Scandal's Child (14 page)

Kat stepped forward, but Glady stopped her. “What are you doing, Jacko? Remove that vest at once and the hat. They’ll give him too much of a target.”

The vest must stay to prevent her exposure, but Kat slowly removed the hat.

Although Glady wrinkled his brow, studying her, he didn’t seem to recognize her. She knew he would never, in his wildest dreams, think Kat would take Jacko’s place. For an instant, she could hardly believe it herself.

Trigge waited for her, joking with his second. Obviously he had been through this many times before. She had no choice. Slowly, she came face-to-face with him, taking one long look at his malevolence.

They stood back-to-back, their pistols raised over their right shoulders.

“Gentlemen, at my signal you shall take twenty paces forward and then turn and fire,” Glady stated flatly.

Blood roared in Kat’s ears, but she strained, concentrating on his words. She and Jacko had played at this as children. Jacko … no matter what happens you’re safe … The hilt of the pistol slid a little in her damp palm, but she only wrapped her fingers more tightly around it. She had so much to live for. Jules—I love you.

She wouldn’t allow anything to defeat her. Certainly not a bounder like Sir Edmund Trigge.

“Now!” Trigge’s second barked.

Glady began. “One…”

Kat stepped forward, her mind empty of everything except his voice.

“Two…”

The Four Feathers finally loomed into view but Jules galloped right past it to the north field. Silhouetted against the trees he saw the drama being played out.

“Oh, God, no,” he breathed, close enough now to realize the duel was beginning.

“Please, Kat, please . .” he prayed. Digging his heels into a winded Noir he raced forward. He had to stop them! He was close enough now to shout!

But his desperate cry was drowned out by a crack. Only one shot had been fired!

“Please, no…” he breathed, his chest aching as if it were he who had been shot.

Three men hovered over the injured party.

“Saville, what are you doing here?” Glady gasped, before Jules shoved him aside. He fell to his knees beside the doctor.

It was Trigge.

Of a sudden he could breathe again. His head swiveled to where Kat stood; unbelievably she was all right. He didn’t dare go to her, he would give the whole game away. Instead he concentrated on the villain before him.

Trigge’s eyes were closed, his face devoid of all color and his right hand hung helplessly, bleeding profusely.

“Didn’t know Jacko had it in him,” Glady suddenly muttered from behind Jules’s shoulder.

Slowly, Jules rose to his feet. Stepping away, he turned and looked across the forty paces.

Still Kat had not moved; she stood, the pistol smoking in her hand as morning mist swirled around her.

Even from this distance he could see her start of recognition when she saw him. She took one tentative step toward him.

“Stay there! I’ll handle this!” he commanded harshly. His tone caused her to draw back sharply and turn away.

God, didn’t she understand! He wanted nothing more than to go to her, gather her in his arms and never let her go!

His relief , that she was alive was boundless, unlike anything he’d ever known. But he must keep up the pretense that she was Jacko before these men. Soon, very soon, he would show her in every way just what she meant to him. But first, he must deal with Trigge.

Swinging back, he saw Sir Edmund was now sitting up with the help of his second. Some color had returned to his face.

“He’ll live,” the doctor nodded, wrapping his hand with strips of gauze.

“But only for a few more minutes,” Jules said calmly.

His words brought four pairs of eyes up to stare at him. Slowly, Jules peeled off one riding glove and, leaning over, slapped Sir Edmund’s pale cheek.

“Sir, what are you doing!” Trigge’s second sputtered.

“Prepare Sir Edmund’s pistol! We duel now!” he ordered.

Jules saw fear slowly enter Trigge’s suddenly alert eyes.

“You’re mad, Saville! My right hand is ruined,” Trigge moaned. “I can’t fight you.”

“It has always seemed your fondest wish to get me on the dueling field,” Jules said pleasantly. “Now you have succeeded.” He flicked a look to the second. “I repeat, load the pistols!”

“Sir, I must protest,” the doctor interjected, rising to face Jules. “This man is in no condition to duel. That hand may never mend properly. It would be tantamount to murder.”

“It is tantamount to ridding the world of vermin!” Kneeling, Jules stared into Trigge’s bloodless countenance. “I warned you. Now it is too late. How does it feel to know you face your doom, Trigge? This is what your helpless victims endured.” Rising, he glared down at the man who would have taken Kat’s life without a thought. That brought fresh rage. “You have two minutes, then I shoot you where you lie!” Jules bit out, his fists clenched at his sides.

“No, no, wait, Saville,” Sir Edmund pleaded, struggling to his feet. “I’ll leave England. Go to the Continent. You’ll never see me again. I give my word.”

“Your word means nothing!” Jules laughed harshly. “You have one minute, Trigge.”

His pallid eyes searched wildly around. “My God, someone do something! You can’t let him just shoot me in cold blood!”

“Saville, old boy, just not done you know,” Glady offered quietly. “Not worth it to be sent into exile. Let him go. I’ll see him to the coast and make sure he boards a ship.”

“I, too, shall accompany them,” the doctor informed him. “My patient shall require my attention until then.”

Jules stood for a long time considering. His desire for Kat, greater than that for revenge, won out.

“Your miserable life is spared, Trigge!” Jules growled, stepping away. “But get him out of my sight quickly before I change my mind!”

Sir Edmund’s second obviously took Jules at his word for he very nearly dragged him across the field, the doctor following hastily.

“Right decision, old boy,” Glady nodded. “I’ll see the bounder off.”

“Thank you, Pennington. I don’t see Jacko’s horse. Before you leave have the postboy bring it here from the inn. I must get him back to London.”

“Jacko!” Glady glanced over to where Kat stood. “Must bid him farewell. What a shot, Saville! Proud of him!” Glady beamed.

“Take care of Trigge for us. I’ll see to Jacko,” Jules commanded and with a small salute Glady followed the others.

At last they were alone. He turned to Kat. She had drawn Jacko’s coat on and placed his hat over her riotous curls.

Jules began to walk toward her, then he started to run. He was nearly there, was even reaching out to draw her into his arms, when the postboy ran up, holding Jacko’s horse by the reins.

Kat’s eyes were enormous pools of aquamarine; her cheeks were drained of all color.

“Yes, I know, it is you.” Jules murmured. “Mount. We must return to London as quickly as possible.”

Kat took the reins and flung herself into the saddle. Jules flipped a guinea to the astonished postboy. Wheeling Noir, he led her from the field of honor, gathering speed as they passed the Four Feathers. They were miles south before Jules slowed to a trot, Kat beside him.

Nervously, she slid him a frightened look. “Jules, please let me explain…”

“
Incroyable!”
Jules lapsed into French in astonishment. “You are unbelievable! Here I ride
ventre à terre
to save you, and you, my beautiful wife, have saved the day.” His dark eyes turned stern. “Never do anything like this again. You must promise me!”

“I promise,” Kat returned firmly. “I hope never to be so frightened again. But, Jules,” she put her hand on his arm to stop the horses. “I did it!” Her voice was full of pride and wonder.

“Yes, but now we have no time to waste, Kat. We must have you safely back in town and inform Jacko of his exploit on the field of honor today orall might be lost.”

He was holding himself tightly in check. There was nothing he wished for but to be able to take her in his arms and tell her how proud he was of her, that the courage she possessed amazed him, that he loved her. But he couldn’t do that, here, on the open highway. So he urged her forward.

They were in luck; the city traffic was still thin so they were able to weave their way through it quickly to Culter House.

They slid off their horses and stood facing one another in the mews. Excitement warred with apprehension, marring the beauty of Kat’s eyes. Her delectable lips quivered slightly.

Unable to contain himself, Jules stepped closer. “My beautiful wife,” he murmured, steeling every fiber of his body not to touch her just yet. “I’m not angry with you. On the contrary, the moment we get inside and I have you to myself, I am going to remove every article of Jacko’s clothing and kiss each sweet silken inch of your body.”

Jules smiled in delight as Kat’s cheeks flushed a brilliant scarlet. He saw, with joy, the response in her eyes.

“My lord,” Kat breathed, suddenly finding it difficult to take air into her lungs. “I think we should enter immediately.”

With a joyful laugh, Jules clasped her arm, leading her up the short flight of steps.

They had not reached the door before it was flung open. There in the wide rectangle back hallway stood Kat’s entire family, except for Jacko, and the Duchess of Culter.

“You’re all here!” Kat gasped, meeting Willy’s shrewd eyes.

“
Kathryn!”
Willy shrieked, her hand clasped to her throat. “
I need my smelling salts!”

“I think she means it this time!” Kat cried, rushing forward as Lady Tutwilliger crumpled into the arms of one of the Culter footmen.

With Jules’s help they carried her up to the main salon and laid her gently upon the blue velvet couch. Carefully, Mariah arranged pillows under her head while Kat burned a feather beneath her nose.

“Kathryn, I didn’t expect you to change places with Jacko!” Hannah scolded, wringing her hands over Lady Tutwilliger. “When I told Gwynneth this morning about our plan, she flew up into the boughs. We rushed over here to stop you but were too late.”

“You’re not hurt! Did you kill him, Kat?” Mariah asked softly, her Thistlewait eyes glistening with revenge. “The bounder deserves to die!”

“No, he lives. I hit his pistol hand before he got a shot away,” Kat said carefully, trembling ever so slightly, remembering Glady’s precise count … twirling at twenty paces, and firing at Sir Edmund’s hand as if it were nothing more than a target.

Lady Tutwilliger, under their combined ministrations, began to stir, her lashes fluttering wildly before she opened her lids.

“Willy, dearest, I’m sorry for frightening you,” Kat soothed, kissing her cheek. “Everything’s all right now.”

“But, where is Jacko?” she demanded, recovering to pin Kat with a steely stare.

“Oh, yes, where is Jacko! He could have been killed!” Caroline cried, leaping from the deep wing chair where she had collapsed in a bout of tears.

“I’m here,” a weary voice called from the doorway. Her twin stood, leaning heavily against the wood, his lawn shirt open at the throat below a face ashen with fear. “Kat?”

She ran to him, and he gathered her fiercely close so she could feel how fast his heart was beating. “Please forgive me, Jacko. I didn’t know what else to do,” she sobbed into his chest, relief that she had saved him finally cracking the dam of desperation she had somehow kept in check.

Her head jerked back as he gripped her shoulders, and shook her. “Forgive you! I should give you the thrashing of your life for being so foolhardy!”

“Oh, you beast!” Caroline cried, flying forward to pummel his arm with her small fists. He let go of his sister to protect himself.

“Caroline, what in—?”

“Oh, be quiet, you brute!” she sobbed. “If Kat hadn’t been so brave and daring you would be lying on that dueling field. And if you died my life would be over!”

Sobbing, she threw herself against his chest, and Jacko wasted no time in taking the opportunity to kiss her.

Kat felt Jules come up behind her and she leaned back into his embrace.

“I know exactly how she feels,” Jules murmured seductively into her ear, causing a strange ache low in her abdomen.

“Well, that settles that!” Lady Tutwilliger declared, making a remarkable recovery. She rose from the couch to flick out the folds of her gown. “I assume you have enough places set for breakfast, Sybilla.”

The duchess lifted her chin, sniffing. “I am always prepared for guests, Gwynneth.”

“Kathryn and I will not be joining you,” Jules drawled, pulling his unresisting wife toward the doorway. “We are retiring.”

As he dragged her out of the salon, Kat heard a little murmur of pleased shock from her family before they began to discuss Jacko’s imminent engagement to Caroline.

“Jules, I … what are you doing!”

To the obvious horror of two footmen, Jules swept her up in his arms. The Hessian on her left foot fell off.

He lifted that wonderful eyebrow in question and she shrugged. “They are much too large for me. Jacko will find it.”

At the top of the stairs she wiggled her foot and the other boot was discarded to tumble down the steps.

Jules glanced at it and Kat smiled, nestling against his chest. “I am simply helping you.”

She felt his laughter, and turning her face, pressed a kiss on his neck. A pulse leapt to life beneath her lips.

Jules kicked her bedroom door shut behind them and placed her carefully, barefoot, on the floor.

Then he kept his unspoken promise—boldly unlocking the door between their chambers. “This door shall remain open always.” It was a command she would be happy to comply with.

She turned to go into her dressing room to find her prettiest night robe, the one from their wedding.

“Where are you off to, wife?” he demanded. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again!”

Once more, he swung her up in his arms, and in two strides they fell onto the bed together.

An instant later, somehow, he had removed his coat and hers.

“Jules, how…?” Her words were smothered by a deep kiss, his lips teasing hers open so she could draw him even closer to her.

Bemused, she lay in his arms as he began to undress her. With each shirt button undone, he pressed a searching kiss on her heated skin. “I’ve been wanting to do this since our wedding night when I realized I loved you,” he murmured, his skillful fingers moving to the trouser buttons.

“Why didn’t you?” she asked, cupping his cheeks to draw his face to hers. As he had done to her, she dragged his lips across her mouth. “Why didn’t you?”

“I wanted to woo you … make you love me.” He searched her eyes, a tiny shadow of doubt in his chocolate gaze. She must eradicate it at once!

More deftly than she believed her trembling fingers could be, she began to unbutton his shirt. “I vowed I would only marry for love. I kept that promise.”

“Kathryn, I love you,” he whispered, his searching lips brushing the shoulder her shirt slid from.

“Jules,” she breathed against the hard tawny chest she had spied the first instant she laid eyes upon him. “This is exactly how we met. On a bed, both in scandalous states of undress. Did you ever dream it would turn out like this?”

Sliding his fingers into her curls, gently, he tilted her head back so their gaze entwined.

“My darling, it was our destiny.”