She nodded curtly. “There’s no point in following the tunnel from this end—if they have them, they’d have to move them out from the barn entrance.” She smiled, as lethal a smile as Mathew had ever seen. “And I’ll be waiting for them.”
Mathew’s smile matched hers. “No, my dear. We’ll be waiting for them.”
Chapter 24
U nwilling to waste the time alerting Luc at the Dower House, Emily sped from the house, not caring if Mathew followed or not. He did.
Twilight had fallen and despite the questions he obviously had, Emily and Mathew rode in silence through the purpling darkness. Leaving their horses tethered some distance from the barn, they approached the building warily, moving silently together as if they’d always been a team. Sidling up to the barn, they stopped, listening intently. Reaching the same door she and Lamb had used the previous day, Emily stopped, transfixed by the faintest glimmer of light peeking from beneath the bottom of the door. Someone was in the barn!
Emily didn’t know whether to be elated or terrified at having her suspicions confirmed. The certainty that Barnaby, alive or dead, was on the other side of the door solidified deep within her. Hope and fear tangling in her heart, she sank to her knees and hardly aware of Mathew leaning over her shoulder, eased open the door a crack.
A lightning glance burned the scene in her mind. Two lanterns hung at the far end of the barn spilled a soft glow over the front area where four or five men moved about, the wide aisle between the hay and the stalls filled with several carts and horses. Smuggled goods lay heaped on the floor ready to be piled into the carts. She watched breathless as a cart loaded with contraband was driven out of the barn through the doors at the front of the building and, on its way to London, vanished into the night. Two burly men burdened with barrels of brandy on their shoulders caught her attention as they swaggered out of the stall that contained the hidden entrance. The barrels loaded into a cart, they disappeared back into the stall again.
It was Mathew who spied the two human forms flopped on the ground near the pile of hay. His hand fastened like an eagle’s talon on her shoulder and when her head jerked up, he murmured, “Over there, lying against the hay. Look in the shadows across from the last stall.”
She peered in that direction and her heart nearly leaped out of her throat when she saw Barnaby and Lamb . . . alive! Both men were securely bound, but from their occasional movements, it was apparent they were alive. Her mouth tightened. Until I get my hands on the pair of them, she thought.
Carefully shutting the door, she and Mathew retreated to the woods.
“We are too few,” Mathew whispered. “We need more men.”
Emily shook her head. “No. By the time you leave and return with help, Barnaby could be dead.” Through the darkness, she glared at Mathew. “I’m not leaving him.”
Mathew sighed. “Then what,” he asked reasonably, “do you propose we do? We can hardly storm the barn. They outnumber us three or four to one.” Fortunately for Mathew’s continued existence, left unsaid was, “And you’re a woman.”
Emily frowned, listening as the jingle of harnesses and the creak of wooden wheels drifted through the air. Another cart meant another driver had left and that meant one less smuggler inside the barn. . . .
“If every time a cart leaves, another man leaves with it, we have only to wait and watch until the odds in our favor are better before we attack,” she said slowly.
It wasn’t much of a plan and Mathew didn’t like it, but he had to agree she was right. They crept back to the barn and dared another look inside. This end of the barn was deep in shadows and she risked a longer look, counting five remaining carts and noticing for the first time, a pair of saddle horses tied to a center post.
Shutting the door again, and leaning against the side of the barn she whispered, “There’s at least seven men inside right now—not counting Barnaby and Lamb. Five carts. Two saddle horses.”
Mathew nodded. “And if the carts continue to leave one at a time . . .”
Emily grinned in the darkness. “Odds increase in our favor.”
But Emily was worried and as the minutes passed and two more carts rumbled into the night, waiting outside didn’t seem such a wise option. Barnaby and Lamb were inside, helpless and vulnerable, and while she and Mathew waited outside for the odds to change, anything could happen. Her stomach dropped away. Barnaby could be shot and killed before she knew it. She had to be inside that barn where she could react immediately if needed and not just risk a glance inside now and then. Too much could happen between one glance and the next.
Leaping to her feet, she said, “I’m going inside.” Not giving herself a chance to consider the wisdom of her actions, before Mathew could react, she opened the door and slid inside the barn.
Cursing under his breath, Mathew grasped his pistol and braced himself to charge into the barn. Cracking open the door a narrow sliver, he glanced inside, expecting a cry of alarm when Emily was discovered. To his profound relief all appeared normal. A swift look around and he spied Emily concealed from the smugglers behind the bundles of hay and straw.
The remaining smugglers, Mathew noted, were busy at the far end of the building as another cart prepared to roll through the barn door and out into the dark. Taking a deep breath, his heart pounding like a battle drum, Mathew stepped quickly through the door and dashed to Emily’s side behind the piles of hay.
“You’re mad,” he hissed when he knelt down beside her.
“You followed me,” she pointed out with a grin. “What does that make you?”
“Mad as a hatter,” Mathew muttered, shocked and a little embarrassed to discover he was almost enjoying himself. If Barnaby’s and Lamb’s lives weren’t at risk, he admitted ruefully, he’d think this a great lark—and by far the most exciting time he’d ever had in his staid, respectable life.
Emily had been right, he conceded, for them to be inside the barn. Outside they’d been blind except for the occasional glance, but now they were positioned to strike in an instant should it prove necessary. Unfortunately, Emily wasn’t content to simply watch and, to Mathew’s horror, just as his heart began to beat normally, she whispered, “I’m going to work my way around to Barnaby and Lamb and cut them free.”
Instinctively, he tried to stop her, grabbing for her booted foot as she slithered away, but she was moving too fast and he missed. Mathew swore and scrambled after her. Christ! She was going to get them all killed.
Emily had no intention of getting anyone killed, but she wanted her husband safe. By her estimation, there were four or five smugglers still in the barn, and during the next few minutes, one of them would be driving away, leaving only three or four men behind—good enough odds for her. Barnaby and Lamb were on the other side of the mound of hay and straw where she lay hidden, and if she was going to make a move to free them, now was as good as ever. The loose bundles and piles of hay and straw gave her perfect cover and, focused on reaching her husband, she winnowed her way through it toward him.
Barnaby’s head throbbed and his shoulders ached from the hours his arms had been brutally tied behind his back. He didn’t allow himself to consider that he might die . . . and Lamb with him. His thoughts were all about escape and returning to Emily’s sweet, warm embrace.
Since their capture, he and Lamb had been under the eye of one or another of their captors and there had been no opportunity for either one of them to help the other one reach the knives they both carried. During the last few minutes as the barn emptied out and no one seemed to be paying attention to them, he and Lamb had wiggled deeper into the shadows. They knew that time was running out for them and that if they were to make an escape, it had to be soon. Barnaby eyed the small door set in the back wall. Their best chance would be out that door.
Of one thing, Barnaby was certain. Tom would wait until the last cart had been driven away before disposing of him and Lamb. When their bodies were found, that Tom had murdered them would become legend i
n the smuggling community, but the man wasn’t stupid enough to kill them in front of witnesses. But kill them he would—the only questions were when and where.
Tom and Peckham were still below in the tunnel keeping track of the goods selected for this particular run to London, but Barnaby knew they wouldn’t remain there much longer. He considered the two smugglers at the other end of the barn. They’d finished with the one cart and were busy loading the last of the contraband in the final cart.
Assuming the two carts would depart together, leaving he and Lamb with Tom and Peckham, Barnaby murmured to Lamb, “Can you get your hands in front? They tied my arms as well as my hands and I can’t move them.”
The smugglers had only tied Lamb’s hands behind his back, not roping his arms to his body as they had with Barnaby. “I’ve been trying for the last five minutes,” Lamb growled, “and in just a minute . . .”
Beside him, Barnaby felt a violent movement and heard Lamb grunt.
“Ah, that’s much better,” said Lamb, his bound hands finally in front of him. “Now where’s that knife of yours?”
“We’ll use mine,” Emily said softly from behind Barnaby, jolting both men.
A dozen questions floated in the air between them, but there was no time. Once they were safe would be soon enough for explanations. And tongue lashings, Emily thought grimly. Tongue lashings that would strip hide off of both men, but only when she had them safe.
Her knife sliced through the ropes around Barnaby’s arms and a moment later his hands were free. Reaching for the knife in his boot, he said, “How did you guess?”
Busy cutting Lamb’s hands free, Emily said calmly, “Once I knew you’d gone down the tunnel and hadn’t returned, looking for you here seemed logical.”
“Logical and utterly mad,” muttered Mathew, crawling up beside Emily.
Barnaby stared incredulously at him, barely able to make out his features in the shadows. “How in the hell . . . !”
“Cornelia vouched for him,” Emily said simply. “I told him everything.” She reached into her pocket and handed Barnaby the pistol. “If we have to fight our way clear,” she whispered, “you should have this.” A grin flashed across her face. “I’m sure you’re a better shot than I am.”
Barnaby’s fingers tightened on the pistol, his heart suddenly so full of love for her, he dare not speak. Lamb was right. She was an Amazon. And she was his.
The second cart loaded, one of the smugglers reached up and blew out the lantern near the middle of the barn, deepening the shadows where Barnaby and the others crouched.
“It looks like they’re getting ready to leave,” Mathew said. “I suggest that we get the hell out of here and alert the authorities to what is going on.”
Barnaby and Lamb’s eyes met. “Ah, I don’t think that would be wise,” Barnaby said, fumbling for words. He wanted Tom Joslyn stopped, but he saw no good reason why Mathew and Simon should suffer the public humiliation and scandal that would accompany their brother’s exposure as an active participant and the moneyman behind a vicious gang of smugglers. Tom had already revealed that Mathew had nothing to do with the attempts on his life or any part of the smuggling, but how would Mathew feel if forced to takes sides? Would his affection for his brother pit against them?
A commotion near the carts caught their attention. A newcomer had arrived and in the faint light of the remaining lantern, Barnaby recognized the dainty figure that strolled into the barn, leading his horse behind him. Barnaby swore. “Nolles.”
“The odds just went up,” Emily murmured, “but we can still take them.”
Barnaby shook his head decisively. He’d relish a fight, eager to mete out some justice of his own, but not when it placed his wife in danger. He already felt like a fool blundering into a nest of smugglers like a green boy and he wasn’t going to add to the feeling by increasing the risks Emily had already taken.
Tonight’s events weren’t a total loss, he reminded himself. He now knew the identity of his would-be killer and Nolles’s London backer; a report to Lieutenant Deering would end the use of the Windmere tunnels as a hiding place for contraband. Though it gnawed at his vitals, he had to face the fact that Nolles and Tom Joslyn would escape retribution tonight. This wasn’t the outcome Barnaby wanted, but it would have to be enough . . . for now. He and Lamb were safe and Emily was by his side. Yes. It was enough.
Lamb glanced at him, reading the decision in Barnaby’s face. “There’ll be another time,” Lamb promised softly.
Taking one last quick look around, Barnaby stiffened as two figures exited the stall and walked over to meet Nolles. Tom and Peckham. Unless he missed his guess, sometime in the next few minutes, Tom would be showing off his captives to Nolles.
Lamb spotted Tom and Peckham at the same time Barnaby did and as one they dived under the bundles of hay and straw, joining Emily and Mathew. “Go! Go! Out the back door,” Barnaby said urgently, hustling Emily deeper into the hay.
Puzzled, but hearing the sharp command in his tone, she didn’t argue and like an eel she tunneled through the hay, stopping only when she reached the back wall. With Barnaby and the others at her heels, she scrambled toward the back door.
A shout froze them in their tracks. “The prisoners,” yelled Tom. “They’ve escaped! Find them, you bloody fools. Find them now!”
Fueled by fear, Emily sprang forward, her fingers scrabbling at the door before finding purchase and flinging it open. Barnaby shoved her out the door and into the darkness as another shout, “Over there! The door!” rang out and a shot shattered the night.
Seeing that Barnaby and the others had reached the door, Lamb circled back, thinking to launch a rear attack: Barnaby and Mathew, pistols readied, whirled to confront the danger. The sole lantern still lit was at the front of the barn but with the light behind them, beyond height and breadth the three men rushing toward Mathew and Barnaby were unrecognizable.
Already knowing who they were, Barnaby easily identified Tom by his height and Nolles by his shortness. Of medium stature, Peckham was in the middle of the other two men, Tom in the lead, Nolles hanging back—of the other two smugglers there was no sign. Peckham’s arm flew up, getting off a shot at them, and Barnaby fired back. The butler crumpled to the ground. Tom halted and loosed another shot in their direction.
A bullet whistled by Mathew’s head and, throwing himself to one side, he returned fire. His target cried out and clutching his chest fell facedown onto the barn floor.
After one terrified look at his fallen comrades, Nolles scampered to his horse. Lamb stormed after him, but he was too late. Catching a glimpse of Lamb bearing down on him, Nolles squeaked, threw himself on his horse and spurred the animal out of the barn.
“I nearly had the strutting, little rooster,” he said disgustedly as Barnaby came to stand beside him. “One more minute . . .”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Barnaby. “We’ve pulled his fangs tonight. He’ll grow another pair, but I’ll wager he’ll never be as dangerous as he was.”
Emily hurtled back inside the barn, running to her husband. Barnaby’s arm closed around her, pulling her tightly to his side. Brushing a kiss across her forehead, he said, “You very likely saved my life tonight, my love. Thank you.”
She should be furious with him, she told herself, but he was alive and safe and she was too happy to hold a grudge. Besides, she was woefully aware, had positions been reversed, she wouldn’t have been able to resist the lure of the tunnel either. Remembering the night he’d rescued her from Ainsworth, she hugged him back and smiled up at him. “I think we’re even.”
Sitting on a bundle of hay, Mathew stared dazedly around him. He understood the art of dueling, he understood the manners of war but the sort of violence he’d faced tonight was beyond his ken and he was shaken by his part in it. He looked at the two unmoving forms on the floor of the barn, knowing they were both dead, knowing he’d killed one of them. He’d killed a man tonight, he thought stupefied. He looked do
wn at the pistol in his hand, appalled and awed by its lethal power.
Lamb walked over and sat down beside him. “First time?” he asked gently.
Mathew glanced at him, startled. He swallowed and nodded. “I’ve acted as second in a few duels, and have fought one or two myself, but no one ever died.” He forced a smile. “Killing someone isn’t easy, is it?”
“Not for a man of honor.”
Mathew’s gaze slid again to the bodies on the barn floor. “Do we know who they are?”
“We know,” said Barnaby. With Emily locked at his side, he walked over to where Mathew and Lamb sat. “One of them is the man who has been trying to kill me—the other is my butler, Peckham.”
“Peckham!” Mathew cried, diverted. “Your butler? But Tom hired him. He swore to me that Peckham was above reproach. My word, this is—!” He shook his head. “This is just simply too incredible. And the other man?”
Barnaby and Lamb looked at each other. The muscle in Barnaby’s jaw bunched and he said in a voice that felt like he’d swallowed rusty nails, “I’m sorry, but it’s Tom.”
Mathew stared at him. “Tom?” he echoed, starting to his feet. “My brother, Tom?”
Emily gasped, looking in horrified dismay at the body on the floor of the barn.
Full of angry disbelief, Mathew snapped, “I don’t know what sort of a game you’re playing, but it’s a damned cruel one.”
“No game,” Barnaby said.
“I don’t believe you!”
Mathew brushed past Barnaby and Emily and stalked over to where the taller body lay. Kneeling, he hesitated and then, breathing deeply, he gently turned the still form over and stared down into his dead brother’s face.
With Barnaby and Lamb astride the saddle horses from inside the barn, it was a silent, somber quartet that rode away from the scene of death. There’d been little talk between them, but it was decided that Lamb would tell Luc and Simon of tonight’s events and have them join the others at Windmere. At a divide in the lane, Lamb left them, heading for the Dower House.
Rapture Becomes Her Page 38