by Chloe Harris
Quick footsteps announced Malory was on his way, and Kier looked up to tell him–
Neil Flaherty stood in the door instead of his butler. His eyes darted around the room before settling on him. His shoulders slumped a little with relief, but Neil still looked anxious.
“You’re alone?” He said in a clipped tone as he looked around the room once more.
“Yes?”
“Good,” Neil mumbled and started pacing the room. “Jaidyn is waiting outside.”
“Oh?” What was it that she’d complained about this time?
Nodding, Neil rubbed his face. “I thought it best for her to stay outside in case the authorities were here.”
“Why would–” Gasping, Keir realized why Neil would think the authorities might be here. “What do you know? Where is he?”
“Jaidyn told me they’d sailed here together and last night he ventured out and didn’t come back. She learned that one of the crew had ratted on him and she immediately came to me for help.”
“Neil, you are aware that you don’t make any sense at all. Jaidyn has been here for a few weeks already. I know my brother arrived yesterday, and let’s hope he’s already left.”
“So he was here? Then you know already?”
“That he was here?” Keir shook his head. There was something he was missing.
“No. That he brought Jaidyn.”
“What are you talking about?” Keir’s patience was wearing thin.
“The woman you think is Jaidyn isn’t. The real Jaidyn is outside and she’s going to storm this house if we don’t start searching for your brother right away. And heaven help us then. She’s inherited not only her mother’s looks, but her temper … well, the red hair she’s got from me.” Neil grinned sheepishly as his chest puffed with pride. “Unfortunately, she also inherited my occasional lack of restraint. That other wench you thought was her was just an impostor. The maid, in fact.”
That sounded much more like what Kier had thought Neil’s daughter would be like–
Something clicked in Kier’s head. His brother had spoken of a woman …
Sweet Jesus, and he was going to pay with his life if Kieran didn’t find him before the authorities did!
Well, Ronan was smart. He’d find the perfect hiding place unless their stepbrother acting the constable found him sooner.
“Neil, there are several hideouts we must try.” Kier dipped his quill and started scribbling on a piece of paper. “If we want to find him fast, we’ll have to split up. Here’s a list of places. You’ll start looking for him from the top of that list. I’ll try the others. If we’re lucky, we’ll meet somewhere in the middle and find him in time.”
Taking the piece of paper from him, Neil stalked out through the back of the house the way he’d come in.
Kier bellowed for Malory again and the butler showed up, out of breath and his wig a little crooked on his head. Keir’s coat and hat dangled from his arm. “I’ve taken the liberty to have your horse ready, sir.”
Good old Malory had his eyes and ears everywhere. Keir slipped into his coat, donning his tricorn on his way out.
17
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The trapdoor stood wide open. Connor attached the fine rope that he’d found above to the trapdoor, then to his wrist, and swung himself down, careful not to tread on the dusty old stairs that hadn’t been used for years. He landed with a dull thump, small clouds of dirt puffing around his ankles and covering the tips of his black boots with brownish dust. Turning, he grunted his approval at the still undisturbed stairs.
Reaching for the rope around his wrist, he loosened it, turned around, and tugged on it until the trapdoor fell shut. Slivers of daylight from the crude timbers over his head streaked the darkness surrounding him. Connor didn’t need to see anyway; this was a hidden basement of one of Kieran’s old warehouses and he knew it by heart.
After one more twirling of his wrist, the rope slid out of the hook on the trapdoor and Connor rolled it up.
The warehouse might have been old, but it was frequently used and it didn’t look like the typical hiding place. Maybe this place would keep Connor alive until sundown, when he’d sneak to his ship and leave.
Hiding far back in the darkest recess of that basement, Connor made himself as comfortable as he could get. His eyes got used to the gloom in no time and if he leaned back and peeped around the crate hiding him, he had a very clear view of the stairs and the only entrance. He shucked his coat and waistcoat and sat with his back against the wall. One knee bent, he propped his head in his hand. He had quite a few long hours ahead of him.
Here he was, alone, hiding in the basement … and for what? So that he didn’t get hanged for a wrong he didn’t commit?
But there was someone he had wronged. Connor cringed. After having stewed in his anger for hours, he’d sobered enough to realize that.
Jaidyn. Her scent, her beauty, the taste of her skin, the feel of her body melting into his … he’d tried so hard to banish each and every memory of her. But it was in vain. It was probably easier to chop his right hand off than get her out of his system.
Connor’s feelings were a massive knot of confusion. He felt possessive about her and it terrified him. His yearning for her burned and had ice-cold shivers run down his back.
He wanted her, but she belonged to another man. Jealousy speared him again at the thought that she could be just as happy if not even more so with that other man.
Connor would have never thought he could feel for a woman that deeply. He wanted to keep her safe and whole. He wanted to be the man she wanted, someone who understood her, who could give her what she needed, what her mind sought, what her body craved.
When Jaidyn had told him she was married, it had been like the red flag to a bull. Desperation had him fling all those scathing words at her.
He’d seen it in her eyes–had seen that he was the reason for her anguish. She’d never forgive him, and knowing that felt like a punch from a battering ram.
Trying to release the tension, he rolled his shoulders, but nothing helped to take the frustration away.
Pride demanded he let her go. Desolation gnawed at him, urging him to hold on to her. He was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. Even if she weren’t married and he could be the man she wanted, there was still this bounty on his head. So there was no way in hell they had a future together.
All he could do was pick up the sad scraps of his hurt pride and shattered heart and move on, and come nightfall, he would. He’d said good-bye before. So many times in fact that it shouldn’t hurt so much. But this time it was different. This time he was in love and he wasn’t sure if his heart could ever recover from the blow.
Dirt rained down on him from the slits in the timbers above. Rubbing the dust out of his eyes, Connor looked up.
He could hear footsteps. The streak of sunlight glinting through a knothole disappeared as someone approached the trapdoor above him.
More footsteps. Connor thought he could distinguish three different sets. He held his breath, his gaze fixated on the moving shadows.
Seconds ticked by. Connor felt his lungs burn, the deafening beats of his heart drowning out every other noise.
The hinges of the trapdoor squeaked in protest as it was lifted. Connor scrambled farther back into the shadows.
No one would find him here, he was sure. Only somebody who knew …
Kieran?
Hope had Connor’s heart beat even faster and he dared to take a brief glimpse around the crate he hid behind.
Lantern light blinded him. It flickered over the interior, illuminating bits and pieces as if sniffing out the basement, trying to find something or someone.
Connor could hear a low sound that resembled a chuckle but was more like a sniff.
Kieran didn’t snort that way.
“You can come out now.”
Connor felt his heart plummet. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. There was only one
person who could fill it with so much derision that it sounded like it was made of brass.
Hugh Talbot had found him.
How stupid had Connor been, hiding here where there was just one way in and out? His feelings for the woman had him so mixed up he’d made the same asinine mistake twice now. At this rate he wouldn’t last much longer.
Talbot’s footsteps came closer, like he knew exactly where to find Connor.
Well, there wasn’t much Connor could do now but face his stepbrother like a man. Standing, he left the sanctity of the shadows and met Talbot’s gaze.
Hugh hadn’t changed much. The corners of his thin mouth seemed to be perpetually curling down and the long nose in his oval face looked as if he was constantly sneering, giving him an aristocratic air, which epitomized that he was the sole heir to the penniless and quite useless title of Baron Wickfield. But the title had had its advantages; it had served to make him the only acceptable suitor for Gabby. Her parents were eager to attach their name to a title–not to that of a common, albeit rich Irish merchant. In his capacity as governor, Talbot’s father-in-law had appointed Hugh Constable of Georgetown.
“I thought I’d find you here.” Talbot’s eyes gleamed like those of a vulture having spotted a juicy carcass. He flicked his wrist in an effete gesture. His pretty clothes and his foible for fancy wigs had reached new heights, Connor noted. Despite his overall weak and feminine appearance, Connor knew not to underestimate the man. He was even more dangerous because he didn’t look like it.
“Not in a very talkative mood?” Talbot crooned, pursing his lips. His whole stance seemed to light up with glee. “I knew when my men came to wake me up this morning that there was only one place you could have run to. Kieran’s house was actually first on the list. It’s under surveillance, of course. But I knew I’d find you here. You’re too smart to hide in the usual places like caves and such.”
Connor pressed his lips into a fine, pale line.
“You’re probably asking yourself how I knew you were here?” Talbot waited all but two heartbeats for an answer he’d never get. “Don’t forget, I had years to find and catalogue each and every place you and your despicable brother played hide-and-seek in.
“Oh, I forgot,” he added, waving at the two soldiers behind him that were guarding the door. “Sullivan and Brown. Gentlemen, this is our criminal.”
Looking back at Connor, Talbot grinned. It was hard to imagine that Hugh was in fact Connor’s stepbrother. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment. There are several scenarios I played out in my head, but somehow they all end the same way. The one question I always ask in the beginning is: Will you come with me?”
“And hang for the scheme you concocted?” Connor laughed low, the sound lacking any trace of humor. “Never.”
“See.” Talbot waved his hand in an airy gesture. “I knew you’d say that.”
“You know bloody well I’ve never smuggled contraband.” Connor gritted his teeth, his hands balling into fists at his thighs.
“Yes, but we’re the only ones.”
Connor’s eyes darted back and forth between his stepbrother and the young soldiers, who were gawking at Talbot then exchanging puzzled glances. “That’s not true. They know now too.”
“They?” Talbot turned as though he’d totally forgotten about them. “Oh, yes. Now they know. Let me remedy that.”
Drawing the two guns at his front, Talbot fired. One of the guards was hit right in one eye; the other one was hit in the shoulder, stumbled back, and slumped with a groan.
Talbot furrowed his brows as he glared at the pistol in his left hand. “It’s a bit off.” His eyes wide, the soldier stared at him before he fell facedown and went limp.
Connor sucked in his breath. He hadn’t just witnessed that, had he? He knew Talbot was capable of many things–but murder in cold blood? He wouldn’t have thought it possible. But it gave him an idea where this encounter with the Constable would lead. Certainly the hangman’s noose wasn’t the worst of his problems any longer.
“What a pity.” Talbot gave a theatrical sigh and turned to Connor. “Say, why did you have to kill them?”
Clenching his teeth, Connor remained rooted to the spot. “She knows as well.”
“Gabrielle? Don’t concern yourself with my wife. I can handle her.”
“Handle her? As in ‘beat some sense into her’?”
Talbot pursed his lips, nodding with a dreamy smile. “Something like that.”
“You’re pathetic,” Connor spat.
“Says the man who’s about to hang from the gallows.” Talbot let Connor hear that brassy cackle again, then cupped his chin, his eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t believe it, but as often as I put the cane to her back, you’d think I’d beaten him out of her. No such luck. He, on the other hand, was much easier to be persuaded of her wavering alliances.”
Any movement on Connor’s part could have Talbot snap and going at his throat. Not that Connor had any problem with that, though somehow he knew Talbot, despite his supposedly blue blood, would fight dirty.
“So, is Gabrielle the reason for the grudge you hold against your own brothers?”
“Why do you care?” For the blink of an eye, Talbot’s face twisted, but immediately fell back into his fake geniality. “I have my reasons for needing to destroy you.”
Connor didn’t let his bafflement show. Instead he feigned interest to keep him talking. “What do you mean?”
“Your father never loved me the way he loved you two, his ‘real’ sons. And don’t you dare call me your brother. You were never anything to me. Mother was a fool to remarry so far beneath her.”
That was a blatant lie, and Connor didn’t believe one word of it. His mother–her maiden name was Fanny Driscoll–was widow to the late Baron Wickfield, and she remarried an Irish merchant out of love. She was a wonderful woman, and Connor and Kier’s father was absolutely devoted to her and tried to treat them all equally, which sometimes meant that he was harder on Connor and Keir than he’d have been on his ward, Hugh Talbot. Being a few years older than his common stepbrothers, Talbot had always looked down upon them. But Connor had a feeling his animosity went much deeper than that.
“If I’m nothing to you, then why bother going through all this trouble?”
Connor noticed that Talbot grew agitated. “All your charm and your good looks and your father’s money. And later, when you were older. All that decadence you two indulged in. Despicable. You even more than your brother.”
“How so?” So was it envy that had grown into some sort of twisted jealousy?
“You know very well what I’m talking about.” Talbot’s chin tilted higher, his nostrils drawn in disgust. “Your flexibility when it comes to partners. What you do is not natural by any stretch of the word. It’s an abomination!”
Connor let his eyebrows wander up his forehead. “Why? Because I’m not ashamed to live it as opposed to others?”
Talbot’s face alternated between a deep red and a sickly pale color. Connor saw the muscles in his jaw jump, his eyes narrowing considerably. He had definitely hit home with his last remark. That Talbot desperately clung to that reasoning could be exploited. He’d just have to draw him out, make it up the stairs, and run.
“I know all about your dirty little secret, Hugh,” Connor bluffed. “You may act the aristocratic, traditional, and unadventurous man, but you feel inferior to us. Taking Gabby, then framing me. It’s Kier you’re focused on, isn’t it? This was all about hurting Kieran. Could it be that you love Kier and you know he’d never have you, so you concentrated all your frustration and hatred on him? You took the love of his life from him and then concocted that scheme that branded me a criminal. But you really hate what you yourself crave, not Kier.”
Talbot’s face contorted into a mask of pure hatred. “I’ll make you bleed and die slowly for that,” he pressed out between clenched teeth.
Connor gave a jaded shrug. “I don’t suppose y
ou fight like a gentleman rather than the devious scum you are.”
With a toothy grin, Talbot shed his coat and wig. His glare darkened to a dangerous gleam just before he hunched, dropped his shoulder, and let out an enraged snarl as he charged Connor.
Bracing himself against the impact, Connor flexed his muscles, ready to pounce himself. But Talbot got to him sooner. Connor grunted as Hugh’s fist landed in his stomach with all of Talbot’s body weight behind it, driving Connor into the crates behind him.
The pistol at the small of Connor’s back bit into flesh and bone, grinding against his spine mercilessly. If Talbot got his hands on it …
Oh, this was going to get ugly, Connor thought as he regained his footing.
18
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Jaidyn’s heart sped up. She could feel Connor was here somewhere. All the other hideouts they’d tried had been empty.
She almost crashed into Neil as he suddenly stopped and cocked his head. Muffled grunts traveled toward them from somewhere in front of them, or maybe it was under them. It was the first time they’d actually heard something, and as quickly as they could, they tried to find the source.
With each hasty step forward, the din became louder and Jaidyn realized they were the sounds of a fight. She thought she’d been anxious before, but now her nerves were contorted into a raw, bloody mess as she heard Connor fighting for his life somewhere beneath them. Jaidyn struggled not to throw up.
Around the corner, amidst several stacked crates, Jaidyn saw an open trapdoor. The sounds of the fight were loudest there. Neil tiptoed, one arm stretched behind to keep Jaidyn where she was, stopping her instinct to rush forward into the fray.
Bile rose in her throat when they reached the trapdoor and she saw the two young soldiers lying at the foot of the stairs leading down into the pit. One moved, but only just. With his face down, he tried to reach his musket with the bayonet on it. His fingers, splayed like a spider’s legs, dragged his hand toward the weapon. The other soldier couldn’t move anymore, Jaidyn realized. All the blood drained from her face.