by Brenda Novak
“Jake—”
“It’s ‘my lord’ to you, remember?” He pointed the gun at her.
“No,” Rory cried, rushing forward.
Nathaniel tried to stand, but fell weakly back. “Leave her out of it. This is between us, remember?”
The marquess ignored him. Turning to Rory, he indicated the stable door. “Go. Get out of here. This man is a thief.”
Rory hesitated. “Shall I wake Mrs. Wright and have her send for a constable, then?”
“No. Go back to bed. I’ll handle this myself.”
The boy shuffled toward the door, hanging back.
“It’s all right, Rory. You go up to bed. Everything will be fine,” Alexandra said encouragingly, afraid of what Lord Clifton might do if the boy disobeyed.
Rory threw Alexandra one last furtive glance as he shut the door, his face revealing confusion. Alexandra hoped he would go for help, but deep inside she knew that Rory would never defy the marquess’s authority to that extent.
When the boy was gone, Clifton turned to Nathaniel. “Now, where are the rifles?”
Nathaniel staggered to his feet but swayed dangerously as though he might fall. He shook his head, his eyes on Clifton’s pistol. “I’ll never tell you.”
“Then I’ll find them on my own. Bristol is not so large a place.” Setting the barrel of the gun on his forearm, the marquess awkwardly attempted to aim it. By his own admittance, he couldn’t shoot well, but at such close range, Alexandra didn’t see how he could miss Nathaniel.
“My lord.” She stepped cautiously toward him.
“Stay back. I’m going to kill the bastard, like we should have in the first place.”
“No, my lord, listen. I’ll give you anything you want if you’ll spare him. Anything. Do you understand? He’ll likely die anyway, from his injuries.”
Lord Clifton glanced at Alexandra, a lascivious smile curling his lips. “So this is what it takes to melt the ice maiden. Did you hear that, big brother? Your little doxy has just offered me a sample of her charms.”
Nathaniel tried to move toward him, but he succeeded only in pitching forward. “Stay away from her,” he groaned as he hit the dirt floor.
Clifton laughed. “I think not.” He waved the pistol at Alexandra. “Perhaps a little torture is in order for your lover. Take off your clothes.”
Alexandra swallowed and glanced at Nathaniel, sensing his awareness despite his semiconscious condition. She unbuttoned her white cotton nightdress until the curve of her breasts gleamed beneath the lamp.
“Now, that’s a beautiful sight,” the marquess breathed. He reached for her, bent her backward, and licked her face. “Damn, she tastes good. Nathaniel, you don’t know what you’re missing.” He grinned devilishly at his half brother. “Or perhaps you do.” His mouth moved down her neck, spreading sloppy, wet kisses along its path.
Alexandra bit her lip so she wouldn’t scream. Rory’s sleeping loft was just above them. Surely her cries would frighten the boy. She didn’t want Nathaniel to know how badly Clifton hurt her, either.
“Oh, this is nice,” he said, burying his head in her cleavage.
Alexandra’s mind raced as she tried to decide what to do. She’d only managed to buy them a little time, nothing more; she had no illusions that the marquess would spare Nathaniel because of her.
She glanced over Clifton’s head to see Nathaniel inching his way toward the rack of Harry’s whips, directly behind him.
Moaning as though she enjoyed Clifton’s caress, she pulled the marquess down to the ground with her, running her fingers though his hair and clinging to him so he couldn’t look up.
“Jake,” she breathed. “Jake.”
Clifton’s ardor increased at her response, but by then, Nathaniel had the whip. Alexandra watched as the pirate captain strained to reach his pistol with it, then slowly began pushing the gun toward her.
She moaned again and arched her back, reaching through the hay. The marquess covered her mouth with his, and stuck his tongue so deeply into her throat she nearly gagged.
One last circle with the handle of the whip brought the weapon within Alexandra’s reach. She could feel Clifton’s gun pressing into the flesh of her backside. He couldn’t angle it to shoot anyone now if he wanted to—but then, neither was she far enough away to fire Nathaniel’s pistol at him.
Instead she turned the smooth, ivory handle of Nathaniel’s gun and grasped the steel muzzle. Raising it behind Clifton, she used all of her strength to bring it crashing down upon his head.
Nathaniel’s half brother jerked. For a moment, Alexandra feared the blow hadn’t done its job. But then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed on top of her.
“Are you all right?” Nathaniel’s voice sounded raspy to her ears.
“I’m fine.” She shuddered as she struggled to escape from beneath the marquess’s heavy body.
“Give me the gun.” Nathaniel motioned weakly to her. He’d used the wall of the stable to help himself rise, and leaned heavily against it now. But his voice was steadier than it had been since Alexandra found him.
Eager to be rid of the weapon in her hand, Alexandra did as she was told, but her breath caught in her throat when Nathaniel raised the gun and leveled it at Lord Clifton’s prostrate form.
She stared at Nathaniel’s face. It was intense, focused. Horrified, she clasped her hands over her ears, expecting the blast to make them ring.
But the gun never exploded. Alexandra opened her eyes to see Nathaniel tucking it into his pants as he shuffled toward her.
“Let’s get out of here before I change my mind,” he said.
* * *
Nathaniel knew he wasn’t in the hospital ship. The air was too clean, and there were no groans from the other men. Perhaps he was at sea on the Vengeance then, his stay in the hulks only a terrible nightmare. But the ground was stable beneath him; it didn’t rock as a ship would. And the pain was most definitely real.
He opened his eyes. Sunlight filtered through a crack in the draperies of a long dormitory like room, but his mind was too fuzzy and slow-moving to place his semi-familiar surroundings.
Someone’s head lay next to him on the bed—a woman, from what he could tell. No one else was in the room.
“Alexandra?”
Alexandra’s head snapped up. She was wearing a simple calico dress that looked a bit large around the neck. Her hair was disheveled and her face marked from lying on her arms, but her voice was filled with relief. “Nathaniel!”
He had never thought her more beautiful. The fantasies that had entertained him in the hulks rose unbidden to his mind, causing a physical reaction in his body, despite the throbbing of his head. “I can’t believe I found you. That you’re here, with me. Part of me thinks it must be a dream. Have I lost my mind after all?”
She smiled, took his hand, and kissed his palm. “No, but I thought I’d die when I saw the prison guard hit you with that club. It felt as though he was striking me.” Her voice broke. Swallowing, she glanced away.
Nathaniel turned her face back toward him, so he could see her eyes again. “My brave Alexandra. Why did you go to the duke’s? Don’t you know what he is capable of doing?”
“What else could I do? We had to find you.” She nuzzled against his hand, and he longed to pull her to him. If only he were stronger.
“Thank God you did.” His gaze fell to her lips.
She must have known what he wanted because she leaned toward him until their mouths met. Her lips were as soft as he remembered, and tasted better than he’d dreamed. “Where are we?” he asked, surveying the room again when she pulled away.
“We’re at Dr. Watts’s—”
“Oh hell!” He sobered instantly. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“What?” Alexandra jumped to her feet. “We can’t leave. You need to rest—”
Nathaniel’s head swam when he tried to sit up, but he dared not lie back. “My father knows of this place.”
“How?”
“Rat—” He leaned over, hoping the dizziness would soon pass.
“But you’re in no condition to go anywhere.”
“My father will come here.” He managed to find his feet while Alexandra hurried around the bed to support him. “This time he’ll take you, too. We’ll not get a second chance to escape.”
Alexandra looked up into his face and saw something there that convinced her. “You sit here, then,” she said. “I’ll check the back and make sure it’s clear. At least your wound has been cleaned and bandaged, and we’ve got some decent clothes.”
Decent clothes! Nathaniel looked down at the pants he wore. They had obviously belonged to someone several inches shorter than he, and the shirt must have been a castoff from someone much wider. Only the shoulders fit. At least he was rid of his prison garb, though.
“Where’s the gun?” he asked before she could leave.
Alexandra shook her head. “I don’t know. Dr. Watts took it somewhere before he left.”
“Where did he go?”
She shrugged. “Probably out on a call.”
“How did you explain all this?”
“I didn’t. When he saw your back, he thought it might be better if he didn’t know.”
Nathaniel considered this. “And the horse?”
“I let it go. I didn’t want to be caught with it.”
He nodded. “Go, then, but be careful… and hurry,” he admonished as she darted away.
Supporting himself by leaning on the furniture in the room—the bed, the washstand, the wardrobe—Nathaniel moved into the doctor’s office next to the dormitory. He could hear someone upstairs banging around in the kitchen as the enticing smell of bacon wafted through the house. So it was morning yet, he thought, grateful that not too much time had passed.
Digging through the drawers of the doctor’s desk, Nathaniel searched for the gun. Where would Watts have put it?
When his search yielded nothing, he moved to the examination room.
The front door opened, and Nathaniel heard the doctor speaking to someone he brought in with him. “I didn’t know what to make of it, but I thought it should be brought to the attention of the constabulary.”
“The Duke of Greystone came to Whitehall just this morning with a description of the same man,” a voice replied. “He said Mr. Kent hit his son on the head and stole a horse from his stables.”
Nathaniel’s heart began to pound as he peered out of the room. A constable followed Dr. Watts back toward the dormitory. Dressed in duck trousers, a blue swallowtail coat, and a top hat, the man carried a pistol, which meant he was more than a mere constable. Only inspectors carried guns.
“You will investigate the entire story before pressing charges against this man, am I right?” Watts asked. “He certainly doesn’t seem like a criminal. And it appears that he’s been quite abused—”
“If this is the man I think he is, he deserves more than a mere flogging. He deserves a noose around his neck.”
The doctor stopped and turned back. “Certainly there are two sides to every story.”
“Dr. Watts, a man escaped from the hulks last night, a very dangerous man. And the duke has witnesses to say that this same person tried to kill his son, and stole one of his horses. If Mr. Kent is the one, we’re going to string him up from the gallows. Now, where is he?”
The doctor frowned and moved ahead, but more slowly. “They’re both back here. He and the girl he said was his sister.”
Nathaniel prayed Alexandra would not return at that moment. He needed her to stay in the alley until he could manage to get out of the house himself.
“They’re gone,” Dr. Watts said, his voice a mixture of relief and surprise.
A creak on the stair and Tutty’s voice interrupted. “Doctor? Is that you? Oh… I didn’t realize we had a visitor.”
“Tutty, this is Inspector Striker. Do you know where Mr. Kent and his sister went?”
“No. They’re not here?” As the housekeeper spoke, Nathaniel’s strength nearly gave out on him. He had to shift his position so he could lean up against the wall, and his movement drew Tutty’s gaze through the doorway. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to speak, but Nathaniel pressed a finger to his lips in a wordless appeal.
She looked back at Dr. Watts and the inspector. “Have they done something wrong?”
“Well, I’m not sure, not sure at all,” Dr. Watts admitted. “I was a little unsettled by the terrible marks on Mr. Kent’s back… thought they should be reported, you know. And Inspector Striker here seems to think that he’s a dangerous criminal who tried to murder the Marquess of Clifton.”
Tutty blinked in surprise. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got the wrong fellow, sir. Mr. Kent would never do a thing like that.”
“He hardly seems the sort,” Dr. Watts agreed.
Inspector Striker’s voice held disdain. “And you are a professional in criminal matters, Doctor?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Mind if I have a look around?”
“Perhaps they went out the back,” Tutty suggested, moving forward to herd the two men into the dormitory.
Nathaniel would have been grateful for her attempt to cover for him, except that Alexandra had gone out the back, and he was afraid they would find her. He coughed to gain their attention.
“What was that?” the inspector asked.
“What?” Tutty’s voice held a nervous edge.
Dr. Watts cleared his throat. “The fog always seems to give me a tickle—”
“No, the sound came from out there.”
Nathaniel heard them come toward the examination room. Reaching for the only weapon he could find, his hand closed on the handle of a surgical knife. He had no idea where the doctor had put his pistol, but now he knew why it had disappeared.
Before the inspector could take more than two steps into the room, Nathaniel grabbed him from behind and laid the knife against his throat. “Looking for me?” he asked.
The inspector didn’t move. “Please… I’m only doing my job.”
“Forgive me if letting you do your job isn’t in my best interest. Please set your pistol on the table.”
Tutty and Dr. Watts followed the inspector in, the doctor wearing a heavy frown. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kent,” he said. “I’m still not sure I was wrong for doing what I did, but I consider myself a pretty good judge of character. I can’t believe half the things this man claims you’ve done.”
“I appreciate you giving me the benefit of the doubt,” Nathaniel responded. “I don’t have the time to explain now, but I am innocent, I assure you, at least of these charges.”
“Nathaniel.” Alexandra’s voice came from the back, softly calling his name.
“We’re in the examination room,” Nathaniel called back.
She entered behind the doctor and his housekeeper, then gasped at the sight of Nathaniel holding a knife to the constable’s throat.
“Hand me that gun. And get some rope,” he told her. “We need to tie them up.”
Alexandra hesitated only a moment. Nathaniel looked as though he might swoon, and something deeper than reason or thought compelled her to move. She gave the gun to him as he asked, and waited for the doctor to pull some thick cord out of a cabinet by the window.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured to Dr. Watts and his housekeeper as she took the cord.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Tutty said as Alexandra reluctantly began to tie her up. “My niece is expected for dinner. No doubt she’ll be along shortly.”
To free them. Alexandra understood her meaning. She glanced at Nathaniel to see if he had caught it as well, but his mouth was drawn into a thin line that revealed his pain, and she began to fear he would lose consciousness again. They had to hurry.
“Looks as though you’ve had experience with such things before,” he told her, after she’d finished tying the inspector. He attempted a weak smile as he checked to make sure the knots she’d tied were secure
.
Alexandra shot him a look of mock exasperation. “Since I’ve met you, I’ve gained a great deal of experience, indeed.”
“Not the kind I’d like to give you.” He spared her a lascivious grin, then saluted Dr. Watts and his housekeeper.
Alexandra smiled ruefully, her way of saying good-bye, and followed Nathaniel out the back way.
* * *
Alexandra helped Nathaniel down the alley, but progress was slow. Sweat stood out on his forehead and ran down his back as he limped along. She feared the jostling and the exertion would start him bleeding again.
“This isn’t going to work,” she said after they had traversed several blocks. “You can’t walk much farther, and we’re not moving fast enough. We have to get to an inn or someplace where I can take proper care of you.”
Nathaniel grinned as he stared at the top of Alexandra’s bodice, which kept gaping open in front. “I like traveling this way. I’ve never had a better view.”
Alexandra clamped a hand over the fabric of her dress. “You’re every bit the scoundrel I thought you were.”
“If you invite a starving man to supper, you can hardly blame him for salivating at the food.”
“You’ve been issued no invitations.” Alexandra bit her lip against a smile. “But I’ll take your interest along those lines as a good sign. I thought you were close to your last breath.” She glanced around at the rotting refuse that spilled from the gutters on both sides, and wrinkled her nose as they passed an outdoor privy. “I’ve certainly visited better places. Are you sure we’re traveling in the right direction?”
Nathaniel grimaced as a rut in the road caused him to stumble. “We’ll blend in far better here in the East End. My father is not so familiar with these climes, I assure you.”
“You mean you’ll blend in,” she said, stepping over the feet of a drunk sprawled across their path.
“Are you saying I look no better than yon gentleman?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Let’s just say that your clothes fit you about as well as mine do me.” She laughed. “Your trousers are equally revealing, but I can’t say as I’m thrilled about seeing your ankles.”