An Improper Wife (26 page)

“The west tower, my lady,” he replied, his face expressionless. “The entrance is in the alcove directly below the tower. I can show you the way.” He started to turn.

“No need,” her uncle said. “I saw the tower when I arrived. This corridor will lead there if we keep the left. Am I correct?”

“Indeed, sir.”

Etherton nodded. “I will see to my niece. I wish to speak with her husband as well.”

“As you wish.” Patterson bowed and continued on his way towards the ballroom.

Uncle started forward. She had to stop him, slow him down somehow, anything to buy Taran time. She also had to know…

“Why did you kill my father?”

His head turned in her direction. “Why do you think?”

Her heart pounded. “What did he know?”

He faced forward.

“Bastard,” she hissed.

Caroline twisted in his grasp. He yanked her feet off the carpet and lengthened his stride. Tears sprang to her eyes with the sudden realisation that he didn’t intend to kill her and leave her body hidden in some alcove as she’d thought. Instead, he meant to use her against Taran. She began to thrash. Pain ricocheted inside her skull, but she kicked and raked her nails across his cheek.

“God damn you,” he cursed, and backhanded her again, this time harder than the last.

Ringing filled her ears. She felt as if she was going to slip from his grasp. But then he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She gasped for air. They turned a bend and, a moment later, he pushed through a door into a stone passageway. He grabbed the sconce hanging on the wall to the right and continued forward. They passed a window facing the inner courtyard. He pushed through another door and she glimpsed an arched entryway to the left.

Nausea pitched her stomach as he made his way down a narrow staircase. At the bottom, he slipped the sconce into a holder, then lowered her to her feet. Her surroundings swam and she clutched at thin air. He grabbed her waist and opened the door to a well-lit stone corridor. Caroline drew in a breath to scream. He clamped his free hand over her mouth and wrenched her head back against his chest. She grabbed his hand out of reflex, then froze when he pressed his mouth against her ear.

“I will empty my handgun into your skull, then fill your husband full of what I have in the Blunderbuss. He will slowly bleed to death. Very painful, I am told.”

She still gripped the fingers clamped over her mouth as he crept towards the T at the end of the hallway. Her mind raced. He planned to surprise Taran and threaten him with the fact he held a gun to her head. Etherton had yet to pull the Blunderbuss from his waistband, and he didn’t know Lord Edmonds was with Taran. If she screamed, Taran and Lord Edmonds would be alerted that something was wrong. Was that a better advantage than showing up, or would Etherton shoot them when they raced from whatever cell they were in once they heard her scream? What would Uncle do if Taran wasn’t in the dungeon?

Indecision mingled with fear. What would give Taran the best chance of survival? They reached the T and Uncle leant forward. Five feet to the left, another corridor ran parallel with the one where they stood. He turned left, then left again down the hallway. If she bit down on his fingers and yanked with all her might, she had a chance of dislodging the hand. A wrought iron gate barred an empty cell on the right. A faint murmur sounded from another bend up ahead. Her heart sped up. She couldn’t tell if Taran or Lord Edmonds was speaking.

Please, Lord Edmonds, keep quiet.

Uncle crept to the next corridor and peered around the corner. A grated iron door stood open to the middle cell.

“I will ask one more time,” Taran’s voice was soft, but lethal.

Tears burned Caroline’s eyes. Her heart pounded so loudly she wondered that he couldn’t hear it.

“Where were you to meet Etherton?”

Her uncle’s low laugh sounded in her ear.

A slurred response followed from the man in the room.

Blood roared in Caroline’s ears. Had Taran brought a weapon with him? She recalled the pistol he’d pointed at Lord Edmonds when he’d come upon them in the trees. He might have the weapon with him. Would he keep it close? How would she save him? If Lord Edmonds was with Taran, Uncle would have to keep the gun on her in order to manipulate the two men.

Caroline bit down on her uncle’s hand—hard. He stiffened. She ground her teeth against the thick finger. Blood spurted across her tongue. She gagged. Then screamed. He yanked his hand from her mouth. A dark curse burst from him in unison with heavy footfalls on stone. Uncle took two steps backwards and stopped, his back against the wall, and lifted the Blunderbuss to her temple.

Taran shot into the corridor, then came to a skidding halt thirty feet from them, a pistol aimed at them. Caroline darted a glance at the open door. Where was Lord Edmonds? A sob lodged in her throat. She had counted on the viscount being there. Etherton would be far more nervous at facing two men, instead of one.

“Drop it,” Etherton ordered.

Taran’s gaze flicked from the gun at her head to her face, and she read that he was familiar with the weapon.

“Drop it,” her uncle again ordered.

Taran tossed the weapon down. It hit the stone with a clatter and skidded several feet towards them.

His eyes shifted behind her. “Come to finish the job yourself, Etherton?”

“If you had taken your wife in hand, she would be safely in your bed, instead of here.”

Taran’s gaze remained neutral, but Caroline sensed he didn’t disagree. Hysteria blurred her vision. She clawed at the hand banded around her waist. Her left elbow bumped something hard at Uncle’s waist.

“What do you want?” Taran demanded.

Caroline froze. Was that a second pistol in her uncle’s waistband?

“It is no longer a matter of what I want,” he replied, “but what I need.”

Taran nodded. “And you need me dead. Caroline, as well.”

“Caroline can live.”

Taran’s gaze didn’t break from his. “So long as she remains in a laudanum-induced state?”

“She will serve a purpose.”

Her mind raced. That was a second pistol stuffed inside the waistband. He surely had a third pistol in his boot. But he would never be able to get to it before Taran was upon him. If she grabbed the pistol from his waistband, he would be forced to fire the weapon at her temple—if she didn’t get a round off into his belly first. Either way, Taran would be safe.

“Patterson knows you are here,” she blurted. “He will inform the sheriff.”

“Good,” Etherton replied. “That will aid the story that I fought to save you both from your attacker.”

Her heart thundered. He had yet to cock the pistol. How fast was he? Faster than her. But that was of no consequence. She thrashed. Taran took a step forward.

Etherton dug the pistol into her temple. “Halt.”

Caroline yanked the gun from his waistband as she rammed her other fisted hand into the arm holding the gun to her head. The gun jostled away from her. She pulled back the hammer and jammed the barrel against his side.

Taran lunged.

She fired.

The report exploded in her ears. Warm liquid bathed her side. Etherton stretched his hand forward, the pistol pointed at Taran.

“No!” she screamed.

Taran halted.

Time seemed to slow as her uncle’s thumb pulled back the hammer and she reached for his arm. Uncle shoved her. She propelled forward and hit the stone, shoulder first. Pain radiated up her arm, blood stained the bandage covering her injury. She dropped to her knees.

Another shot sounded. Confusion rolled over Caroline. Etherton stiffened. The pistol went limp in his hand, then clattered to the stone not far from Taran’s gun. Etherton slumped against the wall, then crashed to the floor.

Caroline gasped at sight of Patterson, only the half of his body that pointed the revolver visible around the edge of the wall at the end of the hallway. His arm dropped to his side and he stepped into full view.

His eyes shifted to Taran. “So sorry, my lord, Lady Albrey waylaid me and I had to brandish this revolver in order to get the woman to let me pass.”

Caroline burst into tears.

* * * *

Taran pulled Caroline into his arms.

Footsteps pounded around the bend and Edmonds shot into the hallway as Taran started down the corridor.

William came to a sudden halt. “My God.”

“Aye,” Taran said. “See to our guest. And Patterson,” he added as he neared the butler, “call for the sheriff.”

Caroline clung to his neck and he held her trembling body close as he kept to the servants’ hallways until they’d reached his bedchambers. Taran lowered her feet to the carpet. She stood motionless as he unbuttoned her dress, then stripped her of the shift. Anger twisted his gut at sight of the blood that had seeped through the dress. Etherton would have splattered her brains across the floor if necessary. Taran urged her between the covers, then stripped off his clothes, and slipped in beside her. When he pulled her into his arms, the dam broke, and she cried into his chest. He forced his shaking hands steady and stroked her hair.

He would never be able to wipe from his mind the picture of that pistol pressed against her temple. Taran closed his eyes. He’d almost lost her a second time. Was ever a bigger fool born than him? It hadn’t occurred to him Etherton would chance coming to Strathmore. He hugged her tighter. She buried her head in his neck. The quick beat of her heart reminded him she was alive and well, but she had intended to sacrifice herself for him. His chest tightened. How would he ever let her out of his sight again?

“You knew all along I was Aphrodite.”

Taran froze at Caroline’s words.

“Do not deny it, Taran.”

Emotion flooded him. He wanted to laugh. Leave it to a woman to try and save a man, then take him to task afterwards.

“Aye,” he replied.

“You enjoyed watching me twist in the wind.”

“Aye.”

“This is all your fault.”

All amusement vanished. “Aye.”

A moment of silence, then, “Is he dead?”

“Aye.”

Caroline leant her head back and levelled her gaze on him. He traced a finger down her tear stained cheek.

“
Aye
?” she said. “Is that all you can say?”

He blinked, then nodded. “Aye. And that I love you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Your Aphrodite?”

He rolled onto her. “Nay. My Caroline.”

Her mouth parted in surprise, and he covered her lips with his.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The door to the drawing room opened and Caroline looked up from her needlework. Taran entered. She smiled as he crossed to the couch and sat beside her.

“What did you learn? Did the captain have any news?”

His brow rose. “Not even a kiss?”

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Well?”

“Married but two months and already you tire of me.”

“I will be an attentive wife once you have told me what you learned.”

He gave a long suffering sigh. “In June 1787, the British Royal Navy frigate
Lady Victory
gave chase to a Spanish frigate. They boxed the Spaniards into a cove off the coast of Venezuela only to find themselves flanked by another ship.”

“A trap,” Caroline said.

Taran nodded. “It was foolish on the part of the captain to have chased the Spaniards, for his ship was laden with bounty from three other raids by privateers.” Taran paused. “One of them was Phillip Etherton.”

Dread began to unfurl through Caroline.

“As always,” he went on, “there was an inquiry. But the single witness who survived the attack mysteriously disappeared.”

Caroline thought back to the stories she’d grown up hearing. “Pirates fly false colours to lure their victims into security.”

Taran nodded.

“My God,” she breathed. “My uncle was a traitor.” She stared at Taran. “He sunk one of his country’s own ships.”

“There is no proof,” Taran replied. “But I wager your father knew something—or Etherton believed he did.”

“After all these years?” she asked. “Why wait so long to expose him?” Before Taran could answer, she added, “My father always seemed completely ignorant of the pirate Peiter Everston. I—” she choked back a sob, “I loved him, but, on this score, I thought he was a fool.” Not only on this score, she realised, but with her mother as well. He tolerated so much from her. A thought struck. “Oh, Taran, is it possible he knew all along and played the fool?”

Taran took her hand in his. “I did not know him.”

She nodded, but read the lie in his eyes. Taran didn’t know her father, but the truth would have been obvious to a blind man. Her father had known all along who Peiter Everston was, but he’d played the fool to ensure the safety of the women he loved. Had her mother known? How could she have not? Caroline closed her eyes against the pain that suffocated her. She had seen the lengths to which Etherton would go. What threat had he made to guarantee his brother-in-law’s compliance? No threat, perhaps her father simply knew.

Caroline released a sigh and looked at Taran. “My father was a good man.”

“Aye.”

She grimaced. “Is that all you can say?”

He shook his head and took the needlework from her hands. “Such a dutiful and proper wife.”

“And you would prefer an improper wife?” She lifted her mouth in a coy smile as she traced a finger across his lips.

“Aye.”

“I have yet to forgive you for allowing me to stew.”

“Ah, yes,” he replied. “It is all my fault.”

She nodded. “But I am willing to let you make amends.”

His eyes darkened. “How long do you say it will take?”

She shifted her gaze from his mouth. “Forty or fifty years.”

Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

A Knight of Passion