Chapter Seven

They rode by a line of red brick houses that backed onto the river. The homes looked so normal, so middle-class.

“Mine’s the last one.” Annabel pointed to a black front door with a polished brass knocker at the east end of the row. Delicate lace curtains hung at the windows. Before Peters took it over it had been a home. James suspected it now operated as the fortified base for a network of thieves.

Nicholas stopped the carriage two hundred yards from the house giving James a clear view of the guards. A man with grey hair sat on the front steps reading a newspaper. He seemed casual, relaxed. A thick walking stick by his side was undoubtedly a weapon, and a slight bulge under his jacket probably a pistol. Two other thugs stood at the bottom of the steps, one with a black cap, and another in a dark red waistcoat. They were laughing and joking, like old friends who’d bumped into each other on the street.

Annabel started to climb out of the carriage, but James grabbed her hand, and tugged her back.

“The only reason I’m allowing you to come along is so you can calm your daughter. You are to stay behind me. Only go where I tell you to go. Do you understand?”

Part of him wished he could whisk her away and protect her from the imminent fight. He wanted to stop her from seeing the violent side of him, but it was no use. Sooner, or later she would learn of the darkness that lived in his soul, and then he would lose her. Perhaps it was better she discover who he truly was, now, before his affection deepened.

She nodded her agreement.

“Don’t worry. We’ll reach her in time.” He kissed her forehead, her skin cool under his lips. Why did he feel the need to comfort her? He had no reassurance her daughter was well, all he had was hope. In the Crimea, men with hope tended to live and those without died. It was that simple. He would believe he could save Beth because he needed Annabel to see him as a man who was more than a disfigured shell. He wanted her respect and love. Damn. He needed it. What would happen once this was over? Would she leave with her daughter? That was a chance he had to take. Saving Beth meant Annabel wouldn’t need him, and she would be free to leave.

James abandoned that line of thought. It was useless to think about what could, would, or might be. He had to keep his mind on the present and focus on the assignment.

“Nicholas, I see three at the front. What are the chances there’s only one at the back?”

“I’d like that. Can you handle them?”

He didn’t answer. Nicholas knew damn well his capabilities. He adjusted the gun he’d tucked into his belt, leaving a pistol and shotgun for his brother.

“This would work a lot better if they couldn’t see me coming. I need some sort of a distraction.”

“Like an explosion?” Nicholas said.

“Yes, but—”

“There are other distractions.” Annabel jumped out of the carriage, and walked toward the three men, her hands working at the buttons of her walking-dress. Her bottom swayed as her manner transformed, revealing her sensuality. He stared at her, his mouth dry.

“For God’s sake go after her,” Nicholas snapped.

James flew out of the carriage, and arrived as the thug with the black cap approached.

“Well, if it isn’t Lady Annabel. Do you want to see what a real man can do for you?” He had a wide, stupid grin, revealing a mouth that was missing its front teeth. The others were leering at her.

Before Annabel had a chance to reply James punched Black Cap on the nose. His friend with the red waistcoat came to his aid. James blocked Waistcoat’s fist with his left arm, and jabbed him in the stomach. He turned his attention back to Black Cap, but he was still on the ground clutching his nose. The second was gasping for air. Grey-hair had his stick out, arm drawn back. James kicked him in the groin before he could strike.

****

While James fought the last of the three thugs, Annabel ran up the steps two at a time. She had to reach Beth. She knew James would be angry with her for disobeying him, but didn’t care.

The foyer was deserted. She dashed for the stairs, her heart pounding against her ribcage. Dear God, please let her be alive.

On the staircase to the third floor, feet appeared in front of her, pounding up the steps. Elliott. Was he racing to reach her daughter? She doubled her speed, willing her body to go faster. Stretching, she grabbed one of his feet and jerked backwards. His legs went out from under him and he slammed forwards, smashing his face against the stairs.

Annabel gathered her skirts, sprinted past him, and crashed into the small bedroom. It was exactly how she’d left it: cold, devoid of any warmth or creature comforts. The small window, covered with a plain brown curtain, ensured it was dim. The walls were grey with no pictures hanging on them, and the floors were bare boards. There wasn’t even a rug.

Her daughter’s dark, downy hair poked out from under a blanket. Annabel’s heart stopped at the sight of the small, unmoving figure lying on the bed.

“Beth.” Was she still alive?

“Mummy?” The child jumped up and flung her arms out for a hug.

Annabel enfolded her daughter against her chest, kissed her head, and turned toward the door.

“I don’t think so.” Elliott stood, pistol levelled in one hand, while the other held a handkerchief to his bloody nose.

Her knees quivered. She’d failed. She retreated, withdrawing until she reached the bed, where she sat, and curled herself around Beth’s small form expecting to feel pain explode through her body at any moment. She could accept getting shot to save her daughter, but what would happen to Beth? Would he shoot her too?

“Don’t come any closer, Drake, or I’ll kill them both,” Elliott sounded calm, controlled.

“The only way you’re getting out of here alive is if you let them go.”

She blinked back tears and said a silent prayer of thanks. James was here. She wasn’t alone. She had run to her daughter needing to protect her, but somewhere in the back of her mind she had known James would save them. It wasn’t a question. She knew without a doubt he would be there, risking his life to save theirs.

“You won’t shoot me. Not while I have hostages.” Elliott’s voice rose slightly. Was he scared?

“If you so much as graze their skin, I’ll kill you.”

“You wouldn’t dare, I’m a lord. You can’t kill me. People will notice.”

“Let’s play a game,” Annabel whispered into Beth’s ear. “You’re going to be my shadow. You’re going to stay behind me. When I take a step, you take a step, understand?”

Her beautiful, dark-haired girl nodded. Annabel uncurled her body, and slid off the bed. Keeping Beth behind her, she inched closer to the door. James stood in front of the exit, so she was moving toward the line of fire, but it was the only way out.

“Did this little whore manipulate you, Drake? Don’t you realize she’s using you?” Beads of sweat trickled down Elliott’s face, and his gun started to shake. His body acknowledged his fear even if his words didn’t.

“Let them go, and I won’t hurt you.” James took a step nearer to her while still pointing his gun at Elliott.

Annabel inched to the door, keeping one hand on the toddler behind her.

“They belong to me. I married her. Before me she was struggling to keep her husband’s business afloat.”

“I won’t let you hurt them.” James bit out the words through clenched teeth.

Elliott swung the gun from Annabel, and pointed it at James.

“No.” The sound escaped her lips before she had time to think. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself, but couldn’t stand the thought of James being hurt, of him suffering because of her. The very idea caused a jolt of pain, so real, she felt it.

“Oh, how precious. Do you care for him? Did bedding the decorated war hero touch your heart?” Elliott sneered.

“War hero?”

“James here has been awarded five medals including the Victoria Cross for bravery. And he thinks he’s quite the card player, but he’s not a very good cheat.” Elliott’s upper lip curled in a sneer.

“You knew.” James’ calm demeanour made him even more threatening.

“Of course.”

“So what was your plan?”

“I’m going to kill the little witch and her brat,” Elliott spat.

“Do you really think I would let you do that?”

“Yes, I do. I’m Lord Peters. You can’t kill me. You’ll get the noose, especially when it becomes known you spent the night with my wife.”

“How are you going to explain away their deaths?” James kept asking questions. Why? Was he trying to give them time to escape? She was two feet from James, and at least four feet from the door. She took another step closer.

“I won’t have to. Their bodies will never be found. You see, I plan to tell people she was so ashamed of her adulterous affair with you, she took her daughter and ran away. I will be inconsolable, of course. Although I have to admit I didn’t plan on you turning up here as her saviour.”

Another two steps found her at the door. She jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. Nicholas. Silently, he picked up Beth and carried her down the stairs. Did he expect her to follow? Maybe, but she couldn’t. James was still in danger. He was in this situation, not because of his own doing, but because of hers and she wouldn’t desert him. She stepped back into the room, hoping to find a way to diffuse the situation.

“You’re an idiot if you think you can escape. We’ve been investigating you for a while,” James announced.

Elliott’s face grew purple, and his whole body trembled, but James continued, “I needed to find out more about you, and your network of thieves. I knew a greedy man like you would have his wife pay his debts in the bedroom. I arranged to have her spend the evening with me so I could question her.”

“You can’t believe a word she says, she’s a whore.”

“You know that’s not true,” James snarled.

“If I’m going to hell you’re coming with me.” Elliott fired.

“No.” Annabel threw herself in front of James hoping to protect him, as the deafening noise echoed around the small room. James thrust her aside and shot back. Elliott’s body jerked like a marionette cut from its strings. He landed in a heap on the floor, a bullet hole planted between his eyes. Relief swamped her. Her legs melted, and she crumbled to the ground.

“Annabel.” James’ pale face appeared in front of her. Was he hurt?

“James, are you—”

“Don’t move.”

“Oh God, did he shoot you?”

“No, I’m fine. Why did you…?” His eyes looked black against his ashen skin.

She struggled to sit up, but her body didn’t want to respond. She wiggled her feet. They were fine. Checked her hands, they were good. She looked along her torso. A red stain appeared on her shirt, high up by her right shoulder. It was strange how detached she felt as the blood flowed into the blouse making the red blot blossom.

“Beth?” Her voice sounded weak even to her own ears.

“She’s fine.” James took off his shirt.

“For God’s sake, put pressure on it.” Nicholas appeared next to James, leaning over her. “Help will be here soon. I’ve sent for the constabulary.”

“What will hap—”

“You have to stay still if I’m to stop the bleeding,” James snapped.

“I have to care for my daughter.” She tried to put force behind her words.

“You need to survive being shot, so you can look after her.”

“Don’t worry about Beth. She’ll be safe with me,” Nicholas said.

“Who’s with her now?” Annabel asked.

“Nicholas, go take care of Beth. Annabel needs to know her daughter is safe.”

He nodded and left the room.

Annabel tried to grab James’ shoulders, but her right arm would not cooperate. “I need you to promise me you’ll look after her.”

“You can look after her yourself when you’re better.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise, but only until you’re well.”

She closed her eyes; pain twisted through her. Taking a deep breath, she tried to control the hurt, but whenever she inhaled, hot needles flared, drenching her in a cold sweat. Could she allow herself to faint and succumb to the darkness? No, not yet. She let her body go limp, hoping that would give her relief, but nothing could stop the ache in her heart. She wanted to be there for her daughter, wished she could watch her grow. And what about James? Would anything lasting have come from their night together? For the first time in months they were safe. She had no doubt James would keep his word, but still it would’ve—

“Annabel, open your eyes.”

She forced them open to see James, his brows knitted in concern. It was hard to believe when she first met him she had thought him a demon. So much had changed in such a short time.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said. Countless footsteps thudded on the bare floorboards. In her peripheral vision she made out dark figures moving about the room. The constabulary. She supposed they were dealing with Elliott. The presence of so many people in such a small space should have made her alert, but it had the opposite effect. The hum of voices, and the knowledge Elliott was dead, calmed her. Beth was safe. Everything faded: the noise, the room, Elliott, everything except James. Beautiful James. She closed her eyes, and surrendered to oblivion.