In Love With a Wicked Man (35 page)

Reggie stood propped against the door frame, a smug look of satisfaction upon his face.

Something about that satisfaction was her undoing. Kate hauled back and swung fast, backhanding him with all her might. Reggie’s head snapped, cracking on the stonework. He staggered but a moment, then grabbed her and dragged her, clawing and biting, back into the cottage.

“You little—
bitch!
” He grunted out the words, wrestling her back onto what passed for a pallet. “Always—were—a hellcat.”

Kate was fast, or would have been, but the drug had slowed her in both body and brain, and Reggie outweighed her considerably. She fought him hard, but to no avail, thrashing back with her elbows, scrabbling for a handful of shirt or hair or anything she could seize.

Eventually, however, Reggie got her facedown and threw all his weight atop her. Then the sickening smell pressed in upon Kate, and the darkness came again.

A
SHORT BUT
storied career in the British army, paired with nearly two decades spent raking out the pockets of some of the most duplicitous that humanity could offer, had honed Edward’s instincts to a slicing edge. By the time he’d reached the edge of the moor, having moved relentlessly over hill and dale, through hedge, ditch, and every cowshed he beheld, three hours had passed and his blood was still like ice water in his veins.

He had learnt to smell deception before he saw it and to believe, like Machiavelli, that overcoming an enemy by fraud was as good as by force. Thus, when he saw the abandoned cottage with its attached shed half caved in, an uneasy certainty settled over him.

Returning to a copse on the far side of the hill, he secured Aragon and walked back to the cottage. Carefully selecting his angle of approach, he crept up to the windowless rear, a long wall spanning both house and shed. Within, nothing stirred—at least nothing that could be heard through the thick stone.

Nonetheless, he sensed a presence. Soundlessly he moved across the back in the direction of the shed. Halfway along he was rewarded by a faint snuffle, and the sound of shifting hooves. A quick glimpse around the corner, and he caught sight of a long, black tail swishing across a pair of red and black legs.

Kate’s bay mare.
Suddenly, he caught the rumble of a low voice from within the cottage.

Settling himself against the wall, he weighed what to do. He supposed Reggie to be armed; cowards usually were. He was not afraid of rushing the door, and expected he could tackle Reggie long before he got off a shot.

But that was a big gamble when Kate could get hurt. Spitfire that she was, Reggie had likely been compelled to bind her, rendering her incapable of movement or defense. No, better to flush Reggie out first.

Swiftly, he crept around to the side and stuck his head around front to examine the access points. One door with a low stoop and two windows, both shuttered. Glazing, if there had ever been any, had long ago been pried out.
Damn it.
There was no way to see what was happening inside.

Mentally calculating how far away Anstruther might be, Edward went around to the shed and released Kate’s mare, along with a second horse, just as the voices took on an angry pitch. With the argument as cover, he led the horses away.

Upon his return to the shed, Edward began to quietly pile up straw and dry manure against the connecting wall, then topped it with dead bracken. Once the pile looked high enough, he double-checked the weapon Anstruther had given him. Then Edward pulled out his matches and sent up a prayer to Vesta.

W
HEN NEXT
K
ATE
came awake, it was to find herself slumped in the corner, her hands bound before her by a length of filthy rope, and the handkerchief gagging her mouth. The rope went around her waist, painfully tight, hitching her from behind to something she couldn’t see. An iron ring set in the wall, as best her numb fingers could make out.

Reggie sat on an old milking stool beneath a shuttered window. A blade of light leached in through the crack, casting an eerie, sharply angled luminance over his eyes.

“Hullo, Kate,” he said softly. “Back amongst the living, are we?”

She lashed out with one leg, attempting to kick the stool from under him as she cursed him through the gag.

“What’s that, my love?” Reggie leered. “Why, I would not dare take advantage of an insensate female! Besides, I had your virtue long ago, Kate, for what that was worth.”

Stomping one boot heel impotently, Kate threatened to cut off his bollocks with a dull knife. The gag, unfortunately, spoiled the effect.

“Oh, just hush, Kate.” Churlishly, he threw his arms across his chest. “You’re still too drugged to run, and if you don’t sit still, I mean to gas you again.”

Snarling, Kate threw herself back against the stonework and considered her options. Her head was not clear, it was true, but she was beginning to make out where she was. Her eyes must have lit with recognition.

“Yes, the old cowman’s cottage,” said Reggie, showing his large, white teeth as he grinned. “We used to play here, Stephen and I. I thought you might recognize it.”

When Kate said nothing, Reggie’s smile actually warmed. “There’s a good girl,” he murmured, stretching out his legs. “Now, just sit quietly, my dear, and in the morning this will all be over.”

In the morning?

What was the devil up to? Kate let her gaze dart about the one-room structure, considering her options—which were few, so far as her befuddled brain could make out. But what she could make out was the glint of a small pistol on the rickety gateleg table beside Reggie; not a proper sidearm, but something smaller, stubbier, and infinitely more lethal-looking.

“Oh, that’s not for you, my love,” said Reggie, seeing her eyes widen. “How could you think it? That’s just for our protection today, in case someone manages to find you before you’re thoroughly compromised.”

“Compromised
—
?” Kate growled, though the gag absorbed the sound. “Are you mad?”

But of course he was mad; it went without saying. There was a feverish gleam in his eyes, and the strained, harsh look etched around his mouth had deepened.

“Kate,” he said soothingly, “you really shan’t have much choice. Half the village will be at Bellecombe tonight for the great celebration. I’m afraid our night-long absence will be much remarked.”

On a groan, Kate shut her eyes. Uncle Upshaw’s dinner party! And Reggie was right—everyone would be there.

And everyone would notice her absence.

“Yes, it
will
be gossip-worthy, won’t it?” he crowed, seeing her dismay. “Tomorrow morning I’m sure you—and Lord Upshaw—will see the sense in an expedient wedding.”

Kate kicked again, sending up a cloud of dust, but Reggie just laughed.

“Yes, Lady d’Allenay and her once-betrothed have slipped away to rekindle their passion,” he said. “Or perhaps everyone will simply imagine your little sister besting you to the altar put your nose out of joint? In any case, I shall delight in Upshaw’s outrage—not to mention Quartermaine’s.”

Pushing at the gag with her tongue, Kate stopped long enough to grunt out another string of curses.

“Indeed, fit to be tied, I should imagine!” said Reggie cheerfully. “And Upshaw will be only too glad to demand I make an honest woman of you, Kate, since you will be ruined—
just like your sister.
”

With a wrench of her jaw and a determined push of her tongue, Kate dislodged the handkerchief. “You ruined me years ago, you damned fool!” she cried. “Why didn’t you just tell him that?”

“What, and have you call me a liar?” Reggie’s countenance darkened. “No, no, my dear, that won’t answer. Besides, given that trick your Bedlamite of a mother pulled, it will take a very public ruination to urge Upshaw’s sympathy to my side.”

Kate just shook her head. “Reggie, your desperation’s driven you mad,” she said. “I’m not Nancy; I’m of age and I’m a baroness, for pity’s sake! I’ll never marry you. I’d sooner cast my good name to the wind.”

“You don’t mean it!” he hotly interjected, leaping off the stool and seizing his pistol. “You used to love me, Kate! You—why, you
gave
yourself to me! You swore to marry me!”

“Before I came to my senses!” she cried. “I was just grief-stricken, Reggie, by Stephen’s death. Yes, I slept with you and agreed to marry because I felt so alone. So overwhelmed. Can’t you understand that?”

“No, you
. . . you waited for me!
” he cried, waving the weapon wildly. “I depended on you. And you were waiting, Kate! It’s not fair to now pretend you weren’t!”

“Is that what you thought?” Kate cried. “Truly? That I was . . . what, pining? Just biding my time until you returned with some platitude about begging forgiveness?”

“Yes, for you’d no choice,” he snapped. “No decent man wants a soiled bride, and you’re not even a beauty. Besides, I—I can make you do it! Do not try me, Kate! You don’t know what I’m capable of!”

“You’re capable of gross stupidity,” she said on a snort. “That much is clear.”

It was a terrible mistake to taunt him. “Don’t laugh at me, you insolent bitch!” he shouted, leveling the gun at her head. “No one else shall have you, I swear to God!”

“Reggie,” she said calmly, “move the gun away.”

Instead, he shoved it nearer, the barrel trembling. “Oh, how it galls me, Kate, to come to Bellecombe only to find that scourge of humanity, Ned Quartermaine, cozied up in my place! That was a grave mistake, my girl. I will
not
have it. By God,
I will not.
”

Kate was suddenly frightened. Reggie no longer looked like himself; his face was twisted with rage, sweat beading on his forehead as his hand shook with the weight of the gun.

“Just let me go, Reggie,” she said softly. “Let me go and we’ll forget this happened. Don’t be a fool.”

“Oh, I’ll tell you who the fool is,” Reggie snapped. “It’s you, Kate, if you think Ned Quartermaine will do a damned thing for you. The man is utterly without remorse or Christian charity. He’ll toss up your skirts and go back to London laughing.”

“And aren’t you a fine one, Reggie, to speak of tossing up skirts and running off!”

“I didn’t run, Kate, I just had a little f—” Reggie had cocked one ear toward a distant corner, his expression blanking.

Kate became gradually aware of a sound; a distant hum at first, rather like an angry beehive, and then more of a snapping sound. Suddenly, she caught a whiff of smoke.

Kate glanced up to see it gathering in the rafters. “Reggie!” she cried, “there’s a fire!”

“Fire?” Reggie spun around, pistol in hand.

She could hear distinct crackling now. The adjoining cowshed. “Reggie, untie me,” she ordered, jerking against the iron ring. “Oh, God. My horse! Where’s Athena?”

But Reggie was running from wall to wall, feeling them as if for heat. Suddenly the smoke was roiling down in great clouds between them. On the other side of the wall, the crackle was rising to a roar.

Genuine fear began to churn in her stomach. “Reggie, we have to get out!” she cried, twisting her hands behind her.

Neither the rope nor the iron ring would give. Reggie shouted something—a curse, she thought, and turned, still clutching his weapon. Through the haze she could just make out his eyes shying wildly. He tried the door, but it seemed stuck. He flung himself at the first set of shutters and began beating at them.

“Reggie!” The air was thickening with smoke. “Where’s Athena? We have to get out!”

But Reggie had run back to the door. Finally he put his shoulder into it. A shower of sparks rained down from the rafters. Reggie panicked, and hit the door again. It flew wide and he bolted down the path. The door banged shut after him.

In that moment, Kate realized what true terror felt like. “Reggie!” she screamed. “You coward!”

Within seconds, a loud
ka-boom!
rattled the shutters. Kate screamed, and wrenched at the iron ring with all her strength. And then Edward was shouldering his way through the door, a look of grim determination on his face as he emerged through the smoke.

“Kate! Good God!” He shoved what looked like a pistol into the band of his trousers, and fell to one knee. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, but—oh, Edward!” She swallowed down her terror. “The fire! Athena!”

“Athena’s well away, and the fire is just a ruse—for now,” he said, his fingers swift on the knots. “Oh, Kate. Oh, love. I’m so sorry.”

“Did you shoot Reggie?” she asked, relief flooding through her.

“Yes.”

“Then you’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“I didn’t kill him.” He was tugging furiously at the knot behind her. “Should I have?”

“Oh. Well.” She gave a thready laugh. “I’m so relieved to see you, I can forgive that small oversight.”

The fire was above the wall and teasing at the far corner of the rafters now. Suddenly Kate felt the rope fall from around her waist, and Edward was up, hauling her to her feet.

Scooping one arm under her knees, he tossed her up and against his chest as if she were weightless, then shouldered his way back out the door and strode away from the burning building.

Reggie lay along the path—precisely where Kate had heaved up her breakfast—clutching one blood-soaked thigh. His pistol lay several yards away.

“You—you
shot me!
” Reggie screeched. “Damn you, Quartermaine! You
tried to kill me
!”

“I merely winged you,” said Edward. “Pray don’t make me regret it.”

Kate looked down at the man writhing in pain, and suddenly, the hilarity of it struck her. “It warms my heart, Reggie,” she said, “to see you rolling around in a patch of vomit.”

“You little bitch!” Reggie seized as if with pain. “I may never walk again!”

“Another insult to the lady,” said Edward coolly, “and you’ll never breathe again.”

Reggie shot him a vile look, then his face crumpled to near tears. Suddenly there came a hard pounding of hooves behind the cottage. Kate whipped her head around.

“Anstruther,” said Edward, his somber gaze drifting over her face. “Sorry for the fright, but it seemed safest to flush Reggie out. Can you stand, my love?”