“Stupid chit.” Pruett rushed out the door.
Shouts and the sound of breaking wood that came from the other part of the loft were terrifying. If Spencer had come alone, he had no chance. Especially not with her lying there like a sack of coal.
Pulling in deep breaths, she managed to rise to her elbows, her hands still bound before her. She made it to her knees, feeling positively dazed from the blow to her head. She blinked to clear her gaze and her thoughts, then stood to stagger after Pruett and that gun.
Please let Spencer be all right. Please let Spencer be all right. She uttered the plea over and over as she wound through the stacks of crates, following the noise. Finally, she made it to the edge of the loft where the men were, her gaze locking onto Spencer, her heart pounding at the sight of him.
He fought one of Pruett’s men, striking the man in the jaw then in the stomach. But his opponent wasn’t giving up easily. Each blow Spencer received reverberated through her. She could hardly bear to watch, nor could she look away.
At last Spencer landed a solid blow, sending the man reeling back over the edge of the open loft. His cry ended with a loud thud as his body struck the floor below.
Spencer turned, his eyes latching onto hers. The look in them caused her heart to stutter. Was that merely concern or something more?
In that moment, she knew what she hoped—something far more. It had to be in order to match what she felt for him. Love. The emotions flooding her both terrified and elated her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement. Pruett stepped out from behind a nearby stack of crates then raised the pistol, aiming for Spencer’s heart.
“No!” She lunged for Pruett’s arm with her bound hands outstretched.
But she was too late.
The pistol fired, the blast deafening as it echoed through the warehouse. Carried by the force of her momentum, she struck Pruett’s arm.
“Why can’t you stay put?” Pruett demanded as he shoved her aside. He raised the butt of the gun. She flinched, trying to scramble out of his reach.
Before the weapon could strike her, his body flew back into a barrel, propelled by Spencer’s leap onto him. Barrels went flying, toppling others as well. The two men were tangled amongst the chaos. She couldn’t tell what arm belonged to who until at last the barrels rolled away, revealing Pruett on the floor, moaning. Then an upper barrel fell and silenced him.
An eerie quiet filled the warehouse.
She searched for Spencer as she rose, her heart in her throat, uncertain what she might find. Had he been shot? Had he saved her with that last effort only to have perished?
A barrel shifted to her left. She hurried to roll it aside and found him sprawled behind it. A deep gash marked his forehead, and his eyes were closed.
“Spencer?” She could hardly say his name past the lump in her throat as she knelt beside him and ran a hand along his cheek.
Those long, dark lashes fluttered open, revealing his hazel eyes. “Dalia.” He shifted upright. “Are you well?”
She nodded, though she felt far from it. She was alive, and at the moment, that was enough, because Spencer was too. “Did he shoot you?” she asked, her gaze searching his body for a wound.
“He missed. Thanks to you. Where is he?”
Dalia tipped her head toward where Pruett lay sprawled on the floor, unmoving, near the edge of the loft.
Spencer’s gaze followed her gesture. He frowned, blinking several times as though to clear his head as he stared at the man.
Filled with relief that Spencer was alive, Dalia leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek, loving the feel of his strong arms as they reached around her to hold her tight. Her breath came out in a shudder as the events of the past few hours sank in.
“Rutland? Where the hell are you?”
Dalia lifted her head at the familiar male voice, uncertain as to the identity of the speaker.
“Here.” Spencer grimaced as he reached out a gentle hand to touch her still throbbing temple. “Damn him.” Then he pulled a knife from the top of his boot and freed her bound hands from the ropes. “Your wrists,” he exclaimed as he examined the broken skin.
“Are you both all right?”
Dalia turned to see Aberland offering his hand to her. Though reluctant to move from Spencer’s side, she accepted his assistance. Now wasn’t the time or place to share her feelings for this wonderful man.
“We’re alive.” Spencer rose as well and placed a comforting arm around her waist as he studied Aberland. “Any damage?”
The earl straightened his jacket. “Only to my pride. The guard at the top of the stairs took far too long to go down.”
Spencer pulled Dalia closer. “No doubt he was the biggest one of the lot.”
“How did you know?” Aberland jested. “Jack is tying him up now.”
“Jack?” Dalia’s heart lightened. “He’s well?”
“Worried about you, but yes,” the earl replied. “Let us clean up this mess and be off.”
Dalia turned to see Pruett staggering to rise, gun in hand, pointed at Spencer.
“No,” she cried out. Before she could move, Spencer rushed past her, shoving the gun upward as he struck Pruett in the chest.
The man tottered back, reaching out a hand to grab Spencer’s jacket to catch himself. Spencer’s momentum already had him moving forward, and Pruett’s added weight plunged them both over the edge of the second floor.
Dalia screamed.
Aberland didn’t waste a moment but ran to the stairs.
She hesitated, too frightened to look over the edge of the loft. Blinking back tears, she hurried as quickly as she could after Aberland, her head still spinning from the blow to her temple. She placed one hand on the wall to keep her balance. The fear of losing Spencer once again had her heart pounding in her ears. She reached the first level to see Aberland and Jack, who stood with their backs to her, effectively blocking her view of Spencer.
Muttering a prayer, she drew near as Aberland leaned forward to help Spencer to his feet.
“Damn,” Aberland said with a shake of his head. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“And me as well,” she managed, the lump in her throat making it nearly impossible to speak.
“Make that three of us,” Jack added, patting his heart.
Dalia pressed a hand over her mouth to hold back cries of relief at the sight of Spencer standing.
He glanced back over his shoulder. “Pruett took the brunt of the fall. It didn’t end well for him.”
Pruett’s body lay still with no sign of life.
“You have more lives than a cat,” Aberland accused him with a rough hand on his shoulder.
Spencer’s wince at the movement told Dalia that he hadn’t escaped completely unscathed.
The sound of others entering the building had them turning. To Dalia’s relief, neither Spencer nor Aberland appeared alarmed when they saw the men. Police constables accompanied them as well as Nathaniel, Lettie’s husband.
Nathaniel walked toward them, his limp barely noticeable. “It appears I missed the fun.”
Spencer smiled. “Good of you to come.”
“Are you both all right?”
“For the most part. Could I ask you to assist Aberland while I see Dalia home?” Spencer asked.
“Of course. Take my carriage,” he suggested.
Though confused as to why Aberland and Nathaniel were here, Dalia wasn’t about to argue.
Spencer assisted her into Nathaniel’s carriage then immediately drew her into his arms. He gazed into her eyes, smoothing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Are you certain you’re all right?”
“No.” He stilled at her response, his worried gaze sweeping her face. “I just watched Pruett shoot at you. Then you fell off a loft to the floor below.” She shook her head—gently, because it still hurt. “I may never recover from the fright.”
His expression sobered. “I can see only one solution to
aiding your recovery.”
“Oh?” Wariness filled her. Surely he knew she couldn’t take any more trauma.
“Dalia, my life would be empty without you.”
The breath whooshed from her lungs as she blinked up at him.
He trailed a gentle finger along her cheek. “I love you. Deeply. Completely. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Spencer. Yes. I love you as well. So very much. I can’t imagine my future without you. You’ve changed me and my life in so many ways. For the better. I would love to be your wife.”
“Isn’t that the true definition of love?” He pressed his lips to hers so carefully that her love for him filled her even further. Then he eased back. “To complete each other and make us better together than we ever were apart?”
“That is exactly how I feel.” She kissed him once again, the idea of never having to let him go easing her aches and pains but especially her heart.
“Dalia?”
She met his gaze once again.
“You are unique and special in every possible way, and I look forward to spending the rest of my life showing you that.”
A tear trailed down her cheek even as she smiled. “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“Brace yourself. I intend to say many more.” He gently wiped away her tears.
She couldn’t help but chuckle. “I look forward to it.”
~*~
Three days later, Spencer straightened his jacket for the fifth time, though it didn’t need it. His nerves refused to settle. The Thornton’s ball would be the first event he and Dalia would attend as a betrothed couple. Never mind that they’d been to the same parties before. This one would be different now that they were officially engaged.
Spencer had only seen Dalia for a few minutes in the past three days. Perhaps that was why he was looking forward to this evening. She’d taken the news of his position with the Intelligence Office in stride much to his relief, saying only, “I should’ve known.” The challenge would be in reminding her that the fewer people who knew, the better.
Searle had been formally reprimanded by Gladstone, charged, and taken into custody for taking a bribe. Work on the foundation continued to progress, and Spencer was pleased with the plans thus far. The three fallen women homes that McCarthy had his thumb in had been closed due to numerous violations and the women relocated to better accommodations. Molly had chosen to join Kate at his country estate and was settling in there nicely. Spencer was dismayed that they had yet to gather enough evidence on McCarthy to arrest him. However, the Intelligence Office would continue to investigate him with Spencer leading the way.
He’d been watching the entrance of the ballroom for some time for Dalia’s arrival, only to groan as his own mother and father entered.
How different his father was from Mr. Fairchild. He’d called upon Dalia’s father two days ago to ask for his blessing to marry Dalia, which the older man had given readily. But as Spencer prepared to take his leave, Mr. Fairchild had stopped him.
“I was terribly sorry to hear of your brother’s passing,” the man said.
“Thank you.”
“Difficult thing, to lose a loved one.”
“Especially your firstborn.” Spencer couldn’t help but add the remark, regardless of the painful reminder.
Rather than agreeing, Mr. Fairchild shook his head. “Losing anyone you love is a trial of the worst sort.” He hesitated a long moment before adding, “I’ve always thought how much you’re like your grandfather, the previous earl, in both looks and temperament.”
Spencer studied Mr. Fairchild in surprise. His grandfather had died before he was born. He’d never before heard that. “Oh?”
“He and your father butted heads on numerous occasions from what I understand. Perhaps he sees his own father in you.”
Now, as Spencer watched his father survey the ballroom, he realized the explanation eased something deep inside, as though it lifted blame from him.
Then all those dark thoughts faded in the blink of an eye as Dalia entered the room. Her gaze darted about as if searching for him. He stepped forward, and her lovely blue eyes landed on him. The unsettled feeling fell away, leaving joy in its wake.
He never thought he’d love someone as much as he loved her. He continued toward her, filled with gratitude that she was his.
“Good evening, my sweet.” The urge to kiss her nearly overwhelmed him.
“And to you.” Her smile lit the room. “What a lovely ball.” But her eyes didn’t leave his.
“Is it? I hadn’t noticed. Something else has my undivided attention.”
“Oh?”
“You.” He raised her gloved hand to his lips. “So beautiful.”
“So happy,” she added. “All because I’ve fallen for a viscount.”
He couldn’t have kept the smile off his face if he’d tried. “Have you?”
“Deeply. Madly. With all my heart,” she whispered.
“Spencer.” The sound of his father’s voice threatened the moment.
He closed his eyes briefly then turned with Dalia’s hand still in his. “Father. Mother.”
“I understand congratulations are in order.” His father’s gaze shifted to Dalia as his mother offered a tentative smile. “To both of you.”
“Thank you, my lord. My lady.” Dalia curtsied, her smile still bright.
“Dalia,” his mother said, “aren’t you the one who wanted to bring a rabbit into the house, but Spencer wouldn’t allow it?”
“I did indeed.” Dalia held Spencer’s gaze. “Luckily, your son saved me from myself. On more than one occasion,” she added. “Thank heaven that I’ll have him by my side from this point forward.”
“I’m the lucky one,” Spencer protested, pressing her hand tight against him.
His father nodded. For a brief moment, Spencer could’ve swore he saw the light of approval in his eyes.
“Would you care to dance?” Spencer asked Dalia.
“I’d be pleased to.”
“If you’ll excuse us,” he said to his mother and father then escorted his fiancée to the dance floor as a waltz began.
“Your mother called me by the correct name,” Dalia said with surprise.
“How could anyone mistake you for your sisters? As I’ve said before, you are unique.” He spun her toward an alcove for a moment alone. “And you are mine.”
“As you are mine.” She placed a hand along his cheek.
Spencer kissed her deeply, showing her all the love in his heart. “I am most anxious to say our vows,” he said at length.
Dalia ran her hand along his lapel. “Would it be possible to obtain a special license so that we might marry sooner?”
He chuckled, delighted she felt the same way. “I already have, my sweet.”
“Thank heavens.”
“We must return to the dance floor before someone notes our absence.”
“Of course. But only after one more kiss, please.”
He was delighted to comply.
The End
Other Books By Lana Williams
Victorian Romances
The Seven Curses of London Series:
Trusting the Wolfe, a Novella, Book .5
Loving the Hawke, Book I
Charming the Scholar, Book II
Rescuing the Earl, Book III
Dancing Under the Mistletoe, a Christmas Novella, Book IV
Tempting the Scoundrel, a Novella, Book V
Romancing the Rogue, a Regency Prequel
Falling For the Viscount, Book VI
Daring the Duke, Book VII, Coming Soon
The Secret Trilogy:
Unraveling Secrets, Book I
Passionate Secrets, Book II
Shattered Secrets, Book III
Regency Romances:
Romancing the Rogue - on Amazon
Medieval Romances:
Falling for A Knight Series:
A Knight’s Christmas Wish, Novella, Book .5
A Knight’s Quest, Book 1
A Knight’s Temptation, Book 2
The Vengeance Trilogy:
A Vow To Keep, Book I
A Knight’s Kiss, Novella, Book 1.5
Trust In Me, Book II
Believe In Me, Book III
Contemporary Romances:
Yours for the Weekend, a Novella
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Copyright © 2018 by Lana Williams
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Falling For The Viscount (The Seven Curses of London Book 6) Page 27