The minute Gabriel and Cordelia’s carriage was out of sight, Travell nodded to Logan. Before the cloaked men even had time to react, they were overpowered. The agents quickly relieved them of their masks and cloaks, not surprised to find that they were criminals who were well known traitors.
They made short work of gagging and tying them up, ignoring their furious glares and handing them over to the authorities. Travell and Logan donned their disguises and returned to the cart, making their way down to the beach — just moments before the Clara Belle sailed into the cove.
“Are you ready for this?” Travell murmured to Logan as a rowboat was lowered and several crewmen began to make their way to shore.
With a smile evident in his voice, Montgomery replied, “Hell, Curdiff, I was born ready.”
Travell had to hold back a snort as the Clara Belle’s first mate stepped onto the sand. Even though the other agent’s face was entirely composed, the dark eye that was revealed was shining wickedly as he walked forward. “I assume everything is in order?”
As Travell dipped his head in acknowledgement, a brown wrapped parcel was tossed at him.
As One-Eye motioned for his men to begin the off load, Travell bent down slightly to whisper, “I trust you have seen to my sister’s welfare?”
The other man’s mouth twitched as if he were fighting back a grin. “The chit fleeced me at whist. I nearly had to resort to cheating.” He shot the viscount a sly glance. “And you know that’s just not my style.”
“Naturally.” Travell remarked dryly, although he gave a sigh of relief.
“Although I can’t believe you let her wear the red dress she’s got on.” With a wink, he added mirthfully, “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
Travell didn’t get a chance to retort, as Logan gave a rather suspicious cough and one of the crewman announced, “We’re all set.”
Ridge gave a curt nod to his second in command. “Splendid work, Grayson. I trust it’s all accounted for?” As the man concurred, the agent spun on his heel, but just as they reached the rowboat, Logan gave a shrill whistle. The crew glanced around in confusion, but it was too late. Within moments, they were surrounded on three sides by a sea of red coats — guns drawn and closing in fast.
Several shouted curses rang out as the Clara Belle’s crew struggled to push the skiff into the water in a last ditch effort to escape. But seeing their first mate’s boot on the rudder — his own pistol directed at them — they realized any hope of getting back to their ship was in vain.
“Damned cur traitor!” One of the men snarled, spittle flying out of his mouth in his rage. “The captain will hear of this!”
Ridge simply tilted his head back and laughed. “I sincerely hope so — for he is next to face the Crown’s retribution.” He discarded his eye patch as he left the men in the care of the British military and he jumped down to return to where Travell and Logan were shedding their masks.
Logan shook hands with Ridge. “Good to have you back with us safe and sound, Claymoore.”
“It’s good to be back,” the other man admitted. “I must say I already miss the intrigue, but I daresay I’ll be back in the thick of things before long.”
“Indeed.” Travell gave a scoff. “You do have a knack for trouble — whether it’s a mission or not.” He motioned toward the Clara Belle. “Does anyone care to go with me to take care of the rest of these traitors and rescue my sister?”
“Why not?” Ridge shrugged as the three men made their way toward the rowboat and climbed in. “I must say I can’t wait to see the expression on Spalling’s face.” As he grinned, his two compatriots grabbed an oar and began to row, their chuckles drowned out by the lapping waves against the hull.
***
Triana didn’t know what it was that first alerted her to the trouble, except that her cabin door was suddenly splintered into pieces. She gave a startled cry of alarm, as the captain strode in with murder in his expression. He pointed an accusing finger at her, and shouted, “Ye’re responsible for this!”
Triana paled as he grabbed her arm and dragged her behind him to the top deck. From there, she could see that the shore was swarming with red-coated soldiers.
She wanted to cry in relief.
It truly was over.
She yanked her arm free of the captain’s brutal grip on a burst of defiance. “I’m afraid that’s where you have it wrong on that account, Captain Spalling. If you wish to point the finger of blame at anyone, it should be yourself. You should have been intelligent enough to figure out that the life of a smuggler never ends well.”
His eyes narrowed, but before he could do anything in retaliation, Travell, Ridge, and Logan vaulted over the side of the ship, with pistols drawn. She watched in awe, and perhaps a bit of pride, as her brother and Logan began to take control; shouting orders and rounding up the last of the stunned crew, while Ridge walked toward the captain.
Triana was wondering where Gabriel was when Spalling captured her in a vicious grip, a pistol pointed right at her temple. “I’ll no’ hang for this, ye treacherous snake!” he roared as the agent continued to move toward him in slow, calculated steps. But when the captain’s fingers dug into Triana’s waist, causing her to wince, Ridge paused. “’Ow dare ye show yer face t’ me again, after I granted ye such leniency o’ me ship, ye dirty scoundrel! This was t’ be me retirement and I’ll no’ end up wit’ nothin’!
Ridge held up a hand as Travell rushed over, while Logan continued to watch the subdued crew. “Is that really how you want to end this, Spalling?” he asked calmly, and Triana noticed that not only was his eye patch missing, but any trace of his broken, cockney accent had disappeared. “Do you honestly want to live with the knowledge that you have an innocent lady’s blood on your hands? It doesn’t matter if you escape, you’ll hang for her murder.”
The pistol against her temple wavered and Triana began to pray. “I’ll swing either way!” he roared. He abruptly turned the gun on Ridge. “An’ it’s all because of ye!”
Ridge merely shrugged, while Travell began to idle closer to Triana, the tension visible in the set of her brother’s shoulders. “You do have a point there. But it’s still your choice how you meet your maker. You’re under arrest for piracy against the Crown. Do you really want to add cold blooded murder to your crimes?”
After a moment’s hesitation, the captain seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. “Ye’re right. It is me choice.” With that, the captain cocked the pistol and fired on Ridge. He must have been expecting this retaliation, for he quickly rolled out of the way, and returned fire, his target meeting the mark as the captain stiffened and then dropped to the deck in a lifeless heap.
***
Gabriel awoke with a sharp jerk.
He was lying on his back on the floor of Cordelia’s overturned coach.
Alone.
He immediately jumped into action, but the moment he moved, his breath hissed between his teeth. He glanced down and saw a patch of blood staining his shirt. Apparently he hadn’t completely deflected the gunshot, although he felt confident that it was only a flesh wound and the bullet wasn’t lodged in his ribcage somewhere.
Either way, it stung like the devil.
He held on to his left side in an effort to staunch the bleeding, as he grabbed his knife and climbed out of the wreckage. The pistol was missing.
Gabriel gave a curse as he saw a Lady Worthington’s still form in the middle of the road, her mysterious cloaked and masked coachman standing over her.
When the man noticed Gabriel, he slowly turned.
“Is she dead?”
“Unfortunately, no. She’s breathing, only unconscious.”
Gabriel was thankful that he didn’t have to track her down, for his strength was ebbing with every breath. “Thank you for keeping an eye on her. I’m sure the Regent will aptly compensate you for your assistance on this matter.”
His only reply was a nod to Gabriel’s wound. “You should ge
t that seen to.” He walked back to the overturned carriage and began to gather a few things to attach it to one of the horses he’d unhitched.
Gabriel made no attempt to stop the stranger as he mounted the horse, even if his instinct was telling him that this man was more dangerous than Cordelia had ever been. But considering the shape he was in, he was smart enough to realize that some battles were better fought another day. Personally, he intended for this to be his last fight for some time. From here on out, he planned for his toughest mission to be in loving Triana — his future bride, if she would have him after all of this.
However, he couldn’t stop himself from calling out, “I didn’t catch your name.”
There was a chilling smile behind the mask as his eyes glittered, “That’s because I didn’t give it.” With that, he spurred the animal on, leaving Gabriel to stare after him with a curious expression.
That’s when a flash of metal in the dirt caught his attention. Gabriel walked over and picked up a rather expensive, silver snuffbox, which he was sure the coachman hadn’t intended on leaving behind — especially since it bore a pair of initials.
***
Triana stood at the bow of the Clara Belle’s deck and hugged herself, staring out at the nearly deserted beach, most of the criminals having been apprehended and taken away. The hem of Travell’s cloak slapped against her ankles in the early morning breeze. In about an hour, it would be dawn.
At least she’d finally stopped shaking, leaving a blessed numbness in its place. She knew, that as long as she lived, the vision of the captain’s lifeless body — his blood staining the wood — would forever haunt her.
If this was what being a spy entailed, she wanted no part of it ever again.
A gentle hand on her shoulder had her turning toward her brother’s concerned expression. “How are you, Tri?”
She tried to reassure him with a smile, but when it felt brittle, she settled for a light nod instead. “I’m fine.”
When he heaved a heavy sigh, she could tell he wasn’t convinced, although he didn’t press her further. “Let’s get you back to shore. Logan and Ridge can take care of things from here.” Travell gave her shoulder another light squeeze before helping her down the rope ladder and into the rowboat. While Triana should have been relieved that this nightmare was over — she was still anxious to see Gabriel and assure herself of his welfare. Only then could she try to put this tragic night of events behind her.
She hadn’t realized until now just how much she was yearning for his strong embrace… for those passionate kisses… and that glorious touch, but as soon as she set eyes on him, she vowed to make sure he knew how she felt. Whether he returned her sentiments of love or not, she found she could no longer hold back. Nothing would stop her from saying those three words she’d held locked away for so long.
And suddenly — there he was.
Gabriel was standing at the water’s edge, holding the reins of two horses. He watched her and Travell row ashore with a faint smile curving his lips.
Triana didn’t even wait for her brother to help her out of the boat as he pulled it onto the sand, but jumped out and ran across the beach. She finally allowed the tears to flow unchecked down her face as a combination of emotions clogged her throat. But just as she was about to fling herself into his arms, she stopped short, staring at the dark red stains on Gabriel’s white lawn shirt. This close, she could tell his face had become ashen and drawn.
“Oh, my God. You’re bleeding.”
He offered her a reassuring smile. “It’s just a scratch.” But even as he said the words, he swayed a bit unsteadily on his feet.
“Either way, let’s get you some medical attention.” Travell noted. “We don’t need infection setting in.”
With a nod, Gabriel didn’t argue as he mounted his horse, leaving Travell to help his sister up, before climbing on behind her.
“Lady Worthington?” Travell asked quietly, the question obvious in his voice.
Gabriel offered a stiff smile, the pain obviously worsening as sweat broke out on his forehead. “She’s alive, but not in the best of spirits. Lieutenant Andrews is taking her back to London with the rest of the prisoners.”
Travell shot Gabriel a friendly grin. “Not bad, old friend.”
With a chuckle, the duke replied, “Same to you, Curdiff.”
***
By the time they had reached the home of the nearest local physician, Gabriel’s pallor had increased to a sickly gray. He slid off his horse rather than actually dismounting and didn’t refuse Travell’s assistance inside.
The doctor led them upstairs, and when Triana would have followed them, her brother ordered, “Stay here.” She would have argued, but his firm gaze changed her mind, and she remained behind in the parlor.
Nearly an hour later, the doctor returned with Travell. She’d been twisting Gabriel’s handkerchief in her hands and pacing the length of the room, so she wasted no time in asking, “How is he?”
The physician, who introduced himself as Dr. Bryant, was wiping his bloody hands on a rag, and Triana put a hand to her stomach to quell the nausea that threatened. “He’s lost quite a bit of blood, but the bullet only grazed him. Thankfully, he’s young and healthy, so I expect he’ll fully recover as long as a fever doesn’t set in.”
A great wave of relief swamped Triana so that she had to hold on to the back of a chair to keep from falling to the floor in a dead faint. “May I see him?”
Dr. Bryant gave her a curious look, apparently wondering what her relationship was to the duke, although he gave her a brief nod. “I gave him a sleeping draught, so he may be rather drowsy, but I don’t see that it will be a problem if you don’t tax him overlong.”
***
Triana gently sat down on the bed beside Gabriel. He looked so peaceful and handsome that she felt her heart melt just looking at him. She brushed an errant lock of dark hair from his forehead, that single strand that always fell over his brow, and her breath caught when those glorious silver eyes opened slightly and looked at her.
He reached up a hand, and cupped her cheek. “Triana…” he whispered.
“I’m here.” She grasped his hand in hers. “Don’t talk. You need to save your strength.”
“But… I need… to…” He blinked his eyes in slight confusion, the medicine that the doctor had given him obviously starting to take full effect. “To tell you… that I…”
Triana waited anxiously, but when the duke’s eyes slid shut, she knew that whatever he intended to say would have to wait.
She traced the outline of his thumb, remembering with clarity the way it had wrought such glorious sensations from her body — feelings she would no longer know after she became the Countess of Eastbury. She looked into his wonderful face — the mouth that kissed her with such abandon, and the eyes that spoke with such sentiment that he didn’t have to breathe a word.
“I love you, you know,” she said quietly. “Actually, I think I fell in love with you that very first night you gave me your handkerchief.” She pulled it from her bodice and laid it on his bare chest. She traced his embroidered initials for the last time. “While I was mortified for you to see me in such a state, I shall never regret the time we had together. I will cherish it for as long as I live.”
She brushed away a stray tear, and forced herself to go on. “Before you came into my life, I was content to be a spinster, or so I thought. To be perfectly honest, I just didn’t know how to live. I was too scared to be myself, because society believed I shouldn’t.”
She drank in his smooth features as he slept, hoping that at least some of her confession was penetrating his deep slumber. “It was you who showed me that I was worthy of more, the man who awakened me to a passion and a love so fierce and true.” With a sigh, she added, “How I wish I knew what you felt for me, but perhaps this is for the best, that I leave not knowing, for that would only make it so much harder to go. I only hope that, someday, you can come to terms with you
r own past grievances and be the duke you were born to be. I have every confidence that you will make a very fine husband and perhaps even…” Her voice cracked with emotion. “A wonderful father if you would only give yourself the chance. I sincerely wish you all the best.”
Triana stood and took one last, long look at him. “We had it all, Gabriel, but it’s time to say goodbye.” With a strangled sob, she turned away and left, covering her mouth with her hand as the dam started to break.
***
I love you too…
Gabriel eyelids slowly fluttered open. As his sight fully adjusted, he took note of his surroundings, none of which looked at all familiar.
Then, it all came back to him.
The raid… the gunshot that ended in a bullet slicing through his flesh…
Triana…
Instantly, he was wide-awake. He struggled to sit up; his only thought was to find her. He ignored the slight burning sensation from his bandaged ribcage, as he gathered his clothes that had been neatly folded on a chair beside the bed. But when he raised his left arm, he muttered a curse. The pain nearly brought him to his knees. The devil take it.
However, he managed to don his shirt, and while he was buttoning his waistcoat, he stalked to the single window in the modest bedchamber and tossed the curtain aside. Blast! He knew that it had been dark when he’d been brought to the physician’s home, but now his gut churned with unease as he stared at the sun blazing high in the sky. Just how long had he been unconscious?
He wracked his brain to remember anything of consequence, but nothing more than a few bits and pieces kept floating about through his drug-induced sleep. But something told him that he’d missed something very important.
He just prayed it wasn’t Triana’s wedding.
When he returned to the bed and sat down to pull on his boots, a small scrap of white on the floor caught his eye. With a frown, he bent down and picked it up. He stared at his handkerchief, blinking as a few more pieces of the puzzle started to click into place. It hadn’t been a dream after all…
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