Barbara Metzger (37 page)

Athena did not think there would be any reasoning with Alfie, not when he had a lifetime of resentment to avenge. She knew Ian would pay for her release, but she did not know if the money would satisfy the former groom. The glitter in his eye told her no, he wanted blood, besides the gold.

She dropped the dog’s leash, hoping Roma would go home, alerting the household that Athena was missing. Instead the dog went after Brown’s worn boots. He kicked out at the mongrel, connecting with her ribs. The dog yelped, which did get the attention of the artist, who had stayed to complete his drawing. That guard let out a shrill whistle, which made the Runner in the tree fall out. A nanny, not one of Ian’s hirelings either, started screeching, running off with a little boy in tow.

The barristers turned, but they were at the other side of the park by now. One knocked the nanny over in his haste to get back, which made the woman scream louder, and the child start to bawl.

Alfie cursed, but dragged Athena over toward a large oak tree with a wide trunk. With the tree at his back and Athena in front of him, the knife to her throat, he waited.

Not for long.

Carswell and Marden came pelting through the park, pistols drawn. They pushed through the ring of Runners and guards who had gathered, uncertain of what to do. Neither one could chance a shot, not with Brown half-hidden behind Athena.

Brown said, “That’ll be far enough, Marden,” when they were close enough for Athena to see the beads of sweat on her husband’s brow. “Put the guns down or yer lady starts bleedin’.” He pressed the edge of his blade against her neck to make his point.

Ian stopped in his tracks and held out his hand to halt Carswell behind him, not taking chances with Athena’s life. He carefully put down his pistol. So did his friend, cursing under his breath.

“Are you all right?” Ian asked, looking at his wife, inspecting her for injuries. The muscles of his jaw twitched, and his hands were in fists at his side.

She tried to smile, to wipe that look of helpless rage out of his eyes. “I am fine now that you are here. I knew you would come.”

He looked at her, only slightly disheveled, and then he looked at the dirty, disreputable, knife-wielding maniac who had her in his clutches. “Damnation, woman,
now
you trust me?”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ah, love! What would I do without my wife?

—Anonymous

Ah, life! What would it be without love?

—Mrs. Anonymous

Brown gave him a gap-toothed grin. “O’ course she trusts you, fer all the good it’ll do her. An’ I trust you, too, Marden, to see I gets my rightful share.”

“I’ll see you hang.”

The knife pressed into Athena’s neck. The drop of blood was as red as the ruby heart pendant she wore, the necklace he had given her. Ian sucked in a breath, trying to stay calm. Showing his emotion now would only get her hurt worse. He swallowed and said, “Think, man. You cannot get away with this.”

“Why not? I got a carriage waitin’ at the corner.”

Ian waved his hand around to either side. “But there are ten men between you and there, and more on the way. They will be armed and mounted before you reach your vehicle.”

“None of them will touch me, on yer say-so.”

Ian was incredulous at the man’s stupidity. “You think I am going to let you drive off with my wife?”

“You will, less’n you want to be a widower. If I’m goin’ to die, I ain’t goin’ alone. You let me take her now an’ I’ll keep her right an’ tight ’til you get me a nice heavy purse. Then we’ll trade. I’ll have your word on it, o’ course, that you an’ yer men won’t follow or shoot me in the back when I drive off. Gentlemen’s agreement, don’t you know.” He smacked his lips at the humor of calling himself a gentleman.

“Don’t do it, Ian,” Athena told him, breathing in the stench of Brown’s sweat. “You’ll keep your word, but Brown won’t.”

Carswell agreed with her. “He’ll kill her, either way,” he said in a low tone, for Ian’s ears alone.

“I have to try.”

Athena understood their quiet dialogue. “No, Ian, even if he lets me go, we’ll never be safe. He’ll want more money, or more revenge. He told me. My father promised more than Alfie’s mother ever got, and Spartacus took even that little bit away. He won’t be satisfied with whatever you pay him.”

“Ah, missy, you didn’t used to think so bad of me.” Brown gave her a shake. “But you better hope yer man has more confidence in my given word, else we’re both dead.”

Athena was beginning to realize that she might not survive, that Ian could not save her. Tears started to fill her eyes, but she shook them away. If she had minutes left on this earth, she did not want to miss an instant of seeing her beloved husband. Poor Ian, he would blame himself, when there was nothing he could have done.

Ian was not ready to concede. “If you would trust my honor if I promised not to follow you, why not trust me without frightening my wife? Let her go, and I will be much more generous. I’ll get Rensdale to up the ante, too.”

Brown snickered. “I’d only trust a swell when he had somethin’ to gain. Come on, now, Marden. Call off yer men and swear to let me pass with the gal. My knife hand is gettin’ heavy.”

Ian looked at Carswell, whose eyes flashed to Ian’s boot, where his own knife reposed. He looked at the Runners who were poised to rush the bastard who was making Athena cry. Could they move fast enough? Could he take the chance? Then he noticed that Captain Beecham, Troy, and Wiggs had come out of the house and were hastening toward the park, the captain on his peg leg and the young man on his crutches.

Brown noticed them, too, and laughed again, spittle dribbling out of the side of his mouth. “Look at that, two cripples comin’ to the rescue, along with the clergyman. Trust that coward Rensdale to stay safe by the fire an’ let a boy an’ an old man fight his battles, while the prig prays over it.”

No one disagreed with his assessment of Rensdale, although the captain muttered about being called old by a piece of flotsam like Brown, and Wiggs said,
“Tut, tut.”
He stopped before reaching the circle of men facing Athena and her captor, while her uncle and brother kept coming closer.

“Put yer sword down, Cap’n. You’d have to run yer own kin through afore you got to me.”

Troy hobbled forward while his uncle set his sword back in the scabbard he’d hastily buckled on. Young Renslow did not stop until he was nearest to the oak tree, toward the side. His dog limped toward him and he knelt, dropping one of his crutches, to stroke her head. He glared at Alfie, but locked his gaze with his sister’s, turquoise eyes to turquoise eyes, and for a moment, Ian felt jealous of the bond between them. Then he saw Athena nod slightly, and had to wonder what the two were planning in their silent communication. He jerked his head toward Carswell, to be ready to act, and took a step closer to the woman he wished with all his heart was in his arms, not in some scoundrel’s.

“Very well,” he said. “I give my word. I won’t follow you, if you swear not to harm my wife. We will meet in one hour wherever you say. I’ll be able to get to my bank by then to make the withdrawal.”

Brown’s eyes shifted from side to side. “An’ yer men?”

“I’ll vouch for them. They will let you go, if Lady Marden is safe.”

“What about the uncle?” Brown asked, still ignoring Troy.

“What, do you think I can chase you down on one limb and a wooden peg?” Captain Beecham said. “Be happy I can’t, you maggot, or you’d be shark bait for threatening my family.”

Wiggs was tutting from behind one of the Runners. “This is not at all seemly, Brown. No, not seemly at all. Every act of evil we do comes back to haunt us, you know, in the afterlife. You will have to answer to the Almighty, after you answer to your own conscience. You will surely regret this day.”

“I’ll regret not havin’ a knife at yer skinny throat, too, Wiggs, iffen you don’t shut yer trap.”

While Brown was concentrating on Wiggs, Troy inched forward. Ian’s hand reached down. Carswell put his hand behind his back, where another pistol was tucked into his waistband, but Ian shook his head. Missing by a fraction of an inch meant hitting Athena. The risk was too great to take.

“So do we have a deal, Marden?” Brown wanted to know, before any more spectators arrived to get between him and his wagon, between him and freedom, him and a fortune.

“Yes, we have a deal,” Ian said. “But know this: If one hair on my wife’s head is disturbed, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth. When I find you, you won’t have to wait for Judgment Day to suffer all the agonies of Hell.”

Brown jerked his head in agreement and pulled Athena closer against his chest. He started to inch out from the tree. He was careful to keep her between him and the earl, his head tucked down so it did not present an easy target. As usual, he ignored Troy.

“You know I shall do everything I can to get you back, my love,” Ian told Athena as he could only stand and watch her being hauled off like a sack of wheat.

“Of course I do, my love. You promised to keep me safe, didn’t you? And you always keep your promises.”

“Always,” he said, for her benefit and Brown’s.

“And I will always trust you.” Athena was not exactly struggling, but she was digging her boot heels in the ground, making it harder for Brown to make any progress.

When they were the closest they were going to get to where Troy was leaning over, resting on one crutch, she raised her eyebrows to her brother. He shoved the dog in Brown’s direction.

Roma was sore, but she needed no encouragement to go after the worn boots that had kicked her. Brown looked down to take aim for another thrust of his foot, and his knife hand relaxed a fraction. Athena sank her fingernails into his arm and kicked backward at the same time. Troy tossed his crutch at Brown’s legs, the dog snarled, Brown shouted, the earl had his knife in his hand. Carswell fired his pistol over their heads at the oak tree, sending down a cascade of small branches and leaves. When Brown raised his hand to
protect his head, Athena ducked to the side and yelled, “Now!”

Ian’s knife flew straight toward Brown’s shoulder. Athena pushed against his other arm, freeing herself, as Ian dove for the blade Brown still held. “No!” she cried, seeing her unarmed husband lunge at an enraged, pain-crazed, desperate man. She picked up Troy’s crutch and started swinging it.

Carswell had to wrest the thing away from her before she knocked Ian unconscious. Two men had Brown pinioned between them, while a third man was fastening manacles on his wrists. Troy was on the ground, the dog in his arms, Uncle Barnaby proudly patting him on the back. Wiggs was at the other side of the wide oak, being sick, and Ian was shaking his head at Athena while he caught his breath.

“Too many risks, my girl. I thought you promised to be careful,” he said in severe tones, but he held his arms out for her to rush into.

Brown was screaming. “I trusted you! You gave yer word! What kind of gentleman goes back on his promise?”

Ian held Athena close to him, so tightly her ribs might turn black and blue. Neither of them cared. “I am the kind of gentleman who puts his family ahead of scum like you. What good is honor if I lost my wife?”

“Oh, Ian!” Athena said with a sigh. “That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me. You really do love me.”

“Of course I do, goose. I told you so, didn’t I?”

Troy turned to his uncle. “I think I am going to be sick like Wiggy.”

Carswell handed him his crutches and helped him to his feet. “You’ll change your tune, my boy, in about ten years, I’d guess.”

Brown was still screaming that he’d been robbed, that he was promised a fortune, that his mother was meant to be Lady Rensdale, that Lord Marden was a lying, cheating piece of—

His words ended abruptly as Captain Beecham yanked the knife out of his shoulder, none too gently. Brown slumped forward in the guards’ arms, unconscious. They lowered him to the ground, also none too gently, and did not rush to press a cloth to his bleeding wound.

“What are you going to do with him?” Athena’s uncle wanted to know.

Troy was all for pummeling the man to death with his crutch for shooting him and kicking his dog and scaring his sister.

“That’s against the law,” one of the Runners said, but turned his head when Troy accidentally placed his crutch’s tip on Brown’s foot.

“He ought to suffer for his crimes!” Lord Rensdale had finally arrived, now that the danger was over. “The bastard ought to be boiled in oil or be drawn and quartered.”

“Tut, tut,” Wiggs said, wiping his face. “Surely we are more civilized than that, my lord. Hanging is the proper punishment for evildoers like Brown.”

Athena was too tenderhearted. “Half of this trouble was your own fault, Spartacus, with your clutch-fisted miserliness. If you had honored our father’s promise and looked after Alfie’s mother, he might not have turned so mean and vengeful.”

“Bah, you can nag your husband into bankruptcy now if you want. I am well rid of you and Brown both. I am going home, that’s what, as soon as I see this varlet taken away in chains.”

“I say he ought to be given a purse and put on a ship for the Americas, where he might make something of his life,” Athena told anyone who was interested.

“Too chancy, my love,” Ian said. “He might make enough to come back and have another try at revenge. I could not rest easy without knowing where he is. I think he should be sent to Botany Bay where he cannot bother anyone again.”

“If he survives the journey there,” Carswell added, earning him a frown from Marden, who did not think Athena needed to know the conditions on the transport ships.

Her uncle joined the discussion. “I say he ought to be taken up by the Navy. That’s the only practical solution—get some use out of the slug. We need all the strong backs we can get, to defend and protect our country, and I can have an impressment crew here before you can say ‘ship ahoy.’ I’ll see him put on a ship with a captain who knows how to deal with lawbreakers and hoodlums. He’ll never set foot on shore again.”

“Life in prison.”

“A firing squad.”