Forbidden Angel (20 page)

“We’re here, Boss.” Frank reached for a lantern.

Adrian sighed. “What of Angeline? He has her.”

Michael let his hand rest on Adrian’s uninjured shoulder. “Edward is looking for the locations of everything Malcolm owns. We’ll find her. If Malcolm sees Angeline as a way to gain entrance to the aristocracy, let alone the wealth she could bring him, I doubt he’ll harm her.”

“We’re talking about Charles Malcolm.” Adrian tried to sit up. The pain in his head increased.

Frank clapped his hand on Adrian’s chest to keep him from rising.

Michael cautioned, “Take it easy. You don’t want to reopen the wound.”

“I’m sitting up. Either help me, or take your hands off me,” Adrian demanded.

They each slid an arm around his waist and lifted carefully. Pain shot through his chest and arm, momentarily robbing him of breath. When he leaned back against the cushions, the pain eased.

The familiar sound of the staff as they went about their various tasks felt somewhat comforting, but he couldn’t shake the almost paralyzing fear for Angeline’s safety. He knew better than most what Malcolm was capable of. Until she was back safely, he wouldn’t rest.

Shirley rushed toward him. “Should you be sitting up?” At his scowl, she slowed and hastened to add, “I need to check the wounds and change the bandages.”

Adrian suffered her ministrations. Finding no sign of infection and fever, she reassured the others.

“I would love some coffee. And maybe some bacon and eggs. Perhaps a biscuit or two? But no more broth,” Adrian pleaded hopefully.

“It’s clear you’re feeling better, Lord Adrian. I’ll tell Cook to send in some porridge while I see about a clean shirt for you. Don’t move,” Shirley admonished.

“I don’t want porridge, I want—” He caught his breath as pain shot through him.

“Tsk, tsk,” Shirley clucked as she left the room.

Adrian shot a glance in Frank’s direction. “Bossy woman.”

Frank grinned. “She is, isn’t she?”

When Jeffrey and Penelope found Adrian awake and sitting up, they rushed to his side. “How are you?” Penelope knelt beside him.

Adrian squeezed her hand. “Much better, Pen.”

The knocker fell on the front door, and Adrian heard Mansfield’s, “Good morning, Mr. Thornby.”

Edward stepped into the foyer and sniffed appreciatively.

“Some tea, perhaps?” Mansfield inquired.

“That would be very nice, Mr. Mansfield.” Edward replied in gratitude. “Would it be too much to have a piece of toast? I haven’t been home since I left here yesterday.”

“Of course, Mr. Thornby. Perhaps a sausage and a shirred egg?”

“Oh, yes indeed.” Edward rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

As Mansfield began to close the front door, it was forcibly pushed open, shoving him back against the wall. Two men brushed past him, both wearing black, flat-brimmed hats. On their hips hung Colt 45s, the handles of which were tooled in silver. Their gazes swept the drawing room before they entered.

Michael was on his feet and reaching for his gun when one of the men stopped him with a curt, “Do not, for if you do, you will surely die.” He watched as Michael slowly raised both hands, palms outward, and laid them carefully against his thighs. The man inclined his head.

“My lord, there are at least ten armed horsemen out front,” Mansfield advised in some alarm.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” Adrian struggled to his feet.

“We are Cordova,” the taller of the two said. “And we have come for our niece.”

“My
wife
is not here.” Adrian wobbled unsteadily on his feet.

The taller of the two Spaniards removed his hat, revealing raven-black hair. “Tell us where she is. We do not have much time.”

“I think we had better talk.” Adrian decided the wiser course of action was to include them. This was what Angeline had wanted, to find her family. He only hoped they were willing to listen.

“I’m Adrian Spencer, Earl of Windsford, and Angeline is my wife. These people are our family and friends. We could use your help to find her.” Adrian staggered, then braced himself on the back of the chair.

“I am
Don
Rafael Cordova and this is my brother,
Don
Esteban. What do you mean,
find
her?”
His gaze slid over the bandages. “What has happened?”

Michael stepped forward. “He was shot at the same time Angeline was taken.”

Rafael turned a cold stare on Michael. “And when was this?”

“Yesterday.” Michael stepped to Adrian’s side. “How did you know where to find us?”

“I told them, Captain. I thought all could be resolved if we could but talk things over with her family,” Edward Thornby replied, visibly shaking.

Rafael’s dark gaze fastened on Edward. “You must be
Señor
Thornby. You have done the Cordova family a great service, and we are in your debt.” His gaze moved to encompass those in the room. “We were already on our way to find Franchesca when we met the rider you had sent. We were saddened to learn of our sister’s death and did not know of the
niña
.”

Adrian caught the quick glance Edward sent in his direction. When he narrowed his gaze, Edward blinked and pulled the satchel close to his chest.

“That was a very good idea, Edward,” Adrian conceded.

“Please, gentlemen, have a seat so we might discuss this. And, Adrian, you need to sit back down,” Jeffrey interjected.

Esteban removed his hat. “
Gracias
, it has been a hard trip.”

Penelope approached Rafael. “I’ll have Cook bring in more coffee and pastries. Perhaps your men would like to dismount and have something as well.” She waved a hand in their direction. “There’s a stable behind the house with hay and grain for the horses.”

Rafael inclined his head to Penelope, then signaled Esteban to talk to the men. His attention returned to Adrian. “You say you were wounded and our niece was taken? Why would someone do this thing?”

“To explain, we will need to start with the death of Lord William, Angeline’s father,” Adrian began.

Carefully, so as not to leave anything of importance out, Adrian sorted through the chain of events leading to the shooting and kidnapping. When he tired, Michael took up the narrative.

“
Dios
,” Rafael interjected forcefully.

When they spoke of the young Franchesca who had given birth to a daughter whom she called Angelina Franchesca Cordova, Edward explained the confusion of names and the legalities.

Rafael glanced toward the ceiling as if asking for guidance, then looked down at his folded hands held tightly between his knees. “All this time and we did not know.”

Esteban stared out the window and listened quietly. He said nothing; neither did he face those in the room.

Then Adrian explained why they believed Charles Malcolm was so desperate to have her, and his twisted desire for recognition and power.

The room remained quiet while the two men tried to regain their composure before they spoke.

Adrian was the first to break the silence. “Why now,
Don
Rafael? Why, after all this time, would you try to find your sister? Why didn’t you search earlier? It’s obvious you cared deeply for her.”

Rafael raised his head. “Of course we cared, but you do not comprehend our culture. Our father forbade us to search for her. Not a day has gone by that we did not miss her. Our mother has not laughed once since Franchesca left.” A muscle clenched along his jaw.

“Then I ask again, why now?” Adrian regarded Rafael.

Rafael sighed. “
Don
Fernando is dying. We thought to reunite them before his death.” His eyes held Adrian’s. “But you are mistaken on one point. William did not take Franchesca from the church before she married, but afterward. The vows had been spoken, the papers signed.”

Adrian leaned his head back and wearily closed his eyes. When he opened them, he felt Rafael’s keen regard. Any lingering hope, any chance there had somehow been a legal union between William and Franchesca, vanished.

Michael broke the silence. “Edward, what information did you find to help us?”

As Edward spread maps and papers over the occasional table in front of the settee, the others gathered.

“Some locations are here in town and should be easy to check.” Jeffrey took note of the addresses.

“I doubt he would bring her to London where she might be seen. I would think the country.” Adrian studied the list. “But we’ll check them all if necessary.”

“
You
will check nothing. You are in no shape to do so,” Rafael retorted.

“Where Adrian is concerned you are right, but you won’t stop the rest of us from looking,” Michael pointed out.

“This is a family matter, and—” Rafael began.

Esteban interrupted him. “Have we not done enough in the name of
family
and
family honor
?” His expression clouded with anger. “I will never forget the last time I saw our sister. She was laughing when she clasped the hand of the man she loved and ran from the church. She stopped for a second as she passed and blew a kiss to me.” His face twisted in pain. “I never thought it would be the very
last time.”

Esteban’s accusing voice stabbed the air as he turned on his brother. “All this,”—he waved his hand—“because she wanted the right to choose whom she would marry. And now you are trying to impose restrictions on these people and the
niña
.” He shook his head. “I will not be a part of it this time.”

Rafael stared at Esteban for a long moment, then dipped his head in agreement. He regarded the list and maps. “Where is the most likely place to start?”

Edward cleared his throat. “I’ve thought about that. He’s had most of these properties for quite some time and quite a few are leased out. There is one that he acquired from his last wife after her demise. If I hadn’t remembered his latest, uh, acquisition, I wouldn’t have known where to look as it’s still under her father’s name.”

Edward tapped his finger on the map and the men stepped closer. “The house in the country between Windsford Hall and Ashley Manor. I believe the property is north of them, but I’m not certain how far. Because he wouldn’t expect us to know of it, this would be the best place to take her.”

“Very good, Edward,” Jeffrey approved.

Adrian rose. “Send some of your men to check the locations here in London. The rest of us should start for the house Edward mentioned. It seems the most obvious choice.”

Rafael stepped outside and gave orders and directions to some of the men. He also warned them about the man Malcolm had hired.

Jeffrey laid his hand on Adrian’s shoulder. “Adrian, this is not wise. You’re in no condition.”

Calmly, Adrian replied, “But you know I must, Uncle.”

Rafael looked squarely at Adrian. “Although time is of the essence, I think we should wait another day or two for the riders to return. If Malcolm was foolish enough to stay in town, I do not want to be away when the news comes. And you, Lord Adrian, will kill yourself for nothing.”

Cazador refused to leave Angeline’s side, choosing to care for her personally. No woman had ever been hurt at his hands, and shooting her, though accidentally, severely distressed him.

He’d heard the depravity Malcolm inflicted on the young maid. Afterward, she had cried for most of the night. Cazador did not believe in forcing a woman, and it had been all he could do not to rush in and dismember the bastard. Instead, he had stayed by Angeline’s side. Malcolm claimed she was his wife, that she’d run off with her lover. Now, Cazador had serious doubts that any of what Malcolm had said was true.

During his travels in the Orient, he had seen opium houses, and last night he’d recognized the distinct odor of a pipe. He had no intention of leaving Angeline with Malcolm.

Cazador leaned close and whispered, “Listen to me, Angelina. When Malcolm approaches, you must be silent. Do not move. Do you understand?”

Angeline slowly faced him. “And what is it to you? Why do you now try and protect me? Just like you, I heard the screams in the night, yet you did nothing to stop him.” Her expression was one of condemnation.

“She could have left had she wanted,” he said, growing angry.

“Do you really think he would have let her? He has a history of maiming and murdering women. This girl will not survive for long, Cazador, and I believe you know that.”

“It is not my business.” He rose abruptly.

Angeline stared accusingly at him. “And what would make it your business, if not decency? Money?”

“
Dios
, you are aggravating. I do not need someone reminding me of what I do.” He paced back and forth.

She pressed on. “Whatever is troubling you, and I know there’s something, you’ll never find any kind of peace this way.”

“It does not matter.”

“Yes, it does. At the end of the day, when you put your head down to rest, do you find any at all?”

“Enough.” He raked his fingers through his hair.

“I heard them call you
El
Cazador. What does it mean?”

“It means
The Hunter.
I am called that because I hunt men.”

“That’s not what you’re really hunting though, is it?” She voiced the question quietly.

“No more. I do what I do for reasons of my own.” At the sound of a door opening down the hall, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “He comes. Do not move.”

Malcolm stumbled into the room, his bloodshot eyes skimming over the bed and Angeline. “How long is she going to be like that? I got things to do and I need money to do them. Lots of money. She can bring a fortune to me. Her family can afford that and more.” He staggered and leaned against the doorframe for support.

“You do not sound like a grieving husband. I thought she was your wife and Windsford had taken her,” Cazador probed carefully.

Malcolm ran the back of his hand across his mouth. “That’s right. He ran off with her to America. He only brought her back so he could get his hands on the money.”

Angeline sat up and glared at Malcolm. “You’re a filthy liar. You are not my husband, Adrian is.”

“Cazador, your job is done, so leave. The lady and I have some business to take care of.” Malcolm’s eyes narrowed on Angeline.

She lifted her chin, and met Malcolm’s angry leer. “If you expect to get money from my mother’s family, you’re going to be disappointed. They disowned her and they know nothing of me. You will have no claim to the Cordova family.”

Cazador swung around to stare at Angeline. “What did you say? Who is your mother?”

Surprised by Cazador’s question, Angeline answered slowly. “My mother
was
Franchesca Elaina Cordova.”

He kept his face expressionless. “Then, your mother is dead?”

Malcolm pushed into the room. “Why all the questions? I told you, your job’s done. Now get out of here.”

“You really are worthless.” Cazador prowled toward Malcolm.

Malcolm’s eyes widened in alarm. “Now look here, you mistake my meaning. If you need more money, I can . . .”

“There is not enough money to save your worthless hide.”

With a shriek, Malcolm spun and ran for the safety of his room. Cazador followed. He braced the door with his hand before Malcolm could close and lock it.

Cazador advanced as Malcolm searched frantically through the nightstand. When Malcolm withdrew a gun, instead of aiming at Cazador as he anticipated, Malcolm clutched the weapon to his chest and stared wildly at Cazador. Mumbling incoherently, Malcolm climbed into the middle of the bed, spittle dripping from the side of his mouth, his eyes veering wildly around as he searched for a way to escape.

Cazador shook his head in disgust. His gaze flicked to the opium lamp and the spilled oil. The drapery was already alight.

Cazador spun and, grabbing a quilt on the way, he charged back into the bedchamber where Angeline lay. Wrapping the blanket around her, he scooped her up and dashed from the room to find the hallway partially filled with smoke and the young maid huddled against the wall.

“Get up, girl, and follow me,” Cazador shouted as he hurried down the stairs. When he reached the front door, he kicked it open and strode outside, the maid following close behind.

They turned in time to see the upstairs windows blow out as flames engulfed the upper level. Smoke now drifted through the open door.

Angeline tore her gaze from the burning mansion. “Where are you taking me, Cazador? Can this not be over?”

“
Sí
, it is over. I will take you back to your home.” He set her on her feet and headed for the barn. Within minutes, Cazador returned with three horses. He lifted and placed the maid on one, slipping some coins into her hand. “Leave here and forget what you have seen.”

She accepted the coins gratefully, and rode away.

“Let us go, Angelina.” He glanced at the burning house. The flames had spread through the lower level. “It is finished here.”