Realm 06 - A Touch of Love (46 page)

Kerrington instructed. “Move the tool’s tip closer to the joint. We must free the nails.”

Carter yanked the shovel from the opening and wedged it again in the small space between the two slats forming the right corner. “Do you have it, Lexford?”

“I am prepared.” This time, the viscount struck the metal a powerful blow. When the nail pulled away from the wood, Carter and Kerrington caught the freed slat and tugged it from the box’s side.

“The next one,” Carter instructed as he placed the metal wedge behind the second slatted joint.

With two more strikes of the rock, the second slat came free. Charleton and Godown had returned, and they joined in the battle to liberate Mrs. Warren.

“Stay safe, my girl,” the earl said through joyful tears.

Unable to wait for the third slat to be removed, Carter and the earl caught the wood and tugged. They were united–the two men who loved Lucinda Warren. When the board gave way, sending him and Charleton tumbling onto their backsides, Carter laughed in relief, while the tears pooled in his eyes. He had not failed her.

He righted his position to sit beside the box to see Kerrington and Godown assisting Mrs. Warren from her enclosure. They, literally, had their hands beneath her head and feet and sliding her sideways toward them, and then she was free. A beautiful woman lying upon the grass. Carter wished to cover her with his body and kiss her senseless, but with others looking on he held for a few awkward seconds. And in that time, her uncle moved to cradle her in his protecting arms. Mrs. Warren’s body rocked with sobs of relief, and Carter’s fingers instinctively reached for her.

“Where is father?” Law asked. The others looked on awkwardly.

Carter pulled his gaze from the domestic scene. “The baron sought tools to free the lady. He meant to search the hut.”

“I will find him,” Law announced.

Carter stood and knocked the dust from his breeches. His body craved a hot soaking bath–preferably one he could share with Lucinda Warren. “No, I will do it. It will provide the baron the opportunity to address my irresponsibility.” He glanced to where Charleton assisted Lucinda to her feet. Mrs. Warren clung to the earl’s lapels. “Gather everyone. We should return the lady to Blake’s Run as soon as possible.” Reluctantly, Carter turned his steps from the woman he desired.

He strode purposely toward the structure, but his mind remained on the cliff’s edge and a war widow. Therefore, when he entered the still open door, Carter did not expect the scene upon which he stumbled: The baron stood against the wall, his hands raised to his shoulders, and Cyrus Woodstone pointed a gun at the baron’s heart.

“We have been waiting for you,” Woodstone said coldly.

In that instant, Carter was grateful he had not permitted Law to seek out their father. Carter’s training could prove the difference. “You provided us many challenges,” he said evenly as he sidestepped slowly toward his father.

“You are a worthy opponent,” Woodstone announced. “It has taken a decade for anyone to take note of our operations.”

Carter asked, “How will you stop the others from killing you?” He would not antagonize Woodstone with a personal taunt–not when the man still held a gun on Carter’s father.

Woodstone’s confidence rose quickly. “I need only to make an example of you.” The man turned the gun on Carter, and despite the danger, Carter
breathed easier. His father would be spared. “And I am not afeared of your friends’ revenge.”

Carter ceased his sideways movement. It was essential to protect the baron at all costs. “You think yourself invincible?” he asked with feigned nonchalance.

Woodstone shook his head in denial. “I require no shield of invincibility. You have underestimated me, Sir Carter. After all the elaborate plans you have witnessed this day, did you think I would approach six men without some form of assurance?”

Carter’s heartbeat hitched faster. If Woodstone spoke of six men, he had likely incapacitated Beauchamp. “As I know you are dying to tell me, please explain your proposal.”

“Very well.” Woodstone gestured with the gun. “Our removal of Mrs. Warren from Blake’s Run has served its purpose. While you rescued the lady, my associates have removed Lady Hellsman from the manor.” Carter had anticipated something similar, but he had rushed away before putting security in place. “If I do not join my friends by midnight, Lady Hellsman will pay the price. So, I am certain you can convince your companions to permit me my freedom.”

Carter could hear his father’s anxious breathing. “You cannot injure Lady Hellsman,” the baron asserted. “She is the title’s future.”

Woodstone declared, “Then you best hope I arrive in time.”

Carter’s mind raced in search of answers. “Ransing means to have his retribution?” He hoped his bold assertion would rattle Woodstone’s composure as much as the man had rattled his.

A flicker of doubt crossed Woodstone’s expression. “You have discovered the viscount’s involvement?”

“Of course,” Carter declared. “But I do not understand a man who makes an innocent woman his target.” He regarded his enemy with a hint of suspicion.

Woodstone’s jaw line tightened, and Carter took note of the man’s inherent disapproval. “Ransing means for your brother to know grief for his many manipulations. Hurting Lady Hellsman will destroy the future baron.”

“Arabella…” the baron began.

“Is a strong woman.” Carter hoped to keep the news of Bella’s upcoming lying in a secret from these men.

Woodstone gestured with a nod of his head. “Blakehell, you must carry my terms to the others.”

Carter glanced to his father. “Do as he asks, Sir.” He hoped to remove the baron from danger; only then could Carter act.

“I will not leave you, Carter,” Blakehell declared.

Carter attempted to reason with his father. “Sir, Lawrence will require your guidance. Law is your heir.”

“And you are my youngest son,” the baron insisted as he stepped menacingly toward Woodstone.

“No!” Carter shouted, but it was too late. Woodstone reacted to the baron’s charge; he turned the gun and fired.

F
rom his eye’s corner, Carter saw his father stumble backward, clutching at his chest, but Carter had no time to tend the baron’s wound. He lunged for Woodstone, taking the man to the ground. His opponent struggled valiantly; yet, Carter’s training prevailed. A few well-placed blows to Woodstone’s kidneys sent the man reeling with pain. When his father’s assailant used a hand to protect his side, Carter delivered a solid punch to the point of Woodstone’s chin, and the man spun to the ground with a heavy thud.

Chest heaving, Carter stood over Woodstone waiting for his attacker’s next move. Behind him, he heard his father groan, but Carter purposely did not turn his head. He was the only defense between Cyrus Woodstone and Niall Lowery.

“What the…” Kerrington’s voice boomed over the silence. His friends had arrived, and Carter’s shoulders relaxed.

“A bit of trouble,” he said through tight lips.

“Father!” The desperation in Law’s voice drew Carter’s eyes from the culprit who had shot the baron. He turned to see his brother pressing a handkerchief to their father’s shoulder.

Quickly, he joined Law on his knees beside his father’s body. “What happened?” Law demanded.

Carter had no right to feel offense as his brother’s tone: It was his fault his father had known danger. His enemies had made those Carter affected their targets. “Woodstone meant to prevent my involvement in an investigation of a grand scale. I attempted to remove the baron, but father placed himself between me and Woodstone.” Carter still could not believe he had failed to protect his family. What good were his skills if those he loved still could know harm?

“I have Woodstone secured,” Kerrington announced.

Carter felt the divide between Carter Lowery, governmental agent, and Carter Lowery, dutiful son, widen. “Send someone to where Beauchamp held the others. I suspect Woodstone has seen to his accomplices’ release.”

Godown nodded his understanding. “Lexford and I will see to the others and return Mr. Beauchamp and his captives to Blake’s Run.”

Mrs. Warren, supported by Charleton, appeared in the open door. “What is amiss?”

“Father has been shot,” Law shared. “But I cannot tell the extent of the injury.”

She straightened her shoulders with renewed resolve, and Carter recognized the determined Lucinda Warren had returned. “Carry the baron outside where the light is better. I shall examine him there.”

Charleton argued, “Lucinda, I must insist we remove…”

She laid a comforting hand on the earl’s arm, and Carter instinctively wished she would look kindly upon him. “Uncle, I appreciate your wish to protect me, but I have nursed men with wounds previously. I am not of such a frail nature as to have my sensibility offended.”

Charleton reluctantly nodded his agreement.

Kerrington suggested, “Let us use the broken door as a litter.”

Carter and Law carefully lifted their father to the wooden panel. With Kerrington’s assistance, they carried the baron into the light.

“Set him down under the tree,” Mrs. Warren instructed. She released her hair and quickly rewrapped it into a tight knot at the back of her neck, but the few seconds it had hung loose about her shoulders added to Carter’s fantasies of her. “I shall require you knife, Sir Carter.” She extended her palm in his direction.

“What makes you believe I carry a knife?” he said just to watch the gamut of emotions crossing her countenance. The lady did not disappoint: first disenchantment and then irritation.

She extended her hand further. “Your knife, Sir, and then I will require clean water or brandy for the wound.”

“I have a flask and a roll of bandages in my saddle’s bag,” Kerrington acknowledged. “I will bring the horses about.”

Carter instructed, “Ask the marquis and Lexford to locate the wagon’s horses. We will require them to transport my father home.”

As Kerrington moved off, Mrs. Warren said, “I shall require your assistance, Gentlemen. I do not wish to move the baron any more than necessary. One of you must cut away his jacket and shirt.”

Carter recovered his knife from her hand. “I will see to the baron.” He knelt where he could reach the wound. Blakehell’s countenance held his pain, and Carter wondered how long the lines had covered Niall Lowery’s forehead and eyes. In Carter’s mind, the man he called “Father” had never aged, but, obviously, Carter had erred. The gentleman lying upon the wooden litter was firmly in the latter part of his life. The thought grieved Carter: they had wasted so much time with contention.

Kerrington returned with the necessary supplies. Mrs. Warren replaced Carter at Blakehell’s side. He shuddered with pain, and Lucinda brushed his hair from his damp forehead. “Baron, I must examine your wound,” she said softly as her fingers probed the opening.

The baron swatted her hand away. “You may do your worst, Mrs. Warren,” Blakehell said through tight lips. “But first I must speak to my sons.”

She glanced over her shoulder to Carter, and he nodded his agreement. He knew without a doubt what the baron meant to say. Therefore, Carter permitted Law the preference of the contact.

“You must permit Mrs. Warren to tend you, Sir,” Law encouraged. He caught the baron’s hand in his, and despite his best efforts, Carter knew the twinge of jealousy. When Niall Lowery passed, Lawrence would hold the memories the baron’s other children had been denied.

“I am not avoiding Mrs. Warren’s care,” Blakehell assured. “But neither you nor Carter can spare the time to oversee the lady’s efforts.” The baron swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple visible.

“Carter and I mean to see you well, Sir,” Law reasoned.

Realizing his father’s intent to tell it all, Carter interrupted, “The baron is correct, Law. You and I must escort Woodstone south. We have an encounter with Viscount Ransing to keep.”

Puzzlement crossed Law’s countenance. “I do not understand. What care I for Lord Ransing?”

Carter scowled. He was not certain he believed Woodstone; he could not imagine Ransing could “walk” into Blake’s Run and simply steal Arabella away. Such a move would be unprecedented. “In his ploy for freedom, Woodstone
claimed if he did not meet with Ransing by midnight of this day, the viscount would kill Lady Hellsman.”

“Bella?” Law said in disbelief. “How in bloody hell…did Ransing achieve… access to Arabella?”

Carter admitted, “I remain unconvinced Ransing has Bella; I think Woodstone means to play me.”

Law managed to untangle his tongue. “Yet, we cannot simply ignore the possibility.”

Carter argued, “Ransing would not dare…”

“To violate or to kill my wife!” Law exclaimed incredulously. “The man planned to ruin my future by stealing Triton from my stables. He married Miss Dryburgh because the viscount thought I would claim the woman. And do not forget Bella had a hand in turning Ransing’s manipulations to folly. Personally, I find the viscount quite capable of the ultimate revenge, especially if Charleton’s earlier disclosure proves true. Ransing would have little reason not to complete another crime.”

Blakehell grunted, “You must hurry. Lady Hellsman carries the title’s future.”