For the Love of a Soldier

by Victoria Morgan

  “I can’t. I’ve never—” She shook her head frantically, trying to hand the pistol back to him.

  Her body crushed deeper into his when Havers barked orders at the horses and the carriage rumbled to an abrupt stop. Curses and loud shouts filled the air.

  He lifted Alexandra off his lap and with his free hand, covered hers holding the pistol, preventing her from relinquishing it. “You can and you will, for our lives may depend on it.” He stared her down as he had with so many men under his command, willing her to obey, willing her to shelve her nerves and act.

  Her eyes were two wide blue saucers and riveted to his as her mouth opened and closed.

  She radiated fear, but he reminded himself of her mettle. She was strong. She would not fold.

  She did not disappoint. Nodding jerkily, she swiped her hand down her trousers. “How…” She moistened her lips. “If I need to…”

  He cocked her gun, careful to keep it aimed at the floor. “Just pull the trigger and brace yourself for the recoil.”

  “Kendall! We know ye be in there. Get out now, and yer coachman lives.”

  He met Alexandra’s eyes, her gaze devouring his features as if she sought answers from their predicament in his expression. Christ. He should have been more alert. He shouldn’t have let her distract him. He shrugged off the recriminations; hopefully there would be time for that later. For now, he needed a plan of attack.

  “How do I know you haven’t already killed him?” He yelled to the men, buying time. He leaned close to Alexandra, lowering his voice to a barely audible level. “I’m going out the opposite door, but I need a distraction. Fire a shot out the window, then drop down and stay low. The door facing them is locked. They can’t get in quickly.”

  “But what if—”

  “Shh.” He pressed his fingers to her lips, silencing her. “It’s all right. I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

  “My lord?”

  He clenched his jaw when Havers rapped the front panel of the coach in response to one of the men’s orders. There was relief in the knowledge Havers was alive. He intended for all of them to stay that way.

  He studied Alexandra. Beneath her fear, he saw resolution in her curt nod and his blood heated. By God, she was brave and beautiful and he wanted her.

  He couldn’t resist. Depending on the outcome of his actions, there might not be a second chance for them.

  Damned if he’d let this one go.

  Leaning down, he clasped her neck and covered those soft lips with his. When she gasped and her mouth opened, he drank her in, a sip before a banquet he hoped to savor later. She tasted of honey, tea, and Alexandra. Sweet and explosive. A flavor of heaven, before he met hell. Damned if he didn’t want more.

  Unable to resist, he took it. Just a little more to quench the burning need that flared within him in a tumultuous rush of sensation. A potent mixture of danger and desire. He plundered her mouth, teasing her into a hesitant response as her tongue tangled and danced with his. He felt her hand clutch his upper arm, her fingers digging deep.

  When her body sagged against him in sweet surrender, a deep, throaty growl of masculine satisfaction filled him. She was magnificent. Passionate and responsive.

  A shout from outside returned him to his senses, and he drew back, cursing under his breath. He sucked in a ragged breath, his blood pounding, his body burning with thwarted desire.

  Struggling to compose himself, he studied Alex, who had slid back against the seat in a boneless heap. She blinked up at him, her eyes glazed and unfocused. Resisting the urge to yank her back into his arms, he gave her a gentle prod toward the window.

  Christ. There was no more time. Moments had passed since the carriage had stopped. In battle, seconds counted.

  Her eyes clearing, Alexandra pressed her swollen lips together and scrambled onto the seat. She lifted the gun, and her hand visibly shook as she aimed it out the window and then glanced back for his directive. When he nodded, she closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

  Garrett vaulted out the door, barely missing Alexandra, who dove back onto the floor as all hell broke loose outside. He clung to the carriage side as the horses leapt up, whinnying and snorting in protest. Havers’s voice barked out as he fought to regain control, the highwaymen cursing.

  Another shot rang out.

  Garrett heard the splintering of wood as the bullet pierced the carriage. He had seen Alexandra’s dive to the floor and prayed the shot was high. He added to his prayer the hope that for once in her life, Alexandra took a direct order and stayed low.

  He dropped to the ground, lying flat and slithering beneath the undercarriage as the horses settled.

  “Bloody Christ, whot the ’ell do ye think ye be doin’?”

  One man advanced on the carriage, the other toward Havers and the horses.

  Garrett took aim and then fired at the man rushing the door.

  One bastard down, one to go.

  He cursed the seconds it took for him to reload, but before he could get off a second shot, someone else fired. Their second attacker staggered backward and crumpled to the ground, a pool of blood seeping from beneath his still body.

  Garrett scrambled from underneath the coach, meeting Havers, who had leapt down from the box, pistol in hand. The stench of gunpowder from Havers’s gun mixed with his, and Garrett nodded. “Good cover.”

  Havers grunted. “Bunch of idiots. Should have killed me straight off.”

  “Good thing they didn’t. I need you around.” Garrett walked over to the man he had shot. He lay on the ground, clutching his stomach as he writhed in pain. Havers approached the second man, gave him a prod with his boot and shook his head. Well, one informant was better than none.

  Garrett knelt and planted his pistol to the surviving man’s head and cocked it. “Who hired you?”

  The man’s eyes bulged beneath his lanky hair. His face was pale, a mean scar etched into one cheek. “I don’t know nothin’.” He panted. “I was jist ’elpin’ Dickie on a job. Said ’e’d cut me in.” He grimaced and fought the rest of his words. “’E would ’ave if ye ’adn’t killed the bugger. Christ, I need…Oh, sweet Jesus…” His voice trailed off as he glanced down and saw his blood-soaked fingers. His eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

  Garrett pressed his fingers to the man’s neck, feeling the pulse weaken and fade. The man’s body slumped, his eyes staring out sightless. Garrett straightened, rage coursing through him like molten heat. Christ, he should have shot him in the leg, but then again, the man couldn’t give information he didn’t have.

  “Is…is he dead?”

  Garrett spun to see Alexandra framed in the door of the carriage. She gripped the coach side with one hand, the other holding her pistol dangling by her side.

  Her eyes were locked on the body on the ground, her features ghost white. “I…I killed him?” The pistol fell from her grip as her hands rose to cover her face, and she sagged against the doorframe.

  Before she slid to the ground, Garrett reached her side. “No.” He lifted her down, grasping her shoulders and giving her a firm shake as he stood her before him. “No, I did. It wasn’t you.” He willed her to look at him, and she did. “The man’s a murderer. He was going to kill us both. God knows how many he’s killed.”

  Eyes wild, she swallowed. “Yes, yes, of course.”

  He yanked her to him, cradling her close as he felt the tremors rack her body.

  “I’m all right. I just need a minute. Just a minute.” She burrowed her face into his chest and held on tight, her fingers digging into his back as she fought to steady herself.

  Over her head, he nodded to Havers. “Take the blankets from the coach and cover them.”

  The warmth of her body seeped into his, easing his own tension. He’d hold her a minute. He could hold her forever.

  Another shot echoed in the distance.

  Their minute was up.

  Garrett tossed Alexandra to the ground, lunging over her to
protect her from this new threat. One hand pressed her down as he lifted his head to scan the immediate vicinity, hearing shouts in the distance.

  Havers dropped to a defensive crouch, his pistol out, but shook his head at Garrett’s unspoken question. He didn’t see anything, either.

  Garrett sprang to his feet and wrenched Alexandra up, his arm around her waist as he half carried her to the carriage and hoisted her inside. “Get down and stay down.” He snatched up her pistol and pressed it into her hands. “Lock the door.” Slamming it closed, he ignored both her alarmed expression and cry of protest.

  The pounding of horses’ hooves moved closer. Garrett cursed the lack of time to find cover, but turned and dropped to his knee. He lifted his pistol, thankful for Havers, who braced his legs and took aim beside him. He didn’t know the attackers’ numbers, feared the odds were against them, but two armed-and-ready men were better than one.

  A single horseman rode into view, leisurely leading his mount into their line of fire. A body was slumped across his saddle. Unruffled by the guns aimed his way, his gaze took in the bodies of the two dead men, before turning to raise a brow at Havers and Garrett. “Kill me and you’ll upset Kit. You know what your sister’s like when she’s in a temper. It’s not pretty.”

  Heart still pounding, Garrett swore under his breath and stood. “Christ, Bran, what the hell are you doing here? I told you to hire some policemen, not to play Lord Gallant yourself.”

  The wind ruffled Brandon’s dark hair as he turned to Havers. “Is he always a thankless ass or it just with me?”

  Havers grunted and crossed to Brandon’s side. “What ye got?”

  “The third musketeer to add to your group.” Brandon dismounted. “All dead?” With his riding boot, he prodded the man Garrett had shot and shook his head. “Damn. They could have had information. We should have shot them in the leg.”

  Garrett ignored Brandon’s echo of his own thoughts. “If you’re worried about the wrath of Kit, what the hell do you think she’ll do if she finds out you’re gallivanting about the countryside, covering my arse from a bunch of murderous bastards?”

  “Please, since I married your sister, my days of gallivanting are over.” Brandon narrowed his eyes on Garrett. “You can’t tell her. You want Beau and Will to grow up without a father?”

  Garrett shook his head. “You like to live dangerously, don’t you?”

  Brandon shrugged. “I’m not the one with the bull’s-eye on my arse.”

  Garrett cast a glance at the carriage but saw no sign of Alexandra. He turned to retort, when two more riders trotted out of the copse of trees lining the unpaved road.

  “There’s the cavalry now,” Brandon said. He addressed Garrett. “I did hire some Peelers to further investigate the attacks in the city and to assist me in keeping your arse safe. We had to separate leaving the city but caught up to you just as you dropped the second man. You didn’t appear to need our assistance, so we let you handle matters. Good thing we did, or this one would have slipped free.” He nodded to the body slumped across his saddle.

  “Many thanks for your belated arrival.” Garrett eyed the tall policemen, commonly dubbed Peelers after Sir Robert Peel, who while serving as Home Secretary organized the first police force. Havers took charge, directing the men to collect the bodies and load them onto their horses.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Now that you have my thanks, you need to get the hell out of here. It’s due to you that I was attacked in the first place.”

  “Me?” Brandon frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Garrett paced, his hands balling into fists at his side. “They know me, Bran. They know my habits and my haunts. They knew when I didn’t go home from Hammond’s that I had gone to your place. They knew I’d flee the city, and they were waiting for me. Watching your place. They don’t give a damn who they sacrifice in order to get to me, so you need to protect your own. I need you to go home and ensure Kit and the boys are safe.”

  “Christ,” Brandon breathed. They both fell silent for a moment, feeling the weight of this implication. Brandon was the first to speak. “The Peelers haven’t dredged up any information from the first attack, but they are investigating a few leads. I also did as you requested and met with Hammond. He will help in any way he can and gave me a copy of his guest list.” He withdrew a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to Garrett. “You need to review it and draw up a list of names of those men who want your head on a platter and possess the money to have it delivered.”

  “Pleasant thought,” Garrett muttered, slipping the list into his own pocket.

  “Don’t forget the women.”

  Both men turned at Alexandra’s words. She had disregarded Garrett’s directive, unlocked the door to the coach, and stood in its frame. However, she still clutched the pistol by her side. For someone who was reluctant to pick up arms, she now appeared just as reluctant to relinquish them. “Let’s not forget those scorned sisters, mothers, or wives. You might have practiced sainthood recently, but you didn’t always.”

  Brandon glanced at Alexandra and then at Garrett, a delighted grin curving his lips. “Right. Let’s not forget, hell has no fury like a woman scorned.”

  Garrett narrowed his eyes on Alexandra. He should have known she would have listened to every word they’d said. Well, good. It was time they remembered what had brought them together. Forgetting it had nearly killed them both. He clenched his jaw, anger over the recent ambush coursing through him.

  “Now then, our manners have been remiss,” Brandon said. “You need to introduce me to your companion.”

  Garrett crossed to the carriage and assisted Alexandra down, hissing in her ear as he did so. “Hold on to your pistol. If he gets out of hand, shoot him.” With reluctance, he set her on her feet and faced Brandon. Only after seeing Brandon’s expression did he belatedly realize the oddity of his assisting a young man down. “Miss Daniels, this is the Earl of Warren.”

  At the introduction, Brandon’s expression cleared and he stepped forward to bow low. “Miss Daniels, the pleasure is mine.”

  A flush colored Alexandra’s fair skin as she transferred her pistol to her left hand in order to offer her right to Brandon, who took it and pressed his lips to her fingers.

  Garrett scowled. Brandon was behaving as if they were in a formal drawing room and not surrounded by the dead bodies of the men who moments ago tried to kill them. He was an idiot.

  “It took great courage to warn Lord Kendall about the threat to his life,” Brandon said. “If he has not voiced his gratitude for doing so, please accept mine on behalf of my wife. She would mourn his loss, for Garrett’s her only brother. For Kit’s sake, I try to keep him alive.”

  “I take back my thanks for your help,” Garrett muttered. “You should have let them shoot me, then I wouldn’t have to listen to you anymore.”

  Grinning, Brandon lowered his head to speak in her ear. “Keep the pistol close. If he gets out of hand, you have my permission to shoot him. I promise to break you out of Newgate.”

  Alexandra’s gaze swung to Garrett before she replied. “I think I understand why you two are friends,” she said dryly.

  “It was a mental lapse on my part,” Garrett said. “I’ve been paying for it ever since.”

  “It’s charity on mine.” Brandon smiled. “The man has no one else.”

  “Except for his sister?” Alexandra said, looking at Garrett.

  Garrett lifted a brow at the question. She appeared doubtful he had a sister. Did she think he was spawned from the devil? “I do have one, you know. And unfortunately, she married Warren. Now I’m stuck with him. But now that the immediate danger has passed, I think it’s time for him to leave.”

  Brandon winked at Alexandra. “I’ve overstayed my welcome. Despite the circumstances, it was nice meeting you, Miss Daniels.” He bowed before her and turned to Garrett. “I’ll catch up with you in a week.”

  Garret
t walked Brandon to his horse. The other two men moved to mount their own horses where the bodies of Garrett’s attackers lay strapped across the front of their saddles.

  Brandon would deliver them to the magistrate and see what information they could glean from their family or friends. “This one’s name is Dickie.” He pointed to the man Havers had shot. “The other one said as much before he died.”

  Brandon nodded. “Perhaps after this second failed attempt on your life, one of these men’s cronies will step forward with some details, for a price.”

  “Pay it,” Garrett said.

  “Of course. I’ve also frequented White’s and circulated different addresses for your whereabouts.”

  “Has anyone asked after me?”

  Brandon snorted. “You’re a wounded war hero and a survivor of the Charge of the Light Brigade. You make a brief appearance in town after a two-year absence, then abruptly disappear again. You’re all anyone speaks of or asks after.”

  “Bloody hell,” Garrett swore.

  “Exactly. I will keep an ear open for any persistent inquiries, but”—Brandon shrugged—“I’d start with Hammond’s list. It’s a lead, the only one we have right now. She saved your life.”

  Garrett’s eyes drifted toward Alexandra, who had wandered back to wait before the carriage. “Yes, she did.” And she had agreed to stay with him despite the danger she risked in doing so. He recalled Gus’s words and he lowered his voice. “One more thing. Find out all you can about a Viscount Langdon. He holds lands in Essex.”

  Brandon lifted a brow and following his gaze to Alex, he nodded. “I can do that.”

  “Good.” Garrett faced Brandon. “Then as we discussed, you and Kit will join me at the manor. I think it is the safest place. Only those loyal to me know of its location, and most are my men, veterans, willing to fire a shot on my behalf.”

  “Kit’s been going mad sequestered in the country. She’ll be overjoyed to play chaperone, or rather delighted you requested one.”