Chapter Fifteen
Alban woke to throbbing pain in his shoulder and something wet and warm stroking the pain. He opened his eyes to see fading daylight at the high window of a bare-stone building full of straw. He could smell horses, hear the faint sounds of their snuffling and their shifting hooves.
He was in the stables at Roseley. And a dog was licking determinedly at the bloody wound in his shoulder. One of Radnor’s men had shot him.
Alban sat up so suddenly his head reeled and the dog backed off in alarm. His left shoulder protested painfully, but he swore because there was no pistol in his pocket. Radnor or his men had taken it.
Hesitantly, but inexorably, the dog came closer once more. Alban fended him off with one hand, stroking the dog’s ears while he investigated the wound. Thanks to the dog’s ministrations, his shirt wasn’t sticking to the wound, which looked clean.
“As I hope you are,” he muttered to the dog. Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he folded it into a pad, then shrugged out of his coat and ripped the sleeve off his shirt to bind the pad to the wound. Using his teeth, it wasn’t too difficult, although he could have done with Dr. Gowan’s expertise.
Judging by the messy straw, he’d lost a fair bit of blood, although not, he thought, dangerous amounts. Unless he’d bled somewhere else, too. He certainly felt dizzy as he dragged himself to his feet, past several stalls to the stable door which, inevitably, was locked.
Alban didn’t doubt his ability to batter his way out of the door eventually. It was relatively flimsy and the hinges were partially rusted. If it came to it, he could probably rile one of the horses to kick it in for him. Although that would inevitably involve a lot of noise which would no doubt summon his captors and might damage himself and the horse more than the door. However, his brain was largely preoccupied for the moment with the question of why he was still alive.
Radnor needed him dead. And he was already shot. Why had they locked him up in here instead of killing him outright and burying him somewhere no one would ever find the body?
He frowned with the effort of remembrance. What had happened when he was shot?
He’d lain flat on his back, excruciating pain shooting through his shoulder, chest, and arm. The blood had whined and then roared in his ears and he couldn’t move. He’d drifted in and out of awareness, listening to voices that hadn’t made a lot of sense at the time, and then he’d been moving, bumping in the rough grip of two or three men complaining about his weight.
“Can’t we just kill him?” one voice had said.
And then a voice he knew better, sniggering with vicious triumph. Jenkins. “No, the magistrates will do that for us. He’ll be hanged for the brats’ murders.”
Of course. That was why he needed to get out, to make sure Leo and Florrie were safe. To take Bella away and marry her. And at some point, he really needed to kill Radnor. Even if it ruined his chances of inheriting the Scottish lands, it would be worth it. Bella would live with him on board and they could make their home anywhere they chose.
Marianne and the children would be better off without Radnor. Although God knew whom she would choose for her third husband if he wasn’t there to keep his eye on things…
Stupid brain. Concentrate on the now.
Now was the dog’s head under his hand, vibrating slightly as it growled deep in its throat. A warning growl. Was Radnor or one of his men coming? Jesus, had they found the children? Had they killed them already?
Either way, he could do nothing from in here. He had to risk attracting attention.
With a deep breath, he raised his boot high and kicked the door with all his might.
It gave a satisfying thunk and the wood creaked in protest. Unfortunately, he lost his balance and fell over onto his wounded shoulder which shrieked in agony. But Alban had learned never to give into pain in a crisis. He moved through it, staggered back to his feet and kicked the door again.
This time, he managed to stay upright, although he lurched like a drunk. Through his panting and the sounds of his own clumsiness, he heard a voice, her voice, speaking his name.
“Alban,” it whispered. “Alban.”
He’d lost more blood that he’d thought. He must have been lightheaded. Shaking his fuzzy head to clear it, he aimed his boot at the door once more, just as all hell broke loose in the yard beyond.
*
Bella, Dr. Gowan, and two of the sailors who could ride, left the road and the carriage behind to bolt across the open country toward Roseley. As she rode, mostly in silence, Bella’s mind drifted here and there, always coming back to Alban. Making sure that he was safe, recuing him from any trouble had become the most important thing in her life. Providing he was alive and well, she didn’t care for anything else. Not even whether or not her father was right to accuse him of seeking revenge in her hurt and downfall. That wasn’t the Alban she knew, and she did know him. She needed him to be safe. If he was, she could face anything, any pain.
“This way,” she called, urging the horses through the woodland path that led to Roseley House. Dr. Gowan and the others followed her.
The doctor pulled alongside her as the path widened. “We shouldn’t go charging in there. We need to find him first.”
Since his words made sense, she slowed her mount. “We can tie the horses just at the edge of the wood and creep up to the house. There weren’t many people around the last time we were here. Though there might be more now that Mr. Radnor is home.”
“Exactly,” the doctor said. Holding the horse with his knees, he appeared to be loading a wicked looking pistol.
“How long do you think it will take the others to get here?” Bella asked worriedly.
“Long enough for us to reconnoiter and, hopefully, be able to direct them if necessary. With luck, we’ll find the captain before they even get here.”
Although the light was fading, it was easy enough to find a place to tie the horses. Dr. Gowan directed the men to approach the house from either side while he and Bella approached the back. He seemed to forget very quickly that Bella was there, because as she walked beside him toward the back of the house, he glanced at her, blinking in apparent surprise.
“If I give the word, you must run back to the wood,” he said urgently. “Stay there and wait for us. The captain will kill me if anything happens to you, and I can’t say I blame him. I should have left you with the horses.”
“I wouldn’t have stayed,” Bella said.
“No, I don’t suppose you would.” A smile flickered across his face. “You’re good for the captain.”
And she flushed with pleasure. More than anything she’d ever wished for in her life, she wanted to be good for the captain.
The house seemed as quiet as on her last visit, except that a few of the ground floor and first floor windows showed the glow of candle light.
“Money to burn,” Dr. Gowan commented, since it was not yet truly dark enough to light candles. “But then, from all I hear, it isn’t his money. What’s in the outhouses?”
“I’m not sure.” She veered toward the nearest one. “Stables, I think. A coach house.”
Something thudded hard against the nearest door, making her jump out of her skin.
Someone was in there, trying to get out. “Alban,” she whispered.
Without so much as a glance at the doctor, who couldn’t have failed to hear the same crash she did, she ran. The door buckled outward again just as she arrived. Through the heavy breathing on the other side, she could hear the low growl of a dog.
She touched her hand to the door. “Alban,” she said urgently. “Alban.”
Nothing came back to her. She must have been wrong. Wishful thinking… Then who on earth was in there? Was it just the dog hurling itself at the door?
She pulled back one of the bolts.
“Miss,” Dr. Gowan warned. He was aiming his pistol toward the house from which three men came running. “Halt! Stand still!” the doctor yelled, but it was too late.
Somebody’s pistol went off, deafening her, and then the three men were upon them. Dr. Gowan went down under two of them, while a third grabbed at her arm. She stepped back, lashing out instinctively. By sheer luck, her fist connected with his chin and he stumbled, more from surprise than hurt.
“Why, you…” he muttered, lunging at her with considerably more power and purpose.
At the same time, the stable door finally crashed open and a dog leapt out snarling. Close on its heels was Alban, his eyes and hair wild, his torn shirt covered in blood. She let out an involuntary cry of distress, and his turbulent eyes flew to her. With a roar, he charged her captor and the two men catapulted past her and fell to the ground. She heard the smack of fist on bone twice and then Alban alone rose to his feet and turned to face her, breathing like a bellows.
Her heart twisted with the most intense joy and fear she had ever known. She couldn’t speak. He was alive. Thank God, he was alive, but he was hurt and bleeding.
There was no time for talk. Other men rushed across from the house, including the large, hulking figure of Jenkins. Alban’s two men came charging in from the sides, but it still left them outnumbered.
Alban let out a groan. “Dog,” he said, grabbing the animal who’d preceded him out of the stables and pushing it against Bella’s legs. “Guard!” And then he staggered forward, kicking one of the doctor’s attackers off him and allowing Gowan to take care of the other.
But it was an uneven fight and one Bella saw they could not win. The dog at her feet seemed unsure why he was guarding her and growled at her. She barely noticed, merely dropped her hand to his head and he quietened.
Another gunshot rent the air, and Bella’s fingers curled into the dog’s fur. A gentleman strolled through the melee, his pistol pointing to the sky.
“Enough!” he commanded into the abrupt pause. “Surrender and I’ll merely turn you over to the magistrate for trespass.”
Julian Radnor, Bella thought. The children’s stepfather…
“And if we don’t?” one of Alban’s men demanded.
The gentleman passed the spent pistol to the man beside him and took another from his pocket which he aimed straight at the tall figure of Alban. “Or I’ll shoot you all, starting with him.”
Instinct propelled Bella forward, the dog moving close beside her. Something rumbled in her ears, no doubt sheer terror, and it was getting louder. But it seemed Alban’s men had the same idea as she did. Dr. Gowan, who was nearest, stepped deliberately in front of his captain.
“No, you’ll start with me,” he snarled, not in the least like the quiet, kindly doctor who’d examined her on The Albatross.
Radnor, who could have had no idea who the doctor was but must have heard his gentlemanly accents, wavered, then walked two paces aside to aim around the doctor. Another of Alban’s men blocked him.
But Alban wasn’t having that. He strode forward, torn and bloody and pushed between his protectors to face Radnor.
“What in the fiend’s name—” began one of Radnor’s men and then the growing rumble, which wasn’t just in Bella’s head after all, burst into the yard.
With a scream of horses, the hired coach swung dangerously around the side of the house, heading straight for the melee. Men hung off the roof and out of both doors, yelling and rattling sabers, brandishing fists and pistols. They must truly have been a terrifying sight to Radnor and his men, but Bella was so pleased to see them that she felt more pride than fear.
Before the horses even pulled up, men were leaping out of the doors and dropping off the roof, then rushing to face the enemy. Driving the horses, Cairney drew them to a snorting, whinnying halt, then leapt down to join the fray.
It wasn’t much of a fight. Faced with such an alarming coach full of piratical sailors, armed to the teeth—had they really come ashore with all those weapons?—Radnor’s men quickly discovered the better part of valor and surrendered.
Radnor himself took several, discreet paces backward. He was going to run and leave his men to face whatever Alban intended for them. Except, he stepped back onto Cairney’s waiting toes.
Cairney seized his collar. “Going somewhere?” Cairney said into the sudden silence.
Alban, swaying slightly, said, “How the devil did you men get here?”
“Miss Bella brought us,” Cairney said. “Just as well by the look of things.”
Alban turned to where she still stood as though rooted to the spot, possibly because the dog was sitting on one of her feet.
“Oh dear.” He began to walk toward her with deliberation, a hundred different expressions flitting through his turbulent eyes. “Now you really are in trouble.”
Her throat went dry. Torn, wild, and bloody, he’d never looked so disreputable, or so downright dangerous. Everything in her strained toward him with a longing so powerful she couldn’t speak.
It didn’t matter. He came to a halt only inches from her and without pause, took her in his arms. One hand plucked off her spectacles and there, before everyone, he kissed her soundly.
He smelled of blood and sweat. His lips were hard, demanding, and sensual, shocking her. But she had never wanted anything as much as to be his, and this, surely, was his declaration. She let out a sob and flung up one arm around his neck to draw him closer, while the men’s cheers echoed all around her.
“Now you’re like me,” he whispered against her lips. “Lost to all propriety.”
Laughter gurgled up inside her, and with it came reality and anxiety. “At least I’m not bleeding. What happened?”
His whole body was trembling, as if he’d finally relaxed and given in to the pain. Wildly, she looked around for the doctor, but he was already there. So was Cairney.
Alban said, “Lock them all up in the house somewhere. Keep Radnor away from the others. And watch Jenkins, he’s mean…”
“Aye, sir,” Cairney said, and ran off.
Alban’s gaze, full of a desperation she’d never seen before, came back to her. “We need to find the children.”
“The children are safe in Blackhaven,” she said in a rush. “Molly brought them to me.”
His eyes closed and he swayed against her for an instant before he righted himself with the doctor’s aid and began to walk toward the house. “I’m going with Gowan now.”
“So am I,” Bella said.
Alban frowned. “No.”
“Yes,” Bella said, and met his gaze. She held it, though it wasn’t easy.
His frown twitched as though she had utterly baffled him. He seemed to have nothing more to say on the matter.
*
As it turned out, there wasn’t much for Bella to do, except instruct the kitchen staff—who must have arrived with Radnor—to bring boiled water. She then passed Dr. Gowan the instruments, cloths, and bottles as he asked for them.
Alban lay still on the dining room table, impassive through all the doctor’s surely agonizing ministrations. But his eyes followed Bella wherever she went, as though her face was a beacon in whatever hell of darkness he was going through.
“There,” the doctor said, eventually standing back to admire the neatly tied bandage and the sling he’d made to support Alban’s left arm. “The ball is out and the bone and muscle should heal nicely if you keep the arm still. Though your mess of a shirt is not the best setting for my work.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Alban said with unexpected strength. “The savage and bloody look has been known to obtain results.” He made to sit and Bella immediately thrust out her hand to stop him. But Dr. Gowan merely took him by the elbow and eased him up until he sat on the table with his legs dangling over the side. Reaching out, he tapped one of the doctor’s bottles.
“No,” the doctor said. “I’ve numbed the wound as best I can. And I’ve already given you laudanum.”
Alban tapped the bottle again. “I know. That’s why I need help to stay awake. I need to sort this out before I can sleep.”
“The morning will do,” the doctor protested. “It’s already dark.”
Alban swept up the bottle, and the doctor snatched it back, grumbling as he uncorked it and measured out a dose which Alban knocked down his throat without a grimace.
He slid his feet onto the floor and stood for a moment as though testing his balance. “Good,” he said. “Let’s go and threaten Radnor.”
Mr. Radnor was discovered in an ornate drawing room of fine proportions. He sat, apparently at his ease in the armchair beside the fireplace, while several of Alban’s men lounged nearby, one picking his teeth with the point of a cutlass, another turning a pistol over and over on the table in front of him.
They all straightened as Bella, Alban, and the doctor walked in.
Alban looked around the décor. One eyebrow twitched, and it struck Bella that despite riding over here several times in the last week or so, he hadn’t been in this room since his enforced exile twelve years ago. Wouldn’t the rest of the house have drawn his curiosity if not nostalgic affection? No, for he hadn’t meant to stay. He still didn’t. This wasn’t his home anymore.
“Do you like what we’ve done with the drawing room?” Radnor drawled. “Such an improvement from the drab, plain look I found when I first came here. Don’t you agree?”
“No, it’s vulgar,” Alban replied without apparent interest. “My little niece and nephew are afraid of you.”
“They are too timid,” Radnor said with contempt.
“You ordered your man to beat them.”
“They are insolent. They need discipline.”
“For their timidity?” Alban inquired. “Or their insolence? Or just because they are my brother’s children?”
Radnor flushed and made to rise.
“Sit!” Alban snapped.
Radnor fell back into his chair, an appalled, frightened expression on his face that he couldn’t hide.
“Know this,” Alban said softly. “Marianne may do as she likes with you, but you will never be in the company of her children again. I am their legal guardian and I am in control of their inheritance.”
“You can’t do that!” Radnor panted. “You are a wanted man! You should be hanged!”
“You should research your facts,” Alban said carelessly. “Admittedly, so should I rather earlier than I did. But I am wanted for no crimes in England or in Scotland.”
“You committed crimes here today!” Radnor all but screamed.
Alban glanced at his shoulder. “I’m the one who was shot. You’re the one whose men are falling over themselves to accuse.”
In the silence, Bella became aware of a rising confusion from the hallway.
“I don’t care who you are!” a woman’s frightened voice warbled. “Get out of my house!”
The door flew open and a lady all but fell inside, clutching two familiar children to her sides. Of course. This must be their mother, the elusive Marianne, once Lady Roseley, now Mrs. Radnor.
The lady stopped dead at the sight before her, but the children broke free of her with delight.
“Captain!” Leo yelled. “Lady Bella!”
Both children hurled themselves across the room at Alban and Bella. Smiling, Bella knelt down to catch Florrie, while Alban flung his arm lightly around Leo and ruffled his hair. The lady gave a little moan of horror, starting toward them, already beginning to call them back when her fearful gaze fixed on Alban, and she again came to a halt.
Her eyes widened. The blood drained from her face and her hand reached uselessly for something to steady her balance.
“Alban?” she whispered.
“I’m afraid so,” he replied.
With a laugh that might have been a sob, she threw herself forward, much as the children had done. Alban had to release Leo to catch her in his good arm. His eyes closed briefly, and Bella’s throat went suddenly dry.
Appalled, she recognized the emotion as jealousy.
“You’re their captain? They never said,” Mrs. Radnor cried incoherently. “They never said!”
“To be fair, they probably didn’t know.”
“I should have known!”
She drew back, sniffling, and beyond him, finally, her gaze found her husband rising to his feet, this time without Alban’s objection.
Alban hardened his voice. “There are a few things we need to discuss.”
“More than a few,” Mrs. Radnor said grimly.
Leo slid away from Alban to Bella’s other side. She grasped both the children’s hands. “Mrs. Radnor, would you like to take the children upstairs to the nursery?”
Mrs. Radnor’s frowned at her. “Who are you?”
“We seem to have forgotten the niceties of introductions,” Alban observed. “Bella, my sister-in-law, Mrs. Radnor. Marianne, this is Lady Arabella Niven.” A tinge of color entered his unusually pale cheeks. “My betrothed.”
Warmth drowned Bella’s foolish jealousy.
“You may trust her implicitly with the children,” Alban added. “It was she who looked after them when they ran away from your husband.”
It was Marianne’s turn to flush. Mortified, she dropped a curtsey, which Bella returned.
“Forgive me,” Marianne said. “Know you have my gratitude, and I hope we may talk later.”
Bella inclined her head and led the children from the room. No one wanted them to hear or see what might happen next.