The Bodyguard (38 page)

In a loud voice Alex said, “Damn you, woman! I said to wait here. I cannot have you hanging on to me when I confront the man.”

“Please, Alex!” she said in a tearful voice. “Take me with you!”

“I said let go!” Alex slapped her hard, loud enough to be heard down the passageway, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes and make her jaw ache.

He gave her one last, grim look before he turned and ran toward the cell where Mr. Ambleside was holding their son. As he headed down the passageway, Alex called out in a crazed, furious voice, “If you’ve harmed a hair on my son’s head, I’ll strangle you with my bare hands.”

Kitt counted to ten in her head, as Alex had instructed, then started after him. The setting sun provided a garish pink light in the passageway, but Kitt’s gaze was focused on the harsh yellow lantern light emanating from the cell into which Alex had disappeared.

“You’ll hang for murder, if you do,” she heard Alex reply to something Mr. Ambleside must have said.

She hurried along the passageway, staying close to the wall. When she reached the cell door, she peeked around the corner and saw that Mr. Ambleside was holding one of his exquisite dueling pistols against Alex’s right temple and had the other aimed at Gareth, who lay in his basket in the corner.

She took a step back, rested her head against the stone passageway, and moaned softly. Dear God. If she shot Mr. Ambleside, one or both of his pistols would surely discharge and kill those she loved most. But if she waited, she would lose the distraction Alex and Gareth provided. And once they were dead, Mr. Ambleside would not leave her alive to tell of his part in it.

Kitt took a deep breath and let it out. Alex trusted her to play her part as he had written it, and she had promised she would not fail him. Time was running out. She must act.

Kitt took the three steps that put her in the doorway beside Alex, the pistol hidden in the folds of her skirt.

“Oh, God!” she cried, pretending a distress that was part of the act, but which felt entirely real. “Please, God.”

Alex’s right hand slid behind his back, and she passed the gun to him while Mr. Ambleside’s eyes were focused on her. As Alex had predicted, the pistol being aimed at Gareth swung around to point at her.

“You fiend!” she snarled. “Cur! Blackguard!”

During the diversion provided by her verbal attack on Mr. Ambleside, Alex brought his arm up and fired a ball into the monster’s heart.

Not one, but both of Mr. Ambleside’s pistols discharged, filling the cell with smoke and noise, before he crumpled to the ground. Gareth screamed and kept on crying.

Kitt stood frozen in horror, afraid to look, afraid to see Alex’s blood and brains all over the wall.

“Kitt, are you shot? Are you all right?”

Suddenly Alex was standing before her. She put her hands to his face—his whole, wonderful, worried face—and pulled his head down to kiss him. “I’m fine now, my love.”

His kissed her back, his mouth pressed reassuringly hard against hers. “I believe your son needs attention, my dear.”

He walked her to the corner where Gareth lay in his basket. Keeping himself between her and Mr. Ambleside’s body, Alex retrieved the basket with the howling baby inside it.

Kitt lifted Gareth out of the basket and laid him on her shoulder to quiet him. “All is well, Gareth. As your father promised. All is well.”

Kitt stared down at the man who’d been the source of so many problems. “Will you have someone come bury him?” she asked.

“I think not,” Alex said, his eyes cold. “He is where he belongs. His bones will bother no one here.” He put his arm around her waist with one hand and slid the baby’s basket over the other. “Let’s go,” he said.

“Where are we going, Alex?”

“Home,” he replied. “We’re going home.”

“Where is that, Alex?” Kitt asked, her heart in her throat. “Back to Blackthorne Hall? Or to Blackthorne Abbey in England?”

“Wherever you are, Kitt,” he said. “That will be home to me. You see, I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Kitt laughed, a bubbly, delicious, delightful sound. “I love you too, Alex. Oh, I do love you.”

Alex grinned back at her. “I expect you to keep saying that for at least the next fifty years.”

“I will,” she promised. “I will.”

Dear Readers,

For those of you searching for
Blackthorne’s Bride
, this is it! While I was writing the novel, Alex persuaded me to change the title to
The Bodyguard
. Enjoy!

If you are following my Captive Hearts series (
Captive, After the Kiss, The Bodyguard
), you’ll be pleased to know my next novel matches those fiesty Blackthorne twins, Lady Regina and Lady Rebecca, with two wonderful characters you’ve met in
The Bodyguard
—Clay Bannister, the vengeful Earl of Carlisle, and the Irish pauper Michael O’Malley, who turns out to be the grandson of an English marquess!

Watch for my new suspense novel,
A Stranger’s Game
, in stores March 2008.

As always, I appreciate hearing your opinions and find inspiration in your questions, comments, and suggestions.

You can reach me at my Web site,
www.joanjohnston.com
. I personally read and answer my mail, though, as some of you know, a reply might be delayed if I have a writing deadline.

Best always,                   
Joan Johnston                 

September 18, 2007

Bitter Creek series
THE COWBOY
THE TEXAN
THE LONER

Captive Hearts series
CAPTIVE
AFTER THE KISS
THE BODYGUARD
THE BRIDEGROOM

Sisters of the Lone Star series
FRONTIER WOMAN
COMANCHE WOMAN
TEXAS WOMAN

Connected Books
THE BAREFOOT BRIDE
THE OUTLAW’S BRIDE
THE INHERITANCE
MAVERICK HEART

and don’t miss …
SWEETWATER SEDUCTION
KID CALHOUN

Joan Johnston is the
New York Times
bestselling author of forty-seven novels and novellas, with over ten million copies of her books in print. She received an M.A. in theater from the University of Illinois and was graduated with honors from the University of Texas at Austin School of Law. Joan writes full-time and splits her time between homes in Florida and Colorado. You can reach Joan through her Web site at
www.joanjohnston.com
.