Honor's Players (22 page)

She flinched away from his touch.

“I only want to untie those pretty little hands so they can get warm. Got to be warm to touch me like I want.”

Elizabeth bit back a denial and allowed him to untie her. Even if her legs failed her, perhaps with her hands free she could find a way to protect herself. She began to study the room covertly, searching for likely weapons. Tunning must have moved here directly from the estate cottage. There was a pile of clothes by the window, some crockery and food on a rickety table by the door. Nearby was a stack of logs, a few ledgers, and a keg of ale. The candelabra on the mantle were silver and beautifully wrought. Probably originally from Larchside.

When her hands were free Tunning rose, drew himself a mug of ale, and shuffled back to the fire, swearing against the cold. Elizabeth stroked her chafed wrists and attempted to move her legs. They screamed in agony but she forced her muscles to respond. She couldn’t afford for them to stiffen and cramp.

Draining his mug and wiping his mouth on his coat sleeve, Tunning turned his backside to the fire, relishing the warmth. He saw Elizabeth moving on the bed. He licked his lips and shifted his feet to ease the pressure on the swelling in his pants.

“In a moment, pet, in a moment,” he said.

Elizabeth’s eyes flew up to him. Too late she realized what her gentle squirming on the bed caused. She had been so caught up in studying the room she hadn’t been paying any attention to Tunning. Now she saw the sweat break out on his forehead and the lust in his eyes.

“No.” The word fell from her lips. Oh, Justin, she wildly prayed, help me, please! But she knew her prayer to be useless for he was in London, and no one would know of her disappearance until morning.

Tunning slowly advanced, rubbing his hands together, then reached out toward her, his fingers flexing like talons. A triumphant grin carved his face into a demonic semblance of a man. Elizabeth shifted warily to her knees, her pulse pounding. She eyed the distance to the table where the crockery sat, some heavy enough to bludgeon him with, if she could make it that far. He moved in front of her, blocking her view of the table.

He chortled at the fear he saw on her face. “Yes,” he murmured, “ol’ Tom Tunning's spear will pin you to that bed, squirming.”

He lunged. Elizabeth screamed, throwing herself off the end of the bed. Tunning's hand caught the fabric of her clothes and she heard it rip when she rolled away. She scrambled, crablike, as he came after her, his face convulsed with rage. He fell on her. Her nails raked his face, her legs kicking wildly, as they rolled on the floor. His hand found the neckline of her gown, ripping it. Her terror threatened to overwhelm her.

She screamed Justin’s name, imagining she heard her name called in return.

T'was I won the wager, though you hit the white; And, being a winner, God give you good-night

—Act V, Scene 1

“Elizabeth! Elizabeth!”

There, she heard it again, louder. It wasn’t a dream! He was here. A surge of strength swept through her body.

“Justin! Help!” she cried out as she rammed the heel of her hand into Tunning's nose. Tunning, bellowing with rage, grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her head into the floor.

Elizabeth’s head exploded in pain and her eyes blurred, but she doggedly fought him. She couldn’t give up now with help so close. She heard Justin ramming against the locked door. Though her head hurt, her heart sang.

Finally the wood cracked and splintered, nearly coming off its hinges under St. Ryne’s and Thomas’s weight. They ran to the struggling figures on the floor, Thomas waving his gun, trying to get a clear shot.

Tunning in his lust and anger was oblivious to their presence. St. Ryne grabbed him by the scruff of his coat and hauled him off her, spun him around and slammed his fist into his stomach. Tunning fell backward, gasping for breath.

“Elizabeth!” St. Ryne cried, bending to lift her from the floor and cradle her against him. “God, I’ve been so frightened this night.” He held her, stroking her hair as she sobbed weakly against him.

Thomas watched them and smiled the gun loose in his grasp.

Tunning quietly struggled to his feet, his eyes darting from the St. Rynes to Thomas. Damn the Viscount! He swore silently, and damn Atheridge too, for he must have squealed. He’d deal with him later. Right now he’d get St. Ryne and that irksome groom.

With one hand he grabbed for Thomas’s gun while his other hit him in the jaw, sending Thomas reeling backward to hit his head against the wall and sag to the floor. St. Ryne shoved Elizabeth behind him as Tunning brought the gun up, training it on him.

“Keep your hands out from your sides if you don’t want a bullet in you,” Tunning snarled. “I might put one in you anyway for all the trouble you’ve caused, you and her, coming to Larchside and ruining a sweet deal. If you’d just followed my suggestions, none of this would have happened, so know this is on your head.”

St. Ryne kept his eye trained on Tunning’s shaking gun hand. He would have to try to reach what little part of the civilized man might remain. “You should have cut your losses when we arrived,” he said conversationally.

“There wouldn’t have been a need, if it hadn’t been for her.” The look he cast Elizabeth was so full of malevolence that St. Ryne pushed her further behind him. Tunning glanced back at the Viscount, sneering. “Your type never holds interest in land for long, just for what you get out of it.”

Elizabeth edged back toward the fireplace and the stack of wood, hobbling and wincing in pain yet determined. She could not allow him to harm her husband.

Tunning was now well caught up in recounting her meddling. “It’s all her doing, you know. You’re befuddled. She’s nothing but a tease, even propositioned me. I turned her down of course.” His voice took on a self-righteous tone.

Elizabeth stooped to pick up a small log and held it behind her, steadying herself with her other hand against the mantel. Oh, what she would give to have a poker handy! St. Ryne was talking to Tunning softly and calmly, like one would talk to a wild dog or horse, his words commiserating with him on his misfortune. In the corner Thomas groaned. Nervously Tunning spun around to level the gun at him then spun back when he saw St. Ryne take a step forward.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, his voice cracking. He jumped again at another groan from Thomas. “Quiet!” The gun jumped spasmodically in his hands.

St. Ryne slid another step closer, his hand out for the gun.

Horrified, Elizabeth watched Tunning's eyes roll and his hand shake. He was about ready to shoot!

Elizabeth heaved the log at him before his finger pulled the trigger. It caught him in the shoulder just as the gun exploded. She screamed Justin’s name, closing her eyes tight in fear of seeing him stretched out on the floor.

“It’s all right, Bess, it’s all right.”

Her eyes flew open at the sound of Justin’s voice. He stood before her, not a mark on him. “Justin?” she whispered wonderingly. Her eyes searched the room for Tunning. He was lying on the floor, black powder burns on his hand and side of his face, his shoulder bleeding. She clung to St. Ryne, shaking her head dazedly.

“I told you all you lacked was throwing practice,” St. Ryne said, smiling down at her.

“What happened?”

“The gun exploded. You probably saved his miserable life,” he said laughing softly.

“I don’t understand.”

“Got a pair of old dueling pistols from Mannion at the club. Carries them around with him all the time, but they probably haven’t been fired or cleaned in years, so when Tunning pulled the trigger, the gun misfired. Probably would have killed him if you hadn’t struck him with that log, deflecting the gun.”

“Or killed Thomas if he’d—Thomas!” she said anxiously.

“I’m all right, my lady. I’m sorry I didn’t pay better attention to Tunning.” He struggled to his feet and looked down at the former estate agent. “What are we going to do about him?”

“I think you’re going to have to stay here with him while I take the Viscountess back to Larchside. I’ll have the magistrate and a doctor out to see to him.” He looked down at Elizabeth, for the first time noting her torn garments. “That bastard,” he growled, shrugging out of his greatcoat and wrapping her up in it.

Elizabeth laughed weakly. “My clothes, I’m afraid, are the least of my problems. I fear, Justin, I cannot walk; my feet are cut to ribbons.”

St. Ryne looked down at her feet encased in torn slippers liberally stained with blood. His face softened and he gently picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Your courage and strength, my love, unman me.” He lowered his head to kiss her tenderly.

The first faint light of dawn shone on the horizon as St. Ryne placed Elizabeth in the saddle and swung up behind her. Turning the tired horse back toward Larchside, he pulled her close. She leaned her cheek against him. When she heard a low laughing rumble in his throat, she looked up quizzically.

“Do you remember the last time you rode before me?”

“I’m not likely to forget, nor the ice water you set me in when we arrived.”

He grimaced. “That was an accident.” He paused, then went on in a strangled voice: “Thomas said you were planning to return to London. Dare I hope that you were coming back to me? I know I’ve acted the complete ass, but can you forgive me, Elizabeth?”

He sounded so humble and penitent, that even if she hadn’t already forgiven him, she would have done so. She looked into his eyes, her own shining. “Not unless you call me Bess,” she teased. “I find I’ve become fond of the name.”

He laughed. “I did it at first merely to tease, and then I came to think of you as ‘my Bess’ and no other name would do, except maybe ‘love,’ ” he finished softly.

“Let’s begin anew, Justin,” she suggested urgently.

“How so, love?”

“Let’s pretend this is the homecoming ride from our wedding and put the past behind us.”

“All right,” he said, reining in the horse. “But first a kiss to seal our vows properly.” Pulling her tight against him, he lowered his head until their lips touched, softly at first then with increased pressure, their tongues intertwining as each pulled the other closer. The swirl of sensation threatened to drown Elizabeth but this time, instead of allowing the sensations merely to wash through her, she answered his kiss with a tidal wave of passion.

She was light-headed but happy when at last their kiss broke. She reached up a shy finger to trace his face. “I love you, Justin. Let’s hurry home.” She paused, smiling saucily up at him. “I have still to learn what it really means to be the Viscountess St. Ryne.”

He raised an eyebrow, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “And are you eager to do so?”

“Very eager.”

He laughed, hugging her tight, and urged the horse forward to Larchside.

Thanks so much for reading
Honor's Players
.

When I was in elementary school I received a book called
Tales from Shakespeare
by Charles and Mary Lamb. It was a book of Shakespeare’s plays turned into stories for children. I loved that book and as I got older I came to appreciate Shakespeare’s plays. Of course seeing and hearing a young James Earl Jones playing
Othello
didn’t hurt either. I have enjoyed watching Shakespeare’s plays both on stage and on film and admired how different casts and directors could put different spins on the plays. So, it was natural that I should try my hand at a different spin as well, and what better vehicle that a Regency Romance?

Honor’s Players
was the first full regency that I wrote. I started “A Grand Gesture” first (coming soon to Kindle), but Honor’s Players was the first book I finished. It won first place in a writing contest sponsored by the University of Texas at Dallas and was first runner up for a
Rita
award from Romance Writers of America. The book still has first place in my heart.

If you enjoyed my book, please considered going back to Amazon and
leaving a review and "Like"ing it
. If you find a typo or other error in the Kindle formatting, please email me at
[email protected]
so I can get it fixed as soon as possible!

Below is information on some of my other books:

The Waylaid Heart
Snubbed! Intrigued by the novelty, Sir James Branstoke followed the widow Cecilia Waddley. He first followed her in curiosity, then to save her from herself when he realized she was on the trail of a murderer who would have no compunction about taking her as his next victim.

The Heart's Companion
Rumor branded the Earl of Royce as the Devil’s Disciple, a man every self-respecting woman spurned. But Jane Grantley found spurning him difficult for the Devil’s Disciple refused to live up to his name instead playing the perfect gentleman until even Jane’s legendary reserve melted.

A Heart In Jeopardy
For Leona Leonard and Nigel Deveraux duty to one’s family went without question. But when Leona rescues a Deveraux family member from kidnappers and the kidnappers swear vengeance, Leona’s and Nigel’s concepts of duty clash in this lively Regency mystery romance.

The Rocking Horse,
a Regency Christmas short story
The handmade toy was Lord Tarkington's gift for his young daughter. But his labor of love touched the heart of a lady—who knew she had found her heart's desire.

More books coming to Kindle in 2013:

A Grand Gesture
When Catherine Shreveton was offered a London Season under the auspices of her aunt, her family insisted she go. In a pique, she dressed to look every bit as plain and provincial as her aunt supposed her to be, but she hadn’t counted on the Marquis of Stefton who knew she acted a sham.

Gentleman’s Trade
A sparkling story of a New Orleans belle caught up in a contest of wills with a dashing Englishman.