A rumbling growl from the cage next to him gave Beau a start. The lion raised his head and sniffed the air. Monkeys gibbered to each other behind their bars. Until now, Beau had concentrated so completely on C.C. and the men around her, he’d not noticed the audience of exotic animals watching from behind their iron enclosures.
With his vision slowly clearing, in the dim light he could now see hyenas, a baboon, a giraffe, colorful exotic birds, an ostrich, a llama, two zebras and a yak.
A whimper from a cage on the other side caught his attention. Inside crouched Jesse and Nate. Next to them, in a somewhat taller cage, stood a young girl. She gazed pleadingly at the man holding Beau. He turned his head and forced his eyes to focus on the villain holding him by the collar. It was Lord Falgate.
The viscount glared at him and shoved him forward. Beau landed on his knees between Hargreaves and Rives.
“You both now have what you want,” Falgate rasped. “You can fight over how you’re going to divvy up the spoils later. I’ve fulfilled my debt to you and then some. Now unlock the cage and let me and my daughter go.”
Hargreaves leveled the revolver on Falgate.
“Pappa!” the girl screamed.
“You pompous aristo.” Hargreaves sneered. “How many times will it take to get it through your thick skull, you follow my orders. Your wife might still be alive, if you’d caught on quicker. I’m only going to say this once. We’re through here when I say we’re through.”
Hargreaves hacked with a cough that sounded like it rose all the way up from his boots.
Out the corner of his eye Beau saw C.C. raise her arm and strike down on the gun. She hit it with enough force to knock it from Hargreaves’s hand. It skidded across the floor planks to Beau’s left.
Surprisingly spry for such a large man, Falgate got to it first and dove for the weapon. Hargreaves and Rives piled on top.
Animals stirred in agitation and began pacing their cages, peering out, watching the fight.
While the men wrestled with the weapon, C.C. grabbed a heavy chain and a hoof clipper hanging between the cages. She ran to where Beau knelt, quickly clipped through the rope binding his hands and started unwinding it.
The gun went off.
Pandemonium broke out all around them. Animals threw themselves against their bars, yelping and bawling. An elephant trumpeted. Birds fluttered, chirping and squawking. A tiger yowled. Monkeys bounded about their cage, shrieking.
Rives wrenched the revolver from Falgate’s grip and jumped to his feet, waving it wildly. “Face down on the floor, all of you.”
Hargreaves now pitched on the floor, clutching his throat, making gurgling sounds.
Falgate rolled to his stomach and covered his face with bloodied hands.
Beau flopped onto the chain and hoof clippers to hide them.
C.C. staggered to the right as if ready to fall when Rives called out, “Not you, dearest Calista. Please join me at the altar.” His voice sounded cool and collected as if this was merely another pleasant soiree. “As soon as Hargreaves goes to the devil we’ll marry like we should have a decade ago.” He waved the gun around the hold as he sidestepped to the altar. Smiling, he pointed the gun at the wide-eyed vicar. “Parson, get your book ready.”
C.C. glanced over at Beau as she took her place next to Rives. She managed a smile. Never had Beau met a woman with more courage and pluck. Her gaze shifted to the boys who now knelt, clutching the bars of their cage.
Beau lowered his lids to surreptitiously track Rives. The villain was too clever and observant. If he didn’t take care, the commander might see him unwind the rest of the rope from his hands.
Only a few paces away, Hargreaves gagged. His eyes rolled back in his head while his back arched. Finally, he collapsed in a pool of his own blood.
Rives watched impassively as the life drained from Shamus. Once he stilled, Rives cautiously stepped over to the body, held the gun on it and kicked it with the toe of his boot. For a moment he stood studying it like one would a dusty museum exhibit. Finally satisfied, he slowly stepped over to Beau.
The animals had gradually settled down to a few growls and squeaks. Eyes flashed in the lantern light behind the bars as if they, too, were watching the unfolding drama.
Curling a lip in a self-satisfied smile, Rives taunted, “Tollier, you’re such a fool. You’ve had three months to work your womanizing charms on Calista, but in the end she wouldn’t have you. And do you know why? She knows I’m her only master.”
He laughed and pointed the gun at Beau. “See, revenge truly is the sweetest nectar.” He spoke amiably as if he were imparting a wry joke. “Pay attention now. You and Falgate can be our witnesses. This is another lesson in how it feels to have all your plans ruined before your eyes.”
He strolled nonchalantly to the altar and turned the gun on the vicar. “All right, parson, say the words.”
The vicar’s voice quavered, “Have you procured a marriage license, sir?”
Rives thrust the gun into his face. “Would I be here if I didn’t?”
“There’s a s-slight formality,” the vicar stammered. “Miss Collins must be released from her marriage to Captain Hargreaves with a death certificate… Your marriage will not to be legal if—”
Rives cocked the hammer on the gun. “Do you want your tombstone to read, I was an adequate bureaucrat but a stupid parson?”
Beau used the argument to unwind the rest of the rope binding his hands. Even though the hold still spun wildly, he had to find a way to subdue Rives.
The vicar trembled as he motioned to a document on the altar.
Quickly glancing at it, Rives said reasonably, “You’re going to quibble over a marriage license whose ink isn’t even dry. Hargreaves is dead, you fool. Tear it up!”
With Rives’s attention directed at the vicar, Beau glanced at Falgate. The man hadn’t moved since he’d rolled to his stomach. He couldn’t tell if Falgate would help him or side with Rives.
The sound of ripping paper brought Beau’s attention back to the vicar.
Rives stepped away from the altar and gazed suspiciously at Beau and Falgate. He continued holding the gun on the parson while he dug into his pocket. Pulling out a sheet of paper, he stepped back and slapped it onto the altar.
The vicar adjusted his glasses to examine it. After a moment, he said, “Everything seems to be in order. Now if Miss Collins and you will please sign where specified.”
C.C. nodded. Then pulled her jeweled fountain pen from her pocket, yanked off the lid and sprayed purple ink into Rives’s eyes.
***
“You filthy whore!” Jake Rives swung his gun to backhand her.
C.C. danced to one side but not far enough. His gun struck her arm with a vicious blow. Yelping, she scampered toward a stack of crates, catching a glimpse of him as she ran.
Purple ink dripped from his eyes and dribbled down his cheeks. Swiping his sleeve across his face, he smeared it further, pinching his eyes together as he swore. He lashed out again where she’d stood, throwing himself off balance, and stumbled over the makeshift altar.
The vicar reared back, dashed behind a large crate and ducked down out of sight.
Rives spat curses as he rubbed at his eyes, and struggled to heave himself back to his feet.
C.C. couldn’t help a bit of satisfaction at her handiwork. Jake Rives had always used his good looks to hide his manipulative, twisted side. With his shorn hair and the purple ink smearing his face, he looked more like his true self, a warped demon.
She quickly glanced around the hold for something to disarm him. Her gaze fell on Lord Falgate. He still lay almost immobile. She’d once hated him. Now all she felt was pity. He’d made a career consorting with blackguards and villains, forging mysterious alliances and frequenting some of the darkest pits in London. The only good luck he’d had was claiming Sarah’s heart.
Several feet away, Beau pushed himself to his feet and stumbled forward. Laws, this was exactly why s
he’d wanted him out of town. Her heart lurched at how awful he looked. He listed to one side, dragging the chain as he slowly staggered forward. She’d seen them pack the chloroform. By the way he moved, clearly they’d used it on him.
At the moment, the only thing in Beau’s favor was the ink stinging Rives’s eyes.
C.C. spotted a rake leaning against the side of one of the crates and dashed for it.
When she turned around, Beau had dragged himself up to Rives and flung the chain—completely missing him. The effort knocked him off balance.
C.C rushed forward with the rake and swung it at Rives’s revolver.
By then Jake must have rubbed enough of the ink from his eyes and whirled out of the way. She’d forgotten his surprising athleticism, eerie speed and agility.
While she held Jake’s attention, Beau rose to his feet and, with visible effort, hurled the chain at his legs. This time the metal links hit their target and sent Jake to his knees.
“Bastard!” Rives cursed and swiveled around, firing the gun.
The animals went mad, roaring and howling with fear.
Beau jerked backwards and fell to the deck, still as death.
Terror sliced through C.C. as sharp as a knife strike. “Nooo!” she screamed and rushed toward Beau. “You can’t die!” He completed her, made her whole, made even her worst days an exciting adventure. He was the only man who’d truly loved her for herself. And she loved him, more than life.
“No, my heart, don’t do this to me!” she pleaded as she fell to her knees, frantically gazing about his body. Everything else suddenly seemed unimportant. When he’d begged her to cherish the gift of love and finding one another, she’d only thought of her business and independence. “I should have listened. Please don’t let him die!” she wailed.
Jake caught her around the waist with one arm, pulled her up, and threw his gun hand wide in exultation. “One less useless suitor.” He laughed. “This is turning out to be a mighty fine day. Oh, the fun I have planned. Soon, my dear Calista, we’ll begin your lessons in the true meaning of submission.”
“Let go of me you sadistic freak!” She clawed at his arm banding her waist and reached around to rake her nails across his face.
She heard a clinking sound and saw the chain wrap around Jake’s wrist, jerking them both apart. Landing on her knees, she watched the gun fly into the air, turning end over end to clatter through the bars of a lion’s cage.
Jake had already sprung into motion, weaving and twisting. Parts of him seemed to be moving faster than others as he freed his arm from the iron links.
Beau thrashed out again.
This time Jake grabbed the chain, yanked, and Beau came flying toward him. Instead of stumbling off balance, Beau made a strange whirling kick into Rives’s chest and knocked him backward.
Recovering quickly, Jake scrambled forward and tackled Beau. They crashed to the deck. “I’ll see you to the devil, you miserable bastard!” Rives snarled, as he locked his hands around Beau’s throat. Arching his back, Beau threw Jake to the side and pounced on him. They rolled, each struggling for the upper hand.
C.C. grabbed the rake, flipped it around to use as a club, and dashed toward the men. Their quick movements made her uncertain. If she missed, she might hit Beau instead of Jake. All she could do was dance back and forth looking for an opening.
Beau didn’t make a sound as he hammered his knuckles into Rives’s face. With a powerful upper cut to the jaw, Beau knocked him to his back and flung himself on top, pounding him with his fists.
Jake lashed out, heaving and struggling, but couldn’t free himself.
Blood dripped from Beau’s nose and split lip. His fine features had clenched into gruesome, single-minded determination as he rained blows about Rives’s head and face. Pulling back, Beau swung one final powerful blow. Jake’s head jerked to the side and his arms sprawled to the floor.
“Quick, fetch a rope,” Beau panted. He rolled Jake to his stomach and bound his hands and feet with the rope C.C. retrieved.
Another noise caught her attention.
Falgate had gotten to his feet, his face contorted under the dirt and blood. He stared at them menacingly.
Chapter 32
Viscount Falgate fisted his hands and gazed at C.C. a moment, then shifted toward Rives. His lips thinned in disgust. He took three more steps and fell to his knees next to Hargreaves’s body. His nose wrinkled as he began turning out Hargreaves’s pockets. A moment later he stumbled toward his daughter’s cage with a set of keys. “Bring that devil over here,” he commanded.
Gasping for air, Beau dragged himself to his feet and grabbed Rives’ under his arms.
C.C. stepped to his side and helped lug Jake across the floor.
Falgate opened the cage door. His daughter jumped into his embrace, crying, “Pappa!”
“Are you all right sweetheart?” The viscount’s voice turned hoarse as he clutched his little girl to him.
“Can we get mummy now?” she pleaded.
While C.C. and Beau tugged Rives into the little girl’s cage and locked him in, Falgate kissed his daughter and murmured, “Yes, darling.”
C.C. quickly moved to Jesse and Nate’s cage and set them free. They flew into her embrace. “Oh, my brave, brave boys.” A lump formed in her throat as she kissed them.
“We weren’t scared a bit,” Nate said shakily.
“Once we saw Captain Tollier, we knew those awful men didn’t have a chance,” Jesse gushed, shivering.
Clearly, Jesse still idolized the captain. And C.C. couldn’t disagree with him.
Behind them, something scraped and clattered. C.C. whirled around in alarm.
The vicar crawled from behind a crate. Streaks of dirt and pieces of straw clung to his nightshirt. Stepping warily toward them, his hands trembled as he brushed at his shirt. “I do apologize for my attire. They caught me in the middle of my first sleep. Is everything back to rights?”
“Quite,” Beau said.
“Shall I get the authorities?” The vicar began to ease toward the door.
“That would be grand.” Still gasping for air, Beau helped C.C. back to her feet.
“Wait, mister!” Jesse called, looking between the vicar and Beau. “C.C., aren’t you going to marry Captain Tollier now?”
She laughed and tousled his hair. “Haven’t I married enough men for one day?”
“Not the right one.” Nate grinned.
C.C. gazed into Beau’s eyes, the glint in them making her heart stutter.
The vicar looked back and forth between Beau and C.C, one brow furrowing at Beau. “Don’t tell me you have a marriage license too.”
Beau chewed on a twitching lip. “As a matter of fact,” he said, making a show of digging into his pockets. He cleared his throat, coughed, and laughed. “No, I jest. It’s my understanding Miss Collins has severe reservations about the institution.”
“I do,” C.C. said emphatically.
The vicar looked confused. “It’s all right, Miss Collins. No one is holding a gun on you now.”
She blinked and frowned at the man. “A moment, please.” Taking Beau by the arm, she pulled him out into the empty alleyway. Once there, she wrung her hands, not knowing where to begin. “After I was such a virago to you, why didn’t you tell Jake he could have me?”
“Why did you pay what I hear was a king’s ransom to stay my hanging and get me released from prison? You’d never even met me.”
“Oh!” Her breath hitched in surprise. “Someone told you…well—” she cleared her throat “—well…you did so many impressive, courageous things. And you were my best captain. War or no war, no one hangs my best captain.”
“Is that all? Come now, my dear. Admit it. You love me. I don’t care how or why. All I know is that you worked your way into my heart and now I can’t live—”
“Don’t give up on me, Beau,” C.C. said quickly and grasped both of his hands, squeezing.
He closed his mouth and ga
zed at her intently.
“Where do I begin?” she said in a rush. “When most of my friends began marrying and having their children, I took over the family business. Although you never knew, you helped me with your daring and expert seamanship. For years I wondered about you. And when we finally met, you swept me off my feet, quite literally.”
She gazed into his eyes, beseeching. “My heart said yes every time you asked me to marry you. But I run the family empire, and have…responsibilities. If I were to take a husband, England’s laws would prevent me from exercising those responsibilities. I can’t let that happen.”
Her voice began to quaver. “When Jake fired the gun, I thought he’d killed you. I knew then that if you died, I would too. You are everything I ever wanted, everything I wished for…and a few more wonderful things I didn’t even know I’d treasure.”
Emotion threatened to overwhelm her. She leaned forward to place her hand over his heart. “I love you, Beau…more than life itself. These past few days have been torture. I’ve missed you a million different ways: your advice and caring, your stubbornness and teasing, and the way you always surprise me and make me laugh. I want to have your babies and make a family together. If you truly love me, help us find a way to make that happen without jeopardizing the rest of my life.”
“Rest assured, luv, I have no designs on your family business. My shipbuilding company will keep me busy, and I’ve plenty of my own money. Somewhere there must be a smart solicitor who can find a way for you to feel safe marrying me.” He winked. “And it’s time I made an honest woman of you.”
***
C.C. pulled her peach, fur-lined cloak tighter about her as the carriage made a sharp turn. The sounds of a wharf gradually grew louder.
Beau sat across from her silently studying her. “What’s all the mystery, luv?”
“You’ll see.” She smiled.
The carriage finally pulled to a halt in front of a dock where the driver opened their door. Through the chilly February breeze, the smells of fish and coal smoke wafted toward them. Descending the steps, C.C. grasped Beau’s arm and walked with him across the slippery cobblestones to the waiting ship.
The Trouble With Misbehaving Page 31