Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lord Warwick stepped outside and took a deep calming breath. Steady, he told himself. Too much depended upon the next few minutes.
His mind raced over different possibilities. Different and varied plans that would result in Amanda being safe. One thing he knew, she could never be allowed to be taken to France, neither of them would survive the trip.
Hicks would kill them as soon as he was free.
Damn, why hadn’t he anticipated this? Why had he allowed Amanda to become involved?
Sighing, he tried to pull his mind away from the fear that was eating at his gut. He must focus. He must think of everything he had ever learned to find a way out of this mess.
How had Hicks defeated him? How was it possible? The man had no skills in matters such as this. He was able to gather information. That was his only talent. But the man had never been in a real fight. A knockdown, drag out fight. He’d never faced a weapon as far as Lord Warwick knew. The man was a creature of his station in life. Others did his fighting for him.
And yet, the man had reacted so quickly when he had shot the henchman. Much faster than he had anticipated.
Yet, there was something in his eyes that told Warwick the man did not really understand what might happen.
Had the man ever really contemplated his own death. Had he come to accept it? No, even now, he believed he would get free. But then, that must surely be the personality of a traitor. He must always assume he will not fail.
Well, things were about to change, Lord Warwick thought as he smiled his own predatory smile. That was the problem. He had been reacting to the situation ever since Anderson gave him the word. No, he must take control. That was the only way.
Holding a hand up, he indicated that Hansen should come to him. Once his man was there, Warwick instructed him to gather the men in the rear of the house and fall back two blocks. He would come for them later.
Hansen frowned, obviously wanting to talk about the loud explosion earlier, but he was well trained and turned to carry out his assigned tasks.
Warwick waited until he was sure the men were away from the house and then scampered down the steps and around the side of the house.
Every few steps he froze in place for a moment, afraid he might be sighted. Glancing over his shoulder he sighed heavily, the sun would be coming up in a few minutes. If he was not careful he would be highlighted like a hare in a lamp’s glow.
No, he wasn’t going to march back in there and let Hicks take control. Instead he worked his way around back and into the garden. This must be done with stealth and his own hands, in close.
Once he had reached the back of the house, he crouched down behind a thick rose bush and carefully watched the house. Hicks was there, his back to the window, his hand still at Amanda’s throat.
Time, he thought, give him time. The man had made so many mistakes already, it was only a matter of time.
Time and space, that was all he needed.
.o0o.
The cold steel next to her throat made it difficult to swallow. But Amanda refused to beg that the man pull back. No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Instead, she watched as Warwick left her. The man had come as she knew he would. Even now, she knew he was planning her rescue.
He’d walked into this harrowing situation without fear. Attacked the situation head-on. Glancing over at the dead man on the floor she suppressed a shudder. Warwick had killed him as if he was pinching a slug off a vine.
No regrets, no second thoughts. And in doing so, he had reduced his opponents.
Taking a slow, deep breath, she fought to find a way out. She knew Warwick, The man would try to sacrifice everything to set her free. She had seen it in his eyes.
While the thought sent a warm feeling through her body. To know that he cared that much. She also knew that she could not allow it. Under no circumstance could this traitor be allowed to go free. And most importantly, Warwick could not be put at risk. Not if she was to have any say in the matter.
Reaching up, she gently put her bound hands onto Lord Hicks’ arm and slowly pushed it away.
“He’s not here, you don’t need to hold it so close.”
Hicks laughed, and brought the blade back against her throat. The cold blade sending a terrifying message. “Let us say that I prefer it here. Lord Warwick has a bit of a reputation, after all.”
Amanda sighed internally. As long as the man held her like this, Warwick would do whatever was demanded of him.
Biting her lip, she sighed heavily and waited.
Please, she begged silently in her mind. Please keep him safe.
Distract him, she thought. Give Warwick a chance.
“Why?” she asked him. “Why betray your country? It couldn’t be for the money. Your family is wealthy.”
The hand holding the knife at her throat trembled for a moment.
“A title,” he said as he forced his hand to stop shaking. “The French would see me raised to a title of my own. I would no longer be known as the third son of a Duke. No, instead I would be a Duke in my own right. Do not forget, it was the Normans who created the first English Dukes. The French have invaded before.”
Amanda frowned. The man was mad.
Lord Hicks shrugged his shoulders. “It is well known, the French will invade eventually. When they do, they will find many of us very welcoming. Better to be ruled by a French Emperor than these dastardly Hanovers and their German relatives.”
Amanda’s stomach tightened up, the man was mad if he thought the British people would welcome a Frenchman as their new ruler.
“But what about Russia,” she asked as she twisted slightly to look up at him.
He frowned as he looked off into the distance. She used the opportunity to pull back just a little, not enough to alert him, but enough to where the knife was no longer resting against her throat.
“A diversion,” he said, but the look in his eyes told her that it was a true concern. The French would never invade both Russia and Britain. Not at the same time. Even they couldn’t be that foolish.
Still, he looked off at nothing and again she pulled back, putting her hands up next to her neck between his blade and her tender throat.
Please, she thought. Now Warwick. Now is your chance.
The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than the French doors behind them exploded in a shower of glass and wood.
Amanda reacted without thinking, rolling out of the chair to the ground. Away from the man with the knife as her heart slammed into her chest.
Warwick, her Warwick had crashed through the door and into Hicks carrying him to the floor. The two men wrestled as Hicks tried to bring the blade up, slashing at her love. Warwick fought to get his hands around the man’s throat. The two of them twisting and rolling across the floor.
He had come, just as she knew he would. Her heart soared while her mind frantically searched for some way to help.
Hicks slashed backwards with the blade, catching Warwick on the back of his arm. Immediately, his white shirt began to turn crimson. Her heart dropped as she realized Warwick could still lose this fight. Desperate, she searched for any weapon to help.
Then she saw it, the pistol on the floor. The one that Warwick had removed from his boot. Scrambling to her feet, she hurried across the room.
Hicks saw it at the exact same moment. His free arm reached out to grab it. No! If he got it first, Warwick would die.
Scampering down to her knees, she reached the weapon first and smiled at him as she brought it up and held the barrel against the man’s head. Right between his eyes. The same spot, Warwick had shot the other man.
The weapon was heavier than she anticipated, but her hand didn’t shake, A realization that pleased her to no end.
“Please,” she said, “Please give me an excuse to kill you.”
Lord Hicks looked up into her eyes. Warwick froze, obviously afraid to disturb her unless the weapon go off. She stared back at the man on the floor, holding his stare, letting him know she was perfectly capable of doing it.
Finally, he slumped in on himself as his arms dropped to the ground.
Warwick barked out a quick laugh as he reached down and pushed the blade away then turned the man over, pulling his hands behind his back.
Amanda watched as Lord Warwick secured the prisoner, then held out her own hands so that he could take the pistol from her and cut her own bindings.
Once her hands were free, she stepped back as her entire body began to shake.
She had come close to killing a man, she realized. So, close. The thought refused to go away. She would have done it, pulled the trigger. There was no doubt in her mind. It would have been the only way to ensure Warwick’s safety.
“You, Miss Waters,” Lord Warwick said with a wide smile, “Are most remarkable. Have I told you that lately.”
Her hands continued to shake until he pulled her into a tight embrace.
Yes, she thought. She was safe, he was safe. That was all that mattered as she sank into him. Yes, that was all that mattered.