With Willa’s help, Matt had one hand free and he managed to slip the other from the ropes just as the chaise hit the water.

His and Willa’s bodies tumbled over each other. Water poured in through the windows and any cracks in the hired vehicle. Three quarters of the chaise’s cab filled with cold water—and then it hit the riverbed and stopped.

Thank God .

He reached out, catching Willa with one arm and lifting her out of the water so she could breathe. The knot in her gag was wet, and the cold river water made his hands clumsy. He attempted to pull the cloth up and succeeded in lifting it over her head. He yanked the wet gag from her mouth. She took a huge, sputtering breath, her chest heaving as if her lungs couldn’t take in enough air. He covered her mouth with his hand, warning her to silence.

“Keep your head above water,” he whispered.

She nodded, her body going into a spasm of shaking, but she controlled herself as best she could.

“That’s my girl,” he answered. Both of their legs were bound but he could stand propped against the chaise and she rested on his body. The river’s current was swift. There was enough water to send the chaise floating if they weren’t careful. The vehicle rocked slightly as he started trying to untie Willa’s hands.

On the bank, Ross ask, “Did you know it was shallow here?”

“I did. You think I’m going to swim out to cut them free?”

“I’m going for the horse. I don’t want him to run too far.”

“Go on,” Donel answered.

“Don’t enjoy yourself too much,” Ross called. Matt thought of Donel’s knife.

“I’ll meet you at the Blue Boar,” was the barked reply. There was the sound of a horse riding off. Donel would be coming.

The inside of the chaise was ink black. It rested on its side, the door over Matt’s head. He lifted Willa the best he could with one arm to keep her head above the water, while he prepared for that door to open—and yet, when it did, Matt felt his heart give a start.

A human-shaped head was silhouetted against the night sky. Donel couldn’t see anything inside the coach. It was impossible.

Matt punched upward with all his might.

He struck the man square in the face. Donel lost balance and fell backward into the water.

Overjoyed by his good luck, Matt took hold of Willa by the back of her dress. He grabbed the side of the door and attempted to pull his big body out of the coach. His bound legs were a hindrance, as was Willa’s weight, even as slight as she was. When he had an arm and elbow outside the coach, he thought to raise Willa up first—

A fist came down on Matt’s head. A flash of stars momentarily blinded his vision. Donel then gripped Matt by the hair to jerk his head back for another blow.

However, Matt was the larger man. He was hampered by his hold on Willa, but he refused to let go of her. Instead, he released his hold on the coach, blindly reaching for Donel. His hand found material, and Matt allowed his weight to fall, dragging the bastard into the cab after him.

Now it was Donel who was thrown off as he landed headfirst into the water swirling up to Matt’s waist. Donel tried to rise, to find his footing.

Fury took hold of Matt. He was fighting for both his and Willa’s lives. It was as if he had the strength of ten men. He used his elbow to smash Donel’s head against the wall.

Donel cried out at the blow, but before he could react, Matt shoved him under the water again. This time, Matt was not going to let him up.

He was also determined to push Willa out the door. He wasn’t gentle. He couldn’t afford to be. Donel had grabbed Matt’s legs and was trying to topple him. However, Willa had blessedly managed to free one hand and, with a boost from Matt, pulled herself out of the coach.

Believing her safe, Matt gave his full attention to his attacker. He brought his hands down, capping the top of Donel’s head.

Matt had the advantage of being taller and more muscular but Donel was a cunning fighter who had his own good amount of strength. He tried to bite Matt’s thigh to make him let go. Matt just pushed him deeper.

The interior of the coach was as black as Hades. Donel’s hands were like claws. He was struggling for breath now, and still Matt held him down.

He thought of Donel’s wicked knife. He didn’t know why the man wasn’t using it.

Donel tried to roll away from him. Matt would not let him escape. If Matt didn’t stop him, Donel would harm Willa. Donel’s hands began to flail. Bubbles rose from him as if he could hold his breath no longer.

Matt pushed him deeper, using his superior strength—

And then the struggle was over.

The fight was gone. Donel’s body sank.

Matt had to forcibly pull his hands back. He was trembling from the exertion, the fear, the misery of what he’d just done.

Exhausted, he fell back against the side of the coach, the movement shifting the vehicle.

“Matt ,” Willa shouted, followed by a splash.

Alarmed, Matt reached for the door above him. His muscles quivered from the exertion. There was the sound of more splashing. He roared his frustration and found the extra effort he needed to lift himself out. He flopped into the water, his legs still bound. Willa was right beside the coach. He raised her up. His feet found the riverbed and he braced her against him. She coughed, hacking up water—and then curled into him, shivering.

At first, he thought she was crying. Dear God, she was alive. They both were.

She raised her head. Her eyes had an unholy gleam in the moonlight. “Is he dead?”

“He’s dead.”

“Good. May we go to shore?”

“We may.”

The problem was making their way there. Matt hopped and kicked like a fish to see them to safety. He placed Willa on the bank among the weeds and rushes. His hand hit something metal—Donel’s knife. He must have lost in when he cut the horse loose. Matt now used it to cut the ropes on his legs.

Willa had tried to drag herself higher up the bank. The sky was lightening. The paleness of her dress was now a muddy gray. Her bedraggled braid was like a black rope over her shoulder.

“Here,” Matt said, to gain her attention.

She looked to him and he climbed the last bit of the bank to her and began sawing at her ropes. One wrist was still bound to a rope around her waist. She’d torn her nails in trying to save herself, and him.

Willa cried out as he cut the ropes on her ankles. They had been far too tight. “It is like a thousand needles.”

“Take it easy,” he whispered, lightly rubbing her ankles and bare feet to help ease her pain. She appeared to shake her head as if in answer until he realized she was shaking uncontrollably and the tremors were growing stronger. But she was alive—

Matt kissed her.

He placed his hands on either side of her face and pressed his lips to hers. Her arms came around him. She pressed herself close as if she could climb right into his skin, and he wanted her there.

Their kiss said more than words. They were both all right. They were alive. He’d killed a man , but he’d had no choice. No choice.

And it had been harder than one would have thought. Drowning the life force out of another human had called for everything he had.

The kiss grew harder, more urgent, but not sexual.

In this kiss, he released his horror for what he’d done, and she answered. She understood. She knew his pain. He’d had no choice.

He pulled her into his lap, their lips never breaking contact, and she breathed life back into him.

She restored his soul.

Matt broke the kiss. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” Her arms were around his neck.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

She was right, and yet—

“If not for me, you would not have been in danger,” Matt said. “I’ll find the bastard Hardesty,” And then, memory returned. “Willa, there is nothing between Letty and me. Please, trust me. I was tricked into going there.”

Her answer was a half-crazed laugh. “How can you worry about that right now?” She placed her hands on his cheeks and lifted his head to look into his eyes. “I’m just grateful you are alive. They wanted us dead, Matt.”

“Yes.” Anger rose as a wave inside him. And the need for vengeance. He wanted blood.

But first, he must take care of his wife.

She was shaking again. She was naked under the night dress, her feet bare.

“How are your wrists and ankles?”

“Better,” she answered. He shrugged off his jacket, the one he’d worn to the Evanston party. The sleeves were torn at the shoulder seam and it wasn’t easy removing the wet material, but he managed.

He wrapped his jacket around her. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything dry but this should help.” She nodded, bending her knees and pulling her feet close to her as she seemingly disappeared in the coat.

“Stay here,” he warned. There were things he must do to finish this night’s business.

He waded back into the water toward the coach. He was in stocking feet; the river mud had sucked away his evening shoes. He climbed back inside and lifted Donel’s body up. It took a good amount of effort, but he managed to drag it out of the coach and then roll it into the water.

“What are you doing?” Willa asked from shore, her voice carrying in the stillness.

He let Donel go in deeper water, and the man floated away.

“What did you do?” Willa demanded as he splashed back to shore.

Matt climbed the bank before answering. “I didn’t want anyone to find him or associate him with the chaise.”

“Why not?”

“It seemed prudent.”

She studied him a moment. “You aren’t going to tell the authorities about this, are you?”

“No.” One of the horses was still tied and waiting. He walked over to it. Matt was shaking as well from the night air and the aftermath of what he’d done. He led the horse to Willa.

“Why aren’t you going to report what happened?” she wanted to know. “Those men tried to kill us.” Her spirit was returning. “One is still free.”

“I know.” He picked up the knife.

“We should have the magistrate storm the Blue Boar.”

“We should,” he agreed, not sharing his true thoughts.

“Let’s go then,” she said. She was still shivering but she came to her feet. He needed to see her safe before she caught her death.

Before they both did.

He mounted and then reached for her hand to pull her up in front of him in the saddle. She settled in to him. He sent the horse forward.

“Matt, what is this about?” she asked. “It can’t be about blackmail. Not any longer.”

“No. Whoever is behind this wants more than money.” He told her all, needing to go through it in his own mind. He spoke of blackmail and of William’s secret, and of Minerva’s belief her oldest son had been murdered. Of the notes at the ball that were still in his pocket and probably hopelessly ruined.

Willa listened.

Matt knew he should not involve her in this. As if reading his mind, she prodded, “Matt, they took me from our bed. They knew the floor plan of the house.”

“You came home to me.” It was as he had hoped, and it had almost cost her life.

She looked up at him. “I didn’t come home to you, Matt. I came home to us .”

He kissed her head. Yes, us .

However, his wife’s practical mind was working. “Matt, why would Hardesty move on to murder?”

“That is what I’m wondering. If I’m dead, I can’t pay him anything.”

“And there must to be a purpose to his scheme tonight. I feel quite strongly that he wished to separate us this evening.” She puzzled on the matter before asking, “You’ve never heard or met a Hardesty before?”

“Never. I’ve even thought about school friends. No one. But I am starting to believe that Hardesty is a false name.”

She leaned her head against his chest. “Then he could be anyone.”

“No, not anyone. Someone who stands to gain if I die.” And Matt suddenly had an idea, one that was hard to contemplate. However, as he considered it, possibilities fell into place.

It was a betrayal. He would need proof before he accepted it . . . such as meeting Ross at the Blue Boar.

Whatever money Hardesty paid the villain, Matt would pay more.

Matt looked at the sky. Dawn was near.

They reached the main road. It was busy with the usual traffic flowing into the city in the very wee hours of the morning. People walked among ox and dog carts, wagons loaded with vegetables for London tables and fodder for horses. Everyone was too busy to notice anything unusual about them.

He rode straight to his house. Here, the hour was too early for anyone to notice them. As he pulled the horse up, the front door opened and a harried Marshall ran out.

“Good morning, Your Grace.” He sounded his usual self except anxious eyes took in Matt and Willa’s shabby, damp appearances. “We have been most worried when we found the duchess missing.”

“As you should have been,” Matt said.

“We did not share this information with the dowager,” Marshall added.

“Quite wise.” Matt dismounted and then took Willa in his arms. “Have a hot bath prepared immediately for the duchess.” He didn’t wait for his orders to be obeyed but carried his wife into the house and up the stairs.

Her complexion was almost bloodless. She clutched his shirt with one hand.

Annie waited anxiously in their room, and then almost fell back in horror when she saw Willa in her nightdress caked with mud and damp, and both of them smelling of the river. “Your Grace, I am relieved to see you.”

“As we are to be here. A bath is coming for your mistress. Meanwhile, fetch the brandy and two glasses.” Annie hurried to obey.

“You can set me down,” Willa said. “I’m not that fragile.” She was shaking again.

“Perhaps I like holding you.”

Her response was to rest her head against his shoulder. “We are most fortunate.”

He grimly nodded.

Annie brought brandy. Matt would have happily kept Willa in his lap but she insisted on moving to the chair across from his at the desk. He poured two healthy glasses. “Drink.” He set her glass in front of him and she took a sip.

He understood the restorative power of brandy. He drained his to show her how it was done.

Willa frowned. “I don’t like it that much.”

He smiled. “You are feeling more yourself.”

“Why? Because I’m arguing with you?”

He let his smile be his answer.

Matt stood up and crossed to the washbasin. The water was hot. He could have blessed Annie. He washed his face and his hands, all the while keeping a watchful eye on Willa as she sipped more of the brandy. Color was now returning to her cheeks.

Footmen appeared with the bath. Annie set up the privacy screen so that Matt and Willa were blocked from their view. “She thinks of everything,” Matt murmured.

Willa heard him and nodded. However, he now had a new idea. After the footmen had left, Matt sought a quiet moment with Annie. “Are there servants or workmen around this house who go by the names of Ross or Donel?”

“Is Ross Irish?”

“Yes.”

Anne nodded. “There is a stableman named Ross. He is not in your employ.”

“Has he been in the house?” Willa asked.

“A time or two. Cook is sweet on him. Mrs. Snow is partial to him as well. You know how the Irish are. We can work with anyone, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Annie,” Willa answered. “Would you leave us now?”

The maid bobbed a curtsey and left the room. “Well,” Willa said, “we now know why Ross knew his way around the house.”

“Shall I have a conversation with Mrs. Snow and Cook, or should you?”

“Marshall should,” she said.

She was right.

Willa took off the fouled nightdress and climbed into the tub. She washed the river off her body, then it was his turn. He’d shaved while she’d bathed.

“I’m exhausted,” Willa said.

Matt nodded, not wanting her to know what he planned.

She put on a clean gown. “A few hours’ sleep, and then we must speak to someone. We must report what happened.”

Yes, he wanted her to sleep.

No, he was not going to wait. He could not relax with Ross free to run.

“Have you ever heard of the Blue Boar?” Willa asked. She lathered a cloth.

As a matter of fact, he had. Most gentlemen knew the whoring hell called the Blue Boar. “No.”

She’d be furious that he lied. It might even spark a setback between them. He would run the risk. Her safety depended upon it.

Willa sighed and closed her eyes. Her breathing had grown even and regular. He began to dress. Annie could wake her later, after he was gone.

He was pulling on boots when Willa said, “Where are you going?” She sat up.

“Downstairs. I have something to discuss with Marshall.” He pulled on his jacket.

Willa rose, her wet braid hanging down her back. “No, you haven’t. You are going to find Ross. Matt, please—”

He kissed her objection away, and he kissed her the way he’d wanted to. He couldn’t help himself. Their lips melded together. He brought a hand up to the tender skin right beneath her jawline, and he let his kiss tell her what he did not have time for words to say. He wanted her to stay here, waiting for him. Meanwhile, he was going to do everything he could to protect her.

Matt broke the kiss. Her eyes were dark and sensual. Her lips tried to follow him as he pulled away. “I think we are ready for each other, Willa. Be here when I return.”

Then, before she could stop him, he walked swiftly out of the room, setting off for the Blue Boar.