An Inconvenient Wife (43 page)

St. Clair held up the
lantern. The lean-to contained little more than the manger, some dusty tack
hanging from a peg, and thrown in a corner, a pitchfork. He picked it up and
tapped the handle lightly on the wall. “This will do. Banged hard enough it
will sound like a horse kicking.”

“Better wallop it good if
you expect them to hear it. I hope the whole damn shed doesn’t come down on
your head,” Carlisle said, his expression implying the earl was out of his mind.

“I’ll get their attention
first,” St. Clair said, looking amused. “Give me one of those knives of yours,
Jasp. You and Nick get in position. I’ll handle the driver.”

“Devil take it. You’re going
to stick that poor horse.” Carlisle grimaced, but obligingly reached in his
pocket, brought out a pocketknife, and opened it.

“If you have a better idea,
let’s hear it.” St. Clair chose the livelier of the two horses and rubbed
animal’s neck. “I swear to keep him in clover the rest of his life if it makes
you feel better.”

Westcott, half-listening to
this familiar-from-boyhood banter, watched the house intently. The windowpanes
were small and the glass dirty—impossible to see anything but a few shadows. He
signed to Carlisle his intention to watch from the right. Then he moved
forward. The idiots had no guard posted, but then again, they were expecting
him to walk right into their hands.

The horse’s scream filled
the air like some kind of banshee.
Poor fellow. They owed him
. The
repeated thunk of wood on wood was no less startling. The door flung open and a
man barreled out.

Westcott stayed flat against
the wall, but the fellow looked neither right nor left, set on getting to his
horses. Intent on seeing as much of the interior as possible, Westcott put him
from his mind. St. Clair would see to him. But the door stayed open only long
enough to reveal two men seated at a table. Where was Anne?

~* * *~

Anne was hunched on a low
stool beside the Major’s chair. It had not been long after Danielle’s escape
that he had bellowed for her to come down, and she’d dared not protest or
delay. If he or Meraux had come up…
They had not, and still are unaware she
is gone. Worry about how to warn Nicholas.
There was no doubt in her mind
that he would come after them.

She no longer had her
pistol, which she deeply regretted. With no excuse to wear her cloak, and
feeling it too dangerous to keep in the pocket of her gown, she had left it
upstairs. Reynard would have noticed it—his hands were all over her as she
backed down the ladder. Fury bubbled inside her at the memory, and she wanted
badly to take her little knife and attack him.
Do nothing to draw his
attention, Anne. Nicholas is coming. Be ready.

Meraux was foxed. The Major
had cut him off some time ago. He was slouched in a chair, rambling on about
“his Danielle” until she wanted to scream. Reynard was not drunk,
unfortunately, and he was getting more and more restless, pacing around the
room, cursing Westcott, her, the army—he was truly insane and the knowledge was
an icy ball of fear inside her.

Reynard had finally sat down
and commenced winding her hair around his hand, pulling it just randomly enough
to catch her unprepared each time—an activity he seemed to relish. She was
braced to bear it as stoically as possible, when a horse’s scream split the
air. Chills ran over her, and Anne held very still, willing the hand on her
head to disappear.
Nicholas.
It had to be Nicholas responsible and if
meant to be a distraction, it was effective. The driver leapt to his feet and
raced out of the building.

Reynard released her with a
shove that tossed her to the floor and stormed over to the door. “What the hell
was that?

Anne saw her chance. She
scrambled to her feet, scurried up the ladder, and let out a scream almost
equal to the horse’s.

“You bitch. When I get my
hands on you…” Reynard dashed across the room, lunged for his weapon, and put
his foot on the first rung.

Anne grabbed the pistol and
cocked it. “If you take one more step I swear I will shoot you.”

“Stupid woman. I can shoot it
out of your hand before you can pull the trigger—if you even have nerve enough
to do it.”

“She does. Count on it. Put
down your weapon, Reynard.” Westcott eased through the doorway, his gun steady
and aimed for the Major, Carlisle just behind him and moving to pull the
dumb-founded, whey-faced Frenchman upright and propel him forward.

Reynard swung around to face
the intruders. “The hell I will!” He seemed to gauge the distance between
himself and Westcott and his face twisted in an ugly snarl. “I told that lying
bitch I’d get you, and this time I
can’t miss,
” he shouted and pulled
the trigger.

Westcott dodged to one side
and fired simultaneously, Reynard’s bullet missing him by inches. His shot
fared better. Reynard staggered, and crumpled to the floor, blood pouring from
his neck.

“Seems you are wrong, you
bastard. You
can
miss.” But he was speaking to a dead man.

“Is he…?” Anne had the
presence of mind to lay the pistol down but her feet felt frozen to the floor
and she wondered if she was going to faint.
All she could see in her
head was the gun pointed at Nicholas. He could have died—because of her.

“Anne, my darling girl.”

He was up the ladder then,
arms tight around her in a desperate grip, and she clung to him. “You are not
hurt?”

He shook his head and
touched the welt on her cheek. “But you are. Did he…?”

“No, a few blows. It’s
nothing.” She felt him shudder, his expression so grim and bleak she gasped and
raised trembling hands to cup his face. “Nicholas. I am fine. It’s over. I am
safe—we are safe.”

“Oh, God.” His kiss was
wild, fevered, born of the despair he’d felt, the fear. Anne returned it with
the fire of her own terrors, burning away the horror of the past few hours.

“Nicholas, Nicholas, don’t,
my love.” Anne touched his hair, his eyes and lips, anything to erase his
anguished look. “All is well.”

He caught her hands in his
and placed a kiss in her palm. “No, it is not, but perhaps the top of a ladder
is not the best place to discuss it.”

“Nick? I hate to interrupt,
but there are a few things needing your attention.” Carlisle leaned casually at
the bottom of the ladder and gazed up at them with a quizzical expression. “I
can take it Anne is safe and well, I suppose.”

“Very much so, and yes, we
are coming down.”

His smile was faint when he
looked questioningly at her, but it was a smile nevertheless, and Anne’s heart
eased.

“Ready?”

Anne nodded, not trusting
her voice. She did
not
want to traverse the ladder again—or any ladder,
ever, but she had only to go halfway and Nicholas there to lift her to the
floor, the reassuring feel of his hard, solid body driving more of the chill
from her heart.

“Lady Westcott. It is good
to see you unharmed—mostly.” Carlisle’s eyes narrowed at the mark on her cheek,
but he smiled warmly and took her hand.

“Anne, please. Thank you for
your part in this. I did not expect you but am very glad you were here to
help.” She turned to Westcott. “Do I hear St. Clair outside? And Danielle?
Where is Danielle? I was so afraid….”

“She is safe with Bill
Fenton. St. Clair can answer for himself.”

St. Clair strolled in
looking as if rescuing maidens was an everyday affair, took her hands in his
and smiled down at her. “Anne. You are looking remarkably well for your ordeal.
I told Jasper you were a very resourceful woman.”

“Devlin. I am so grateful
for your assistance.” Anne pressed his hand, but fatigue washed over her, and
she slumped against Westcott.

“You are exhausted and I’ve
need to ask more of you.” Westcott brushed the hair from her face. “Will you
allow Jasper to take you up to the manor and wait for me? There are some things
here I need to attend to.” He pointedly did not look towards the body sprawled
behind them.

“Of course.” She touched his
cheek. “Come when you can.” She gave a fleeting thought as to Meraux and the
driver, but was too weary to ask what would become of them.

“I won’t be long.”

“Captain.” Anne placed her
hand in his, glad for the support.

“Now, how is it that Dev is
favored by your use of his name and I, a poor sailor, am left out in the cold?”

“Jasper, then.” She actually
smiled at his nonsense.

~* * *~

Somehow Anne found the
strength to greet Danielle with some semblance of calm, stay upright on the
long ride back to Westhorp, and reassure a sleepy Sarah of their well-being.
Danielle was placed in Mary Caxton’s competent and sympathetic hands, and after
a cup of hot tea to revive her, Anne went to bathe. She had to wash away the
smell and feel of the Major—and not a little grime, she realized, seeing her
reflection.

The first streaks of dawn
showed gray when she finally crawled into bed, her body aching and so exhausted
she doubted she could sleep. She wanted Nicholas, wanted his person, warm and
comforting beside her, and she wiped away the tears seeping from behind her
eyelids. He and his friends had likely dealt with the men and disposed of the body
by now. She would not ask how and did not care, so long as she never saw them
again.

“Anne.”

Was it his voice?
Nicholas
?
At first she feared it her imagination, until she breathed in the scent of him
and felt the light caress of his hand on her hair. Anne opened her eyes to see
him standing by the bed, an uncertain expression on his face, and she held up
her arms. “Nicholas.”

“I wasn’t sure of my
welcome,” he said, sitting beside her. “I’ve treated you so badly. You have
every reason to send me to perdition.” He touched her forehead with his and
placed a brief, gentle kiss on her lips. “I’ve been such a fool, not knowing
what I had until I almost lost it. After Camille died, I wanted never to care
for anyone, excepting Sarah.” He gave her a crooked smile. “You have taught me
how to live again. I love you, Anne. I think I have from the first and was too
stubborn to see it. You are sunshine and joy and happiness, and I want to spend
the rest of my life with you and the family you’ve made for us.”

Anne smiled and sat up
enough to coax the robe from his shoulders. “You must know I love you, just as
deeply. My heart’s desire is to be with you and be part of this family we have
made
together
. Come to me, Nicholas.” He kissed her then, kisses
fervently returned, until they were swept into a sea of passion.

“We might even try to expand
that family,” Anne said somewhat later, nestled warmly in his arms. “Whenever
you feel it
convenient
, of course.”

She felt his smile against
her neck.

“An excellent idea, wife. I
assure you I will give it my best efforts.” He turned her to face him. “In
truth, I find it
convenient
at this very moment.” He settled his mouth
on hers for a long, lingering kiss, then raised his head and gave her a wicked
smile. “Most convenient.” And his laughter echoing hers, he proceeded to
demonstrate the truth of his words.

About the Author

Constance Hussey is a
transplanted ‘Jersey girl’ currently residing in North Carolina who has been an
avid reader of romantic historical fiction for many years. The cast of
characters rambling around in her head, clamoring for their own stories,
started her on the author’s path. Constance enjoys gardening, cooking, and
relaxing on the back porch.

Website:
http://www.constancehussey.com

Don’t miss out on the work
she wrote as part of the duo, Diana Hussey. Their website can be found at:
http://www.dianahussey.com

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