Chapter Twelve
Struggling against Stockton’s bruising grip, Addy heard the standoff between Garrett and Ransford. Poor Corwin, held in a chokehold, looked about to faint.
How dare Denman threaten a child’s life? Such cruelty proved he was a ruthless monster, as her instincts had been telling her all along. She vowed to make sure he never had the opportunity to threaten anyone ever again.
First, though, she had to break free from the thug restraining her.
A frustrated cry broke from her as she clawed at Stockton’s arm, as thick as a tree branch, locked around her waist. He was wretchedly strong. Desperation surged, and she kicked harder, wrenched sideways, tried to catch him off balance—
She was vaguely aware of horses halting in a spray of sand.
“Hold, all of you,” a man bellowed.
Stockton froze, and so did Addy. She knew that voice.
“Father!” She glanced at the cave entrance, to see her sire stride in. He wore chain mail armor beneath his cloak, as did his six armed guards, who had drawn weapons.
Garrett, blood staining the sleeve of his tunic, stood in profile near Ransford, who was still holding Corwin captive. Her stomach churned to see Garrett was injured; once the confrontation was over, she’d tend to the wound so it would quickly heal. She also hoped the boy would never have to face fear again; he’d already suffered too much for one so young.
Her sire’s gaze returned to Stockton, who still had his arm around her. “Unhand my daughter.”
After a grudging glance at Denman, who nodded, Stockton obeyed. She hurried to her father and hugged him.
“Thank God we found you.” He kissed her cheek and then held her at arm’s length. “What happened to you? Why are you in this cave?”
“’Tis a long story,” she answered, “but—”
“Milord, ’tis good you are here,” Denman cut in. Tipping his head toward Garrett, he said, “This man kidnapped Adaline.”
Her sire started to signal his men.
Addy stayed him with a hand on his arm. “Do not believe Denman. He arranged my abduction. ’Twas all a ruse.”
“A ruse?” Her father shook his head. “I cannot believe—”
“’Tis true.” She motioned to Garrett. “He can tell you more than I.”
Her sire’s features hardened as his focus shifted to Garrett, who slowly turned and bent at the waist in a respectful bow. Love glowed like hot, bright flame within her as he straightened, for she was going to make sure she and Garret were never apart again.
“I will be glad to tell you all I know, milord,” Garrett said. “I ask only that Corwin be released from the threat of harm.”
Her father’s attention shifted to the boy, and he frowned. “Denman, why are you pointing your sword at that child?”
“He was throwing sand.”
“That does not warrant threatening his life.” Addy met her betrothed’s gaze in a silent warning that he had best release the boy.
“Indeed, it does not,” her sire agreed.
Glowering, his lordship reluctantly released Corwin. The lad sobbed, ran to Garrett, and threw his arms around his waist.
Relief softening his features, Garrett shifted his sword to his left hand and put his arm around Corwin’s shoulders. Garrett didn’t take his gaze from Ransford, though, and Addy sensed that if the older lord dared to attack, Garrett would be ready in an instant to do battle.
“And you are?” her father asked him.
“Garrett Thurlow, milord.”
“The name is familiar.”
“I was honored to be your squire years ago,” Garrett said, “if only for a short while.”
Addy moved to stand next to Garrett and Corwin in a silent show of support.
“I was told you were killed in France,” her sire said.
“’Twas a falsehood that at first served me well. However, the past few days have made me realize I no longer want to maintain that deception.”
“Indeed?”
“Aye, milord.” Garrett squared his shoulders, and Addy caught her breath, for she’d never seen him look more determined or more handsome. “After years of running from my past, I am ready to answer for all that I have done.”
“You speak as though you have committed grave crimes,” her sire said.
“I have. Among them, I abducted Addy.”
***
His heart pounding against his ribs, Garrett waited for Lord Mortimer to respond.
While Garrett experienced shame at his confession, he was also relieved. A crushing weight had been lifted from his soul. After long years, his secrets were finally going to be unburdened. He didn’t expect forgiveness, but at least he might see justice done.
Lord Mortimer’s gaze bored into him. “You are responsible for abducting my daughter?”
“I am.”
“Garrett was forced to kidnap me,” Addy said, so beautiful in her poise and resolve. “Denman left him no choice.”
Ransford, his sword still unsheathed, shook his head. “Lies. All lies.”
Obviously unsure who to believe, Lord Mortimer asked, “Garrett, how do you know Ransford?”
“I once served as his squire. I became indebted to him, and by doing so…felt obliged to do his bidding.”
“That included abducting a lady.”
Guilt gnawed, but Garrett wouldn’t shift blame to anyone else. He wanted to be worthy of Addy; therefore, he must accept responsibility for what he’d done. He nodded.
“You must arrest Denman, Father.”
“I am still not clear on exactly what happened, or why—if Garrett’s claims are true—Ransford would have you kidnapped.”
“They are not true,” his lordship insisted, while his gaze shifted to Stockton and the guards at the cavern entrance. “Garrett is trying to taint my good name. Surely you will not accept his word over mine.”
“Garrett and I will explain all,” Addy said. “For now, Denman must be locked in a dungeon cell until he can be sent to London to be tried and punished.”
“A dungeon?” Ransford’s face tautened with fury. “How dare you suggest such a thing?” Straightening his rumpled garments, he strode for the cave entrance.
Garrett moved to stop him, but Lord Mortimer shook his head. “I cannot simply arrest a peer. I must have proof.”
Determination glowed within Garrett. He wouldn’t allow Ransford to go unpunished. He must act for those who’d been murdered, or who were too fearful to report his lordship’s treachery. “I will get you proof. To start, I will write down all that I witnessed.”
Corwin sniffled then dried his face with his sleeve. “I can tell what I saw and heard.”
“We also have a letter,” Addy said, “written by someone who copied Garrett’s handwriting. ’Twas hidden at the abandoned castle where I was held captive.” Glancing at Ransford, she added, “The missive was to be discovered at a timely moment and presented to authorities to place all blame for the kidnapping on Garrett.”
“Since the sheriff worked with Ransford years ago, and likely is still conspiring with him, we might see what we can do to persuade him to talk,” Garrett said.
Lord Mortimer nodded. “Very well. Men, detain his lordship—”
Stockton lunged at the guards. His blade struck again and again.
Ransford, also lashing out with his sword, hurried to the horses.
“He cannot get away!” Addy cried, but Garrett was already in pursuit. As Ransford shoved his booted foot into a stirrup to swing up onto the mount, Garrett yanked him backward. With a grunt, his lordship landed on his back on the sand.
Drawing his arm back, Garrett slammed his fist into the older lord’s jaw. “For Addy,” he growled. Ransford struggled, but Garrett, giving full rein to his rage, walloped him again. “For Corwin.” The older lord’s body went limp.
As Garrett shook out his fist and stood, he saw Stockton sprawled on the sand. Blood soaking the front of his tunic, the dead thug stared skyward.
Lord Mortimer drew near with several guards. “Ransford is not dead, I trust.”
“Only unconscious, milord.”
“Good, because he will answer for his crimes.”
Addy smiled at Garrett. “He certainly will.”
Garrett’s heart warmed, for he loved the hope brightening Addy’s expression. How he wished he could make her happy every day for the rest of his life.
“Ransford and his lackeys will be taken to my dungeon,” Lord Mortimer said, before his gaze met Garrett’s. “Until I know exactly how you were involved in recent events, and what you did to my daughter, you also will be my prisoner.”