Busbee, Shirlee

by Lady Vixen

  Bitterly Nicole choked down the furious words that clogged her throat, not wishing to infuriate him into action—not yet. Edward was a fool if he thought he could get away with this madness. She would never marry him! Never! And he would not find raping her easy. But even if he succeeded, even if she were to become pregnant, she would never marry him. She would face the scandal, the gossip, the disgrace, and somehow she would rid herself of the unborn child.

  "Nothing to say, my dear?" Edward jeered, his words breaking into her thoughts.

  Nicole shrugged, not willing to open hostilities until she had decided precisely what she meant to do. Almost indifferently she said, "What is there to say? You have obviously thought of everything."

  "So I have," Edward agreed complacently. "So I have. And you are very wise to see the folly in being obstructive. The whole affair will be much less of an ordeal to you if you cooperate." With an egotistical smirk on his lips he added boastingly, "I am said to be quite, quite competent in the art of lovemaking, and I am sure you will more greatly appreciate my skill if you do not fight me. There are, you know, several women who would gladly trade places with you."

  "Oh, really?" Nicole returned noncommittally, and surreptitiously she glanced around the carriage, searching for some object that could be used as a weapon. By pitting her own strength against Edward's, she might gain some minutes' respite, and there was the outside chance that she could prove the victor in a test of wills between them, but she wouldn't disdain something that would put the odds more in her favor.

  At first there appeared to be nothing she could use. The carriage was empty except for them; whatever baggage Edward had packed was strapped outside to the roof. Her reticule lay on the seat beside her, but she quickly discounted it—there was nothing in it that could help her. Biting her lips, she took one last desperate glance around the carriage and then she saw it! Edward's malacca cane! The sword cane! Hungrily her eyes caressed the slim deadly object lying so innocently on the seat beside him.

  Nicole had never felt so alone and helpless in her entire life, and as the miles passed and the fading late afternoon sunlight gave way to the silvery glow of the moon, she grew more frustrated and angry. She was not frightened, nor did she fear Edward, but with every passing hour she realized that time was running out for her—that soon her cousin would make good his threat and force his unwanted attentions upon her. She shuddered as she imagined the feel of his hands roaming freely over her body and his mouth ravishing hers.

  As if guessing her thoughts, Edward smiled at her in the dim gloom of the carriage. "Nervous, my dear?" he asked blandly. "Don't worry, you have a few more minutes before my baser instincts take over."

  Her mouth dry, Nicole inquired levelly, "What are you waiting for? More moonlight in which to view your performance?"

  "Now that is a possibility! But no, you are wrong. There is a particularly narrow and curving stretch of road coming up, and I would not like to be swung about this way and that at a most crucial moment. You'll appreciate my consideration when you see what I mean."

  Weary of hiding her contempt and anger, of pretending a resignation she didn't feel, Nicole snorted derisively, "I doubt you have ever considered anyone in your entire selfish life!" Almost conversationally she went on, "You know, Edward, you are endangering that life by what you are doing. Do you think that a marriage will stop one of the Saxons from calling you out?" She gave a gay little laugh at Edward's sudden look of uncertainty. It was obviously a point he had not considered. There was a mocking cat-yellow gleam in her topaz eyes as she continued slowly, savoringly, "Let's see. First there is Lord Saxon himself—still quite handy with a pistol from all accounts. And then there is Robert. Robert should be quite good with the swords, don't you think? And as for Christopher, well, I have heard it said that he is very good with both!" Her voice unexpectedly harsh with loathing, she spat, "Do you really think they will let you get away with it? Especially if they overtake us?"

  Edward laughed nervously. "Oh, don't be ridiculous! None of them are foolish enough or care enough about you to challenge me to a duel. And no one is going to overtake us!"

  At that moment, as if to disprove his words, the coach gave a sudden vicious sway, hurtling Edward against the door and sending Nicole clutching for one of the leather handholds. They had no chance to recover before there was another sharp lurch that sent Edward cursing and sliding across the floor of the coach, while Nicole, clinging tightly to the handhold, was barely able to keep from tumbling into the aisle. Seeing that her cousin was taken up with regaining his balance, she wasted not a moment, but swiftly bent down and snatched up the cane that had bounced onto the floor near her feet. In a trice it was concealed in the folds of her pelisse.

  The coach, after an ominous grinding of the wheels and one bone-shaking bump, came to an abrupt halt at an uneasy awkward angle. Outside Nicole could hear the coachman shouting to the postilion in an agitated voice, and Edward, finally righting himself, flung open the door. The coach was at an odd slant, forcing him to climb up to climb out. Safe at last on the ground outside, he demanded in a furious tone, "What the hell is going on!"

  There was an exchange of voices, all of which Nicole listened intently. Apparently there had been an unexpectedly deep rut in the road, and swerving to miss it, the coach had inadvertently swung off into the roadside ditch. One of the back wheels was off the road, firmly embedded in the loose dirt.

  Nicole smiled to herself in the empty coach. She had no idea if any of the Saxons were even in pursuit, but any delay was to her advantage. She rather thought that help would be on the way though, for Galena was bound to return to Kings Road, expecting her to be there with Edward—and Lord Saxon dead! When it was discovered that Lord Saxon was still very much alive, the alarm would be sounded and someone—her heart leaped crazily in her breast, when she thought of Christopher's dark, angry face—someone was certain to realize what had happened. They were on the main road heading north, the most direct route to Scotland, and it was the first avenue any rescue would take.

  As the minutes passed and the men worked to free the trapped coach, her spirits rose. Edward, from the sounds of it, was not endearing himself to the coachmen as he shouted and cursed their unsuccessful attempts to get the coach back onto the road. Glancing about the moonlit countryside, she wished fervently her door were not jammed. Perhaps, she thought, hopeful, they would have to remain here all night. Now wouldn't that be a fitting outcome to Edward's dastardly plot! But her hopes were dashed, for the next moment the coach lurched violently; the wheel spun madly for a second, then sprang free of the dirt. Rocking wildly, the heavy vehicle reeled triumphantly onto the road.

  Nicole's heart sank as the coach righted itself, but comfortingly she fingered the concealed sword cane. Edward, she decided, with a tight little smile curving the generous mouth, was in for a nasty surprise.

  The object of her thoughts clambered aboard the coach a moment later and said in a disagreeable tone of voice, "Those incompetent fools! You would think for the money I'm paying them, they'd know how to drive."

  Nicole made no comment; her heart beat rapidly in her breast. She would act now, now while he was still slightly agitated by the unexpected accident and before they traveled a great deal farther. Her eyes bright with determination, she waited only until Edward had seated himself. Before he had time to realize what had happened, she struck swiftly, the sword held unerringly in her hand, and he found himself staring down two feet of naked blade. Instinctively he shrank back against the seat, and Nicole commanded with deceptive softness, "Stay, Edward. Do not startle me or I may accidentally skewer you."

  Edward froze, his eyes riveted on the blade barely inches from his face. Nicole had wisely chosen his face as her target, knowing Edward would do just about anything to protect his beautiful features from being mutilated.

  Scornfully Nicole regarded him as he vainly attempted to melt into the cushions of the leather seat, thinking unaccountably of Christopher's i
nsolent actions when she had held a pistol to his head in Allen's cell that night on Grand Terre.

  Not bothering to hide the contempt she felt, Nicole ordered, "Call your coachman and have him turn the carriage around. We are going back to Brighton."

  Seeing all his hopes for a rosy future disappearing, Edward was so moved he forgot about his face, and furiously he jerked up, only to be halted instantly when the blade nicked him very delicately on the cheekbone. "Damn you, Nicole!" he swore viciously, frantically dabbing at the minor scratch with a fine white linen handkerchief. "Damn you if you have scarred me!"

  Her eyes narrowed, the lips were a grim line, and she replied evenly, "And damn you, my dear cuz, for what you tried to do to me! Now order this coach turned around or next time I shall mark you permanently. Do it! Now!"

  Reluctantly Edward complied, pounding against the wall for the coachman to stop. The coach halted, and a moment later, Edward's eyes burning with hate, he angrily spat out the command to return to Brighton.

  The driver and postilion exchanged resigned glances —gentry! Mad as hatters and never knew what they wanted. But as the coachmen had already been paid for the long journey to Gretna Green, gold that would not be returned, they were willing without further argument to drive the much shorter distance back to Brighton.

  The coach was wheeled about, and Nicole permitted herself a brief sigh of relief as the horses picked up speed heading toward Brighton—and home. She did not allow her guard to drop, realizing Edward was more dangerous now than at any other time. If he were somehow to gain the upper hand—God help her! Instinctively her grip on the sword cane tightened. She would kill him before she would let herself fall into his power again.

  They rode in silence—Edward sullen against the seat, and Nicole's eyes unwavering on him—the sword a deadly barrier between them.

  She had no idea of the time, nor how long or how far they had traveled; but it was long after dark, the silver moon was high in the black sky. Help, she felt certain, must be on the way. Galena would have returned long ago and the alarm sounded. Even now Christopher or Robert would be in pursuit of them. At least she prayed it was so. Edward was intimidated for the moment, but Nicole knew her cousin well. While she was confident of her own abilities, especially with the added force of the sword cane, she would be relieved to have the protection of the Saxons once more. How dependent upon them I have grown, she thought with a wry smile.

  As the miles passed, the rocking motion of the coach had a soothing effect upon her, and Nicole relaxed slightly, only to stiffen and to watch Edward narrowly as he moved restlessly across from her, the sword following every movement.

  Irritably he said, "Oh, put that damn thing down! I'm not about to try anything as long as you hold a sword. I'm not a fool, you know!"

  Nicole smiled without amusement. "Oh, but you are! No one but a fool would have attempted such a stupid way out of his difficulties. Did you truly think me so much of a ninnyhammer that I would go along with you? I could see you trying this trick on some young foolish maid already half in love with you. But me, Edward, of all people! How could you be so ridiculous?"

  Edward shot her a look of pure hatred. "Because," he said furiously, "you cheated me out of a fortune! It was mine, all mine, and then you had to come back. I needed it—you didn't! Why you could marry any number of rich men, men richer than you are, and you would have no use for it."

  Her voice was hard as Nicole replied, "I think it is up to me to decide whether I need my fortune or not. Certainly not you! Your family has grown rich enough off of me during the past years, and I think you are more than just a little greedy to want it all. Remember, except by marriage, we are in no way even related. I may call you cousin, but it is a courtesy title only, and to want the entire fortune that my family has amassed over many years is, I fear, the height of avarice. I did not 'cheat' you out of a fortune, I merely returned to claim what was rightfully mine . . . and you would do well to remember it!"

  There was nothing that Edward could say to her cutting words, and resentfully he gazed out the window of the coach, damning the unkind fate that had so misled him. It wasn't fair that he should come this far and then be thwarted by a mere female, he thought indignantly. If only he could snatch that damned weapon from her —then everything would be right again. Only this time he wouldn't wait to defile her, nor would he treat her with politeness. This time she'd learn that it wasn't wise to interfere with his plans.

  Some of his confidence returned, and Edward shook off his earlier cowardice and covertly assessed Nicole. She was only a woman.

  Nicole, ever wary, like a hunted vixen, knew the moment Edward's attitude changed. She sensed it in the air the way an animal does, and her body tensed. Unafraid, she faced him, her beautiful features betraying no sign that she suspected him of action, and as Edward shifted position, she said levelly, "Edward, I wouldn't try anything if I were you. I am not some missish female who faints at the sight of blood—I have seen blood before and seen men die before. I can and will kill you if I am compelled to . . . the choice is yours. But know that you are not dealing with some hysterical female—force me and I will skewer you without regard."

  Edward swallowed painfully, slightly taken aback at the determined tone of her voice. It gave him pause, but his situation was too desperate now to heed her warnings. If Nicole escaped him, not only would he still be in debt, a debt he could not pay, but the scandal this abortive escapade would create would completely and utterly ruin him—he might even face criminal charges if the Saxons wished to face the furor such an action would engender. This was no prank that could be explained away, nor could he buy his way free—once in Brighton he would have to face the consequences of his actions, something he had never done in his entire selfish life . . . something he had no intention of doing now. He would teach this stupid bitch a lesson—his moment would come before they reached Brighton. And he'd be ready for it, she would see. Just wait, dear cuz, he thought malevolently, just wait, you'll not outtrick me!

  Edward's moment came not five minutes later, although it wasn't what he expected. The wheel that had skidded off the road earlier had been damaged in the mishap. The momentum of the carriage and a particularly sharp curve were its undoing, as the damaged wheel's hub could not bear the combined onslaught and with a grinding shudder simply disintegrated, the spokes snapping like brittle straws. Without the spokes for support the rim of the wheel crumpled like old parchment; the now unbraced rear axle tore up a deep furrow before the cursing driver brought the horses to a stop.

  Outside there was chaos—the horses plunging and fighting against the reins, the front pair of animals entangled in their traces, and the coach, tilted at a drunken angle, right in the center of the narrow road. Inside Nicole and Edward were locked in a deadly battle for the sword cane; neither knew what had been the cause of the sudden unexpected violent lurch and the final tremendous jolt that shook the carriage when the axle hit the ground. At the first rattling jar Edward had gathered his courage and leaped for Nicole, and Nicole, literally hurled from side to side of the carriage by the accident, fought like a vixen at bay, the topaz eyes nearly yellow with fierce concentration. The erratic motion of the coach gave Edward a slight edge, and he took instant advantage of it and launched himself bodily at her, deftly avoiding the blade as Nicole struggled to regain her balance. It was an ugly battle; Edward cursed as Nicole twisted in his murderous grip, his body heavy on hers, pinning her against the seat, his face thrust next to hers. With a shudder of distaste she felt his hot breath on her cheek and struggled even more violently to free herself. Edward had both her hands captured in his and exerted all his pressure on the wrist of the arm that held the sword, but Nicole, breathing rapidly and painfully, ignored the shaft of burning agony that ran up her arm, and thrashing like a wild creature, she managed to bring a knee up between their straining bodies. Viciously she kicked Edward in the groin area, smiling grimly at his howl of pain. His aching hold on her wrist slackene
d slightly, and Nicole, giving him no chance at all, with the swiftness of a striking snake quickly drove the sword deep into Edward's shoulder.

  A shriek of agony broke from him and he fell back, one hand clutching his groin the other his shoulder. With disbelief he stared across at the disheveled young woman as she held the sword ready to strike again. At the sight of the few smears of blood on her pelisse, Edward closed his eyes and moaned, "I am dying! I know it. You have killed me, cousin!"

  "Hardly," Nicole returned dryly. "You are wounded, cousin, and not fatally, I can assure you. I did warn you, so you have no one to blame but yourself. Feel thankful I didn't kill you . . . because the thought had crossed my mind."

  The sudden sound of an approaching vehicle distracted her attention, and ignoring Edward, she leaned forward, listening intently. It took her only a second to recognize Robert's irritated voice in the darkness, and with one last contemptuous look at Edward, she threw the sword cane at him, opened the door, and sprang gracefully from the carriage.

  "Robert! Stay! It is Nicole!" she cried almost elatedly, thankful for rescue so soon. She had not relished remaining there in a disabled coach with a wounded and petulant Edward throughout the night while the postilion went for help, and while she would rather have had just about anyone other than Robert Saxon be her rescuer, she wasn't in a mood to quibble.

  Through the silver light of the moon Robert peered at her and exclaimed, "My dear, is it really you? I had not thought to overtake you for at least another hour or more."

  Nicole gave a shaky laugh. "We have had a series of accidents; the latest you can see for yourself." Then with a throb of relief, she added, "Oh, Robert, I am so glad to see you! Please take me home! Are they very much worried at Kings Road?"

  Robert started to reply, but Galena, seated at Robert's side, could contain herself no longer, and tumbling from Robert's gig, she ran up to her mistress. "Miss Nicole, I have been so frightened! I hurried home the instant you disappeared with Master Edward. I met Master Robert in the hall and learned that Lord Saxon was alive!" Throwing Robert a troubled look, she went on, "When I told him what had happened, he guessed instantly that Master Edward was planning a runaway marriage, and we came after you. No one even knows where we are. Master Robert felt not a moment was to be lost, and he said that when we overtook your coach that you should have me with you for appearances' sake."