage the bullet did.”

  “What’s happened?” Harmsworth ran across the grass with Hillbrook striding behind, carrying a lamp. “I heard a scream and two gunshots.”

  “It seems Greengrass shot Miss Trim. Then Leath must have shot him. The bugger’s over there.”

  �
�Is Miss Trim all right?” Hillbrook asked, briefly glancing toward Greengrass’s body.

  “We dearly hope so,” Sedgemoor said grimly, reaching for Eleanor. “Check and make sure the bastard really is dead.”

  “She’s mine,” Leath snapped, hands tightening on her slender, gallant shoulders. He was vaguely aware of Hillbrook bending over Greengrass’s body.

  Despite the moon and the lamp and the gradually waking inn, impenetrable darkness crushed him. He’d wondered once what would happen if Eleanor took the light away with her. Now he knew, and the pain was beyond bearing. He lowered his head over her motionless body and whispered a prayer for her survival that emerged from the depths of his soul. And knew that it wasn’t nearly enough.

  Cradling Eleanor as though the merest bump might break her in two, he struggled to his feet and strode toward the inn’s open door.

  Carrying her, he marched past Sedgemoor, Hillbrook, and Harmsworth. The men stood silently as if holding a vigil, then followed him. He hardly noticed. All that mattered was the still form in his arms.

  “My lords, I heard gunfire,” the landlord said as Leath shouldered past him and a noisy crowd of servants and guests.

  “Get a doctor,” he bit out, heading for a small parlor off the hallway.

  “And the magistrate,” Hillbrook said behind him. He and Sedgemoor followed Leath.

  “But what on earth has happened?” the man asked in bewilderment.

  “My dear sir, let me tell you.” Harmsworth stayed behind and had the sense to close the parlor door on the curious onlookers.

  Leath found it in him to be thankful that Harmsworth handled everything. Hillbrook ranged before the entrance, in case Harmsworth’s explanations failed to appease the crowd.

  Very carefully, Leath laid Eleanor on the padded settle before the hearth. Sedgemoor lit the lamps until the room blazed. The light only fed Leath’s anguish as he saw her clearly for the first time since the shooting. Her head was a mess of blood and red streaked her wan cheeks. She remained terrifyingly still. Damn it, he saw no sign that she breathed.

  He stroked back her tangled hair. “Eleanor, darling, come back to me,” he murmured, taking her hand. “Come back.”

  Vaguely he was aware of Sedgemoor stoking the fire to life. He couldn’t feel the heat. If his beloved died, he’d never feel warm again.

  He tried but failed to find a pulse. Had Sedgemoor lied? Was she dead after all? It was more than he could endure. Her absence crashed down on him, suffocating as an avalanche.

  Cold, cold forever. No Eleanor now or in the future. That was damnation indeed.

  In an excess of grief, he collapsed onto the seat and held her in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder so that he could see her face. The blood staining her pale hair was an abomination. He curled over her, praying more desperately than he’d ever prayed in his life.

  “Don’t die, my darling,” he said, over and over, an idiot plea to a woman who had moved too far away to hear. “Don’t die. I won’t let you.”

  “Courage, Leath,” Sedgemoor said, placing a hand on his shoulder. The encouragement couldn’t melt the ice encasing Leath. “She’ll pull through.”

  After a knock, Hillbrook opened the door. Leath heard a murmur of voices, but didn’t glance away from Eleanor’s ethereal features. She already looked as though she belonged to the next world, not this one. He wanted to bellow his fury and sorrow to the sky.

  “This is Dr. Manion, Leath,” Harmsworth said gently. “As luck would have it, he’s staying in the inn.”

  “Please let me see my patient.” The doctor pushed forward and set his bag on the floor.

  Leath’s arms firmed around Eleanor. “Help her. I beg of you, help her.”

  “She was shot?” The man with a strong Dublin accent leaned down.

  “Yes.”

  “Please shift out of the way, my lord, to permit an examination.”

  Leath didn’t budge. His deepest impulse was never to let her go. Illogically, he remained convinced that his touch could keep her alive.

  Sedgemoor’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “Come on, old man. Let Dr. Manion do his work.”

  Hazily he glanced at the other men. Anything outside the reality of Eleanor lying unresponsive in his arms held no significance.

  “Lord Leath?” The doctor’s voice was calm.

  “She can’t die,” Leath said stupidly. “You can’t let her die.”

  The doctor maneuvered around Leath to lift Eleanor’s wrist. For a yawning chasm of a moment, he paused. “Her pulse is strong.”

  Uncomprehendingly Leath stared at the doctor. Then, gloriously, he felt faint movement in the body pressed to his chest. Against his heart, Eleanor made a muffled protest.

  “Eleanor?” he choked out.

  “My lord, I must insist you stand aside,” the doctor said. Eleanor’s lashes fluttered almost imperceptibly.

  “Sweetheart? Say something, for God’s sake.” When her lips parted on a breath, he felt like an ax struck him. He’d been so convinced that Greengrass had killed her. “Darling?”

  Her eyelids moved. He sucked in his first unfettered breath since he’d watched her fall in that nightmare moment outside. He couldn’t doubt that she was alive. But still he needed to hear her speak.

  Heavy eyelids hesitantly lifted over dazed amber eyes. “James?”

  “Thank God,” Sedgemoor murmured.

  A frown crossed her face. “My head hurts.”

  “Oh, my love,” Leath said in a cracked voice and kissed her with all the reverence and gratitude in his heart. Gently, softly. Her response was a ghost of her usual ardor, but it barreled through him like a tidal wave. He’d thought that she’d never kiss him again.

  “You’re… you’re crying,” she whispered jerkily. She raised an unsteady hand to his cheek. “Why are you crying?”

  “I thought I’d lost you,” he confessed.

  Unbelievably, amusement quirked her lips. “Don’t be silly. You’ll never lose me. I love you.”

  With that declaration of feelings too new for him to accept as his due, she closed her eyes. “No, don’t go. Eleanor!”

  He fought as Sedgemoor and Hillbrook dragged him out of the way. “I can’t leave her.”

  “Give the man room,” Hillbrook said impatiently, gripping one arm.

  “I need hot water,” Dr. Manion said without turning.

  “I’ll arrange it,” Sedgemoor said and disappeared out the door.

  Panting, Leath kept his attention on Eleanor. Her skin was ashen, but in some imperceptible way, she now seemed unmistakably alive.

  “Doctor?” he asked. Hillbrook must have realized that reason prevailed and released him.

  “Give me time,” the man grunted.

  Sedgemoor returned with one maid bearing a bowl of steaming water and a second with a pile of towels. Finally the landlord appeared, carrying a tray with a brandy bottle and some glasses.

  “Capital,” Hillbrook said. “We all need a drink. Where’s Richard?”

  “Dealing with the magistrate. The fellow’s not happy about a dead body at Maidenhead’s best inn,” Sedgemoor said. “But the famous charm is working its magic. The man’s agreed to wait to hear exactly what happened, especially as Richard’s giving him chapter and verse on Greengrass’s crimes. By the time he’s finished, the town will probably present Leath with a medal for ridding the world of a menace.”

  Leath paid little heed to the conversation. What did he care about magistrates when Eleanor’s life hung in the balance? He itched to hold her, whatever logic said about the doctor needing space.

  Dr. Manion stood at her side, cleaning her head wound. How in Hades could she live when there was so much blood?

  “My lord?” The landlord offered Leath a brimming glass of brandy.

  He stared back dully.

  “Take it, Leath, you need it,” Hillbrook said.

  He grabbed the glass and swallowed the liquor in one hit. “Should she have lost co
nsciousness again?”

  The doctor didn’t look up. “Patience, my lord.”

  Leath slammed his glass on a table and rushed forward. He needed to touch her, to reassure himself that she breathed. This close, he could see that the water in the dish was ominously red. “Don’t hurt her.”

  “I’ll do my best,” the man said flatly.

  “If you save her, I’ll give you a thousand pounds.” Leath loomed over the doctor’s shoulder. He would cut off his right arm in return for one word from Eleanor. Hell, he’d cut off his head if it meant that she smiled again.

  The doctor’s lips tightened. “I can only do what my skills allow—and what God’s mercy permits, sir. Pray stand further off. You block the light.”

  “Ten thousand pounds.”

  “You can offer the crown jewels or sixpence, my lord,” the man said shortly. “I said I’d do my best and that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Don’t pester Dr. Manion,” Sedgemoor said, and threw Leath into a nearby chair. “Tell us what happened outside.”

  “I don’t—” He sucked in a shuddering breath and looked at these two men who against all expectations, he now counted as friends. “You’re trying to distract me.”

  “He’s trying to stop you from strangling Dr. Manion,” Hillbrook said with a grim smile. “Your fussing won’t help Miss Trim.”

  Leath straightened. “She won’t die,” he said calmly.

  Instead of deriding his lunatic statement, Hillbrook responded evenly, “Of course she won’t. But in the meantime, satisfy our curiosity.”

  “Yes, old man,” Sedgemoor said, handing him another brandy. “I want to know how all our plotting to leave you alone with your lady love resulted in this disaster. How the deuce did you both end up outside?”

  “Eleanor took to her heels when I asked her to marry me.”

  He waited for disapproval, but Sedgemoor’s hand settled on his shoulder again. Despite the dread in his heart, he appreciated the support. “If you asked me to marry you, I’d run off too.”

  He didn’t smile. “Greengrass must have been lurking in the garden. By the time I found her, he’d decided to hold her to ransom at gunpoint.”