The Right One (One and Only Series)

by Samanthya Wyatt

  Giles glowered back.

  His jaw tight, Morgan trudged over to stare out the window. His grandfather’s garden—he’d created it for the love of his life—his wife. Kat loved that garden. She instilled her presence in Morgan’s home. Everywhere he looked, he expected to see her. Her gentle smile. Her emerald loving eyes. She’d left her mark in every corner of his house. Sometimes he thought he could smell her fragrance. His house was so damned empty without his beloved Kat.

  Empty like it was when his parents . . . He didn’t want to feel. He killed his heart long ago. But, Kat made him feel again—rejoin the human race.

  God, how he missed her.

  He put his hand behind his head and rubbed his neck. When he spoke, his voice came out a notch above a croak. “All right. She made me feel. I decided long ago I’d never open my heart to love. You know what I was like when you met me. I never want to go through that pain again.”

  He turned to his friend. “I pushed her away. I let her believe she was just another woman in my bed.”

  “After she told you she loved you?” Giles’ mouth turned down in disgust. “You destroyed her.”

  The twinge in his chest grew bigger. “You should have seen her, Giles. She bucked up and snarled at me. I thought I had a tiger caught by the tail.” Morgan frowned and blankly stared out the window. “I was so damned proud of her.”

  If it hadn’t been you, I would have picked someone else.

  I was ready to lose my virginity.

  He closed his eyes at renewed anguish.

  “The only thing the girl could do was leave,” Giles said. “Pride is a damned annoyance, but we all have our pride.”

  Morgan released a frustrated breath. True. Look where his pride had gotten him. He took another deep breath and released it. “I can’t marry her.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “How could I spend every day with her—every aching moment—and not fall more in love with her? My heart would not survive losing her.”

  “What?” Giles roared as he came out of the chair. “For Christ’s sake, Morgan. You’re the bravest man I’ve had the fortune to come across. Daring, courageous, reckless, risking too many treacherous missions to mention. I never thought it possible for you to be a coward. You’re afraid, by God. Afraid of a woman. Tell me. How does your heart feel now?”

  Pain. Anguish. Torment.

  “By the looks of you, there’s no need to answer. Life goes on. This,” Giles gestured with his hand, “is not living. You’ve taken risks. This is the most important venture you will ever take. And the reward . . . Is it not worth the gamble?”

  The flame of hope flickered within his soul. He had to admit, he already loved her. He had no life without her.

  “The woman is proud, Morgan. If you sit here and do nothing, mark my words, you will have cause to regret it.”

  Would she give him another chance after the hateful things he said to her? He must find her. Where? Would she be with her uncle? Did her brother take her away? He would search to the ends of hell, but he would find her.

  “You’re good at this.”

  Giles frowned. “At what?”

  “Making me realize not only what I have done, but what I must do.”

  “Noticed that, did you?”

  “You were worried I wasn’t going to crawl out of the bottle.”

  “Beg to differ.” Giles refilled his glass with brandy. “Do I look worried?”

  “You bloody ass.”

  “Well, that’s rather unfair of you,” Giles said.

  “Thank you. Is that more to your liking?”

  “Thank me when I tell you about Katherine’s brother.”

  Morgan froze. “Good God! Why didn’t you mention him sooner? Where is he? How is he?”

  “You’ll be happy to know he’s in one piece and ensconced at Thornton’s.”

  Chapter 28

  “But, I didn’t know,” Charity argued. “Kat asked me to send an invitation and I did. She said she was coming to see me. I swear it.”

  “Do not say anymore.” Viscount Roxborough’s deep voice penetrated the room. He squeezed his wife’s shoulder. “Mr. Radbourn. I suggest you direct your questions to me.”

  Stephen had a habit of shouting. It was his nature. Even though he stood in his uncle’s drawing room and not on the deck of his ship, he never thought to lower his voice. And Charity was Kat’s friend. He’d known the mischievous scamp since she was in pigtails. True, she’d married. A viscount no less. Her husband’s thunderous look convinced Stephen to lighten his tone and take a much calmer approach.

  “Forgive me, Viscount Roxborough. I’ve known your wife since she . . . uh . . . for a number of years. I meant no disrespect.”

  Charity covered her husband’s hand with her own. “It’s alright.”

  Lord Roxborough gentled his features. “I will not have you upset.”

  “Stephen would not hurt me. He’s distressed.”

  “With good reason,” Stephen bellowed. At Lord Roxborough’s glare, he apologized. “I beg your pardon. But I know these two. She and my sister have schemed plenty of times in the past. Some which had us all pulling our hair.”

  “And what a bushy lot of it you have,” Charity said with a beaming smile.

  How could the little imp tease at a time like this? Bloody hell. Where was Kat?

  “I apologize for my nephew’s forgotten manners, and I appreciate you coming to my home so quickly. The fact remains my niece is missing,” Albert said to the viscount.

  Stephen grimaced from the scolding. He glanced to his aunt. Elizabeth mutilated the handkerchief she held, her eyes red from crying. Albert had stayed beside her murmuring words of reassurance since the viscount entered their door.

  Where the hell had Kat gone? He had the need to pound something.

  Preferably Whetherford.

  Stephen’s growl came from the bottom of his stomach causing all heads to turn. “Whetherford. She’s with Whetherford.”

  “Now, Stephen. Hold on.” Albert moved from the hearth.

  “Uncle. You know that’s where she is.”

  “I don’t know any such thing. But if she is, she’s in no danger.”

  “No danger,” Stephen bellowed. “She’s alone.”

  Viscount Roxborough spoke. “Whetherford may have been gone for years, but he is an honorable man.”

  Stephen swung around. “How the bloody hell would you know?”

  “Stephen,” Elizabeth gasped.

  There he was, shouting again. Damn Kat. “Sorry, Aunt.”

  “Lord Whetherford is an honorable man. He would let no harm come to our girl.” Albert declared.

  “I’ll find that out for myself.” Even if he were one of Uncle’s chosen few, Whetherford was still a man. With a man’s needs. He would kill Whetherford even if the bloody devil had provided men to search and aid in his rescue.

  Stephen spun around and headed for the doorway.

  “Wait,” Albert called. “Do not go charging off half-cocked, my boy.”

  Stephen halted. He slowly turned and braced his fisted hands on his hips. “Don’t worry, Uncle. I’m fully loaded and primed for bear.”

  “I propose to go with you.” The Viscount stepped forward.

  Stephen looked to Charity’s worried face and back to her husband. “Suit yourself.”

  “The Earl of Whetherford,” the butler announced.

  Raised voices came hurtling from the double set of doors where Morgan waited. One boomed above the others. He winced thinking of the poor soul on the receiving end of that one. The butler proceeded to the doors without any sign of trepidation, and with the assurance he’d done this many times. Morgan wondered if the turmoil within was a common o
ccurrence. Without hesitation, the butler knocked and opened both doors. Shouting continued as the butler made his presence known. But when the butler announced him, the room became silent. Every head turned in his direction.

  A burly man with eyes of iron and a body rigid as stone faced him. Before he took two steps into the drawing room, the hulking man charged toward him. With years of trained reflexes, Morgan’s arm flew up. A blurred face in the middle of a red cloud went out of focus just before his head flew back from a fist to his jaw.

  “Stephen. Stop this at once,” Albert shouted.

  Stephen? This is Kat’s brother?

  Sitting on his backside on the floor, Morgan tussled with his dignity. The red-haired giant’s threatening manner could make a man think he was facing the very devil. The hands fisted at his sides were sure signs of his self-restraint.

  “Stephen, old friend.” Wesley stepped forward.

  Now he speaks.

  Morgan had hoped some comradeship between the two men remained. That’s why he brought Wesley along.

  “Well, well, well.” Stephen braced his hands on his hips. “Old friend. You’re with this bit of muck? You helped abduct my sister?”

  Wesley cast his hands up as if that would protect him from the fuming man. “Stephen, wait! You must listen.”

  “Listen to who? You?” Stephen challenged.

  Morgan could see where men would be intimidated by this man’s size alone. Wesley already knew he was a dangerous man—which must have been the reason his tongue wagged in explanations that Stephen did not want to hear.

  “We did not abduct your sister. Whetherford saved the girl.” Wesley spread his arms wide. “For old times’ sake?”

  “For old times’ sake, you are still standing.” Stephen raised a bushy brow and glared at Wesley. “You should already know how I deal with anyone that goes against me. The tale that my russet hair matches my temper is a true one.”

  “It was a mistake.” Wesley offered Morgan his hand and helped him up.

  Morgan tested his chin to be sure his jaw was still attached. Kat’s brother packed one hell of a wallop. “Couldn’t you have said something sooner,” he mumbled to Wesley.

  Bringing fisted hands forward, Stephen took an aggressive step. “Where is she?”

  Morgan’s head jerked to Stephen. “What are you saying?”

  A thirst for blood manifested in Stephen’s eyes. “You’re the bloke responsible. Where is she?”

  “This time I’m ready for you,” Morgan warned, arms up and locked.

  “Stop. Both of you. I will remind you, Stephen, you are in my home.” Albert stepped between the two men. “Lord Whetherford. Surely you understand our concern. Just tell us if Katherine is with you.”

  Dread centered in Morgan’s chest. “I came here to see her. Are you telling me you don’t know where she is?”

  “What blooming nonsense,” Stephen thundered.

  “Stephen.” Albert’s harsh reprimand silenced Stephen, but his distrustful look remained.

  A shout came from the entry way.

  “I’ve got to see his lordship! It’s urgent!”

  “You can’t go in there.”

  “Get out of my way!”

  “What the blue blazes is going on out there?” Stephen glanced at Morgan. “One of yours’?”

  Ready to bark No, Morgan halted. He recognized that voice.

  Bloody hell. Jeremy.

  Stephen marched into the vestibule, Morgan right behind him. “What’s all the ruckus?” Stephen asked.

  Breathing hard, Jeremy spotted Morgan and pushed past the servant. “This came right after you left. It’s Juliana.”

  Stephen looked down his nose. “You have your doxy sending you notes here?”

  He would put his fist down Kat’s brother’s throat, yet.

  Morgan tore at the slip of paper. “My God.” The blood drained out of his veins. His heart kicked and dived to his throat. Kat—in the clutches of madmen. Startling fear turned into blind fury. He crumpled the paper in his fist.

  “The man who delivered it said it was urgent, so Mrs. Beasley sent me to the duke.” Jeremy quickly inhaled another breath. “He’s gathering men as we speak.”

  Morgan sought to step around Stephen, but the giant crossed his arms in front of his chest and blocked Morgan’s path.

  “Just where do you think you’re going?”

  Morgan was nearly blind with rage and in no mood to be civilized. His eyes clashed with Stephen’s. “To get Kat.”

  Chapter 29

  “This waiting could kill a man. When I was held captive—” Stephen’s gruff voice caught and his lips tightened into a grim line. He swallowed. “Minutes seemed like hours. Hours like days. Days of waiting to see what horrific torture they would use next.” He hesitated and raised his gaze to the sky.

  When Kat’s brother insisted on coming along, Morgan did not refuse—he would never have made it out of that house without a fight. Together, they’d come up with a plan to rescue Kat, and now they waited—hidden from sight. He stared at the building where his informants said she was being held. Listening to her brother, Morgan understood the man’s anguish too well.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. He’d had his share of daring missions. Undertakings where the danger outweighed common sense. Risk more imperative than considering his own safety. The prize, the rescue, was the goal. But the thrill of danger, playing with fire, mocking death—that’s how he earned the name dark devil.

  “I was captured once. Didn’t stay long. Giles saw to that.”

  Stephen shot him a disturbed glance. “I never thanked you . . .”

  “No thanks necessary.” Morgan said off-handedly, showing the words weren’t needed.

  “I’ve been through hell—lived in hell . . .” Stephen’s voice sounded discouraged, “yet the torture of waiting until I see Kat with my own eyes is worse than anything that blood-thirsty bunch could have done to me. Damn.” He thrust his fingers through his thick hair and pivoted on his heel. “My little sister. This standing around has my brain ready to explode.”

  Morgan’s heart had stopped when he’d read Juliana’s note. Not knowing if Kat was safe, his mind hurtled into complete turmoil—suspecting any manner of injustice done to her. Knowing Juliana had her tormented every breath he took.

  He never panicked. But, what he felt now came damned close. In his youth, he handled missions better. Excitement had pumped his blood. He charged in without a care. Killed without a second thought. But now? He wanted to scream and rant like the very devil. Yelling his frustration like a soulless warrior could very well end him in Bedlam.

  “Waiting is always the hardest part.” Morgan spoke to calm himself as well as Kat’s brother.

  “That’s why I’m in command of this rescue.”

  Both men turned to the voice of Giles, slipping up behind them.

  “You’re too close. Juliana would expect you to come alone,” he said to Morgan. “We’ve both been on too many missions to go blindly charging in without a plan.”

  “What did you find out?” Morgan asked.

  “Jeremy and George took care of the guards in back. Two more in the house with Juliana.”

  “What about Kat?” he ground out.

  “She’s there. Juliana’s got Katherine tied to a chair in the middle of the room. We can’t get to her without being seen.”

  “I’ll kill them with my bare hands.” Stephen shoved his gun in the band of his pants and dashed forward.

  “Wait.” Giles grabbed his arm. “Juliana is unpredictable. Who knows what she might do if you go storming in there. Let’s stick to the plan. Morgan, you go in the front door. Give us enough time to get in position. While you talk to Juliana, the other two guards will be distracted.
Then, Stephen and I will make our move.”

  With his cool head, Giles had always been the one to formulate the plans. He analyzed every mission, thoroughly assessed every step before proceeding with any operation. His blood would churn, but his composure and strategies gave them success.

  Morgan dipped his head in acquiesce.

  Stephen faced Morgan with troubled eyes. “Whetherford. Get my sister.”

  “I plan to do just that.” Morgan watched Stephen and Giles disappear. He’d never been in this position. One where the outcome involved him emotionally. Where the end result could shatter his entire being. And he didn’t like it one bit. His fear for Kat terrified him. If she were hurt . . .

  Before Kat, he’d only been existing—without feeling. He’d suppressed all sentiment the day he lost his family. She made him come alive. Now that he was ready to live again, he only hoped it was not too late.

  More than anyone, he knew the importance, the need to clear his mind before action. More than ever, he needed to focus. Emotions could lead to disaster. A missed sign. The wrong timing. Every sense had to be on alert. His love depended on him. He would not fail her.

  Glancing around, he found no one in sight. Even the wind stilled. No rustle in the trees, no leaves stirred. His heart in his throat, he climbed the steps to the front door, his boots echoing each rung.

  He hesitated, trying to make up his mind whether to knock or just open the damned door. His hands fisted. Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned the knob.

  The door creaked open. He shoved it a bit farther, his eyes combing the interior. Not a sound. No one about. He stepped inside.

  To the right, a light glowed from a doorway. He searched down the corridor, up the stairway and to the left—nothing. He forced his pulse to slow. Keeping his ears tuned for any sound, he closed the door. At this moment he felt like a rabbit ensnared in a trap. Juliana and her henchmen waited for him. But he would turn out the victor.