Although Martin hated to give in to the obvious necessity, he had to admit Charlotte must be found. He knew most of the staff would be occupied with caring for Dylan, so it fell to him. Of course, Dylan would get the best care possible, but he still wanted to be there. However, he couldn’t—not until he took care of his duty to all three children. Emmaline and Donovan would not leave his side until their baby sister was safe, too.
If by some magic they had become his siblings, he could not feel more obligation, concern, and devotion to them. Little Charlotte was so sunny and bright, full of enthusiasm, questions, and delight in almost every new adventure. So different from the somber quiet of Emmaline and Donovan, yet she still had the quick mind, polite manner, and innate character of the two older ones.
He looked down at Emmaline. “Have you any notion where this woman might have gone with Lady Charlotte?”
She thought a moment and started to shake her head. Then suddenly, her face brightened. “I-I-I didn’t, but maybe I do. She wouldn’t think anyone would visit Mama’s old rooms. She knows them well. They’ve been shut up like the old wing ever since—well, since we came back from London after it all happened and Uncle Dylan came home. Follow me.”
She darted off at once, leaving Martin and Donovan to trot at her heels into more corridors and areas with which Martin was not familiar. The house seemed to have endless surprises. They rounded a corner and came to a door. There in a bit of dust on the floor, he saw a faint scuffing of the layer indicated someone had come that way recently.
As he paused in front of the door, Martin realized he still held Dylan’s pistol in his right hand. Even if it wasn’t loaded now, perhaps the Irish maid would not realize that. Emmaline reached for the doorknob. Martin shook his head. “No, let me. If she’s here, she may try to resist or escape from us.”
He stepped past the girl, grasped the knob, and turned it in a quick motion, shoving the door in as soon as the latch released. Like the master suite, the area held a sitting room and a bedroom beyond that. The first room seemed to be empty. The three of them stopped, listening with bated breath. At first, they heard nothing. Then a faint sound, a muted whimper or cry silenced abruptly and a hiss, like a shushing demand for quiet. Finally, an uncertain voice broke the quiet.
“Merlan, is that you? Have you hidden the girl or done for her? Is it safe now to come out?”
“Nay, it is not Merlan. Still, you’d do well to come out and bring the child with you.”
Martin pitched his voice as low and stern as he could. After a moment, a red-haired woman peeked around the edge of the bedroom door.
Then a childish voice cried out, “Mr. Martin! You came for me! I knew you would, you or Uncle Dylan. Where are Emmaline and Donovan?”
Almost immediately, Charlotte burst past the maid and ran straight to Martin’s arms. He managed not to drop the pistol as he caught the child in one arm. Then he raised the weapon to point at the maid as she whirled away, dashing for the window across the bedroom.
“I would advise you not to do that,” he warned. “It’s a long drop to the ground, and I’ve got this pistol aimed at you as well. One way or the other, you’ll be badly hurt.”
She skidded to a halt, pale yet still defiant. “Have you the balls to shoot a woman? I don’t think you do. You look like a pansy boy to me.”
“Mind your language in front of the children, wench. Your partner is dead or nearly so and the game is up. You’ll be facing the constable soon and then a judge for your crimes.”
She snorted and muttered, then halted as he instructed. “Well, then, how are you going to restrain me?”
Emmaline and Donovan darted to one side at the periphery of Martin’s vision. They snatched the decorative cords from the drape over a tall window and returned to him.
“We’ll tie her up,” Donovan declared. “Keep the pistol on her while we bind her arms. Though the witch deserves worse, that’ll do for now.”
Martin started to naysay them. He feared the woman would resist and if she did, he’d be unable to shoot, even if the pistol were charged and ready, for fear of hitting one of the children. However, the wind seemed to have gone out of the maid’s sails when the fact of Merlan’s possible death soaked in. Without her accomplice and probable lover, she realized she had no aid. She did not struggle as Emmaline and Donovan seized her by the arms and wrapped the velvet cord around, tying knot after knot until she was trussed up quite securely.
At that moment, he heard footsteps coming down the hall behind them. Surely there were no more involved in the conspiracy, so it must be some of the staff. How they’d been alerted, he had no idea. However, he would not look any gift horse in the mouth. Mrs. Morgan arrived with two of the footmen right behind her.
“Ah-ha, so at last we have you, light skirt wench that you are. Perhaps there is justice after all.” Pure triumph rang in the housekeeper’s voice.
The two footmen took hold of the maid on either side and hustled her off down the hallway.
Mrs. Morgan looked over the three children with great care. “You’re all unharmed then?”
They nodded together. From habit, Emmaline recited their tale. “Yes. Uncle Dylan and Martin found me in the stable, and Donovan was right behind them. M-M-Merlan was not able to capture him when I began to scream, and Angela made off with Charlotte while he was going to steal a horse and carry me off.”
“Praise the Lord. I hadn’t given too much credence to the reports of them sneaking around. I should have taken more note. Well, all’s well that ends well, I suppose. Come…we’re in need of some hot chocolate and sweet buns, aren’t we? To celebrate that this misadventure is nearing its resolution.”
As the housekeeper took charge of the children, who followed her eagerly with the promise of some delicious treats, Martin was released to go see how Dylan fared. He lost no time in doing exactly that. He reasoned the captain would have been carried to his rooms to await the doctor so he headed in that direction. Although Dylan had tried to put a good face on things, Martin worried about the wound. True, if his limited knowledge of anatomy sufficed, it was high enough to miss the lung. Still, bleeding and infection posed grave dangers. He could not bear to lose his new lover at this point! If he had any control or influence, that was not going to happen.
Much to Martin’s relief when he reached Dylan’s suite, the doctor was there. Dr. Lloyd was also young and clearly an advocate of the new methods of Pasteur and Lister. Martin passed maids scurrying in and out with basins of steaming water and he smelled the sharp scent of carbolic acid. He found the physician sterilizing the needle he’d use to stitch the wound and the other instruments with which he explored the spot, perhaps for bone fragments or other foreign debris. He also washed it thoroughly before he began the stitching.
Careful to stay out of the way, Martin still followed the process with keen and anxious attention. Although he’d had no intention to pursue a medical career, one of his friends and schoolmates had found that calling and shared many tidbits of relevant information. Ever avid to learn new things, Martin had absorbed much of it. From his admittedly limited knowledge, he felt sure Dr. Lloyd was providing the most excellent care available. If Dylan did not recover, it would not be from lack of a fine effort.
Finally, when the minor surgery was done and Dylan’s shoulder bandaged and a draught of laudanum administered to help him rest peacefully, Martin left long enough to be sure the children were all right. He decided to suspend lessons for the day and suggested they play quietly in the nursery area until they were able to see their uncle. He was torn, wanting to be both places at once, but he held to his responsibility for them, especially after the dawn’s reminders of their personal tragedy. At least, there was perhaps no longer a threat to their safety.
Upon inquiring of Mrs. Morgan, he learned Merlan had not died so far, and the village constable had taken him away. If he did survive, he would face many charges for his crimes, not the least of which would be the death of the former earl and his countess! Angela Mahan had also been taken off in handcuffs. The housekeeper could not conceal her glee when she stated that fact. It was clear she had never held the Irish maid in high regard. Martin then joined the children in their play area where they read stories and talked quietly until it was time for the midday meal.
* * * *
For two days, Dylan remained under the influence of the numbing medication. He ran a fever most of the time, despite the care taken to prevent infection. Although Dr. Lloyd assured them all that this was a normal reaction to such a trauma, Martin could not help worrying. Even while he kept a good face on matters to reassure the children their uncle was not going to die and leave them, he battled a secret worry such a new tragedy was not impossible. He took his turns sitting with the captain since someone was required to be with him constantly. Disheartening though it was to see his hero and love lying so still and pale, he felt duty bound to do his share.
Finally, on the third day, Dr. Lloyd suggested they cease the laudanum and, unless Dylan showed marked distress, that he be allowed to waken gradually and start to take his part in the healing process. The doctor left with assurances and said he would not be back for a couple of days unless his patient took a turn for the worse. Of course, he would rush back if a need arose.
Late that evening, Martin sat by Dylan’s bedside and watched as the injured man began to come out of his drug-induced haze. First, Dylan stretched a bit. He winced when that movement pulled the stitches. Otherwise he seemed to be waking in a normal manner. He murmured something vague and then his eyes opened. He gazed around, confusion clear in his expression.
“My God, what happened?” Then he drew a deep breath. “Oh yes, another wound. I’ve been through this before. This is not an army hospital behind battle lines, though. It looks very familiar and much more luxurious.”
He turned to Martin, recognition and recall dawning in his face. “And you are here, which you would not be were this a field medical facility.” He paused, clearly absorbing the rushing tide of more recent memories. “Are the children all right?”
“Yes, they’re all fine. They’ve been anxious and worried about you, as have I, but it seems Dr. Lloyd was correct—your overall health and stamina has seen you through this very well.”
Dylan lay silent for a few breaths. “Yes, it’s certainly not my first wound. Even as a youth I was prone to accidents. What of my degenerate sibling? Did he perish or has he been taken into custody?”
“Last I heard he has survived my clumsy efforts to shoot him. He’s under guard in the village until he recovers enough to be transported to gaol. His accomplice, the former maid, is already incarcerated. Neither of them is likely to be a threat again.”
Dylan smiled. “And I have you to thank for a major part of that. You were as brave and stalwart as any soldier with whom I ever served. I cannot thank you enough. Soon I will be well enough to do so properly, too.”
The heated promise in his eyes stirred an answering heat that flashed through Martin’s body. “Although no thanks are necessary, I look forward to that day with unseemly eagerness.”
Shaking his head, Dylan laughed. “Nothing unseemly about that at all, my dearest lad. I think we’ve found something precious and wonderful. Sharing that in the most direct and elemental way can hardly be improper.” He winked then. “Come and give me a kiss. I need to refresh my memory of the delights of our liaison.”
Martin bent down, intending only to bestow a tender and chaste peck. He soon realized Dylan was having none of that. With his good arm, he reached up, wrapping his right hand behind Martin’s neck and bearing down, nearly crushing their faces together. His strength took Martin by surprise.
“Stop. No! You’re going to hurt yourself. We nearly lost you or it seemed so. You must slow down and be careful.”
Dylan chuckled. “I’ve survived worse and lived to fight another day. I’m here and will be back to normal soon. I’m starved for food, for life, for us.”
Still, Martin tried to pull back. “Patience! There’ll be tomorrow, thanks be to all the gods. Let me see about getting you something to eat, even if it’s late.”
“No, that can wait. Just come and lie down beside me here for a little while. I need to feel you close to me, even if you’ll not consent to anything more intimate.”
Martin hesitated until the earnest plea in both Dylan’s tone and his gaze won him over. “Oh, all right. I guess that can’t cause any harm. If I hear anyone coming, though, I’m back in my chair in a trice.”
He climbed carefully onto the bed and stretched out at Dylan’s side, atop the counterpane. “There, are you happy now?”
Dylan grunted. “As much as I can be with such a strict nurse,” he grumbled. “How long was I unconscious?”
“Only three days. Dr. Lloyd insisted you remain sedated for the first two to allow the healing to proceed and dampen your pain. You were feverish most of the time, until this morning. He said then you could begin to waken naturally.”
“Much too long, but I’ll be up and about tomorrow.” When he sighed, Martin sensed Dylan still felt some weakness and perhaps pain. Both distressed him. He knew the other man well enough now to realize he hated to admit to any lack or inability. Reaching slowly, he laid his right arm across Dylan’s body.
“Don’t fret over it. This will pass quickly and the worst danger is over. You’ll have time to enjoy the children and get better acquainted with them. They’re delightful, truly, all three of them. Now that the tragedy is behind them and the shadows put to rest…”
“And to enjoy us. I would like to get to know you better, too. You’ve intrigued me from the start, and I envision a very long and pleasant friendship, sharing many adventures and delights.”
Martin nodded. “Yes. You’ve intrigued me as well. I must ask one question, though, that has troubled me from the first. The night I arrived and a mysterious rider snatched me from the coach and brought me here…was that you in a secret identity you assumed?”
This time Dylan’s chuckle sounded a bit wry. “Aye, I must admit it was. I found myself with energy and time to burn when I returned. I missed the action and danger of the military life. I was also determined to get to the bottom of the events of my brother’s death and that of his wife. I suspected Merlan was involved. I wasn’t sure how, so I roamed about in disguise quite often and managed a few small deeds to win the trust of some of the folk around. Morgan knew and, of course, his wife, but no one else. I prevailed upon them to keep my secret.”
Martin exhaled. “I was quite taken with the mysterious dark rider. I’d have gone almost anywhere with him, obeyed his least command. Such a dashing and picturesque figure…”
“Well, perhaps we can both ride in the dark at times then and spend some private hours in huts like the one you stumbled into from your hike while the children were away. Some of them do have a cot or even a loft bed, you know.”
The images Dylan’s words stirred in Martin’s mind created a delicious shiver of heat and arousal. His imagination took flight as he pictured a dozen scenarios of the two of them together in such private and rustic settings. Ah yes, although dark and stormy might haunt them no more, as a game if not for real, they could still don such disguises for whatever purposes they might choose.
The next thing he knew, dawn was peeking in around the edges of the heavy drapes. He could hear the household beginning to stir. For a moment, panic set in. He must not be found in Dylan’s bed, even if they were quite properly separated by the bedcovers as if bundled like some courting couples were said to do to preserve chastity.
He fought free of Dylan’s hold and had just leaped off the bed when a soft knock sounded. “Come,” he muttered in a strangled voice. He made a production of rubbing his eyes and seeming to just be waking.
Dylan awoke at about the same time.
“You’re back with us,” the housekeeper cried. “Prayers are answered. What would ye be wanting, Yer Honor?”
“A huge cup of Earl Gray and some of your delicious scones would be a great start. After that, send Jack in with my shaving gear, and I’ll see if we can make me presentable. I feel like I’ve been on a ten-day dry march.”
Mrs. Morgan slid a glance at Martin and gave him a small smile. “Ye should’ve let us know he was waking up last night, Mr. Martin,” she said. “And the children will want to come up as soon as ye be ready,” she continued, turning back toward Dylan.
“Send them up as soon as they’ve had breakfast. I know they’ll want to see with their own eyes that I’m still here.”
Martin stood and started for the door, glancing back to see Dylan lever himself up to lean against his pillows. “I’ll be back when the young ones come,” he said, by way of explanation. “I need to tidy up and make myself presentable as well.” He looked at the housekeeper as he passed her. “I fear I fell asleep on the job. I didn’t really know myself until just now. I’m sorry.”
With a final look back, he saw Dylan’s gaze held a sly knowing and a trace of tenderness. “Yes, that would all be well done. You can tell them that today we will do nothing the five of us do not want to do and will not enjoy. Plan on it. No lessons, no tasks at all.”
And that is exactly how it went, right up until the quiet hour near midnight when Martin slipped up the back stairs after everyone else had gone to bed. It had taken a good deal of persuasion before Dylan had finally convinced him that they could enjoy some gentle erotic activity not risky for Dylan’s wound. Martin found he was more than ready. He had no doubt Dylan could show and teach him things he had not even dreamed were possible.
Perhaps the tutor could use some further tutoring, too.
THE END