Kiss the Earl (12 page)

“I would venture to think that a beautiful woman like you would have no shortage of true loves, if she decided to sally forth and find one.” Iain's smile was devastatingly handsome, but it didn't do a thing for Ella. She saw right through him. He was a player, through and through.

Patrick's tender wrapping of Ella's beat-up feet did a lot more for her insides than Casanova Iain Cameron could ever hope to.

“Thanks for the compliment, but I'm happy,” Ella said, watching Patrick tie the bandage securely on her right foot. “All I want is to go back home and draw comics for the rest of my life. I've got friends and my job. I don't need love.”

“There.” Patrick sat back on his heels and looked at Ella's feet, now swathed in white cotton bandages. “I shall appeal to the innkeeper for some more boots. Yours will not be dried, and we must leave soon if we are to get you to London before dark.”

“London?” Ella tightened her fists at her sides. “We can't go to London; we've got to find Amelia.”

Patrick rounded on her. “Do you think me cruel? You are feverish, Ella, and you will probably very soon need to take to your bed. The best physicians are in London, so that is where you must go.” He turned to Iain. “If I may appeal to you, Cousin, to continue to Meadowfair Manor and see if you can discover any word of Amelia. She and I were to have—”

“No.” She stood, keeping her weight on the edges of her feet. “No, we're not going to London. We've got to find Amelia on our own. If we don't, then the baron will probably murder you before you can find her. She might be in trouble, Patrick. I'm not going to London. Period.”

Patrick stared at her, his mouth a thin line. She stared up at him, wishing she were taller and more intimidating. But her chin was set, her mind was made up, and she wasn't budging. She might have ruined Patrick's elopement, but she wouldn't delay him for anything in the world. Besides, even the best doctors in this time couldn't help her if she got an infection. They just didn't have the knowledge or the medications. If she got sick? It didn't matter.

He mattered. His happiness mattered. And she'd be damned if he threw it away because of her.

“Very well,” he muttered in defeat. “Iain, will you accompany us? I am sure you will even if I wish you would not.”

His cousin grinned and nodded.

“Good.” Ella crossed her arms. “Let me have some of that wine, Iain. If my butt's going to be numb from riding on horseback for the next six hours, I wouldn't mind a little lubrication.”

A healthy glass of wine and a scuffed, too-big pair of boots later, the trio set off down the lane, Ella snuggled deep into a thick wool blanket that Patrick had procured for her before they left.

He really was too nice to her.

“For I have
loved
you
well
and
looong,
deliiiiighting in your
companyyyy
.”

Patrick gritted his teeth as Iain took a large breath, readying himself to belt out the chorus.

“Greeeeen
sleeeeeves
was all my joy, and Green—”

“Must you continue? The baron himself has heard us by now, and him snug in his dining room in Town.” Patrick glared through the darkening twilight at his overcheerful cousin.

“I think Iain's got a nice voice,” said Ella, but her tone was thin as broth. Turning in the saddle, Patrick looked back at her. She looked wilted, like a flower cut and left too long in the sun.

“If it brings you pleasure, then I shall surely continue,” Iain said in a smarmy, overly friendly tone. “Ahem.”

“Do not even think of it,” Patrick said, slowing Bacon to match Kipper's more sedate pace. Once there were a few feet between them and Iain, Patrick pitched his voice low to speak to Ella.

“You are feeling worse. Do not try to deny it.”

Ella didn't look at him—she turned her face toward the sunset behind them. Silhouetted by the dying sun, she looked even more beautiful, if such a thing was possible.

“Maybe a little,” she said quietly. “I never really thought about how lucky I was before.”

“What do you mean?”

She favored him with a small smile, the expression lighting her whole face. “Just what I said. I'm lucky. I've been lucky my whole life. I have a great family, good friends, I make a living doing what I love. If I got sick, I went to see the doctor. I've had surgery before when I needed it. I could go here and there in a fraction of the time it would take to travel on horseback. If something scared me, I just didn't do it. I was free.”

Silence fell between them for a moment, the only sound the even clomping of their horses' hooves and, up ahead, Iain finishing his song in a low hum.

“Here, though, everything is different. If not for you, I don't know where I'd be right now. And that thought kind of scares me.” Her gaze met his, and the fear he saw there nearly undid him. “I'm scared I'm going to get really sick, Patrick. My foot didn't look good at all earlier, and I know I have a fever now. What do I do?”

He drew in a deep breath through his nose, gripping the reins tighter. He wished he could promise that she would be all right. He wished this were a foe he could face, though he hadn't done much fighting since the Peninsula. But none of that was true, and he would not lie to her.

“I shall take care of you,” he promised. “Do not worry, Ella. All will be well.”

“Thanks for saying so,” she said, but he could tell that she didn't believe it. He could not blame her. What could he do in the face of sickness?

Though society held him in esteem as a peer of the realm, he was as helpless as a newborn babe in this situation.

“Ho,” Iain called, turning his horse to face them. “There are lights up ahead.”

Mouth pressed into a thin line, Patrick looked where his cousin indicated. Two tiny golden dots bobbed ahead. “They are moving.”

“Yes, and the next inn is not for five miles yet.”

With a glance over at Ella, whose pale face seemed to glow in the fading light, Patrick nodded to Iain.

“Give us a moment, Ella.”

“Huh?”

But he'd already whipped Bacon up into a gallop, Iain hard on his heels. Once they'd put a bit of distance between themselves and Ella, Patrick slowed his mount, and Iain did likewise. Patrick glanced back to make sure that Ella was far enough away so she would not hear. She was glowering at him from several yards away. Safe enough.

“I do not like the look of those lights. See how they bob and move? Those are riders, of a certainty.”

Iain nodded. “We are of like mind. Poachers?”

Grimly, Patrick felt in his pocket for the pistol he carried, just in case. “That or highwaymen, more than likely. Do you travel armed?”

Iain pulled his own pistol from his pocket with a smile. “I am not such a trusting fool that I leave home without arming myself.”

A cough came from behind them, and Patrick felt a wrenching in his chest. Gods, Ella.

“Cousin, I will not have her harmed.”

“Nor I. Even though she is mad as anything, we must protect her.”

“She is not mad.”

Iain looked at Patrick like he'd lost his own mind. “You jest.”

“No, I believe her. And if you care to keep company with us, you will do the same.” Nudging Bacon with his knees, Patrick rode back to Ella's side.

“Patrick, wait.”

Though he didn't want to, he pulled up on the reins and allowed Iain to catch up with him.

His dark eyes were serious, holding none of their usual mirth. Iain might be a rake and a rogue, but inside he was a good man.

“I will protect her.”

“You have my thanks.”

The pair rode back to Ella's side. The woman in question was glaring, albeit weakly, in their direction.

“What the hell was that about?”

Iain snorted a laugh. “I do like you, Miss Briley. Plain speaking has never been so attractive.”

She didn't even spare Iain a glance. “Seriously. What were you talking about that you couldn't mention in front of me?”

A knowing look passed between Patrick and Iain.

Should
we
tell
her?

She
will
find
out
soon
enough. Let her be aware of the potential for danger.

Patrick nodded, then turned back to Ella. “You see those lights on the horizon?”

Her dark brows narrowed as she peered ahead. “Those tiny yellow spots?”

“Yes. Those are lanterns. See how they move?”

A heavy sigh escaped her. “I guess that means it's not somewhere we can stop for the night, then.”

“Sadly, no.” Iain guided his horse to her other side. “In all likelihood, Miss Briley, those are highwaymen.”

“Ella,” she corrected, pulling on Kipper's reins when she would have nipped Iain's stallion's neck. “Highwaymen. Great. I'm guessing they're not going to throw us a party, huh?”

Patrick grinned. Even in the face of danger, Ella did not lose her sense of humor. She truly was a treasure, and he'd miss her when she went back to her time.

If
she went back. If she was hale and whole and found someone to assist her.

The thought sobered him quickly.

“You are not to worry. Iain and I are armed, and they will not harm you.”

Cracking her knuckles, Ella looked from one side to the other.

“Well, do either of you have an extra weapon? I'd really appreciate having something to protect myself with, if you don't mind.”

Bacon stopped dead at Patrick's surprised yank on the reins. What the devil? She was a female—granted, an unusual one, but not even Amelia would dream of fighting against ruffians.

For Iain's part, however, he did not hesitate. He reached into the side of his boot and pulled out a small, sheathed knife. He presented it to her with a flourish, handle first.

“There you are, madam. I pray you do not need to use it.”

Patrick kicked Bacon's sides and pulled even with the other two as Ella replied, “I hope I don't either, but I'd rather be prepared.”

The sight of the knife in Ella's small hands acted like a punch to Patrick's gut, and he vowed that, no matter what happened in the moments ahead, she would not be forced to defend herself.

He would die first.

* * *

Ella shivered, pulling the cloak tighter around her body as they rode onward. Patrick and Iain kept looking at each other with those dark, overly dramatic expressions, and quite frankly, Ella wanted to belt them both.

Yes, there were probably highwaymen up ahead, and yes, their lives might be in danger. But honestly, right now, Ella was freaking miserable. Her foot was aching like a root canal, she was so cold that she wasn't sure she'd ever feel warm again, and her two escorts were acting like she didn't have a milk shake's chance in a sauna of making it out of whatever trouble was lying ahead.

It was enough to make a girl feel downright cranky.

“We are getting close,” Patrick murmured to her, his hands tight on Bacon's reins. “Stay near to me.”

“I'm not really likely to go galloping off on my own right this minute,” Ella couldn't help snarking back. “Besides, you're the one with the gun.”

He shot her a look but didn't reply, reaching over to grab her reins and pull up on them slightly. “Let Iain go first.”

She gritted her teeth but obeyed. This was his world, after all, and she was the guest here. He would know best in this situation, she was pretty sure. But damn it, she was getting a little tired of being told what to do all the time. She wasn't a clueless toddler; she was a clueless adult, thank you very freaking much.

Several minutes ago, the lanterns had been shuttered, so she wasn't certain where these bad guys were now. The sun was well and truly behind the horizon, but the moon was still full enough to lend a decent amount of light. Leaning to the side, she examined the ditch that ran by the road, looking for signs of baddies.

It didn't take long for them to declare themselves.

“Stand and deliver,” a male voice crowed, a dark figure leaping into the center of the road just in front of Iain's horse.

“Yes!” Another dark-cloaked figure jumped out just behind them, brandishing a blunt object that Ella couldn't define in the dim light. “Stand and deliver at once, you fools!” His voice was kind of squeaky, like a young teenager's.

“For the love of Batman,” Ella groaned, doing a genuine facepalm. “We've got novice highwaymen.”

“Quiet, Ella,” Patrick hissed, his eyes trained on the figure that had leapt out first. “Let Iain and me handle this. They are armed.”

She started to say, “So are we,” but he shot her a look that clearly said she should keep her trap shut.

“Hello, my fine lords,” said the leader, a white kerchief tied over the bottom half of his face. He swept off his hat and gave a mocking bow. “Such fine gentlemen as you must carry fine purses as they go, no?”

“You'll get no coin from us,” Patrick said in a pretty convincing lord-of-the-manor type tone. “Be on your way.”

“I think not!” The overly dramatic second pranced forward, the feather in his cap bobbing with each step. Ella bit her lip to keep from bursting out laughing. The kid couldn't be more than fifteen, and she didn't need to see beneath his kerchief to know that there was no way he'd grown a beard yet. “You'll hand over your purses, quick as you please, and the lady shan't get hurt.”

He pointed a rough wooden club at Ella, and her amusement turned dark pretty quick. Patrick sat stick-straight in the saddle and started to say something, but she steamrolled right over that, her fists tight and her anger flaring.

“Are you freaking
kidding
me
?”

She slung her leg over the pommel and slid to the ground, ignoring the screaming pain in her foot in order to give vent to her louder-screaming temper. Her skirt caught on the slipper-stirrup, ripping it easily. No help for it. Yanking it free, she stalked straight up to the short highwayman, completely ignoring Patrick and Iain's stunned faces.

“Did you just threaten to hit me?”

The kid's eyes went wide, until the whites stood out like bird droppings on blacktop. “I, uh, well, you see…”

Ella produced her knife and brandished it in front of her. “That was a big mistake, buddy. Seriously. Huge. I'm exhausted, I'm cranky, and I don't feel good. And I'm not about to take crap from a kid that can count his pubic hairs on one hand. Now, give me your wallet.”

The kid stumbled backward. “What?”

“Give it to me. Your purse, or whatever you call it. All the coins you've lifted from poor people before us. Your money. Now. Here.” She held out her hand, palm up.

The kid hesitated for a second, looking back at the first highwayman, and then over to Patrick and Iain behind her.

“
Do
it
,” she snarled.

“Yes, all right, please,” the kid said, his face crumpling. “It was just a bit of a lark, you see. We didn't mean no harm; truly we didn't.”

When the pouch hit Ella's palm, she looked over at the first highwayman. “Yours too. Put it here.”

In close range, it was easy to see that the other would-be robber wasn't much older than the kid. Maybe seventeen, eighteen at a stretch. But he was old enough that her technique didn't work as well on him.

He pulled a pistol from his pocket and trained it at her. “I do not think so.”

The sound of two pistols cocking behind Ella made her grin. “I do. Your money. All of it. My hand, right now.”

The highwayman looked from Ella to the mounted men behind her, to the three weapons all trained right at him. Cursing, he admitted defeat and dropped a pretty heavy purse into Ella's outstretched hand.

“You'll regret this,” the ringleader said, temper mottling his neck into a dusky red hue.

“Not as much as you will when I tell your father what you've been up to, Mr. Larnsby. This is hardly acceptable behavior for the son of a knight,” Patrick said in a calm voice.

“What? No, no, sir, I'm not Larnsby. I swear, I never heard the name, and please do not tell my father. He'll cut me off for sure.” The lead highwayman—or boy, Ella corrected herself mentally—fell to his knees beside Bacon, grabbing at Patrick's boot. “Please, have pity, sir.”

Iain grinned. “Come now, Coz. Let the boy off easy. He's lost all his winnings this night, and he's been bested by a wee fae woman. Surely that is enough punishment for now.”