The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  A fourth man came in, but he fired no shots, simply dragged the two wounded men away by their collars.

  All was quiet in the cottage for a moment. Alexander propped up the first reloaded musket, and started to work on the second.

  "At least you're fast."

  "Nice to know I remember some useful things from my old life."

  "A lot of useful things, love." She kissed him on the cheek.

  "Should I go try to barricade the door again?"

  "No, Caleb, just stay put. It isn't worth the risk. They could be trying to lure us into doing just that. And that battering ram will make short work of it anyway. Patience and intelligence will win this battle."

  After about ten minutes, the assailants made another sally into the kitchen. Sarah and Caleb picked off the first two, but a third came charging through the hail of bullets, and launched himself at Alexander, who was sent sprawling. She heard a shot, and saw the flash of a knife. She brought down the butt of the musket full-force upon the attacker, and then aimed her pistol at yet another pair of men swarming through the shattered door.

  "Caleb, take the one on the right!"

  She hit her target squarely in the chest, while Caleb winged his in the right arm. The man dropped his pistol, which went off harmlessly when it clattered to the flagstone floor.

  Alexander was still grappling with his attacker in between the two trunks, but managed to get the knife away from him and stabbed him in the belly. Sarah watched the ease and skill with which her lover fought, as if he had been born to it. He twisted the knife and yanked it back out, and planted the man a heavy blow to the jaw which snapped it in two. The man shrieked and squirmed, and began to crawl away out the door. Alexander reached out a second time to stab him fiercely in the side and let him go. The man crawled on all fours toward the door, his wounded comrades following him.

  "Are you all right?" she asked, searching him quickly for any sign of injury.

  "It's just a scratch." He took out his handkerchief and bound his wrist, and then resumed reloading the muskets and the new pistol he had just secured from the kitchen floor.

  She stared at him, wondering at his calm stillness in the midst of the chaos. The fire had shaken him badly, but this, this was what he had lived and trained for, she was sure of it. Alexander might well be intelligent, gentlemanly, but he was a warrior through and through.

  And so was she, she had discovered, when pressed hard enough.

  In all the confusion, Sarah had not noticed the sound of breaking glass. The small transom above the front door had been shattered during the melee on the floor with Alexander. A hand and arm were now silently snaking in to lift the latch from the inside.

  "Caleb, help reload, while I look at Alexander's wound."

  "It's nothing, I tell you. Pay attention to the battlefield."

  "How many do you think there are?"

  "My guess, from the sounds outside, there were eight to ten," he replied. "I'm not sure how many we killed or wounded."

  "If they come in again now, we're sitting ducks if we don't get loaded soon."

  "A musket butt is a good weapon. Aim for the groin."

  "Why, Alexander, I do believe you like to fight dirty," she tried to joke.

  His face grew mask-like, remote. "This is no laughing matter, Sarah. I would do anything to protect you," he said, his voice raw with love and fear.

  "Same here, darling."

  Just then, a small sound behind her alerted her to the intruder trying to slip in through the front door. Having no weapon reloaded yet, she grabbed her brother's saber and ran through the questing arm, putting all her weight into the thrust. She heard a bellow of pain, felt it slice down to the bone, and the latch dropped once more. Sarah would have followed up with a second thrust, but the arm snaked back out of the small window in an instant, and at last they were alone once more.

  After half an hour, Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. "I think they really are gone this time."

  "Lucky we had a small arsenal in the house," Alexander said.

  "That's for certain. We would have been done for otherwise."

  "Miss Deveril! Miss Deveril! Are you all right?" a voice called from outside.

  "It's Jed!" Caleb exclaimed in relief.

  "Miss Deveril, it's me, Jed Miller, and some of the men from the village. We saw some men lurking around the vicarage just now, and thought you might be in trouble."

  "Are you sure it's not a trick?" Alexander asked in a worried tone.

  She ran into her small parlor, and looked out the window cautiously. She saw several of the local men carrying flambeaux. All of them were dressed in a variety of colors, but none of them in black.

  "It's all right. I know them all."

  Caleb kept an eye on the back door while she went out through the front, sword still in hand. Jed and Mr. Evans came in to survey the damage, and immediately offered their assistance in fixing the back door and cleaning up the mess. They were astonished with the manner in which the vicarage had been decimated, and offered to call in to the magistrate Geoffrey Branson's house to tell him the news.

  "That would be wonderful, thank you. I would be even more grateful if some of you could stay tonight, and tomorrow, just in case they decide to come back. We'll be leaving in the morning, heading to some family and friends, and would be glad if you would keep us safe until then."

  Jed offered to stay for as long as was needed, and a couple of his friends agreed to as well. "Tim, and Edgar," the taller of the two big burly men from nearby Millcote said.

  "But first we have to help Caleb. He's going to be devastated at the loss of Jenny."

  "What happened?" Jed asked.

  "They shot and killed her. She's out back."

  "Oh Lord. We'll take care of her," Mr. Evans promised, fishing his Bible out of his pocket, and putting a comforting hand on Caleb's shoulder.

  After some hasty introductions, she left Tim and Edgar to keep an eye on Alexander upstairs, while she looked around downstairs to survey the damage and supervise the clean up.

  In no time at all, the men had rigged up a sturdy new back door out of some old timber from the barn, and fastened a new latch. By morning they had new shutters on the insides of all of the windows, and an impressive array of armaments. Several men patrolled outside the vicarage with their guns, and Jed's sister Sally had arrived to help with the meals and housework for both Sarah and Caleb at his own cottage.

  Sarah was anxious to leave for the north, but she couldn't leave Caleb in his hour of need. She also couldn't let her brother and Pamela come back to a wrecked home.

  She went from room to room in the house like an army general, looking for ways to keep them all safe. She couldn't help but jump every time she saw something move out of the corner of her eye.

  Jed looked at her thoughtfully as she tried to get the drawing room back into some sort of order. "It's broad daylight, Miss. I doubt they'll try much now."

  When she continued to look nervous, he gave a shrug. "All the same, I'll keep the men on the alert. We'll hide in the trees. If we see anyone suspicious, we'll challenge them," Jed told a weary Sarah, who had barely slept a wink all night.

  When she was finally persuaded that the drawing room was once again in mint condition, she allowed herself to lie down with an exhausted Alexander. They had spoken little, merely labored side by side scrubbing and setting the house to rights.

  She knew he blamed himself, could sense his palpable grief and fear. From his silence, she could also tell he was trying to work out some way of keeping her safe. She wondered how much he really remembered. If the attack, if any of those men, had jolted some memory from the past.

  In a way she hoped it had, for at least they could know who to be wary of. But she was terrified he might try to exact revenge for the death of Jenny, which he also blamed himself bitterly for.

  Even if he didn't go off like some sort of vigilante, she was sure he was going to insist upon leaving her. He would try
to convince her it was for her own good, but Sarah knew better. They had sinned, it was true, but he was the other half of herself, and she could never rest if they were apart. Would never be able to stop worrying, fearing for his safety.

  She lay in his arms, but found herself unable to sleep for all she was so bone-achingly weary. She watched over him as he slumbered, cradling him tenderly against her. He was her lover, husband, the father of her child, the man who completed her in every way.

  Yet she had few clues as to who he really was. All she did know was that she was willing to fight to the death for him, though she had no idea what would happen to him if she were killed.

  She simply had to get him to safety. He was relying on her, and she knew she certainly couldn't live without him. If he were killed, her life would be a barren wasteland she wasn't sure she could ever survive.

  The afternoon passed by in a haze of pain as Mr. Evans buried Jenny in the nearby churchyard. Everyone in the district turned out for her funeral, for despite her sharp tongue she had been a kind woman.

  Caleb wept on her shoulder throughout the ceremony, and Sarah felt woefully inadequate as she patted his back and tried to reassure him that Jenny would be most certainly saving a place for him in Heaven.

  Sarah nervously scanned the crowd every so often, but none of the men from the night before did she see. She forced herself to go back to Caleb's to partake of the funeral baked meats, but after only half an hour Alexander stated near her ear, "You sound as though you're about to swoon. Come, my dear, it's time to go home."

  Jed and his two friends escorted them back to the house, and organized the patrols for the night in conjunction with the men Geoffrey Branson sent.

  Amongst them was tall, dark haired Malcolm, the magistrate's own son.

  "I'm sorry to intrude upon you in your time of grief, Sarah, but I need to take depositions from you and Mr. Deveril." His gray eyes flickered over Alexander with evident curiosity and interest.

  "I know. It's fine, Malcolm. Better you should ask us than bother Caleb at a time like this."

  "So, can you tell me what happened?"

  Sarah chewed her lip, unsure quite how much to say.

  "Go on, love, you might as well tell him everything," Alexander said with a resigned sigh. "Maybe Malcolm can help."

  "I would like to try," the reserved young man said earnestly. "Anything for a Rakehell. Or his sister."

  "All right, Malcolm, I'll tell you everything we know."

  Between the two of them they filled him in on all that had happened since his earliest recollections of Spain, while Malcolm sat at the desk and took copious notes. At length he sat back with a sigh and looked from one to the other. He rubbed one elegant long hand over his face and shook his head.

  "It's a remarkable story. I'm not sure how much of it I can even put in the official report. A lot of what happened in Bath sounds like an accident, or mere supposition."

  "But the fact remains someone poured lamp oil on the burning fire in the hearth to set the house ablaze."

  "Indeed, Mr. Deveril, er, Alexander, I'm not doubting you." Malcolm continued to stare at him for some time, as if trying to place him. He too had been to Eton and Oxford, though three years below Jonathan and the original Rakehells.

  "I was just saying, we can stick to the facts. That arson was perpetrated, and a vicious assault committed upon the house. Sarah has given us good descriptions of the men who came through the door."

  "And would recognize them and our assailants in Bath again."

  "Good. I'm just sorry there isn't more I can do. Four men in Bath, ten men here, it seems pretty clear that these are dangerous people who want you dead. And don't care who they hurt in the process."

  Sarah rose from her chair and began to pace. "Which is why we were trying to get north. Damn it. If only I had listened to my instincts and just left straight away, Jenny would still be alive."

  Malcolm and Alexander both began to protest.

  "Don't you dare blame yourself. It's me they want."

  Malcolm said angrily, "Don't you dare blame yourself for what those cutthroats did. And you were only trying to be loyal and responsible for Jonathan's sake. How were you to know they would behave like such madmen?"

  Sarah sighed. "True," she conceded, though the thought gave her little comfort.

  Malcolm rose, drained his glass of sherry, and adjusted his fine linen cuffs and sienna jacket sleeves. "Thank you for the drink. I shall leave you both to rest. I take it you are planning to go north tomorrow?"

  She looked up into the dark haired man's worried face. "I need to find my brother."

  "I shall have some men escort you at least part of the way."

  "Oh, no, really, I wouldn't want to put everyone to such--"

  "Trouble?" he said with a dry laugh. "You haven't. These killers have. Now get some rest, and be ready in the morning. About eight? I would go with you myself, my dear, but I am afraid my fiancee Emma's family require me tomorrow for the final discussions about our marriage settlement. If it were only up to me--"

  "Don't be silly, Malcolm. You and Emma have waited long enough."

  "Which is why one more day won't make much difference."

  "Still, there will be much to do if you're to be wed at Christmas," she said with a smile.

  "I shall look forward to dancing with you then, my dear. But for the moment, if you're sure you don't require me--"

  "I'm sure."

  "Then I shall bid you adieu. Mr. Deveril."

  "Alexander, please."

  "Yes, just so." With one more long look, he left them.

  Sarah blew out a shaky sigh, and tried to quash the vision she saw in her mind's eye of just how pregnant she was going to be by the time the Yuletide arrive.

  She opened her mouth to tell Alexander the news she had been keeping from him, but just then Jed entered to urge them to eat some supper and then get an early night.

  She wrapped her arms around her lover for a brief moment, then followed the young man into the dining room, where his sister served up and stood over them both to make sure they ate every morsel.

  By that time her eyelids were drooping. They both headed up and fell into bed, nestled against each other as closely as two peas in a pod. The soaring excitement she felt in his arms was in no way diminished despite her weariness. If anything her enervated state made everything spark off even more explosively. Every muscle straining, they climaxed together, the heavy weight of his body a caress all of its own as he laid on top of her panting.

  "I'm sorry, my love, so sorry for all of this," he whispered, his tone filled with bitter regret.

  "You heard what Malcolm said. Don't be," she soothed, rolling them onto their sides.

  "I'll try. I just can't bear the thought of losing you."

  "Or I you. It'll be all right, I promise. As soon as we see Jonathan, everything will become clear as a pane of glass for both of us, I'm sure. Sleep now, my love."

  He nestled against her, and did just that. She rested her chin on top of his head, and followed suit.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Sarah rose from the bed at the first light of dawn. Alexander reached for her in his sleep, but she evaded his embrace and dressed sensibly for their journey. She rubbed her arms, feeling as though she would never be warm again.

  When she got downstairs, Mr. Evans reported that some injured men had been picked up on the road back to London. Four dead men had also been discovered in the vicinity, though none of them with any identification on their bodies.

  "Are you sure there's nothing else you need?" the curate asked.

  "I'm fine. We're going to have breakfast and head off. Jed, Tim and Edgar are readying everything outside. They'll ride with us for part of the way north. The magistrate is also sending some outriders. I'm sorry for the way everything has worked out, but I'm sure you'll be hearing from Jonathan shortly. We're all very grateful for everything you've done."

  "Glad to help, Miss Deveri
l."

  Alexander came down, clad head to toe in dark navy, looking muzzy-headed with sleep and desperate to see Sarah.

  "There you are, darling."

  "Good morning, my love," she said, moving towards him.

  They were just beginning their warm, appreciative greetings when a rap at the door caused them to all start.

  Sarah ran over to the drawing room window, keeping low. She looked out the leaded windows, and saw a tall, curvaceous woman in a fine dark green velvet gown standing on the stoop. Her gorgeous appearance caused Sarah to put a hand to her hair and dark gray frock, she felt so appallingly dowdy.