“Lewis, come quickly.”
He peered at his sister and held the lamp in his hand aloft. “What’s happened?”
He didn’t wait for Julianna’s explanation before hastening past her, through the kitchen and into the taproom. His gut tightened. Surrounded by children—Abigail’s children—was Drake. A quick scan of the room told him neither Louisa nor Abigail were present.
“Where is she?” Knight demanded.
Drake grimaced and shrugged. “She told me to look after the children and rushed out. And, Knight...” He heaved out a breath. “Stanton snuck away.”
Knight cursed roughly. “Why did you not follow her?”
Drake motioned to the children crowding around him and the squalling baby in his arms.
Before he could follow after Louisa, Drake lifted a hand. “Knight, she had a gun.”
Damn, damn, damn. There was only one reason Louisa would race out of here with a gun and the children would be left unattended, and it had to be to do with Stanton. Both women were in danger. Heat flared through him, roaring into his fingertips and making his heart thud heavily in his ears.
“Keep the children safe,” he said to Drake, glancing back at his sister. “And Julianna,” he added in hushed tones. There was no telling what Stanton might do in his desperation.
Drake did not argue with him for once in his life. He must have apprehended the gravity of the situation, and Knight knew the man would do whatever needed to be done to protect Julianna and the children.
He stepped out into the night, a cool wind sending a chill down his spine and clinging to the sweat on his brow. He took a breath and scanned the gloom. The earlier clouds had thinned, leaving enough moonlight for him to see several feet in front of him. But there was no sign of Louisa or Abigail.
Whatever he did, he could not panic, but he’d be damned if his mind did not race. All his years of fighting and surviving and he’d never once been scared.
He was scared now.
Desperation drove Stanton, and he knew all too well how desperate men behaved.
If he had Abigail and Louisa, he would not head toward the village. At least he hoped not. Or else his decision to head out onto the cliffs was wrong. Falling into a run, Knight followed the faint outline that split the cliffs from the sea.
A crack splintered the air. He froze. No, not a crack. A gunshot.
“Goddamn it.” His chest hurt, weighted with dread. She could not be hurt. Not now. Not now she was finally his.
He raced toward the sound and spotted Stanton. Pistol in hand, he loomed over a body.
Louisa.
“Bastard.” The word tore from his throat in a desperate cry. It echoed around the hills and Stanton whirled, gun thrust at Knight’s chest.
Knight rushed straight into him, sending the gun clattering against rocks. Whether Stanton had loaded it or not, it didn’t matter. Knight had no intention of making this easy for him. The image of Louisa’s lifeless body sprawled on the ground powered his first punch. Stanton sagged to the ground before he could lift a hand to defend himself. Knight drew a fist back again but a noise from behind stilled his arm.
“Please...” Abigail approached slowly, palms raised.
Breaths heavy, Knight looked back to Stanton’s limp form. Blood smeared his face and a matching mark marred Knight’s knuckles. He gritted his teeth and pushed his harsh breaths through them before glancing back to Abigail.
Face ash white, her hands trembling, she pointed to Louisa. “Is she...?” She inhaled audibly. “We need to get her help.”
Knight unfurled his fist. Christ, he should be looking after her, not trying to kill the bastard. With shaky hands, he crawled over to Louisa. The bloodlust vanished at the sight of her, lids closed, hands unfurled and relaxed at her sides. His throat tightened, and he thrust both hands in his hair while he eyed her lifeless body.
Fingers of horror skipped down his spine as he scooped her up into his arms. He pressed a finger to her neck, but his hands shook so badly he could hardly tell if there was a pulse. Knight surveyed her body. Where had she been shot? He couldn’t tell in the dark. Was he too late?
“Did you see it? What happened?” he demanded of Abigail as he rose to his feet and cradled her against his chest.
Abigail shook her head frantically. “She...she told me to run. I didn’t see.”
“We need to get her help.” And he could do nothing out here in the dark. Bile burned the back of his throat. He couldn’t even tell if she yet lived.
Abigail followed behind as Knight picked his way rapidly across the cliff toward the inn. He shoved open the door with a foot and strode through the taproom toward the kitchen.
Julianna’s eyes widened at the sight of him. “Oh Lord.”
“Get the children out of here,” Knight commanded.
Behind him, Abigail and Julianna began hustling the children out of the room. Drake pushed open the kitchen door for Knight, and cleared the table, sending everything on it crashing to the floor.
Knight laid her down, aware of hot tears burning the corners of his eyes.
“What happened?” Drake asked.
Knight took a step back, hardly able to voice it. He couldn’t lose her. Goddamn it, why had he waited so long to make his feelings known? Why had he been so bloody scared of loving her? He should have fought for moments with her, not against them.
“A gunshot,” he managed to inch out, his voice strained.
Drake peered at her, his brow creasing. “I see no blood.” He pressed fingers to her neck. “She’s alive.”
Blinking, Knight forced himself to take a true look at her. He frowned and stepped forward. Her chest rose and fell slowly and though her clothes were torn and filthy, there were no bullet holes or bloodstains. However, a welt marred her forehead. Running his hands over her body, he finally allowed himself a long sigh of relief.
“She’s alive.” A smile crept across his face. The noose of terror loosened itself from around his throat.
Drake lifted a brow. “That is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“What?”
Drake pointed at him. “Your smile.” He peered down at Louisa. “I will check the cold store. See if we have anything we can put on her head. She’s going to awaken with a sore head.”
Knight nodded, hardly looking at his friend. Her lids fluttered as she fought to tug them open.
“Knight?”
“I’m here.” He pressed shaky hands to her face. His vision blurred. A breath released from his lungs and he leaned over her. “God, I thought you were dead.”
She winced as she rose from the table and swung her legs over the side. Peering around the room, her eyes widened. “Where’s Hugh? What—”
“He won’t hurt you again,” Knight vowed, his voice gruff. “Louisa—” His voice cracked.
Drake cleared his throat and stepped back toward the door. “I think I had better see...something...”
Knight hardly noticed his friend leave. He cupped Louisa’s chin to eye the bruise on her head. “That man has been responsible for too many of your bruises.”
“Is Abigail safe?”
Knight nodded. “You saved her.”
Her shoulders sagged, and she pressed her forehead against Knight’s chest. “Thank goodness. I tried to shoot him when Abigail escaped his hold but I’m a terrible shot. He wrestled the gun from me, but I do not recall much more.”
Taking her arms in his hands, he waited until she lifted her gaze to his. “I feared you dead,” he admitted. His heart thrust in his chest as he remembered the horror. “I feared I would not get to...” He puffed out a breath. “I love you, Louisa.”
She smiled and touched his jaw. “I know.”
“No, you do not know.” He twisted briefly away, long enough to summon his courage and turn back to her. “I am not practiced with words, but I will try my damnedest to always tell you...I love you more than I thought possible. I want a life with you. If you want children,
we’ll have children. If you want me to tell you I love you a hundred times a day, I will. Hell, I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear, so long as you agree never to scare me like that again.”
“I love you as you are, you silly, stern man.” Her smile grew and tears shimmered in her eyes. “Though I would not complain about you telling me you love me more often.”
“I will try my best,” he promised.
Hands to his face, she drew him down for a kiss. He brushed his lips across hers gently but a cough from behind him made him pause. He turned and scowled at Drake.
Drake at least had the decency to look shame-faced. “Um...you need to come into the taproom.”
“What is it?” Knight demanded.
Drake jerked his head toward the door. “Just come.”
Aiding Louisa down, Knight took her hand and they moved from the kitchen to the main bar. Knight gritted his teeth at the sight of Stanton staggering about the room, blood trickling down his face and staining his shirt.
Julianna and Abigail eyed him from the doorway to the rooms while Abigail’s children clung to her legs. The baby slept peacefully in Julianna’s arms, unaware of its father’s behavior.
Stanton staggered about the room. “Where is she?” He glared at each of them, narrowing his gaze until it fell on Louisa.
“He has to have the hardest head of any man I’ve ever met,” Drake muttered. “I was going to tie him up until we could deal with him but apparently he has already recovered.”
Recovered was not quite the word for it. He was vaguely lucid, but his movements were that of a drunkard demanding more drink. Knight had hardly spared the man a thought since Louisa awoke, but he supposed he was going to have to deal with him once and for all now.
“You...” Stanton thrust a finger at Louisa. He went to take a step forward but lurched back several paces instead.
Knight urged Louisa back behind him, but he doubted Stanton had the ability to harm anyone further. This was the last act of a desperate man.
“You ruined my life.” Stanton’s words were garbled by the blood dripping from his nose. “Everything would have been...” He frowned and swiped a hand across his mouth, swiping a garish crimson streak across his face and shirt sleeve. “Damn you all!” he spluttered.
Knight shared a look with Drake. “Have you heard enough?”
Drake grinned and nodded. “He talks almost as much as you.”
Knight ignored the slight and stepped forward to grab Stanton. The man slung a fist at him, which Knight easily caught and pushed back. But the man was slippery and wild, and he wriggled out of Knight’s hold, making a crazed dash toward the door.
Abigail moved swiftly, jumping in front of the door and holding out both palms. “You aren’t going anywhere, Hugh.”
“Damn you, woman.” Stanton glared at her. “This is your fault too.” He tried to push past her, but Abigail shoved back, sending him sprawling. His feet wrapped around a table leg and he toppled backward, his head bouncing off the floorboards with an audible thud. Groaning, he tried to lift his head then sagged in resignation.
“You did this to yourself, Hugh Stanton,” Abigail said firmly as she stood over him.
“I think it’s about time we ensured he caused no more grief,” Drake suggested.
Knight nodded. “Let’s bind him, and we’ll give him a ride to the local jail.”
“What will happen to him?” Abigail asked.
Knight hesitated. “That depends on you.”
“Me?” Her eyes widened.
“I can press charges if you wish me to,” Louisa explained. “But only if you wish me to.”
Drake nodded. “Add in your charges and he’ll likely be sentenced to transportation.”
Abigail scanned their faces and glanced down at her husband. Arms folded across her chest, she nodded. “Yes, press charges. I do not want him anywhere near me or the children.”
Louisa slipped her hand into Knight’s while Drake bound Stanton’s hands. “Hurry back,” Louisa murmured.
Knight scowled at her. “You should go straight to bed.”
She lifted her chin. “Not until you return. You have a lot of I love yous to utter first, remember?”
He shook his head. “I am going to regret that.”
Drake gave a grunt. “Uh, a little help here.” He fought to get the dead-weight that was Stanton to his feet. “Come on, Knight, use that stupidly big body for something useful.”
Knight rolled his eyes then gave Louisa a brief kiss. “I will be back. And I will utter anything you wish of me.”
Her grin expanded. “I will hold you to that, Knight.”
Epilogue
Grimacing as another rolling wave washed up and over his boots, Knight swiped the sea spray from his face. He gripped the slippery barrel with both hands and bunched his muscles while the sand fought his movements, gathering under the container’s base. He hauled it up out of the ocean and deposited it with the rest of the haul while Nate dusted off his hands, grinning like a fool. “I wager you’ll miss this.”
Knight ignored him.
“You’ll miss it most,” Red said to Nate, unlatching the back of the cart.
Knight cast a gaze over their haul for the night. No, their last haul. Drake had just deposited their last smuggled goods, carefully left under the ocean surface for them to collect. It had been one of their better methods of evading the customs men, even if it was the most physically laborious. By now, Drake would be docked and sitting in front of a warm fire. Lucky bastard.
Smirking at himself, he lifted a barrel up onto the cart and the horse gave a snort as though urging him to hurry. Once, he would have relished this. Any chance to put his body to good work and inflict a little pain on it—anything to forget.
Now he was soft. He shook his head at himself. Now he could not wait to return home.
At least this was the last time he’d be doing this. Indeed, it would be the last time he’d partake in smuggling at all, and Louisa was damned happy about it.
He could not complain either. Napoleon had been defeated at Waterloo, the war was over. There was no longer any need for their illicit activities.
Nate paused after hefting a cask onto the cart. “Actually, I am quite looking forward to going back to being a normal, upstanding member of society.”
Under the cold light of the stars, Knight caught Red rolling his eyes. Red eyed his brother. “You have never been an upstanding member of society.”
“I think many would disagree with you.” Nate lifted his chin.
Red chuckled. “I’ll ask Patience what she thinks.”
Nate’s eyes crinkled with mirth. “Ask her. She would only ever support me, her darling husband.”
“Patience will have your bollocks for lying,” Knight muttered. “Are we to finish this or not?”
“This might be our last job, but I am fairly certain no one died and put you in command.” Regardless of his words, Nate set back to stacking the containers on the cart, though he added something about Knight growing bossy in his old age.
“This is your last job,” pointed out Red. “Knight will be overseeing all of my very legal trading deals. So he is, in effect, in command.”
Nate shrugged. “Well, rather you than me. You shall have to oversee Drake and that is a job in itself.”
Knight scowled. “Drake will do as I say.”
He better anyway. Since both of them had decided to continue working for Red, albeit in a more official way, they had agreed that Knight would take control of the land end of things and also use his lineage—and his appearance—to wrangle some good deals. Drake would continue doing what he did now without the need to slip in and out of France undetected.
Knight allowed himself a little smile. He would not admit it to any of them, but he was looking forward to working without the chance of getting caught. Now their child was born, it was even more necessary he take no risks. The war ending had been timely indeed.
“The
re it is again.” Nate thrust a finger Knight’s way.
“There’s what?” Red asked.
“That strange smile,” Nate explained. “Drake told me it existed, but I had yet to witness it myself.”
Red grinned. “He’s probably thinking of Louisa.”
“I am thinking of an ample quantity of whisky.” He lifted the last barrel and shifted it into place, glowering at them both and daring them to argue.
They shared a look, and Nate clapped him on the shoulder while Red secured their cargo. “You can admit it now, Knight. You’re as soft-hearted as the rest of us.”
“Speak for yourself.” Red climbed into the driver’s seat and urged the horse forward. Knight and Nate took up position behind the cart, bracing themselves to start pushing. The soft sand and heavy weight of their cargo did not make for easy transportation across the beach, so their additional momentum was needed to get the vehicle across the beach and onto the dirt track leading down to it.
Taking the strain, Knight grunted, his shoulder propped against the wooden slats of the cart.
“I...will...definitely...not miss this,” Nate grated out.
Knight had to admit there was little he would miss about the smuggling. While Louisa might be keen to soothe away the aches of their labor, he was looking forward to returning home to her and their son after an honest day’s work.
The cart hit the track and he and Nate straightened. They followed Red up the hill toward the old barn they used for storing goods until they were able to sell them on. Nate hauled open the doors, and Red maneuvered the cart in before unlatching the horse.
“At least we’ve seen no customs men tonight,” Nate remarked.
Red nodded. “They’ve been quiet since the end of the war. I’ve no doubt they will be back soon enough, though. There are plenty of smugglers still operating in Cornwall.”
“With Knight still in residence, none shall dare attempt to bring anything in through Penshallow.” Nate nudged him with an elbow. “Is that not right?”
What's a Rogue Got To Do With It (Rogues of Redmere Book 4) Page 16