Jacquie D'Alessandro

by Whirlwind Wedding

  His best chance was to shoot him through the window. He’d remain unseen and be able to line up an accurate shot. That decided, he rose and looked in the window. Gaspard was stuffing a rag in the woman’s mouth. Austin held his pistol in steady hands, waiting for the bastard to move away from the woman.

  At that moment, the front door burst open. Gaspard whipped around.

  The ground beneath Austin shifted and his heart stopped.

  Elizabeth stood in the doorway.

  Elizabeth’s gaze riveted on the bound woman and the child lying in a heap near the scarred wooden table. The woman was still alive. But the child… Elizabeth’s breath stalled. She couldn’t see the child’s face, but she could make out the faint rise and fall of her shoulders. She was breathing.

  Terror and relief collided in her. She wasn’t too late. They were still alive.

  But for how long?

  “Who the hell are you?” Gaspard asked in guttural French. He crossed the room in two angry strides. Slamming the door, he slid the lock into place, then grabbed her upper arms. His fingers bit into her flesh and she couldn’t control her gasp as pain shot through her.

  Elizabeth looked into his eyes and fear skittered down her back. Pure menace emanated from his gaze. She tried to reach into her pocket for the herbs, but his grip tightened and she feared her bones would break from the intense pressure. Austin was somewhere nearby. She had to stall for time, to keep this madman from killing the woman and child. And herself.

  “Answer me,” he growled. He shook her so hard her teeth rattled and her medical bag slipped from her grasp. “Who are you?”

  She swallowed and forced an outward calm. She simply needed to stall for time. At least Gaspard’s attention was focused on her, away from the woman and child. Hurry, Austin.

  “My name is Elizabeth.”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “What are you doing here?”

  “I…” Her words drifted off as a series of images flashed through her mind. She gazed at the bound woman whose terrified eyes pleaded with Elizabeth for help. Turning back to Gaspard she said in an accusing tone, “She’s your sister.”

  An ugly laugh erupted from him. “What do you care?” Releasing one of her arms, he reached behind him. When his hand reappeared, he gripped a pistol. He shoved her away from him and she nearly stumbled. “Move closer to the wall,” he ordered.

  Righting herself, she inched backward, her eyes riveted on his weapon. Heaven help her, she was too far away to use her herbs.

  “My sister was about to meet with an untimely demise, Elizabeth. Your ill-timed arrival means you’ll be joining her.”

  He pointed the pistol at her heart.

  Austin stood outside the window, battling the panic racing through him. Elizabeth stood directly in front of the window, her back toward him. Gaspard stood about twelve feet in front of her, a pistol aimed at her. Unless Elizabeth moved, Austin didn’t have a prayer of getting a shot off at Gaspard without hitting her. He’d seen Gaspard lock the front door. This was the only window.

  She had to move. He had to make her get out of the way. But how?

  Chapter 24

  Elizabeth had to distract Gaspard. And she had to do it quickly.

  “I know about William,” she said, relieved that her voice sounded so steady.

  Gaspard went completely still. “Who?”

  “William. The Englishman you bought weapons from in London last year.”

  A muffled moan sounded from the woman. Gaspard glared at her. “Silence, putain.” He whipped his attention back to Elizabeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She raised her brows. “But you do. You were seen at the docks.” Shaking her head, she made a tsking sound. “A very amateurish, sloppy job of smuggling.”

  “Taisez-vous! Shut your stupid mouth! It was perfect. Except that bâtard Anglais double-crossed me.” He spit on the wooden floor. “But he will get exactly what he deserves. He will die. Slowly.”

  His words curled around Elizabeth, chilling her. “You know where he is.”

  Menace glittered in his eyes. “Oui. He was supposed to be dead, but a friend saw him. Just weeks ago. Not ten miles from here. I knew then Claudine was nearby. And I knew once I had her, he would come for her. And he did.”

  “Where is he?”

  A sinister grin twisted his lips. “Close enough to hear her screams. I want him wondering what I am doing to his pute. I will enjoy showing him her dead body… then killing him.”

  Another moan came from the woman and Gaspard jerked his head in her direction. “Shut up!”

  Scenes burst in Elizabeth’s mind, colliding so quickly she could barely assimilate them. William. Bound and gagged. Struggling to free himself. Dear God, she had to keep Gaspard talking. An image clicked in her mind. “Claudine… she is William’s wife.”

  Color mottled his fleshy face. “She is nothing but a traitorous pute. While the English pigs were killing our countrymen, our friends and neighbors, our own brother, she was rescuing the bâtard Anglais, spreading her legs for him. It took me over a year to find her, but now that I have, she will pay, as will he.”

  Elizabeth looked at Claudine. Tears ran from the woman’s eyes. “William was wounded,” Elizabeth said. “She nursed him and they fell in love.”

  “Love.” Gaspard again spit on the floor, then settled a hate-filled glare upon his sister. “You forgot what they did to us, to our family. The English bastards stole everything from us. And that whoreson killed Julien.” His voice rose to a near scream. “Our brother died in the battle that wounded your English pig. You betrayed us all, rescuing him, marrying him. How many of our countrymen’s lives did you sacrifice for having that bastard between your thighs?”

  His lips curled in a sneer and his gaze raked the bound woman. “When I found out what you’d done, how you’d betrayed us, I went to find him. When I did, he convinced me that because of you, he was sympathetic to our cause. Fool that I was, I gave him a chance to prove it.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “He sold me English weapons. I tested a half dozen and they were good. I couldn’t wait to kill English pigs with their own pistols! But he was lying. Only the top few weapons worked. When my men used them, they were massacred. Because of you. You!”

  He returned his attention to Elizabeth. Madness glittered in his eyes. “His regiment killed Julien. He ruined my sister, turned her into a traitor.” His voice went flat. “The blood of my compatriots is on her hands. The blood of my brother. And I shall see that she pays. It is my duty.”

  His gaze flickered to the pistol in his hand, and Elizabeth immediately sensed that her time was almost up. Desperate to divert him, she opened her mouth to speak, but her words were cut off by a sound filling her head. An urgent sound. Words.

  Frowning, she tried to concentrate. Austin’s voice suddenly filled her brain. Move away from the window.

  It was as if he stood right next to her and had spoken aloud. Move away from the window. Move away from the window.

  She took a tiny step sideways and Gaspard jerked his gaze back to her face. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot you.”

  Dear God, what was she going to do? Clearly Austin was behind her, at the window. He needed her to move to get a clear shot at Gaspard, but if she moved, Gaspard would kill her. He obviously planned to kill her anyway, but she didn’t want to encourage him to do the deed sooner than he planned.

  There was only one thing she could do.

  Just as she contemplated it, Austin’s voice echoed in her brain.

  Drop to the floor!

  She fell like a stone.

  Glass shattered behind her and the deafening report of a pistol rent the air.

  Austin looked through the shattered window. Gaspard was on his knees, his face a clenched mask of pain, his hands pressed against his stomach. Bright red blood oozed between his fingers, drenching his shirt. His pistol lay on the floor behind him.

  Elizabeth. Was she hurt? The chilling thought had no s
ooner entered his mind than she jumped to her feet and stood before him. His knees nearly sagged. She was all right.

  She was all right.

  Swallowing the relief that threatened to liquefy his knees, he said quietly, “Unlock the door.”

  She immediately did as he requested. He entered the room, and shoving her behind him, he picked up Gaspard’s pistol. Then he turned to her. “Are you hurt?”

  Her eyes anxiously scanned his face. “No. Are you all right?”

  He was anything but. He’d almost lost everything that mattered to him. But now was not the time to discuss it. “I’m fine.” He tore his gaze from her pale face and fastened his attention on Gaspard, who was struggling to his feet. “Remain behind me,” he whispered to Elizabeth.

  Austin pointed Gaspard’s pistol directly at the man’s chest. “Stay where you are.” One glance at the Frenchman’s stomach wound told Austin that it was fatal.

  Gaspard gained his feet and leaned heavily against the table for support. He stared at Austin for a moment, then a wheezing laugh escaped him. “So we meet at last, Monsieur le Due. It is amusing, n’est-ce pas? Your brother killed my brother. So many brothers. All dead.”

  Containing the rage boiling within him, Austin tightened his grip on the pistol handle. “So many dead,” he agreed with icy calm. “And you’re next.”

  Sly cunning glittered in Gaspard’s eyes. “Perhaps. But at least I know that I rid the world of your bastard brother.”

  “I heard you through the window. He’s alive.”

  “He won’t be by the time you find him… if you find him.”

  “I’ll find him as soon as I’m through with you. Why did you kill my Runner?”

  Blood dripped from between Gaspard’s fingers and he grimaced. “Another English pig. He was asking questions about me. When he suddenly wanted to meet with you, I knew he’d found something. I followed him. I couldn’t risk him telling you whatever he’d found out, especially if it was where I was hiding or that I was sending you letters. He would have ruined everything.” He hissed in a breath. “But the pig would tell me nothing. I shot him in the head.”

  Behind him, Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath. “Why did you wait a year to blackmail me?” Austin asked.

  “I was wounded at Waterloo, because of the faulty weapons your brother supplied. It took many months to recover. I didn’t know until recently that the pute’s husband came from such wealth.” He narrowed his mad eyes. “But I had to be cautious… remain hidden. Just as I was ready to send you the next letter, I received word the bdtard Anglais was alive and had been seen in this part of France. I returned home to find him.”

  An image of William rose in Austin’s mind, as he’d seen him that last night. Conversing in urgent tones to Gaspard, loading crates of weapons onto a ship. Not betraying his country, but risking his life to help the English cause by supplying this madman with faulty weapons. His hand tightened around the pistol. “You’ll never hurt anyone again, Gaspard. I’ll—”

  A groan cut off his words. Looking across the room, he saw the child stirring, pushing herself onto her hands and knees.

  Austin caught a movement from the corner of his eye and he whipped his attention around back to Gaspard. A knife glinted in the Frenchman’s hand, and his hate-filled eyes were trained on the child.

  “So you’re still alive, eh?” Gaspard rasped. “No child of that bâtard Anglais will live.”

  Austin heard a gasp behind him. In the blink of an eye, Gaspard drew his hand back and let the knife fly. There was no way Austin could reach the child in time. He squeezed the trigger and Gaspard crumpled to the ground.

  He turned toward the child and froze.

  Elizabeth lay sprawled facedown on the floor, the knife protruding from her back.

  Chapter 25

  White hot pain ripped through her, so intense, it nauseated her. Warm wetness trickled down her collarbone and she inhaled the metallic smell of blood. Light-headedness swamped her.

  The child. Was she all right? Did I move in time?

  “Elizabeth!”

  Austin’s voice seemed to come from far away. An instant later, she felt herself being cradled in strong arms. Forcing her eyelids open, she looked up into Austin’s face. Stark fright radiated from his gray eyes.

  “Dear God, Elizabeth,” he said, his voice a husky rasp.

  She had to ask him, had to know, but her tongue was like a piece of thick leather in her mouth. Swallowing, she forced out, “The child.”

  “She’s alive,” Austin said, brushing a lock of hair off her brow. “You saved her.”

  Relief settled over her. She’d saved the child. Thank God. And Austin was all right. That was all that mattered.

  She looked at him, confused that he appeared so stricken. He should be happy. The child was alive.

  Yet even as relief afforded her some peace, regrets pushed at her. But now it was too late. A wave of dizziness and pain washed over her, forcibly reminding her how precious life is… especially when it’s over and there’s no time left to correct mistakes. And her biggest mistake had been not giving the gift of life to her daughter… Austin’s daughter. They could have made the most of the short time they would have had together as a family, and she would have helped him through the pain. Somehow.

  She longed to tell him, to explain, let him know how sorry she was, how much she loved him, but her tongue was too heavy to move and she could barely keep her eyes open.

  Sleep. She was so tired. Pain rolled through her, stealing her breath. Everything hurt. So much. Her eyelids drifted shut and blackness engulfed her.

  Austin watched her eyes close and sick panic roiled through him.

  “Elizabeth!”

  She remained perfectly still in his arms, her complexion waxy pale.

  He had to get that knife out of her. Had to. She had to live. Had to. Had to. But he needed help.

  With a herculean effort, he pushed back his terror and laid her gently on her stomach. It cost him to leave her side, but he had no choice. He crossed the room to Clau-dine. The child had just yanked the rag from her mother’s mouth. While they spoke in rapid French to each other, Austin pulled his knife from his boot and quickly cut the ropes binding her.

  The instant her arms were free, Claudine gathered the child to her. “Josette, ma petite. Thank God you are all right.” With the child clinging to her Claudine raised her eyes to Austin. “How badly is the woman hurt?”

  “She’s alive, but we need a doctor. Immediately.”

  Claudine shook her head. “The village is far. But I am a good nurse.” She stood and rubbed her stiff arms. “We must hurry to help her. Then we must free William.”

  “Jesus Christ. Where is he?”

  “Locked in a shed hidden in the woods at the rear of the property. I know he is alive and can wait a few more moments. Your wife cannot.” Jerking her head toward a metal pail near the fireplace, she said, “We need water. There is a stream just behind the house. Go! Rapidement!”

  Snatching up the pail, Austin ran outside and quickly returned with the water. When he entered the cottage, Claudine was settling Josette on a pallet in the far corner.

  Austin immediately went to Elizabeth and dropped to his knees, fighting back the turmoil that threatened to overwhelm him. If she didn’t recover—

  He refused to consider such a thing.

  Claudine joined him and quickly examined Elizabeth. She then looked at him, her eyes grave. “The wound is severe and she has lost a lot of blood. When we remove the knife, she will lose more.”

  “She cannot die.” If he said it enough, if he thought it enough, surely he could make it a fact.

  “I hope not. But we must act quickly. We will need bandages. Remove her petticoat and cut it into strips. Hurry.”

  Forcing his mind to concentrate on the task at hand, he followed Claudine’s terse instructions. His eyes strayed to the knife embedded in Elizabeth’s shoulder and his stomach turned over with a combination
of stark fear and helpless pain.

  “Now I will remove the knife,” she said. “Be ready to apply pressure to the wound with the bandages.”

  Austin nodded once, his eyes riveted on Elizabeth’s shoulder. The instant Claudine pulled the weapon free, he began the grim task of staunching the blood flow He focused on the chore, not allowing his mind to consider that the blood soaked through the bandages almost instantly.

  She will not die. Grim, unrelenting determination filled him. He pressed bandage after bandage to her shoulder, applying pressure until his arms shook with the effort of holding back the blood flow.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours but was actually less than a quarter hour, the bleeding tapered off to a mere weeping. He helped Claudine wash the wound, then wrap the shoulder with a clean bandage.

  “How long before she wakes up?”

  “I cannot say, monsieur. I can only pray to God that she does.”

  “She will. She has to.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I cannot live without her.”

  “We have done all we can for her,” Claudine said. “Now I must free William.” She ran to the mantel and snatched a key from the rough wood surface. “Bertrand kept the key within my sight to taunt me.”

  “Should I—”

  “No, monsieur. You remain here with your wife. I ask that you watch over Josette as well. She is sleeping.”

  “Of course.”

  She ran from the cottage. He glanced at Josette and saw she lay on her side, her thumb stuck in her little bow mouth. A shudder passed through him at the thought of the horrors that the child had witnessed. Hopefully she wouldn’t remember.

  He knew he would never forget.

  Turning back to Elizabeth, he gently caressed her face and hair. She was ghostly pale, her lips chalky, her auburn curls matted, her gown splattered with her own blood. She hadn’t so much as flickered an eyelid. He would have traded his very soul for her just to open her eyes.