Lady Hawk's Folly

by Amanda Scott

  “Bring them here.”

  “We’ll slip ‘round to the other side, Moll,” Ramsay whispered quickly in her ear. She nodded, unable to take her eyes from the scene in the clearing.

  Two figures detached themselves from the small group and hauled two others to their feet. Even without the light from the moon, Mollie knew she would have recognized the larger of the two being dragged forward as Hawk. Then there was a glitter at Nicolai’s side, and she realized he held a pistol.

  “My lord,” he said sarcastically, “we have a trifling bit of business to conduct. I have not got a great deal of time, however, so I beg you to forgive my rough-and-ready methods. My ship sails with the morning tide. I believe you know what I require from you, but d’Épier here tells me you prefer to be difficult.” Mollie realized with a gasp that the man holding her husband was indeed the Frenchman, who was supposed to be safely in London. She strained her ears to hear what Hawk would reply.

  “I certainly have no intention of telling you anything,” he said evenly. “You’ll have to kill me, damn you.”

  “No, if you refuse to cooperate, I shall have to kill Lord Breckin,” Nicolai replied, speaking in a more sardonic tone. “You see, do you not, that he is of no importance to me. However, I believe you have more feeling for the worth of his neck than I do. We shall see. I shall not kill him immediately, of course. I shall simply cause it to happen bit by bit. Put a gag on his lordship,” he added to the man holding Breckin.

  Hawk struggled in d’Épier’s grip, but he could not break loose, and Mollie saw then that his hands had been tied behind him.

  “You won’t risk pistol shots here,” Hawk said angrily. “I know damn well there must be men searching for us by now. They’ll be all over this countryside by morning.”

  “Your dagger, Igor,” said the prince to his manservant. “Do you know how long it will take your friend to bleed to death, Hawkstone? There will be time for him to suffer a good deal before he lapses into unconsciousness. Even then, there are means by which to revive him so that he will enjoy full benefit of the pain you will be inflicting upon him. All you need do to stop it, however, is to tell me what I wish to know.”

  Moving back behind the tree, Mollie slipped the quiver and bow carefully from across her back and set them upon the ground while she removed her cloak. Then, quickly replacing her riding gloves with the thin kid ones from the quiver, she unsnapped the bow and strapped the quiver across her back again. Stringing the bow, she reached for an arrow and moved back to where she could see what was going on in the clearing. Just as the scene came into view, she heard Lord Breckin give a low cry of pain and saw her husband struggle once again in the arms of his captors.

  “Well, Hawkstone?” It was the prince, but he was not watching Hawk. He had his eyes on his own man and Breckin.

  Mollie wondered where Ramsay and Bill were. She wondered as well whether their aim would be true enough in the uncertain light to do any good. The element of surprise would certainly be lost once they let loose. The manservant glanced at Prince Nicolai, who nodded. The knife moved closer to Breckin’s throat. Quickly, knowing every eye to be pinned on the action of that knife, Mollie brought up the bow, nocked an arrow, drew the bowstring to her cheek, and let fly. The man with the knife screamed, dropped his weapon, and clutched at the back of his right shoulder in an attempt to remove the arrow that was lodged there. Before anyone realized what had happened, Mollie had drawn again. The second arrow took Nicolai in the chest. His pistol fell to the ground, and even as his men seemed torn between panic and a wish to rush to their principal’s assistance, Hawk jammed an elbow into d’Épier’s stomach, doubling him up, and Ramsay’s voice sounded clear and stern from the opposite side of the clearing.

  “We have you surrounded. Do not move if you wish to see another sunrise.” Every man froze where he stood, not so much as daring to look from side to side. Ramsay’s voice sounded again. “Release Lords Hawkstone and Breckin at once. If you do not, you will be shot down where you stand.”

  A man standing near Breckin turned quickly to obey the order, but d’Épier, with a sly look toward Mollie’s side of the clearing, began to reach toward his coat pocket. A shot rang out, stopping his hand in midaction.

  “I said not to move,” Ramsay repeated coldly. “The next time I shall not aim to miss.”

  Mollie found herself grinning as she wondered whether he had actually meant to miss that time. But then she saw d’Épier move again and quickly nocked another arrow, drawing, then relaxing when she realized the man merely meant to release Hawk.

  Within moments Hawk had scooped up the prince’s pistol; then he and Breckin, the latter holding an arm tightly against his side, had disarmed the other men and herded them into a small circle near the dying embers of the campfire. It was not until then that Ramsay and Bill showed themselves.

  “Good lads,” Hawk said when he saw them. “Keep watch over this lot while I have a look at Breck’s wound.” He waited until Ramsay had moved to a better vantage point, then glanced toward the tree where Mollie stood. “Where’s Haycock? Gone for help?”

  “Haycock?” Ramsay sounded puzzled.

  “Well, I know of no other man capable of handling a bow—” Hawk broke off, regarding his brother more narrowly. He open his mouth as if he meant to question him further, but then, with a sweeping glance at the ragtag bunch of men huddled together like a flock of distraught sheep, he evidently thought better of it, and when Ramsay nodded to Bill, who disappeared into the trees again, Hawk turned his attention to Breck.

  “It’s not so bad,” his lordship muttered. “Damned well ruined this coat, however. I’d like to have the schooling of that lout for a few moments when I’m mended. Teach him to mess about with a gentleman.”

  “Hush your row,” Hawk said gently, pulling his handkerchief out of his coat pocket and making it into a pad, which he then pressed inside Lord Breckin’s shirt before fastening his waistcoat again. “Good thing you have your waistcoats cut like a second skin, laddie. Wouldn’t want you to bleed to death while you’re in my care.”

  Breckin made a rude sound. “Merest scratch, dear boy. Give you my word, I’d not wish to cause you embarrassment.”

  Mollie decided before much more time had passed that they meant to wait for Bill to bring Sir James Smithers and the others before returning to Hawkstone. She was certain Hawk had realized she was there, and she began to wish herself elsewhere as the minutes marched steadily by. She could scarcely show herself, for if the ruffians did not pass along the fact of her presence, surely Lord Breckin would think it a very good joke, and word would quickly spread throughout the beau monde, thus causing just the sort of scandal Hawk would most deplore. The more she considered the matter, the less she wanted to be present when the others arrived. The thought of returning on her own to the castle was a daunting one, but she decided the experience would be preferable to being subjected to the stares of the men who would come with Sir James. There wouldn’t be the slightest hope then of retaining the protection of her disguise. One look at her face would tell most of them who she was. If Hawk knew she was here now, he would be further angered, no doubt, to discover that she had returned alone. But she would much rather face him alone after the fact than have to ride tamely at his side with the others all staring and speculating as to her fate.

  As these thoughts tumbled through her mind, Mollie was already unstringing her bow and snapping it to her quiver. Then, snatching up her cloak from the ground, she flung it over her shoulders, picked up quiver and bow, and began making her way back to where she had left Baron. She moved as quickly as she dared, knowing the longer she took, the more likely the chance of encountering Sir James and his men before she was safely across the highroad. A low neigh sounded just as she was beginning to fear she had mistaken her direction, and she altered her course slightly, coming upon Baron and Ramsay’s horse almost immediately thereafter. Speaking in a low voice so as not to startle either one, she moved up to Bar
on and untied his reins from a low branch, then stepped quickly back to stand beside the stirrup while she slung the quiver across her back again. She had just grasped the saddle at both ends when a muscular arm slipped around her waist just beneath her breasts. Before she could cry out, however, a large hand clamped itself across her mouth, and a low-pitched but nonetheless harsh voice sounded near her ear.

  “Not a sound, madam. I’ve no wish to advertise your presence.”

  Mollie’s original terror subsided immediately, but her knees were still weak, so she was glad of the firm hold Hawk retained around her waist. She let herself relax against him, and when he removed his hand from her mouth, she drew in a long breath and straightened a little in his grasp. He released her, and she turned to him, throwing her arms around him and holding him close. He returned the hug, but too soon his hands found her shoulders, and he held her away from him in a firm grip. She could sense his anger.

  “I’d tell you what I think of this little escapade of yours here and now,” he said grimly, “but we haven’t time for it. Up you go.” And with that, he spun her around, grabbed her at the waist, and heaved her into her saddle before she had time to do more than gasp her indignation.

  “I saved your life,” she snapped, having all she could do not to shout the words at him.

  “Keep silent,” Hawk ordered as he swung up into Ramsay’s saddle. “At least until we’re well clear of this lot. Follow me.”

  He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, urging him to a fast trot as soon as they were on the narrow path again, and Mollie did the same, gritting her teeth to keep from hurling angry words at him. How dared he! Where did he think he and Lord Breckin would be now if she hadn’t had the good sense to follow Prince Nicolai. Prince Nicolai! She hadn’t given him a thought since she had seen him fall. The arrow had gone left of her point of aim, for she had meant only to strike his shoulder so he would drop the pistol. But she had seen the arrow enter his chest. What if he were dead?

  They had reached the highroad, and Hawk turned north, giving spur to his horse, urging him to a distance-eating canter. Mollie followed suit, wishing she could shout at him to stop, to tell her about Nicolai, to let her explain that she had done the only thing she could possibly do. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, that she had not wanted to face the possibility of having to live without him ever again. But as her horse drew alongside his and she glanced over at his stern, unyielding face, she swallowed the words in her throat. He was too angry.

  They had ridden for some fifteen minutes before they saw the glow of torches on the road ahead of them. Hawk swerved his mount to the left, and Mollie followed, quickly drawing off the highroad and into the woods alongside. Several moments later a group of horsemen thundered past them on the road. Hawk waited until they were well past before he led the way back onto the road.

  “That was Sir James?” Mollie was surprised to note that her voice was perfectly steady.

  “It was. Come. I want you safely back before dawn, and we’ve only a couple of hours.”

  “Is it so late?”

  “It is.” His voice was still grim, so she attempted no further conversation until they has passed through Salehurst to the valley road. At last Hawk slowed his pace to a walk to rest the horses.

  Mollie took her courage in hand. “No one would listen to me, sir, when I said the prince was responsible for your disappearance. It wasn’t until Ramsay saw him in the courtyard, keeping out of sight of the others, that he realized I was right.”

  “You might have put one of the others on to follow him, or let Ramsay and Bill handle it, instead of placing yourself in jeopardy,” Hawk pointed out.

  She was silent for a moment, thinking about his words. No doubt he was right. That would have been the most logical course for her to follow. But even thinking about what might have happened had she not been on the scene in that little clearing made her stomach clench. “I could not do that,” she said almost fiercely. “I could not bear the thought that you might leave me again.”

  “Leave you?” He sounded astonished. “I had no intention of leaving you, Mollie.”

  She hunched one shoulder in a small, defensive gesture. “You might have been killed,” she said, nearly choking on the words. “In fact, you very well would have been if I had not—” She broke off with a little gasp. “Is he dead, Gavin? Prince Nicolai?”

  “No, sweetheart.” His voice had gentled considerably. “He will live long enough for his majesty’s loyal hangman to attend to the matter. You did not kill him.”

  She sighed in relief. “I’m glad. I think my hands must have been shaking. My first shot was true, but I was so afraid he would shoot you before I could wing him. The knife…Is Lord Breckin going to be all right?”

  “Right as rain. You must have heard him. He’s a good deal more offended by the fact that the fellow ruined his coat than by anything else. I left him and Ramsay watching that lot till Jamie gets to them.” He said nothing for a moment. Then, “You very likely saved our lives, Mollie, but you still had no business to be there.”

  “I could not leave it to others, sir,” she said quietly.

  “Do you care so much, then?”

  “You must know I do. How would you have felt if our positions had been reversed?”

  “That is a different matter altogether.”

  “Only in that you are a man, sir. I think the feelings are the same.” She turned toward him, staring hard at that stern profile outlined in silver by the moon still hovering over the trees to her right. When he did not reply immediately, she added softly, “Or am I mistaken in believing that you love me as fiercely as I love you?”

  17

  MOLLIE FOUND THAT HER breath had caught in her throat as she waited for a response from him. Would he deny it? Or would he admit that he loved her, admit that he would have moved heaven and earth to save her if she had been Prince Nicolai’s victim?

  She had not taken her eyes from his face, and when Hawk turned his head to look at her, she could see, even in the moonlight, the depth of his feelings for her reflected in his expression.

  “Of course I love you,” he said simply. “I believed it four years ago and knew it for a fact the moment I saw you coming down the grand staircase the day of my homecoming, looking so soft and sweet and beautiful.”

  “You never said so,” she pointed out, muttering.

  “Neither did you, come to that. Not till now.” He smiled, and there was a rueful note in his voice when next he spoke. “We were not raised to give voice to such emotions. Shows a shocking want of breeding in both of us that we have succumbed to such lower-class stuff, does it not?”

  He was not making a joke. Indeed, he sounded bitter, Mollie thought, but she had her own feelings to contend with, and there was a spurt of resentment deep within her that was struggling to make itself felt. “If you loved me four years ago,” she said slowly, wishing she were strong enough not to need an answer to the question, “why did you leave?”

  “I told you before. I was young,” he said quickly, glibly. “Too young, I suppose, for the responsibility of a wife. I sought adventure, sweetheart. Adventure and challenge. And,” he added on a sour but, to her ears, more believable note, “I hated my father and wanted to put as much distance as possible between us. I knew he’d never stomach letting me set up a household of my own away from his watchful eye. That’s why I moved so quickly. Had I given him time, he’d have thought of a way to stop me from going.”

  He shot her a quick look, and Mollie was sure that he was measuring her reaction to his words. More than ever she knew that although his dislike of the old marquess might be part of the answer, it was not the whole of it. She wanted to tell him in words of one syllable precisely what she had thought of him for leaving her in the care of a man he detested, but even more than that did she wish to get to the heart of the reason for his leaving. Nevertheless, she could not think how to begin, so they rode for some time in silence before she gathered h
er courage and put the matter in the simplest terms.

  “I thought I could accept those reasons,” she said quietly, “but there must be more to it, or you would have come back when your father died.”

  “Life was pretty hectic over there.”

  Suddenly, it was too much. Mollie gripped her lower lip between her teeth, biting hard to stop the tears from coming, but the stress of the past twenty-four hours, added to the anger and resentment swelling within her, was more than she could stand. The tears spilled over and a sob was wrenched from her despite her efforts to stop it.

  “My God, Mollie! I’m sorry I went and sorrier that I stayed so long. You must know that!”

  “Damn you!” Ignoring the tears spilling down her cheeks, she flung the words at him, then spurred her horse to a gallop as anger outweighed every other emotion warring in her breast.

  Hawk followed immediately but made no attempt to stop her until they had reached the road leading up to the lake. Then, riding up beside her, he reached out to grab Baron’s bridle.

  Mollie waited until the horses had slowed to a walk again before she turned on him. “How dare you continue to play this game with me?” she demanded, swallowing her tears. “Am I supposed to accept your glib words because you are a man and my lord? How can I know what I did to send you away if you will not tell me, if you persist in ridiculous excuses? How can I be certain I will not do something to make you leave me again if I do not know why you left in the first place? And why do you, who have such a regard for the truth that you condemn half-truths in others…why do you persist in offering half-truths to me in such a case as this? It is not fair, Gavin. It is damnably unfair!”