The disgust Selina felt for Lord Gariland grew by leaps and bounds as his hands slipped around her throat. He wouldn’t dare hurt her. Convinced of this, she did nothing to stop him, thinking he only meant to scare her. His devilish laughter said otherwise as he tightened his grip, squeezing her neck.
She grabbed hold of his hands, trying to loosen them. He tightened his grasp on her. He smiled wickedly as she flailed for something to hit him with, anything to stop him. The tea service clattered as tea cups upended. Finally, her fingers latched around the teapot handle and she swung her arm back, coming into contact with Lord Gariland’s face.
His roar met her ears as shadows danced before her eyes, claiming her consciousness, and the room turned black as night.
Wolf galloped to the front of Trethewey House and vaulted out of the saddle, landing on the gravel drive at a run. He’d lost his hat and was winded, but he thought nothing of his own condition as he took the stairs leading to the massive front door. He’d escaped Gariland’s assassins. As a result, he knew what had happened to Owen, and he was sure Selina would be eager to hear the truth.
Worden joined him as thunder boomed in the distance, a storm draw nearer. “He’s got her in there, Cap’n. Locked her up tight. Won’t let any of us near her except Mary.”
He glanced down at Worden. “Has she seen Selina?”
“Aye, sir. Still courageous as the day is long. Mary told us she’s plannin’ to escape. We’ve been waitin’ for her signal.”
Wolf nodded. “Is there a back entrance to the house?”
“Mrs. Gribble uses the herb garden, sir. It leads to the kitchen.”
He furrowed his brows in deep concentration. “Gather the horses and tether them behind the stable.”
“What for?” Worden asked, dumbfounded.
“We’ll need a diversion.”
Worden’s mouth dropped open. “Ye’re not thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’, are ye?”
“Burn down the stables. You can always rebuild.”
“Do we have to go to such extremes?” Worden’s brows knit together, and he pursed his lips.
“Do you want to work for Gariland?” he asked.
Worden shook his head with a vengeance. “No. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Trethewey and the mines out of that bastard’s hands.”
Wolf patted Worden’s shoulder. “Once the fire starts, create as much confusion as you can. Pretend the horses are inside. I’ll try to get Herding out of the house.”
“Aye, sir.” The stable master scurried off to set their plan into motion.
Moonlight lit the way as Wolf sprinted toward the corner of the house and around to the back entrance. There, several guards had been posted to force back anyone who attempted to enter or take them by surprise.
Wolf bent his arms and flicked his blades into place, the metallic sound slicing the air. He closed his eyes, praying the guards hadn’t heard, and then glanced around the corner.
The first guard stood twenty feet away, armed with a sword, several daggers, and a musket. Wolf ducked back to the other side of the house, resting his head against the exterior stone wall. His heartbeat raced as he closed his eyes, dredging up twenty years of sorrow and misfortune to fuel his rage. He’d killed his own father, damn it. He was a murderer, a freak, a man with no home and no name. The berserker emerged, clawing inside Wolf, desperate to be free.
Wolf sucked in a breath and stepped around the corner of the house. He pulled a cigar out of his coat. “Can anyone light this?”
Caught by surprise, the first guard craned his head around and narrowed his eyes to make out the intruder.
Wolf plugged the cigar into his mouth and raised his blades. They glinted in the moonlight.
His warlike gestures pushed the guards into motion. The first one called out to his partner, and the two men rushed forward. Swords were pulled from their casings, spurring him on.
If shots were fired, Lord Gariland would be warned. He couldn’t allow these men an easy shot. The only way around that was to turn on his heel and disappear around the corner of the house, forcing the men to follow.
They did.
Wolf sliced off the hand of the first pistol barrel that peeked around the wall. The man’s hand dropped to the ground with a thud. Not one to take any chances or allow a man to bleed to death, Wolf rolled over the stunned guard, and crushed the man’s windpipe with his boot. He pulled a dagger from behind his back and threw it at the other guard. His weapon hit its mark. Wolf raised his leg and kicked the shocked man in the stomach, sending him reeling backward into the wall. The shock to his system was enough to knock the man out cold.
With the way into the house clear at last—or so he presumed—Wolf moved to the door. There, he was met by the cook, who put her finger over her lips and led him indoors.
They moved through the house until they arrived at a set of servants’ stairs located in the rear. She pointed up and nodded before backing out of the room.
Wolf glanced up the winding staircase, muttering a silent curse. Bollocks. There was no way to defend himself in the tiny space. He craned his neck and quickly ascended the stairs, careful not to make a sound. When he reached the top of the landing, he slinked around the easement and moved slowly down the hall, recognizing it as the one he’d used earlier that day.
Mary was there. She motioned him closer, and he moved toward her.
When he was within reach, she shoved him into a room, closing the door behind her. “Her door is locked, Captain. But I took the key from the housekeeper.”
Wolf nodded, grateful she was willing to help him.
“Wait,” she said. “He is in there with her.”
He stiffened. As he suspected, Gariland wasn’t taking any chances. “Worden is setting fire to the stables. When that happens, I want you to ensure the master makes it out of the house alive.”
She nodded. “And then?”
“And then,” he ground out, “I’m going to kill Gariland.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Fire!” someone shouted as bells suddenly started to ring. Voices and footsteps clamored throughout the house. “Fire!”
Selina blinked, shaking her head to ward off the fog that muddled her senses. What had happened to her? She was sitting at the vanity and then . . . Lord Gariland!
Her eyes fluttered open, and fighting back nausea, she listened to the sounds of someone pacing back and forth in the room.
“He’s here. He’s here!” Lord Gariland shouted.
“Who?” she croaked, her throat scratchy and dry. She tried to get up, to see what was happening, but she couldn’t. “What?” She tried to move again, but realized she was tied down. “What have you done to me?”
She looked up at the ceiling, recognizing her surroundings. She was lying on top of her bed. Her legs were tied together, her arms stretched outward and tied to something else. She couldn’t be sure what.
Selina cried out as the ropes cut into her already-injured wrists as she struggled to jerk free. Warm blood oozed over her skin as her exhaustive efforts reopened the wounds.
“Save your voice. No one can hear you,” Lord Gariland said.
“Why?” she asked.
“I knew I couldn’t count on Falchion,” he said. “I could kill the man for allowing you to escape.”
“Captain Fal—”
“Yes,” he interrupted. “That’s right.” His laughter hinted that he’d come unhinged, and there was a deep gash on his forehead, likely from when she had struck him. Dried blood caked the side of his face, and his skin was an angry red where the hot tea had scaled his flesh.
How long had she been unconscious?
“You arranged everything, didn’t you?” she asked, horrified. “Why?”
Lord Gariland smiled as if she was a simpleton. “It was all part of my plan.”
“What plan?”
He scoffed. “To get rid of Owen, of course.”
“Owen?” Nothing he said made sens
e. “Why?”
“You really must stop behaving like a parrot.” He came to stand beside her, gazing down at her as if she was the one without scruples. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, my dear. It is one thing to live a rich life surrounded by beautiful things; it is another to keep them.” He left her to walk over to the window, pushing aside the drapery to glare through the glass, the movement allowing a golden glow to reflect off the pane.
“Unfortunately, I have a terrible habit of losing money, and Owen, while working for Clotworthie, discovered the truth.” He lifted his hand and gave it a twist. “I suspect he was waiting to make his announcement on our wedding day and humiliate me before all and sundry—with Cothworthie and the magistrate present, no less.” He began to pace. “I thought your father would ride with you to the chapel, but when he announced he’d never deign to be in a carriage with you, I did what I had to do.”
She tried to process Lord Gariland’s justification for his actions, but she couldn’t. “With Owen out of the way, you still would not inherit Papa’s corporation.”
“Ah, but if a distraught man can be persuaded to disinherit any male relatives, bestowing all his worldly goods to his daughter and her heirs . . .”
Had Papa told Lord Gariland he had living heirs? Was that the way he’d tricked Lord Gariland and forced him to offer for her hand, providing Papa what he really wanted—a way into the ton? Nothing could be further from the truth. There was no one else. That was why Papa had doted on Owen.
She managed to laugh.
“What is so funny?” he asked, scowling.
“You are, my lord,” she said. “You actually believed Papa.”
He slapped her across the face. She winced as she tasted blood on her lips. “I have that man in the palm of my hand, my dear. Do not doubt it. There was—and still is—only one significant flaw to my plan. I needed to get rid of Owen after the service, not before. My . . .” He paused, somewhat reluctantly. “My associates blundered and commandeered your carriage on the way to the service instead.”
“So my kidnapping wasn’t part of your plan?” she asked.
“Sad to say, no. I needed you to marry me.” He paced to the door and back, lifting the curtain at the window once more. “Those lobcocks ruined everything. I couldn’t inherit the money without the marriage taking place first!”
She struggled against the ropes tied around her wrists, not caring that they were cutting deeper and deeper into her skin.
“I argued for your release, my dear. Falchion refused to give you back to me and to hand over my share of the ransom money, damn him. Then he tried to bash my head in.” He shook his fists. “When I awoke and discovered you were gone, I was desperate to fix my blunder. I did the only thing I could do: I lied about what had happened. Who would suspect a distraught husband-to-be?”
“You’re a monster!” she shouted.
Lord Gariland reacted as if he’d been slapped. He marched toward her and grabbed her face, squeezing her jaw until she thought it would snap. “No one is coming for you. When the reverend arrives, you will be sedated with laudanum. I’ll plead the ordeal of your kidnapping had taken a toll and that your only wish is to prevent being scandalized by your association with pirates. You will nod and agree to anything I say. That,” he spat, “is the only reason you are not already dead.”
Boom!
The door to the bedchamber flew open. Wolf rushed in, his blades out, ready to kill. A feral, unrelenting rage contorted his face, and veins bulged in his forehead as his gaze settled on Lord Gariland’s hands cupped around her jaw. He rushed forward and yanked Lord Gariland away from Selina, throwing him to the floor.
“I heard everything,” Wolf growled. He moved his head to the side and inhaled a deep breath. “I should kill you now and be done with it!”
Lord Gariland raised his hands to ward off the blades coming at him. “Don’t. Please,” he pleaded.
“Why should I spare you?” Wolf cast a glance at Selina, then looked back at Lord Gariland. “You sent men to kill me.”
Selina’s heart skipped a beat as she noticed a wet patch of blood oozing from Wolf’s leather coat. She fought back images of him lying in a gully, his bones drying in the wind. “Are you hurt?”
Wolf rushed to her side. He stroked her face, then her arms before removing the ropes that bound her wrists. “No one can kill me,” he said.
Arms freed, Selina clung to him, never wanting to let go. “Oh, Wolf. I was afraid you were—”
“What is going on here?” Papa yelled, appearing in the doorway. “What are you doing with my daughter?”
Lord Gariland shuffled to his feet. “He broke the door down, Herding. When I objected to what he was doing to Selina, he tried to kill me! Look what he’s done to her.”
“He’s lying. Your son is alive, Herding,” Wolf told Papa, “and I know where to find him.”
“Alive?” Papa asked, his eyes taking on life.
Wolf nodded. “Yes.”
“Owen is alive?” Selina repeated, hope swelling in her breast.
“Aye.” Wolf picked her up in his arms and turned her toward Papa. “And Lord Gariland is responsible for the kidnapping of your children.”
“You?” Papa asked as he cut his gaze to the man. He blinked. “But that’s impossible. The man is a saint. Why would her betrothed—”
“Money,” Wolf interrupted. He looked down at Selina. “Gariland is in debt and was willing to do anything to escape the consequences.”
Selina dabbed the wound on Wolf’s shoulder, feeling as if he was talking to her about himself, not to Papa about Lord Gariland.
“But that’s impossible,” Papa said. “Nay, I do not believe it. Lord Gariland was just as distraught as I when he learned—”
“That the men he’d paid to do the job took all his money? Aye. That would, indeed, affect a man indebted to criminals.” Wolf’s voice deepened with emotion. “Life is not about money or the tools with which you wield it, Herding. Life is about honor, integrity . . . and love.”
Selina grabbed Wolf’s chin, forcing him to look at her. “Wolf?”
He glanced down at her. “Yes?”
“Did you say love?”
Suddenly, Lord Gariland scrambled to flee the room, making a mad dash for the bedchamber door.
Herding caught him. “Where do you think you’re going? You’ve taken something from me that I may never get back. And you can expect that I will drag you through the mud for it. Everyone from Redruth to Exeter will hear of your diabolical plans to kill my son.”
Papa dragged the detestable man away, his insistence on again recognizing Owen above Selina filling her with immense sadness. She’d been a fool to ever try to win her father’s love. But what about Wolf’s?
The overly loud obscenities that Papa was shouting could be heard from all the way down the hall as the fire bells continued to chime outdoors.
“What will become of Lord Gariland?” Selina asked.
“Do not worry. I suspect he will be crying off very soon at detriment to his reputation, not yours.” Wolf smiled down at her. “You were wrong about only one thing . . .”
“What?” She’d been wrong about so many things she’d begun to lose count.
“You play exceptionally well, Selina. Just like my mother did when I was a child.”
Her heart hitched. “You . . . remember?”
“Aye.” His stare softened with emotions she’d never seen in his eyes before. “I remember everything—my childhood, my mother, my brother . . . my father.” He shook his head. “I must warn you, though. What I’ve done cannot be undone.”
She nodded. “Whatever it is, Wolf. We will face it together.”
He lowered her to her feet. “Can you stand?”
“Yes,” she said, as he knelt to the floor and untied the ropes around her feet. “I am quite well.”
Now that you are here.
“If I’m correct,” he said, tossing the ropes to the side and stan
ding, “we have a mutual heading.”
“Cadiz?” Her heart pounded against her rib cage. “Does this mean—”
“Aye. No more running. My brother is the one who kidnapped you, Selina. You cannot know how sorry I am to tell you that truth.”
“Captain Falchion?” She gasped and swallowed thickly. “He is your brother?” But of course. Hadn’t she already suspected it?
“My past is ugly,” he said, with no hint of remorse.
Her insides turned molten as she reached up to touch Wolf’s face. “But you are not.”
“I’ve done terrible things.”
“And yet you are here. You came back for me, Wolf.” She held her breath, trying not to force him to do anything he didn’t want to do. After all he’d been through, losing his memory, growing up alone, saving her life, being subjected to Lord Gariland and her father’s disdain, and then gaining his memory back, she couldn’t burden him with more. “That is enough.”
“No, it isn’t,” he said. “Now let’s go.” He took Selina’s hand. “You don’t belong here anymore.”
“Where do I belong?” she asked. If she left Trethewey, she had no home and no family other than Owen, though God only knew when she’d see him again. Still, she smiled, damning the tears that stung her eyes.
“With me,” he said. “Though you are much prettier than the filthy waif I found taking on a horde of corsairs in a tavern.”
Selina giggled. “That must have been a sight.”
“Aye, you were.” He grabbed her chin and tilted her face up to his. “You are the strangest and luckiest thing that has ever happened to me.”
Oh, how she wished what he said was true. She wanted him to kiss her, to take her in his arms and promise he’d never leave. But that could never be. He was a mercenary pirate, and she suspected that, by some other allegiance, his life was not his own.
Selina and Wolf came from two different worlds as much as she wished it otherwise. He would return to the Sea Wolf, and his mission to London would take him far away, widening the chasm between them.
Selina straightened her shoulders, resigned to bring Owen home. She would carve out her own path, a trail that would never lead back to Trethewey House again. Now that she’d gotten a taste of adventure, she could never be satisfied living in a home without love or appreciation. Her life was on the verge of a new beginning. She would forge a destiny no one would scoff at. And if they did, she wouldn’t care as long as Owen was back where he was meant to be at Trethewey.
The Mercenary Pirate (The Heart of a Hero Book 10) Page 21