Ransomed Jewels (25 page)

Ross’s hand jerked, and the gun fell to the floor with a loud thud. His eyes stayed riveted to the spot where his father lay.

Sam fought the urge to go to his cousin, but he had to get to Claire first. He tried to move but stopped when a burning stab of pain grabbed hold of him. He waited until the pain subsided, then crawled another step. She was so far away it seemed to take forever to get to her. The stitch in his side stole his breath, and he clutched his hand to the burning wound and crawled closer.

“Major!”

Sam recognized Barnaby’s voice and heard his heavy steps as he rushed into the room.

“Linscott. See to your sister.”

Sam checked the spot where Claire was rising from the floor, then looked back to his cousin and realized he hadn’t moved. His stillness frightened Sam almost as much as his need to make sure Claire was all right. When he looked at her, he found her rushing toward him.

“Claire.”

“Sam!”

Her hands held him down, his back pressed to the floor, and she nestled his head in her lap. “You’re hurt. Just lie still.”

“Are you . . . all right?”

“I’m fine. Fine. Watkins!” Claire turned when the butler rushed through the doorway. “Send for Doctor Bronnely. Now!”

Sam relaxed until the next wave of pain gripped him. When it receded, he tried to ease the worry on her face with humor. “If we don’t change our ways . . . Bronnely will demand we set up . . . a room for him here.” Sam tried to smile but gasped as another wave of pain seared through him. Linscott knelt beside him and pulled back Sam’s jacket and his shirt.

“I’ve seen worse,” Linscott said, pressing a cloth to Sam’s side to staunch the bleeding. “But you’re going to be damn sore for a while.”

Sam turned his head to where his uncle lay sprawled, a pool of blood darkening beneath him. Lieutenant Honeywell and another officer were kneeling over him. “Is he dead?”

Barnaby shook his head. “Not yet.”

Sam locked his gaze with Barnaby’s. “I need a favor.” Sam knew he was crossing a line he never thought he’d come near. “Take my uncle home. It won’t do anyone any good to know he died here. Then send for McCormick.”

Barnaby nodded. “I’ll take your uncle home. Perhaps it would be best if Society believes Rainforth had an accident while cleaning his gun. It’s not so implausible, and his son is not in any condition to dispute anything right now.”

Sam moved his gaze to where Ross now knelt, clutching his father’s hand. Sam knew his cousin’s sanity hung by a fragile thread. “Thank you,” he said to Barnaby, fighting another stabbing shard of pain.

Barnaby nodded, then issued orders for Honeywell to bring a carriage round back. “I’ll make sure everything’s taken care of before I bring McCormick back here.”

Sam breathed a painful sigh, then said, “You’re him, aren’t you?”

It was impossible to mistake the slow hiss of Barnaby’s breath or the lift of his shoulders.

“You’re the man Hunt was training to take over for him, aren’t you?”

Claire’s brother arched his brows. “Lord Huntingdon thought I might be of some use to my country, yes.”

“He chose well,” Sam said, then closed his eyes and sucked in as deep a breath as his body would allow. “He would be glad we found the necklace and uncovered the traitor.”

“Yes. He would.”

Sam listened to Barnaby’s retreating footsteps. When he opened his eyes, several men were carrying the Marquess of Rainforth from the room. His son walked at his side, clutching his hand. Ross’s face was already gaunt and pale, as if he realized his father’s death hovered just hours away.

“Doctor Bronnely is on his way,” Watkins said, rushing into the room when Rainforth was gone.

“Bring him right in when he arrives,” Claire said. “And send in some men to carry Major Bennett to his room.”

Watkins rushed from the room. When Sam looked up, his gaze locked with Claire’s tear-filled eyes. “Don’t cry, Claire. It’s over now.”

“You could have died. I could have lost you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me. I’m right here. Nothing’s going to happen to either of us ever again.”

Sam looked at Claire’s pale face and wanted to reach his finger to still her trembling lips. Instead, he took her hands and held them in his. Her gaze was fixed on his, and tears ran steadily down her cheeks.

“It’s all right, Claire.”

She nodded as she struggled to speak. Finally her lips parted, and she whispered a very shaky question. “Do you really love me, Sam?”

“Ah, Claire. You know I do. With all my heart.”

She nodded as if confirming a fact she already knew. Through the tears brimming in her eyes, she cupped her palm to Sam’s cheek. “I love you, too.”

Sam’s breath caught in his chest. “As soon as this is all over, we’ll marry.”

“There’s bound to be a scandal when Society finds out I was never the real Marchioness of Huntingdon. When they discover I lived with Hunt for seven years without the bonds of matrimony. They’ll think the worst, of course.”

“After what we’ve survived, we’ll hardly notice a scandal.” Sam’s heart swelled when she smiled. He locked his fingers with hers and held her gaze. “I can’t offer you a title, Claire.”

“Is that what you think I want?”

Sam smiled through the pain. “It’s what you deserve.”

She shook her head. “I deserve to be loved. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. For seven years I woke up each day thinking this would be the day Hunt could love me. But it wasn’t. Even though now I know why, it didn’t make the years I lived without my husband’s love any easier.”

Sam reached up to wipe a tear that dared to run down her cheek.

“I didn’t think I’d ever know love, Sam. Then I met you. For the first time in my life I know what it is to love and be loved. I can’t give you up now that I’ve found you.”

She lowered her head to kiss him. When she lifted her lips from his, she placed her cheek against his and whispered in his ear. “I would be proud to be your wife.”

She kissed him again and only broke away from him when Bronnely walked into the room.

“You’ll never regret it, Claire,” Sam said before Bronnely reached them.

“I know I won’t. I’ll make you so happy neither of us will have a chance to regret it.”

Sam gave her hand a gentle squeeze and held on because he never intended to let go. He’d finally found what he’d been searching for his whole life. A jewel worth more than a king’s ransom.

Epilogue

April, 1857

Claire lifted her gaze to the mirror on her dressing table and saw Sam relaxing inside the doorway. He stood with his shoulder against the door frame and his arms crossed over his chest. She recognized the look in his eyes and fought the blush that warmed her cheeks.

“You can go now, Tilly.”

Claire’s maid smiled, then closed the door behind her as she left the room.

“Ah, Claire,” he sighed. “You’re beautiful.” He crossed the room and took her in his arms.

“It’s the dress.” Claire lifted her lips to his and returned his kiss with the same passion she’d felt for more than two years now.

“It’s not the dress. It’s you.”

“If we don’t stop,” she said, kissing him again, “we’re going to be late for the ball. It’s not every day the young Marquess of Huntingdon gets introduced to Society. And you haven’t even begun to dress.”

“It won’t take me long. Come sit with me for a minute.”

Sam took her hand and led Claire over to the wing chair. He sat with her on his lap, then placed his hand on her stomach. “Are you feeling all right?”

She smiled. “Yes. I’m fine. I only seem to get ill in the mornings. It was the same when I was increasing with Matthew. Maybe I’ll present you with another son, Samuel. Would that be all right?”

“Whatever pleases you, my dear. As long as you and the babe are healthy I don’t have a preference either way.”

“Did you just return?”

Sam nodded and pulled her to him. He would hold her close every time he came back from visiting his cousin, Ross. It was as if he needed her nearness. Her understanding. She knew it would be more so today. “How is Lord Rainforth?”

“I couldn’t talk him out of it, Claire. He was determined to go through with it.”

“You’ve done everything you can for him, Sam.”

“I know, but nothing has helped.”

She felt the agonizing breath Sam released.

“He’s determined to give it all away, Claire. I swear he’d give away his title if he could.”

Claire snuggled closer to her husband. She wished she could take away some of the guilt he carried. “He hasn’t wanted any of the wealth his father left him since the night his father died. I think a part of him can’t come to terms with the lengths his father had gone to provide for him.”

“But you should have seen him, Claire. In one stroke of a pen he signed his inheritance away without even as much as a blink.”

“He didn’t sign it away. He signed it over to you. Because he knew you’d taken care of it after he refused to have anything to do with it. Because you proved how capable you were at running the Rainforth holdings.”

“But I don’t want them, Claire. I never have. I’m satisfied with the estate my father left me. I don’t want more.”

“I know,” Claire said. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “You have never envied Ross his wealth. That’s one of the things I love most about you. Yet you’ve devoted every day for the last two years to taking care of the Rainforth holdings.”

Claire saw the sad look on Sam’s face and knew his thoughts before he said them. “I only wish Ross wanted to claim it.”

“I know,” she whispered, knowing Sam’s cousin never would. She took a deep breath and changed the subject. “Barnaby came to visit this afternoon.”

“Where’s he off to?”

“He wouldn’t say. But then, he never does. I worry about him, Sam.”

“I know, but he’s not in quite so much danger now that the war is over.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No. It’s supposed to make you worry less.”

“How did you do it, Sam?”

“It was easier then. I didn’t have you to come home to. Now I’d be of no use to the government at all. I can barely tear myself away from you for an afternoon, let alone think of leaving you for days.”

Claire smiled as she snuggled closer to him. “You should get ready. We can’t be late. No one will want to miss a minute of the ball to introduce the Marquess of Huntingdon.”

Claire pushed herself away from Sam. “Did you talk to the Duke of Bridgemont like you said you were going to?”

“Yes. I stopped on my way home. Hunt’s son was there when I arrived. As resistant as His Grace was to accept Hunt’s son as his heir when he first met him, he’s that determined to have Society accept Jonathan as the Marquess of Huntingdon, and future Duke of Bridgemont. Hunt would be so proud if he could see the bond that’s grown between his father and his son.”

“I’m the one who’s proud,” Claire said, kissing Sam again. “Of you. You’re the one who convinced the Duke of Bridgemont it would serve no purpose for him to disown Hunt’s heir.”

“It wasn’t that difficult once he saw the boy. Jonathan’s the picture of his father. He has all Hunt’s noble characteristics, and the same intelligence and integrity as his father. He’s so mature, and has the confidence and the wealth to back him up.”

“I know,” Claire said on a heavy sigh. “He’s also too handsome for his own good.”

“Are you worried about him? Or all the eligible young women you invited tonight?”

“Lord Huntingdon, of course. Females can be ruthless, you know. And nothing stops us once we set our minds on someone.”

“I know. Look what happened to me.”

Claire gave him a playful swat on the shoulder, then leaned up to kiss him again. “You were hardly a challenge, Major. I was the one who was afraid to take another chance.”

Sam held her close and pressed his lips to her temple. “Yes, you were. I don’t even want to imagine what my life would be like if you would not have given in.” Sam kissed her cheek. “Now, I think I’d better get ready before I’m tempted to do something much more entertaining right here.”

Claire slid off Sam’s lap and pulled him to his feet. “Definitely not. Or we’ll be late for sure.”

He moaned in frustration. “I am only giving you a reprieve, wife. The minute the last dance has finished, I intend to prove how much I love you.”

Claire lifted her hand to Sam’s cheek. “Your love is all I ever wanted,” she whispered, then wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers.

She intended to stop after the first kiss but kissed him again. She felt him work at the buttons down her back and smiled.

It wouldn’t take Tilly long to help ready her again. And it would be well worth the time.

Acknowledgments

To my special friend and editor extraordinaire—Mary Schwaner. I write because you are there to help me when I get overwhelmed. I wouldn’t be where I am without you.

About the Author

Laura Landon taught high school for ten years before leaving the classroom to open her own ice-cream parlor. As much as she loved serving up sundaes and malts from behind the counter, she closed up shop after penning her first novel. Now she spends nearly every waking minute writing, guiding her heroes and heroines to their happily-ever-after. She has written more than two dozen Victorian historical novels, thirteen of which have been published by Prairie Muse Publishing and seven of which have been published by Montlake Romance, all selling worldwide. She lives with her family in the rural Midwest, where she devotes what free time she has to volunteering in her community.