A Most Delicate Pursuit (19 page)

Screaming, she quickly straddled Millie and swung her bound fists back and forth, striking the woman with all her might. She'd only got in two solid blows when strong, thick hands grabbed her about the waist and pulled her off the woman.

“Enough,” an unfamiliar voice yelled at her. “You will settle this moment or I shall have you whipped.” With that she heard a crack and felt the sting of a horsewhip on her legs.

Bainbridge.

He must have once been very tall, Bea thought, because he still towered over her, though his shoulders were bent and his back bowed behind him. A twisted, knobbed form, he gazed at her with coal dark eyes and a face as tortured as was the rest of his body. Wearing a tailored black suit, he could have been on his way to the opera rather than standing before a broken-down inn in the middle of nowhere.

The servant set her on her feet, grabbing her by the shoulders, and held her steady. She didn't want to stand. She wanted to fold to her knees and crawl if she had to in order to get away from them.

Still, Bea stuck her chin up and looked straight in the face of the man who held her fate in his knobby-fingered fists.

Bainbridge scowled. “You will conduct yourself like a proper young lady, madam, or I shall take the strap to you. Do you understand?”

Dazed and on the verge of hysteria, Bea blinked several times. “I understand that when my husband learns of your treachery, he will see justice done.”

They were brave words and Bea braced herself to receive another hard slap or feel the wicked sting of the horsewhip.

He did neither, but rather stared hard at her for a moment. Then something sinister slid into his expression and a broad, hideous grin spread across his face. “As it happens, my dear, I'm counting on seeing him try. I always welcome a challenge I know I will win.”

Turning toward his servant, he slammed his cane on the ground. “Get her subdued and back in the carriage now. I'll not have her acting the fool all the way to Scotland.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.” With that, Millie retrieved the cup and pulled the flask from her coat pocket. She poured another healthy dollop and turned to Bea, shoulders squared and a grim expression on her face. “Here we go, now. Drink this up or I'll box your ears.”

Bea meant to refuse them, to fight and run away, but though she fought her hardest, the two servants brought her to task very quickly.

Grabbing her about the waist, Hargraves slid his hand around her throat and grabbed her jaw. Millie stepped up and began pouring the whiskey into her mouth full force.

The coarse liquid burned her mouth and throat terribly. Coughing and sputtering, she did her best to spit it out. It was no good. It wasn't until she'd swallowed a good measure that her captors relented. Still struggling, though considerably weaker, Bea screamed in anger, “You won't get away with this.”

Her captors only laughed in response.

Without saying more, Hargraves lifted her from her feet, carried her back to the carriage, and roughly pushed her inside. A bare second later, Millie entered right behind her. Fussing and cursing, the older woman wrapped a shawl around Bea's shoulders and pulled it tightly around her. Then, pushing her hard against the window, Bea was trapped in the small space.

Hot tears slid down her face. Anger and fear roiled in her gut and she swore that she'd find a way to escape, no matter what.

Then, looking out the window, a ray of hope appeared in the dimness. For amongst the bushes on the far side of the drive, she saw a man sitting astride a horse. He was hunched over, and he held an object that was caught by a glint of the half-moon light. She blinked to make sure it was not an illusion.

Michael.

And he was holding a pistol.

Rounding the corner on his pale horse was Ash, with the Viscount of Waverton and Mr. Horton riding in close behind him. They looked dashing and devilish, the lot of them. All but Michael.

He looked dangerous.

Although it was but a few seconds, she saw many things in Michael's expression: determination by the set of his chin, acceptance in the grim line of his mouth.

But it was his eye that spoke of the depth of his emotions. Darkened to opaque, narrow gaze, so focused on his target. And, deadly.

A shiver went through her. He was set on murder, she was sure.

And then his gaze touched hers. His face blanched, stark white and the color of fury. He was angry, all right, but then his expression softened for a second, first in surprise at seeing her, and then deepened to something else entirely.

For in that brief moment, she saw love.

Millie had been wrong. Michael loved her, and there was no force in the world, no cruel rumors or stupidly forged letters that would change that.

Nodding to his fellows, he charged ahead, all emotion erased from his expression, and she knew he had nothing but concentration on the job in front of him.

The very next thing Bea knew, the night exploded around them. Michael, Ash, Braden, and Jeremy had surrounded the carriage. Guns blazing, gunpowder, and smoke, the scream of stricken men filled the air around them.

The carriage lurched forward as the frightened horses shot out, spurred into a perilous pace. Before she knew what was happening, the wagon twisted sideways, nearly tipping over. Thrown from her seat, Bea sailed across the cab and landed on Millie. She heard the crunch of bone on wood, and when the coach righted itself, she realized that Millie lay unmoving beneath her.

The carriage then jerked forward and they were again rolling precariously along, all of the cab's contents around her bouncing throughout the cab, and from the window she saw luggage trundling off the top, falling to the ground, and bouncing away in the dark.

Despite the frightful flight, at last she had hope in her heart. Michael had found her and was fighting to save her. The love she'd seen in his expression bolstered her spirits. Quickly glancing around the carriage, she looked for something, anything that she could use as a weapon. Filled with only a few cloth bags, and Millie's few belongings, there was nothing Bea could find. Dash it, Bea thought, wasn't there anything there that she could use to defend herself.

Just then an idea occurred to her. If Millie Fence was anything, she was a clever woman. And clever women were always armed.

Kneeling down, she quickly patted the unconscious woman's skirts until she felt something hard sewn into the fabric. Ripping cloth and tearing at the seams, Bea finally found what she was looking for. Hidden in the fabric was a small but wickedly sharp knife. Just the sort of thing a woman might use to defend herself from some witless thug.

Bea's heart swelled. At last she'd be able to help Michael should the opportunity arise. And no doubt about it, if need be, she very well intended to do so.

As in most battle situations, it was best to catch the enemy off their guard, to find them unaware of the impending attack. To be successful, one needed to strike when one's opponent was the least prepared to defend themselves.

The plan had been to attack the abductors before dawn, when the main coach had stopped to change horses. They would be busy readying themselves for another leg of their journey.

Unfortunately, half an hour after they'd arrived at the inn, two other armed men appeared.

Four ragtag men versus four armed and experienced soldiers. It should have been an easy fight. Michael and Ash agreed, and their plan was to charge the site, grab Beatrice, and leave as soon as possible.

“We've not much time. The sun will be up soon,” Michael told his friends. Each one nodded in agreement.

“To the edge.” Ash sounded their charge as he had many times in the past.

Every man responded, Michael to Ash's left flank, Braden to his right, and Jeremy following close behind the trio. As far as surgeons go, he was a fair shot if he didn't have to shoot too far. He'd also sound the alarm should more enemies appear or if there were hidden dangers set into the landscape. Many a time Michael had thanked Heaven for Jeremy's sharp eye and attention to details.

“To the right!” Michael yelled out over the din of gunfire and shouting.

Swinging his mount around, he set off in the direction of the newest attackers. Immediately, he saw the huge figure of Bainbridge mounting his own horse behind them and within seconds had set chase. Doing battle with him was Michael's first priority, so he fired twice at the advancing men and then turned his mount toward the bastard who'd abducted his wife.

“Where are you going?” Ash called after knocking down the large man who'd been holding Beatrice only minutes earlier.

“If you want to kill the snake, you first cut off its head,” he yelled back.

Since Ash offered no argument, he knew they were in agreement.

Digging his heels into the horse's side, the animal responded and surged forward.

“Mr. Bainbridge, it's time we met on the battlefield,” Michael yelled out.

The other man grinned and pulled the rifle from his saddle. “I see you've come to rob me like a common highwayman.”

Michael scoffed, firing off his first shot. “It was you who stole from me. My wife, as a matter of fact.”

The other man, with surprising agility considering his misshapen form, easily ducked the shot.

“Your wife by illegal means. The duke's claim to her guardianship will not hold in court.”

With that he lunged forward, lifted his rifle, and aimed his shot square at Michael. The boom sounded and Michael nearly lost his mount, but swerving to the right, he circled around to the other side and shouted to his friends, “Get him.”

The other men rallied and the four of them shot off in the same direction, running as if they were a single entity. More armed men burst into the clearing and more shots were fired. Michael looked to his left and saw his friend Braden go down, roll to one side, pull out his sidearm, and fire at his attacker. Jeremy was immediately at his side, helping him up and pulling him to cover behind a tree. In the next instant, Bainbridge bellowed to his men, and the coach's team lurched forward, tipping from one side to the other and then shooting off into the night. Both Michael and Bainbridge gave chase. Michael managed to charge ahead, but when he reached the coach, the driver hoisted up his rifle and fired. The bullet grazed Michael's right arm, nearly unseating him from his horse. Michael cursed when he saw a second man, seated next to the driver, hand him another primed pistol and then go to work readying a long-barrel rifle.

It was all Michael could do to dodge their shots and remain astride his horse. In addition, the road was so pitted and uneven, he was fast losing ground and risked injuring his mount if he kept pushing it forward at that relentless pace. Thankfully, the giant horse was as into the fight as much as his rider, and it pushed ahead without Michael's encouragement.

It was a losing battle, trying to keep up with the coach. Just as he was about to lose sight of it, he caught a glimpse of Beatrice. She was pulling herself out the side-door window. His heart froze in his chest when he saw the carriage tilt sideways again and she nearly lost her purchase.

His surprise turned to delight when he saw that she clutched a small knife in one hand and her bonnet in the other. Even windblown and struggling against such terrible odds, she was breathtakingly beautiful. It was clear that she had the courage of a lion and a determination that was as unbreakable as his own.

He could not love her more than he did in that moment.

Just as the coach righted itself, she looked in his direction. Their gazes locked and the breath went out of him. Fear and relief mixed in her expression. Relief flooded him just knowing she was alive.

He realized she was no longer the same young woman he'd defended the night of the Summerton ball. A sweet, heart-shaped face, youth and beauty so striking that it had made him nearly fall to his knees.

Now, she was so much more…

She was a woman grown, one who was more than a match for a sorry man like him, and it would take every day of his life to prove that he was worthy of her. For the first time, he realized that he was just the man to meet the challenge.

Beatrice was different from any woman he'd ever known: bold in her innocence, daring in her plans, and yet careful with her heart. Even while she'd carried herself with the utmost seriousness, he still sensed the joy in her. Not once had it ever wavered…

Not even when she gave up her dreams and then offered herself to him, fully and completely.

Then, as now, they were a force together, and if he ever doubted her, in the next few seconds she gave him reason to believe it.

As he rode almost within arm's reach of the carriage, he saw her mouth three words.

“I love you.”

Spurring his horse faster, he lunged ahead. So intent on reaching the carriage, he waited until the very last moment, then grabbed for the side of the cab. For a few seconds he thought he'd have a chance to knock the driver and his man from the top, but it suddenly jerked sideways and he lost his grip. Flying through the air, his last sight was the carriage careening out of control. The next thing he knew, the carriage had turned and disappeared around a bend, and he was landing hard on his backside in the middle of the road.

“Michael,” Ash called out, immediately at his side.

For a moment, he had no breath and could not even force air in, let alone be able to speak.

“I'm fine,” he ground out. “It just knocked the wind out of me.”

“Thank heavens. The bastards have winged Braden. Jeremy is with him, bandaging him up as we speak.”

“Good.” Michael whistled and his horse soon trundled up beside them. “I can't wait. If they get to the coast…”

“It'll be too late. There is a small smuggler's cove about fifteen miles from here. I'm thinking that's where he has a ship waiting.”

“I've got to go,” Michael said, hoisting himself back on the horse.

Ash mounted his animal as well. “You've been injured,” he said, pointing to the scrape on Michael's shoulder. “Are you sure we shouldn't at least stop for a bit? That carriage won't be able to keep up that pace for long. Even if we stop for a few hours, surely we'll overrun them before they can reach the coast.”

Michael didn't want to give up. He wanted to keep going until he rescued Beatrice and put down that dog, Bainbridge.

“Ash, I can't wait. I need to get Beatrice from him. Once I rescue her, I'll take her far out of Bainbridge's reach. To the Continent, perhaps. Or even to America, if that's what it takes to keep her from that man.”

“I know, but even if you do catch up to him, with no fresh animal to give chase and more ammunition, there will be little you can use against him.”

Michael knew his friend was right, though being so close to rescuing Beatrice and failing had ripped the heart right out of him.

He brushed his arm across his face. “You're right, as always. Let's at least go back and get some supplies and new horses.”

Ash urged his horse forward into an easy trot. “Don't worry. We'll get her back. Even if we have to travel around the world, we'll get her back.”

Michael set off behind him. “I know,” he said at last. “I only hope she continues to love me after I've failed her yet again,” he said.

“Nonsense, you've nearly died twice fighting those devils.” Ash pulled his horse around. “Beatrice loves you and you love her. I dare say there are very few couples that can say as much. If you think you're not capable, just imagine how it would be if the two of you despised each other.”

Michael sighed. “I don't have to imagine,” he said. “But this being married is so devilishly hard…”

“Ha,” Ash said, turning and kicking his horse into a trot. “You think it's hard work being a husband? Wait until you become a father. That's a completely new set of foils to plague you.”

“What if I'm the bastard my father says I was?”

Ash ground his jaw. “Your father was the bastard, not you. To say such things to his son…”

“You're a much better father than either of us had, my friend.”

“Of course, I am. If I weren't, Caroline would have cut off my ears and fed them to me with breakfast.”

Michael laughed. “She is a bit frightening at times.”

“That's what I love about her. She is a most determined woman and protects her own.”

“Including her sister.” Michael sighed. “I imagine if I misbehave Caroline will likely remove a few parts from me, as well.”

“Nonsense. She knows full well how headstrong her sister can be. After all, Caroline raised her, you know. She's often lamented that seeing to Beatrice has been a struggle since she was in the cradle.”

At last, they'd made it back to the inn, where his friends were waiting. Jeremy had finished wrapping Braden's arm and the two were paying the locals for their trouble.

“What's the damage?” Ash asked.

“Braden's arm is broken,” Jeremy told them. “I need to get him back to Slyddon so I can set it properly.”

Ash nodded. “Is it a clean break?”

The surgeon nodded. “Clean enough.”

“It's a scratch,” the young man told them. “I could ride with you, carry your weapons…”

“Nonsense,” Ash said. He turned to Jeremy. “Take him back. Michael and I will continue on.”

He looked at Michael and then at the trail where the coach left them. “Let's get our business dispensed with and be on our way.” He turned to the inn's owner and handed him a gold piece. “This should cover the fresh horses, boarding for our animals until we return, and supplies for the road.”

The man nearly fell over himself thanking Ash for the money and offered him a hot meal and the services of his oldest daughter. Of course, the duke thanked him and accepted all the gifts, save that of the young woman. But he did tell the man that he was looking for people to employ at Slyddon and that he would send word later. The innkeeper was more than happy to accommodate him.

Michael reached for his horse and patted its nose. He hated leaving it here. Donel was as good a mount as they came. But to take him farther would be akin to putting him down. Best to let him rest here and retrieve him on the return trip. Or, better yet, send for him when he had Beatrice settled back in London.

For now, that's all he'd think about. Getting her back, taking his measure from the man who'd abducted her. From there, he'd let Beatrice decide what to do next, where they would live, what their life would be. Michael may have been a man of little means and questionable morals in the past, but the one thing he'd always done was kept his promises. Now, more than ever, that's what he intended to do.

After four more hours of rough travel, they made it to another inn. Bea felt as if she'd been jostled around in the back of a coach for weeks, when in truth it had been only a few days since she'd been taken from Slyddon.

Now dirty, hungry, and angry that they'd thwarted Michael and Ash's attempt to rescue her, Bea was more determined than ever to escape these wicked devils.

Hanging from the window, she'd been so intent on watching Michael disappear from view, she'd not seen the rider come along the carriage and grab her about the waist, pulling her from the cab. Though she struggled to get free, he pulled the horse up short and dumped her on the ground.

Landing in an undignified scramble on the ground, she did her best to climb to her feet, brandishing her weapon as she did so.

“Looks like the little cat's got claws,” one of the hired men called out.

Bea spun around and another came at her. Though she dodged him, she wasn't fast enough to stay out of his reach. Swinging the knife around, she nicked his hand just as Hargraves caught her from behind.

It was only a matter of seconds before they wrested her to the ground and someone's hand wrenched the blade from her hand.

Screaming, she pounded the ground with her fists. “You are filthy beasts.” She grimaced.

“Get yourself up, woman,” Bainbridge ordered, walking around the end of the carriage. “You're a disgrace.”

Dragging herself to her feet, she faced him squarely, beyond caring how he would punish her insolence.

“As if I give a fig what you think.”

He didn't even grace her with a retort but instead turned to Hargraves. “Get her inside and make her more presentable.”

The other man huffed. “More biddable is what she needs.”

Not even looking back at her, Bainbridge started walking away. “Don't concern yourself. That will come later.”

Now, hours later, her face washed and her hair combed, she sat with Millie in the back bedroom of a run-down inn.