My Favorite Major

by Ava Stone; Lydia Dare

  Amelia screamed and would have banged her head on the wall of the coach if Philip hadn’t clutched her to him and taken the brunt of the fall with his back. As soon as the coach came to a stop, Philip thrust Amelia from him, looking her over for scrapes, cuts, or other injuries. “Are you all right?” he rasped, smoothing her tumbled flaxen hair from her face.

  Her blue eyes wide in panic, she shook her head. “You’re injured.”

  Was he? Philip looked down at his arm, which did pulse a bit with pain. Blood soaked his sleeve. What the devil had happened? “Byrne! Kelly!” he called just as an angry voice bellowed from outside, “Come on out, Moore!”

  Amelia gasped and clutched Philip’s lapels in her hands. “Mason,” she whispered, her pretty face a mask of fear.

  Dear God. How the devil had the man evaded everyone looking for him, only to turn up now?

  Philip glanced at the coach door, closed above their heads. At least Mason couldn’t throw it open and drag Amelia out. It was the one benefit to a toppled, upended coach. Philip would feel a bit better about the whole situation if either Kelly or Byrne had returned his call. But even if he had to go it alone, this madness would end today.

  He brushed his lips across his wife’s brow, hoping to calm her fears. “Stay here,” he said, then he retrieved a pistol from his overturned satchel near his feet and pushed open the door.

  Amelia grasped at his arm. “Please don’t go out there. You’re injured and—”

  And he wouldn’t sit around and make it easy for Mason to pick them off. Philip shook his head, frustrated he couldn’t abide by her wishes, but he could not. Mason had already shot him in the back once. Mason had most likely shot Alan Pritchard in the back. Philip couldn’t ever let Mason take aim at Amelia. “I’m a battle-trained officer, love. I do know what I’m doing.”

  He tucked his pistol into the waist of his trousers and cautiously poked his head outside, up through the open doorway. He didn’t see Mason anywhere. Nor did he see either of his Irish guards. Philip pulled himself out of the opening and then dropped to the ground with a thud.

  Pain burst from his wounded leg when he landed on his feet. He nearly saw white from the pain, but he pushed through it, staying close to the overturned coach for whatever cover it afforded him.

  He started towards the front of the carriage and he winced when he spotted one dead bay a few feet ahead. Then dread washed over him as he discovered Byrne’s lifeless body, partially crushed under what was left of the coachman’s box.

  Dear God. The man had a wife and child on the way. They were more names to add to Mason’s list of victims.

  He tried to relax his injured arm, as he was most definitely going to need the damn thing to protect both Amelia and himself. “Mason?” he called, limping around to the front of the coach, careful to navigate Byrne’s inert form.

  Once at the front of the conveyance, Philip breathed a sigh of relief when he found Kelly, blood trickling down his brow but still alive, leaning against the side with a pistol gripped in his hand. The Irishman gestured with his head towards a copse of trees not far away. “Yer Welshman rode in there,” he heaved as though he was trying to catch his breath.

  Mason was seeking cover behind foliage, was he? Philip acknowledged Kelly’s words with a nod. “You’re hurt.”

  “As are ye.” Kelly’s eyes dropped to Philip’s arm.

  Nothing to be done about either of them now. Mason wouldn’t wait for them to be all healed before mounting his second attack.

  “Is Mrs. Moore all right?” Kelly whispered.

  “Yes,” he muttered, not wanting to think about his wife at the moment, not wanting to imagine how worried and scared she must be. “But if I don’t make it…”

  Kelly frowned at him. “Ye dinna drag yerself off that field in Belgium ta be killed by that coward here.”

  No, he hadn’t. But neither had Byrne. “Just make sure she’s all right.”

  Kelly nodded once, apparently not willing to say anything else.

  Philip glanced back towards the copse of trees. “Show yourself, Mason,” he called.

  But there was no answer.

  Philip and Kelly exchanged a glance, and the Irishman shrugged. “I saw him ride in there, right before you climbed out that door.”

  So then, what was the man doing? Philip cupped a hand to his mouth and called again, “I know you’re out there, Mason.”

  Amelia pressed herself against the wall of the carriage, hoping to get some clue as to what was happening on the other side. She thought she heard whispers, which hopefully meant Philip had found Byrne and Kelly.

  She wanted to climb out of the coach just as Philip had done, but worried that her presence would only serve to distract her husband, which was the last thing she wanted and the last thing he needed. And she didn’t have a weapon of any sort. She would only be in the way.

  But the waiting and the not knowing had her nerves more than on edge. She could barely breathe, standing there, waiting for something to happen.

  And then another gunshot sounded from right outside the coach.

  “Damn,” Kelly grumbled. “I thought I had him.”

  Philip hadn’t been so sure. The trees had moved slightly in the copse, but he thought it more likely the wind than Mason making his presence known. “Stay here, I’m going around to the other side. See if I can get a better view.”

  Just as Philip took a step to head back the way he’d come, he heard the pounding of hooves against the ground; the sound brought memories of Major-General Alten’s light cavalry rushing past 45th into the fray that was Vitoria rushing back to his mind. He stopped where he stood, then looked back over his shoulder to find Mason atop a black hunter barreling towards the overturned coach, a pistol aimed directly on Philip.

  Everything else was a blur. He barely registered Kelly’s scream as the Irishman threw himself in front of Philip as a shield. But he doubted he’d ever forget the mixed expressions of horror and surprise all rolled into one as Kelly dropped to the ground at Philip’s feet.

  Dazed and slightly numb, Philip raised his injured, shaking arm to take aim at the Welshman, but before he could fire, Mason fell from his saddle at the exact moment the sound of another gunshot from the east reached Philip’s ear. His gaze flashed from downed villain to another rider, racing towards the scene.

  Blackaby?

  Philip dropped to the ground beside Kelly’s fallen form, and his heart leapt to his throat. Blood trickled from Kelly’s slightly open mouth.

  “Br—i—dg—et,” the Irishman struggled to say.

  The man’s sister. Philip clutched Kelly’s hand in his. “I’ll see to Bridget. I swear it.”

  After a final sigh that seemed wrenched from his soul, Kelly’s chest didn’t rise again and his open eyes stared unblinkingly heavenward.

  Tears of senseless loss streamed down Philip’s face. He swiped at them roughly and stared out towards the field where Mason was pulling himself off the ground. But before the man could find his feet, Blackaby’s horse reached him. The Runner leveled his pistol at Mason and ordered him to stay where he was. How in the world had Blackaby found them in the middle of nowhere?

  “Mrs. Moore,” Mr. Blackaby said from the open doorway above Amelia. “Are you all right?”

  Amelia blinked at the Runner. Where had he come from and where was Philip? “My husband…?”

  “A little worse for the wear, but he’ll be fine.” Then Mr. Blackaby leaned through the opening and plucked her from the overturned coach, setting her on top of the conveyance.

  Her eyes scanned the field until they landed on Philip, his eyes red-rimmed, his arm looking limp. Amelia slid down the side, not caring in the least when her skirts were torn by broken carriage parts on her way down. As soon as her half-boots found purchase on the ground, she dashed to where her husband stood and threw her arms around his middle.

  “Oh!” she gushed. “I was so worried. I thought—”

  But she didn’t fin
ish her sentence because Philip fiercely clutched her to him and held her so tightly, she couldn’t think straight. “Thank God you’re all right, love,” he whispered against her hair.

  But he wasn’t all right. He’d been injured once again because of her. “I’m so sorry… for everything.”

  He shook his head, unable it seemed to find words. Then he glanced behind her and heaved a sigh. “If you hadn’t appeared, Blackaby…”

  Amelia turned around to face the Runner who had come from nowhere. Mr. Blackaby frowned. “I just wish I’d arrived sooner. I wasn’t quite prepared for a dawn departure, and I was further back than I should have been.”

  “You were following us?” Amelia asked.

  The Runner shrugged. “Lieutenant Avery asked me to keep you in my sights.” He heaved a sigh and looked back at the carnage behind them. “If I had been here sooner, your man would still be alive. I am sorry.”

  Their man? Amelia glanced up at her husband and once again noted his red-rimmed eyes. “Byrne? Kelly?”

  Philip swallowed and his expression darkened to pain. “Both, and if Blackaby hadn’t shown up when he did…”

  Fortunately, he didn’t finish that statement because Amelia didn’t want to think along those lines. She turned her attention back the Runner and would have thrown her arms around him if that had been proper. She settled for pressing a hand to her heart. “Oh, Mr. Blackaby, we are forever in your debt.”

  “You can thank Lieutenant Avery, madam. I wouldn’t have been out here chasing after you if not for him.”

  She would most definitely thank Lieutenant Avery, every day for the rest of her life.

  “I’m going to ride back towards Maidenhead and send someone out for the coach and for him.” Mr. Blackaby gestured to a large tree several yards away, and Amelia realized Geoffrey Mason was bound and tied to it. “Shall I take Mrs. Moore with me?”

  “No,” Amelia said before Philip could answer. “I’ll wait here with my husband.”

  The Runner looked to Philip as though to make certain that was all right, then he said, “I trust you won’t harm the man while I’m gone?”

  “And miss seeing him sent off to Newgate?” Phillip scoffed. “I would never deprive him of that fate.”

  “Very well.” Mr. Blackaby turned on his heel and started back for his horse, while Amelia glared at Geoffrey Mason.

  After his attack on her coach, her parents couldn’t continue to disbelieve her. Not with a Bow Street Runner as a witness to all that had transpired that morning. She wished the thought brought comfort, but it only made her think about the number of people who had been hurt by the man. The number who had lost their lives. She might never even know the magnitude of all his crimes “What will happen to him?”

  “Most likely he’ll be sent to Australia or have his neck stretched in Newgate. Either way, you’ll be safe. I’ll see to that.”

  Amelia gazed back at her husband. “You’ll be safe too.”

  A sad smile landed on his face. “I have served in the army for a decade, Amelia. I can take care of myself.”

  “But that’s my role now, Major Moore – to care for you, now and always.”

  “And I look forwards to it, my love.”

  Leverton Park, Nottinghamshire – December 1815

  Amelia paced the length of Philip’s study, unable to sit still. If her parents would only arrive, she could breathe a sigh of relief. “We should have gone to Kidwelly,” she muttered more to herself than to her husband, but he heard her all the same.

  “Your father wanted to see Leverton Park. And imagine his eyes when he sees for himself that I’m not a fortune hunter,” Philip said, a bit of humor lacing his voice.

  He most certainly was not a fortune hunter. Amelia could still remember the surprise she’d felt when she first saw the estate. Leverton Park was easily two or three times the size of her childhood home. Still… “Papa has not thought you were after his fortune for quite some time.” And though her parents still didn’t adore Philip the way Amelia did, they did like him well enough these days. Of course, the fact that he had done his part to make them grandparents had gone a long way to winning them over to his side.

  Philip leaned back in his chair, a blissful smile on his face. “I’ll still enjoy watching him stumble over his words. Did you have Cook prepare crow for dinner, by chance?”

  Amelia couldn’t help but laugh. Crow? What a ridiculous thing to say. “You know, you are full of surprises, Major.”

  “Am I?” His grin widened.

  “Indeed, sir.” She skirted around the edge of his desk and plopped onto his lap, eliciting a grunt from her husband. “You don’t resemble that humorless major I met all those months ago at all anymore.”

  Philip wrapped his arms around her. “Well, of course not.” He nuzzled her neck, letting his lips linger on her sensitive skin. “You make me smile everyday. It’s become quite difficult to be so serious walking around wearing a constant grin. You’ve completely ruined me.”

  Tingles raced across Amelia’s skin and she burrowed closer to him, her honorable and brave husband. “And now you’re simply perfect.”

  Philip’s warm laugh echoed off the dark study walls. “I would hardly say that.”

  She pulled back slightly to look in his eyes. “And that is what makes you perfect,” she said with all sincerity. His honest, noble nature. How lucky she was to get to spend a lifetime with him. “I love you, Major Philip Moore.”

  “Not half as much as I love you.”

  She would have argued that fact, but a scratch came at the door and their footman, Murphy, cleared his throat. “The Pritchard coach has just arrived.”

  Amelia scrambled from Philip’s lap. “Well, come along, Major, you’ll want to serve my father a bit of crow.”

  Philip rose to his feet and retrieved his cane from the side of his desk. “I suppose I’ll settle for just wishing him a Happy Christmas.”

  The author of several Regency Noir Romances, Ava Stone first fell in love with Mr. Darcy, Jane Austen and Regency England at the age of twelve. And in the years since, that love has never diminished. If she isn't writing Regency Era romance, she can be found reading it.

  Her best-selling Scandalous Series is filled with witty humor and centers around the friends and family of the Machiavellian-like Lady Staveley, exploring deep themes but with a light touch. A single mother, Ava lives outside Raleigh NC, but she travels extensively, always looking for inspiration for new stories and characters in the various locales she visits.

  Ava loves to hear from readers. You can find her at:

  www.avastoneauthor.com

  You can email her at:

  ava@avastoneauthor.com

  There’ll be more from the HEROES RETURNED Series coming in 2012 and 2013…

  The English Lieutenant’s Lady

  &

  To Catch a Captain

  The Scandalous Series available now…

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  © 2011 Ava Stone

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  A Scandalous Secret (novella)

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