Alex was waiting for a clear shot. He inched forward, crawling on elbows and knees, cursing the abundant undergrowth. It was useful to disguise his own position, but the sheer density of it made it impossible to get a clean line of sight to Danton. The Frenchman had chosen a good place for his rendezvous.
He caught a glimpse of Seb moving around to the rear of Danton’s position, and was reminded of all the times they’d done similar maneuvers during the war, belly-down in the dirt, hiding in the bushes with their rifles. It was good to have Seb at his side.
He squinted through the trees and tried to locate Emmy. That velvet dress of hers was fetching, but it made her bloody hard to see. She almost disappeared into the shadowy foliage. All he could make out were her pale hands and her equally pale face. She looked frightened but determined; her freckles stood out starkly against her cheeks.
He watched her put the box on the ground and say something to Danton. The Frenchman ducked out of sight and Alex cursed silently. He glanced over at Seb, who shook his head in a silent message to indicate that he didn’t have a clear view, either.
Alex inched to the right, trying to line Danton up with the V-shaped notch on the end of the Baker’s barrel. Another tree blocked his aim. Bloody hell. He’d only graze the Frenchman’s arm if he fired now.
Danton picked up the box of jewels. Alex held his breath, waiting for the bastard to step into his line of sight. He wasn’t about to kill the man, but he could certainly incapacitate the bastard. He tightened his finger on the trigger.
Danton was almost in range when he drew a pistol from his coat and Alex’s blood ran cold.
He leapt to his feet with a savage cry and fired. His bullet went wide, but Danton, as he’d hoped, whirled around and fired the pistol wildly in his direction, instead of at Emmy. The ball whistled past his head and embedded itself in a tree to his right with a dull thud.
The scent of spent gunpowder took him right back to the Peninsular and he started to reload his rifle without conscious thought. He’d already placed the butt on the ground and was reaching back for a paper twist of gunpowder when he remembered he had his dueling pistol in his belt. He threw down the rifle, pulled out the smaller gun, and started sprinting through the trees toward Danton.
Brutus had been thrown into a frenzy by the gunfire. He was barking wildly, twisting and straining on his leash. With an athletic lunge, he broke free of the branch and leapt toward Emmy. She shrieked in alarm, but he surged past her and headed straight for Danton, his teeth bared in fury.
Danton threw his spent pistol at the dog and turned to run just as Alex fired. The ball caught the Frenchman midthigh, and with a high-pitched scream he went sprawling to the ground. The tin fell from his arms and burst open, spewing jewels onto the muddy ground. Brutus was on him a second later, barking fiercely, his front legs splayed wide to corner him and guard Emmy.
Danton rolled over with a howl of fury. Alex grabbed hold of Brutus’s flailing leash and tugged the dog back toward Emmy, who was standing frozen as if in shock. He thrust the leash into her hand.
“Here. Hold him.”
She grasped it automatically, still watching Danton’s writhing efforts to crawl away on his hands and knees.
A blinding fury seized Alex. He strode over, grasped Danton by the collar, and dealt him a punishing blow across the jaw. Panting through his teeth, he punched him again and again.
He didn’t fight like a gentleman. The bastard had tried to shoot Emmy. He deserved no such courtesy.
Seb grabbed his shoulders and tried to pry him away, but Alex shrugged him off. He hauled Danton to his feet, ignoring his screams for mercy, and punched him in the kidneys. His flabby stomach absorbed most of the blow.
The Frenchman doubled over with an agonized exhalation, gasping for breath. When Alex let him go, he dropped to the ground and lay curled around himself, his hands grasping his middle. Alex gave his injured thigh a contemptuous kick for good measure.
“Easy, Alex. Enough!” Seb’s urgent words pierced his red haze of anger. “We need him alive to hang, dammit!”
Alex shook out his fists. His knuckles stung. He looked down at the whimpering, cowering heap below him with disdain. Threaten Emmy, would he? Bastard.
Seb stepped in front of him and ushered him a few steps away.
“Can’t we just shoot him here?” Alex growled.
“You’ve already done that.”
“Only in the leg. It’s just a flesh wound. Let me try again. Somewhere really painful this time. The knee? The hand?”
“No! Conant wants him alive to stand trial. Leave it to the authorities. Let them decide what they want to do with the traitorous bastard.”
Alex scowled at his friend.
“Nobody’s shooting anyone,” Seb repeated firmly. “Unless Emmy decides to shoot you, of course. That I’d pay to see.”
“Some friend you are. You’d probably hand her the gun.” Alex glanced around the clearing as a wave of belated shame swamped him. Oh, God, she’d seen him beating Danton to a pulp. She must be disgusted. Horrified at his barbarity. “Where is she?”
There was no sign of her or the dog.
Seb shrugged. “Probably gone to release her brother.”
Danton had lost consciousness. Alex rolled him over and searched his pockets, but they were empty. “We need that sapphire to tie him to the Italian’s murder.”
Seb nodded. “I’ll take him back to the coach. You find Emmy, her brother, and the gem.” He grabbed hold of Danton’s ankles and began to drag the unconscious man down the lane.
Alex scooped the jewels from where they’d fallen in the mud and replaced them in the tin. “Take these too.” He balanced the box on Danton’s stomach so Seb could use him as a human sled. “Don’t feel the need to be gentle with the bastard.”
Alex headed through the trees in the direction of the Thames. An excited bark helped him pinpoint a small, sleek vessel secured to a wooden jetty. Brutus was tied to a piling. Emmy and her brother appeared, both ducking to avoid the craft’s low doorway and then climbing back onto the dock.
Alex strode forward and held out his hand. “Still in one piece, Danvers? None the worse for your adventure?”
Luc Danvers returned the handshake with a smile. The man had a black eye and some ugly swelling on his eyebrow, but otherwise appeared unhurt.
“That’s quite the shiner you have there,” Alex said.
Luc grimaced. “Looks like I’ve gone six rounds with Gentleman Jackson, doesn’t it? Danton kicked my good foot from under me and I fell.” He shrugged. “Still, I’ve had worse.” He glanced down meaningfully at his prosthetic leg.
Alex sent him a respectful nod. They were both men who understood the subtle gradations of pain. “I need the sapphire he took from the Italian.”
Luc nodded toward the boat’s cabin. “He showed it to me. It’s in there. In the tea caddy.”
Alex inclined his head in thanks and stepped aboard. Emmy’s voice floated after him as he stooped into the untidy living quarters.
“Oh, Luc! I’m so glad to see you. You’re not hurt anywhere else?”
“I’m fine. In fact, I probably should be thanking Danton for kidnapping me.”
“Thanking him?” Emmys voice was incredulous. “What do you mean?”
“I haven’t been on a boat since Trafalgar. I thought I’d never want to set foot on one again, to tell you the truth. But this whole adventure has reminded me just how much I love being on the water.”
“What?”
Emmys voice was strangled, and Alex suppressed a smile. He could just imagine her horrified expression.
Luc’s voice came again. “After what happened, I thought being on a boat would give me nightmares. But it’s quite the opposite. My disability doesn’t matter when I’m on deck. I can sway around as much as I want.”
Alex listened for what would undoubtedly be Emmy’s scathing response, but her answer was too quiet for him to hear. Or maybe her brother had finally rendered her speechless.
He’d like to know how to do that, himself. The only way he’d ever managed it was by kissing her. Come to think of it, he preferred his way. He couldn’t wait to silence her again.
Luc let out a satisfied sigh. “Ahh, yes. The wind in my hair, the seagulls calling, the spray on my face. I’m going to get a boat, Em. I’ll moor her at Southampton and take you and Sally on pleasure jaunts up the coast. Or over to France, if you like. I bet Camille would like to visit the old homeland.”
Alex spied a metallic silver tea caddy on a shelf. He pulled off the lid, upended it, and a blue stone the size of a walnut slid out onto his palm. The Ruspoli sapphire—evidence to link Danton to murder. Satisfied, he pocketed it and started for the door.
“Hoi, Harland,” Luc called out from the dock. “What do you suppose is going to happen to this ship, now Danton’s in custody? Will Bow Street confiscate it? I’ll give you a fair price for her, if so.”
Alex exited the cabin and clambered back onto the jetty. Luc was alone. “Where’s your sister?”
“Oh, she went back to the carriage with the dog.”
Alex started toward the trees. Luc limped alongside him. Out of politeness, Alex slowed down and shortened his stride so the other man could keep up, even though he was desperate to see Emmy again. He had to speak to her. Had she left because she couldn’t stand the sight of him after the way he’d beaten Danton? The blackmailing sod had deserved every punch, but he shouldn’t have lost control like that in front of her. Thief she might be, but she was still a lady.
The dark bulk of the carriage finally came into view, with Seb and Dan the coachman standing at the horse’s heads, deep in conversation.
Alex tilted his chin at the vehicle. “Danton’s in there?”
Seb nodded. “Making the acquaintance of a pair of Bow Street’s finest shackles.”
“Where’s Emmy?”
Seb frowned. “I thought she was with you?”
Alex glared at Luc. “Where is she?”
Luc shrugged. “How should I know? Maybe she needed a moment of privacy? She’s had a few trying days, by the sound of it.”
A rustle in the undergrowth had all four of them turning toward the sound, but it was only Brutus. He came bounding between the trees, his leash dragging on the ground behind him. Alex narrowed his eyes as a sudden wave of suspicion crashed over him. “Where are the jewels?”
Seb opened the door of the carriage. “In here. With Danton.” He slid the black metal tin across the floor—and cursed. “What the devil—? It’s too light.”
He lifted the lid. All four men leaned forward to look, but Alex already knew what he would see.
A single black feather.
He stared down at it in disbelief. How in the name of all that was holy had she—? Fury such as he’d never known pulsed in his blood. He snapped a murderous gaze to Luc, who tried and failed to look innocent. “Where’s your bloody sister, Danvers?”
Seb started laughing like a madman. “My God, I love this girl! She’s marvelous. I hope you do marry her, Alex, because if you don’t, I will. What a sneaky little—”
“Marry her?” It was Luc’s turn to scowl. “Who said anything about marrying her?”
Alex stopped listening. She couldn’t get far on foot. She knew that. He’d track her down and— Another dreadful thought occurred to him. He started running down the lane toward the clearing where he and Seb had left their mounts. She wouldn’t—
She would.
Seb’s horse was happily chomping the foliage, but a patch of trampled grass was the only indication that Bey had ever been there.
Alex raised his fists to heaven and counted to ten, then exhaled slowly, but he could still feel a muscle ticking in his jaw and the blood pounding in his temples.
The thieving little baggage! She’d stolen his horse, and all of the jewels. The only one she didn’t have was the sapphire in his pocket.
Bloody woman!
He stalked back to the others.
Did she think she could hide from him forever? He’d chase her down. And not because of the jewels—he truly didn’t care who had the bloody things anymore—but because he simply couldn’t imagine life without her. She was a brilliant, conniving, sneaky little weasel. And he was fatally in love with her.
Alex kicked a stone with the toe of his boot. Seb was right. Marrying her to protect her was just an excuse. He wanted the daily battles marriage to her would provide. The teasing and the banter and the irritation. He wanted her, body and soul.
He’d do whatever it took to get her back. He’d find her and make her marry him, dammit. If nothing else, she should accept him out of sheer gratitude for sparing her from imprisonment. For getting Danton off her back.
He kicked the stone again, harder, sending it skittering into a tree stump. No. That wasn’t true. He wanted her to accept him because she returned his feelings. Because she loved him, too.
Did she? He thought she might. She’d given herself to him, hadn’t she? She desired him physically. But could that make up for the resentment she bore him for catching her? Was it completely idiotic to imagine they could ever make a life together?
Where the hell had she gone?