To Seduce a Bride

by Nicole Jordan

  “I agree,” Heath replied. “Which is why we will take adequate precautions. Reportedly the house is in a quiet neighborhood, so we will halt a distance down the street and proceed on foot. There is no need to alert O’Rourke to our arrival.”

  Basil scowled. “But you mean simply to knock on the front door?”

  “That is the usual method of gaining entrance to a house,” Heath said dryly. “Although I don’t plan on knocking in this instance. I intend to walk in and take him by surprise.”

  “What if the door is locked?”

  “Then I will break a window.”

  “You realize O’Rourke could have an army of bruisers guarding Fanny?” Lily warned.

  “True,” Heath responded. “So we will go in armed. I will approach the front and my two footmen will cover the other exits to cut off any escape routes.”

  Basil still looked skeptical. “I cannot believe you will just waltz up to the house as if you are paying an afternoon call.”

  Heath raised a quelling eyebrow. “Would you prefer that we burst in shooting? That could lead to hurting innocent bystanders, perhaps Fanny herself.”

  The wisdom of his argument prevailed with Lily, and even Basil eventually nodded his head slowly.

  “As you wish, my lord, but I mean to help,” he insisted.

  “So do I,” Lily seconded.

  Heath gave a grimace as he regarded her for a long moment. “I have no doubt that you are daring and fearless, sweetheart, but I would rather you remain in the carriage. You could put yourself in danger—”

  Her scoffing sound cut him off. “It is all very well for you to play the hero, but I cannot because I am a woman?”

  “I don’t want to see you hurt. The thought makes my blood run cold.”

  At his admission, Lily felt her defenses soften. Yet she wasn’t swayed from her determination. “Heath, Fanny is my friend, and if she is in trouble, I mean to save her. I am not remaining behind like a useless ornament. Besides, you may need more than your two footmen to rescue her.”

  Raising his eyes briefly to the carriage ceiling, Heath gave a sigh of resignation. “Very well, but you will do exactly as I say, both of you.”

  “Yes, of course,” Lily said quickly, fearing he would change his mind. “And Basil will also.” When Basil kept his lips shut, Lily prodded him with her elbow. “Say you will do as Lord Claybourne tells us.”

  “All right, I will!” Basil agreed under duress.

  He lapsed into morose silence as Heath explained his plan, but Lily listened carefully to his every word, determined not to put Fanny in any more danger than she might already be in.

  Lily’s stomach was curled into knots by the time the carriage began to slow. They were traveling along a wide avenue, in a stylish and obviously wealthy neighborhood. Most of the houses were opulent mansions and had the look of newness about them.

  When the hack halted, the driver jumped down to open the door and let his passengers out. “Number Twelve is just up ahead, yer lordship.”

  Lily’s glance followed the coachman’s pointing finger. The elegant terrace house he’d indicated was built of gleaming white stucco. The classical decoration and Corinthian columns proclaimed it to be a creation by John Nash, the architect who frequently designed houses and parks for the Prince Regent and other wealthy aristocrats.

  Acknowledging the driver’s information with a brusque nod, Heath handed loaded pistols to his two footmen and another to Basil, keeping the last for himself. Lily was armed with a gleaming rapier. When earlier she’d tried to protest Heath’s choice, he had threatened to leave her with the carriage, saying she could defend herself better with a rapier than with a single shot pistol, and he didn’t want to have to worry about protecting her if they encountered resistance.

  Lily had had no choice but to promise to remain behind him at all times, where it was safer.

  She waited as his servants and Basil moved off quietly, intent on sneaking around to the sides and rear of the house. Then stealthily she followed Heath to the front entrance.

  To her great surprise, the front door proved to be unlocked. O’Rourke evidently was not expecting company so soon, if at all, Lily surmised.

  She obeyed when Heath silently motioned for her to stay back and then slowly swung the door open. The entrance hall was deserted, she saw as she craned to see over his shoulder.

  But no sooner had Heath stepped inside when a shout sounded from his left. Their intrusion had been spotted, Lily realized, for O’Rourke had indeed posted guards.

  A muscular hulk of a man came charging down the corridor at Heath, his fists swinging, but Lily’s attention was drawn upward, to the head of the staircase.

  “Heath, up there!” she exclaimed an instant before a second brute aimed a pistol directly at Heath and fired.

  Fear for him crowded in her throat, but Heath managed to leap back just in time to avoid being shot. The bullet whizzed past him to lodge harmlessly in the wall beside his head, to Lily’s vast relief.

  Heath’s own aim was much more accurate. Discharging his pistol, he hit the bruiser who stood on the upper landing. The man gave a cry of pain and clutched his shoulder before sinking to his knees and tumbling down the stairs.

  The blasts reverberating in her ears, Lily tightened her grip on her rapier and pushed her way inside the entrance hall after Heath. By that time the brute on her left had nearly reached him. Heath braced for the impact, but the guard barreled into him.

  Lily flinched as both men went crashing to the floor, Heath’s empty pistol skittering across the parquet. When the brawny man rose to his knees, his powerful fists swinging at Heath’s face, Heath rolled to one side and leapt to his feet. The guard did the same and charged full force—although this time his blows were countered as Heath met the assault with blows of his own in an effort to defend himself.

  Gunpowder smoke stinging her eyes, Lily raised her rapier and surged forward, desperately wanting to help Heath if she could. But there was no opportunity to strike without endangering him; they were moving too fast.

  It was alarming, having to watch the two men pummel each other in a savage struggle for physical domination.

  The macabre dance showed no signs of ending. Both men were breathing hard as they punched and jabbed and weaved and fought. Then one mighty fist connected with Heath’s cheekbone, snapping his head back and nearly lifting him off his feet.

  Lily cried out, feeling as if the blow had struck her. Then strangely, time seemed to slow. She was sixteen again, stunned with fear as her father’s fists assaulted her mother. She was unable to breathe, her heart pounding in horror.

  But she was no longer that helpless girl. Shaking herself, Lily gave a fierce shout, this one filled with rage and fury as she lunged toward the guard, brandishing her rapier. Startled, he whipped his head around, searching for the threat.

  The distraction gave Heath the time he needed to regain his footing. Muttering curses, he went on a fierce offensive, delivering an onslaught of rapid blows to the guard’s face. A lucky one felled the brute to the floor, and he went down hard, grunting in pain.

  It was then that Lily heard the explosive sound of a gunshot coming from somewhere at the back of the house. She froze for another instant, looking to Heath for instruction.

  “Go!” he shouted to her as his opponent lunged to his feet with a bellow.

  Lily obeyed. Heath still had to deal with the guard, but it looked as if he might win this fight while Basil might be in deep trouble, as might Fanny—

  Fear for her friends urged Lily on as she raced down the hall toward the rear of the house. Even before she reached what looked to be a study, she heard the sounds of fighting.

  Skidding to a halt, she took in the scene from the doorway. The stench of gunsmoke in the air suggested that Basil had shot at O’Rourke and missed, but then the two men had come to blows.

  Basil once again was getting the worst of the contest, his fists flailing wildly at O’Rourke whil
e Fanny watched in horror, one hand held over her mouth.

  Before Lily could act, O’Rourke hit Basil’s jaw hard, knocking him halfway across the room. When Basil careened into an oaken desk and slumped to the floor with a sharp cry, O’Rourke began dragging a struggling Fanny toward the open French doors.

  A chill squeezing her ribs, Lily rushed into the room, shouting for him to stop as she charged after him, rapier raised.

  Startled by her ferocious shriek, O’Rourke glanced over his shoulder, a scowl darkening his face when he spied her. But he didn’t let go of Fanny.

  Instead he picked up the nearest weapon at hand, a bronzed bust of some Greek god, and threw it at Lily with all his might. Although Lily tried to dodge the heavy object, her momentum carried her forward too fast, so that the bust struck her shoulder.

  The pain nearly made her drop her rapier, but the distraction gave Fanny an opportunity to thwart her abductor. Thrusting out one foot to tangle with O’Rourke’s legs, Fanny tripped him and shoved hard, sending him stumbling back into the room.

  Her clever action gave Lily time to recover her balance. Lifting her rapier again, she swung it hard at O’Rourke, managing to crown him on the side of his head with the hilt guard. He fell to the carpet to land with a satisfying thud and lay there without making another sound.

  Weak with relief, Lily moved toward a trembling Fanny and hugged her tightly. The two of them were half sobbing, half laughing when Heath burst into the room.

  Lily’s relief deepened when she saw that he was safe. His breathing was still harsh after his fistfight, and there was a bloody gash on his cheekbone, but he had proved the victor in his battle, just as she had.

  She wanted to go to him right then—to put her arms around him and to tend his injured face—but Fanny needed her more. Holding on to her friend, Lily let herself drink in the sight of Heath safe and sound.

  When his worried gaze searched her for injuries, she gave him a fleeting smile. “Fanny and I are fine,” she said thankfully before nodding down at O’Rourke. “I don’t believe that villain can say the same.”

  His attention shifting, Heath crossed to O’Rourke’s prone body and bent to examine him.

  “You didn’t kill him, I see,” Heath murmured to Lily.

  “No,” she admitted. “I only bashed his skull a little.”

  “Remind me never to get into a fight with you, angel.”

  Before she could reply, she heard a groan from the far side of the room. Basil was stirring from his stupor.

  Fanny noticed him at the same time Lily did. Disengaging from their embrace, they headed toward Basil, but Fanny moved past Lily and reached him first. She knelt down beside him, while Lily did the same on his other side, Heath moving to stand behind her.

  Opening his eyes, Basil gave a start to see them all looking down at him in concern, but then his gaze riveted on Fanny.

  “Fanny…God, are you all right?” he demanded in a croaking voice.

  “Yes,” she said, smiling softly down at him. “In truth, I seem to be in much better condition than you are.”

  “O’Rourke?” he asked, trying to see beyond her.

  “He is unconscious for the moment. You saved me from him, Basil,” Fanny added in a tender tone.

  “I hardly saved you,” he retorted. “O’Rourke darkened my daylights.”

  “You most certainly did save me. You fought him and stopped him from taking me.”

  Basil gritted his jaw, obviously furious at himself for his failure to conquer O’Rourke. But when he started to rise, the effort made him groan once more and raise a hand to his bloody temple as if his head ached.

  “Lie still,” Fanny urged, cradling his head gently in her lap.

  Lily’s heart went out to poor Basil, his face bloodied and bruised, his pride injured. Hoping to distract him, she took the opportunity to ask Fanny what had happened. “Tait feared that O’Rourke had abducted you.”

  “He did,” Fanny said, her lips compressing into a tight line. “He caught me off guard and forced me to accompany him here.”

  “Did he hurt you?” Lily demanded, her anger rising all over again.

  “Nothing beyond a bruise or two on my arms,” Fanny replied. “And I don’t believe Mick meant me harm. He claimed he wanted to show me the beautiful house he had built for me….” She gestured around the room, indicating the luxurious decor. “This was to be my gilded cage. Mick intended to keep me here until I agreed to wed him. He already had a special license and had bribed a vicar to perform the ceremony.”

  “You cannot wed that bastard!” Basil exclaimed in outrage.

  “Trust me, I won’t,” Fanny assured him with feeling, lightly stroking his forehead as she gazed down tenderly at him.

  Looking dazed by her regard, the wounded Basil reached up and cupped his hand around her nape and drew her mouth down to his for a long, unexpected kiss.

  Fanny froze for an instant, then returned the pressure with surprising urgency, causing Basil to wince in pain from his split lip.

  When she hurriedly drew back, she seemed unaccustomedly flustered.

  “Forgive me,” Basil muttered, his face turning red. “I should not have done that.”

  Lily, diverted by the tender moment, was surprised when Heath reached down and took the rapier from her. But O’Rourke was regaining consciousness, it seemed.

  Climbing to her feet, she followed Heath over to the prone man.

  Heath went down on one knee but kept the rapier point between them as he prodded O’Rourke’s shoulder to wake him. After an interval, O’Rourke slowly opened his eyes and pushed himself up on one elbow.

  Shaking his head groggily, he squinted up at Heath, but then he spied Lily and shot her a look of intense dislike. “I knew that she-devil would be the death of me.”

  Heath’s grim smile held no amusement. “She very well could have been. And you were foolish not to heed my warning.”

  “Oh, I heeded it, milord. I just considered it worth the risk of dying if I could have Fanny.”

  The twist of his lips was bitter as he glanced across the room at Fanny, who still held Basil’s head in her lap. “I thought I could make her see reason. That she would come to love me once we were wed.” O’Rourke gazed longingly at Fanny for another moment before finally looking away, his expression one of anguish. “But I can see I was mistaken.”

  Heath kept his gaze focused on O’Rourke. “I advised you of the consequences if you laid a finger on her again, remember?”

  Grimacing, O’Rourke met his gaze and nodded reluctantly. “Aye, you did. So what will you do with me now?”

  “Deliver you to the authorities. You will be fortunate if you don’t hang, but perhaps you will only wind up in Newgate Prison.”

  Handing the rapier to Lily, Heath hauled O’Rourke to his feet and proceeded to bind the man’s hands with his own cravat. O’Rourke offered no resistance, though. All the fight had gone out of him.

  When Heath finished, he turned to Lily and said in a low voice, “You should take the hack and see Fanny and Eddowes home.”

  “What will you do?” she asked.

  “I’ll commandeer O’Rourke’s carriage and escort him to the Bow Street Magistrate’s Court to lay charges against him.”

  “Very well.”

  When her gaze shifted, a pang of dismay shot through her. Heath’s cheek was still bleeding from the gash his opponent’s meaty fist had inflicted.

  “Heath, you are hurt. Your cheek…”

  She raised her hand gently to his face, but he drew back, avoiding her touch. “It is no matter.”

  Just then his two servants appeared, reporting that all the bruisers had fled, including the one his lordship had shot. They had abandoned their employer when confronted with superior force.

  Heath gave his orders to the footmen, who led the prisoner from the room. His head bowed, O’Rourke didn’t so much as glance at Fanny, although she followed his retreat with an odd mix of anger and sadness on he
r beautiful features.

  When O’Rourke had gone, Lily returned her attention to Heath’s injured cheek. Reaching down, she lifted the hem of her gown of pale green silk—the same stylish confection she had worn to Roslyn’s wedding that morning, which was now stained with Basil’s blood—and tore a strip from her chemise.

  “Here,” she said, raising the linen to Heath’s face. “You gave your handkerchief away.”

  To her puzzlement, Heath again pulled back abruptly, as if he couldn’t bear her touch. He took the scrap from her, however, and pressed it to his wound. “See to Eddowes, Lily. He needs your compassion more than I do.”

  His cool tone took her aback. Lily regarded Heath in silence, trying to hide her own emotional turmoil: Gratitude that he had been willing to help her when she desperately needed him, without question or pause. Awe that he had risked his life to save her friend. Relief that he’d emerged relatively unharmed. Nerves from the danger they had faced. Pain from his coldness.

  For the space of a heartbeat, she stood there awkwardly, wanting to say something more to Heath. But as soon as she nodded in agreement, he turned and followed his servants from the room, leaving Lily to stare after him, feeling strangely as if she had just been delivered a powerful blow to her chest somewhere in the vicinity of her heart.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I never thought it would hurt this much to lose him.

  —Lily to Fanny

  At their wits’ end with worry, Fleur and Chantel were overjoyed to have Fanny home safely—and appalled by Basil’s trouncing. The elderly courtesans fussed over him even more than they fretted over Fanny, settling them both in their cozy sitting room and fortifying Basil with pillows, hot tea, and a liberal dose of brandy.

  When Basil looked embarrassed by their coddling, Fanny assumed control of his nursing, bathing and tending his wounds and bandaging his right hand herself.

  He endured her tender attentions with more fortitude, yet he still seemed dismayed by her concern. No doubt, Lily suspected, because he thought his physical injuries made him appear weak in Fanny’s eyes, even though she and the Cyprians praised his heroism numerous times.