The Capture of the Earl of Glencrae (42 page)

While Angelica raced on.

“Oh, God.” Dominic suddenly realized she was perfectly capable of confronting Baine on her own. “
Angelica
! Don't! Come back!”

The look she flung him as she sprinted up the rising curve of the path plainly told him not to hold his breath. Her brothers and cousins, bewildered and confused, hesitated, not knowing if they should follow—letting her get further ahead.

Dominic cursed, struggled again, but they hadn't loosened their grips.

Just before she would disappear from their sight, Angelica whirled and imperiously pointed at her brothers and cousins. “If you want to protect me, just let him
go
and you'll have done your job!” She paused to see if they would comply. When they didn't, she flung her hands in the air. “
Idiots
!” She turned and raced on.

Dominic stared after her. He'd had no idea she could run that fast . . . realized what waited for her at the end of the path.

Forcing himself to calm, to still, shackling his instincts and his emotions, he glanced at the men around him; a leader himself, he had no difficulty picking out the one who led them.

Pale green eyes flicked his way, curiosity and assessment in the glance.

He caught the man's gaze. “She's racing after the man who just strangled my mother, and stabbed my old steward and left him dying. We can settle this now and lose her, or we can leave this for later and get her back, but you won't find her without me.” He paused. “Choose.”

The black-haired man—Devil Cynster almost certainly—hesitated, but only for a second. He nodded to the others. “Let him go.”

They hesitated, too, but did.

The instant he was free, Dominic charged up the track after Angelica.

The Cynsters followed at his heels.

Chapter Twenty-two

A
ngelica slowed as she neared the waterfall. The roar of the cascade drowned out her footfalls as she eased around the last curve in the rocky path, then crept the final yards to the ledge.

Regardless, the man kneeling beside the cairn appeared too absorbed to notice; his attention was locked on the stone pyramid, on its rear face. His shoulders were broad, but not as broad as Dominic's, his hair brown and curly. Although it was difficult to judge with him on his knees, he would certainly be much taller than she.

She seriously doubted rational discussion would get her anywhere.

Silently stooping, she picked up a rock, the biggest she could grip and heft. Placing her feet carefully, she inched steadily closer. Stepping onto the ledge, she paused, but she was still well out of the man's line of vision as he scrabbled and pulled rocks from the rear of the cairn. He was wearing a jacket made of sheepskin over breeches and riding boots. What she could see of his face was rough, craggy without being honed.

Unhelpfully, her mind chose that moment to remind her that Mirabelle was—had been—bigger, and possibly, at least in her final desperation, stronger than she was. And this man—Baine—had strangled Mirabelle easily enough.

Baine paused, then, still on his knees, leaned into the alcove, reaching around and into the cairn. “Yes!” Twisting and shifting, he gradually withdrew his arm, along with what he now held in his hand. Sinking back on his ankles, he held up a golden goblet.

Angelica stopped dithering. Raising the rock, she stepped forward and brought it down on Baine's skull.

He reeled.

Dropping the rock and grabbing the goblet with both hands, she wrenched it from his grasp.

He bellowed.

She whirled and ran.

He flung himself at her and caught her hem.

Swinging back, she tugged, yanked, but he didn't lose his grip. The material held as he pressed it to the ground, pinning her, while clumsily, woozily, he got his feet under him, then rose. With the back hem of her skirt crushed in one hand, he pulled her to him.

As he did, his gaze searched her face, then rose to her hair; his puzzled frown evaporated. “You're Dominic's Cynster whore.”

She kicked him in the side of the knee, but he shifted at the last second and the blow glanced off his shin.

“Now, now.” He seized the moment to let go of her gown and cup his fingers about the bowl of the goblet.

He tried to jerk it from her grasp, but she'd locked the fingers of one hand around the swirling stem. Slapping her other hand over them, she clung with all her might. “No—it's not yours.”

“Ah, but it's going to be . . .”

He realized that if she was there, Dominic wouldn't be far behind; she saw the change in his dark eyes, the coalescing of evil. “Let go, you little fool.” He raised the goblet as high as he could, shook it like a terrier with a bone.

Chin stubbornly set, she hung on; he wasn't quite strong enough to lift her off her feet.

He glanced aside, at the edge of the ledge, then looked at her. “A pity, but . . .”

Using the goblet, he swung her, dragged her, step by halting step, closer to the edge.

She resisted, pulled back, fought, but he kept far enough away that she couldn't risk trying to kick at him again.

Foot by foot, he drew her on. “Let go.”

“No.”

“How long do you think your grip will hold once you no longer have rock beneath your feet?” Abruptly, he jerked the goblet.

Caught off guard, she screamed.

She lost her balance and stumbled into him.

Absorbing the impact, he steadied and tensed to rip the goblet from her desperate grasp—

The primal roar that erupted over their heads had them both jerking back.

Dominic leapt from the cliff above the ledge. He'd taken a shortcut over rougher ground, had heard Angelica scream just as he reached the lip, had taken one glance at the figures wrestling below him—without thought for his knee, without any thought at all, he'd leapt.

He landed all but nose to nose with Baine.

Instinctively Baine had released the goblet, released Angelica, to face him.

He was a much bigger threat.

He didn't waste time. He went for Baine's throat.

As Baine went for his.

They wrestled, neither immediately getting a decent grip, one sufficient to throw the other. Even without looking, Dominic knew where Angelica was, knew she'd retreated to the cairn, the goblet clutched in her hands.

The goblet was safe, and so was she.

Leaving him free to turn the full ferocity of his strength on Baine, on avenging McAdie and his mother.

They teetered, each battling to seize that telling instant of supremacy, but they'd always been evenly matched. Even though Dominic had grown taller and had a longer reach, Baine was heavier, more solid, less top-heavy. But Dominic knew balance was his weakness; he guarded against losing it and prayed his knee would hold through it all. Thus far, it had.

Jaws clenched, eyes burning on the other's face, they shifted and swayed, neither willing to give ground, both intent on victory. Either Dominic would kill Baine, or Baine would kill Dominic. This was the end of a fight that had been going on since their teens. Why, Dominic had never understood; Baine was seven years older, and competitively speaking, their paths shouldn't have crossed. But they had, constantly.

Dominic's feet shifted, slid. His back was to the falls; the ledge beneath his boots was wet. The tussle remained inconclusive, but the longer it went, the advantage would slowly tip Dominic's way; stamina-wise, Baine couldn't match him.

Baine knew that, too. Eyes narrowed, he spat, “I should have finished you off when I sent you into that ravine.”

The instant of shock—he'd never dreamt that long-ago fall had been anything but an accident—was all Baine needed. Instead of grappling, Baine stepped into Dominic and heaved, pushing him back.

Feeling his shoulders, his balance, tip too far, knowing his feet would slide from under him, Dominic flung himself back—trusting in his instincts, in what they told him lay behind him.

He landed against the upright rock on the waterfall end of the ledge—but he didn't let go of Baine's shoulders. The instant his spine met the solid rock, he swung Baine to the side—off the ledge—and let go.

The rest happened in a heartbeat.

Baine tipped past the point of no recall. On a panicked yell, he released one hand and flailed wildly—then fell.

But he'd left one hand locked in Dominic's coat.

The sudden wrench before Baine's weight ripped his fingers free spun Dominic around—out over the edge.

His feet had no purchase on the wet ledge.

Instinctively he flung his arms around the upright rock.

As his weight swung him out over the void.

On a scream he heard even over the falls' roar, Angelica appeared above him, reaching around and over the rock to curl her small fingers into his coat sleeves.

She'd flung herself against the rock, wrapped herself around it. Anchoring him.

Temporarily.

He dangled a hundred yards above the jagged black rocks on which Baine already lay broken.

Beside him the waterfall thundered past, drenching him, drenching the rock his wet fingers clung to.

His grip on the rock was tenuous. He tensed his fingers, felt several slip. Cursed and forced himself to relax them, to keep at least that much contact.

Searching the cliff to either side of the anchoring rock, he looked for toeholds, but the ledge was undercut. Unable to swipe the wet hair from his face, he hauled in a breath, blinked, squinted, and saw one little outcropping to his left.

His weaker side.

Even as he contemplated it, Angelica jerked. Caught her breath on a sob.

He looked up at her and realized her feet had slid.

She was helping support his weight, and his weight was too great; inch by inch, he would pull her over the rock, until they both fell.

He glanced at the toehold. In an effort that left his shoulders and hips screaming, he managed to lift his left leg without pulling against her and balance the toe of his boot on the protruding rocky knob.

The contact allowed him to brace enough to ease the pull on his arms a fraction.

Even as he did, Angelica slipped again.

Cold certainty rolled over him. There was no way she could hold him, and there was no way he could climb up.

“Angelica . . . angel, you have to let go.” He refused to think of what he was saying, clung instead to the reason—the one reason above all else.

Pale, her features tight, she stared down into his face. “No.”

He inwardly sighed. “Sweetheart, you can't hold me. If you try to hang onto me, you'll fall, too, and that's madness. Please, let go.”

Her chin set in a way he'd grown to delight in but didn't want to see now. “You're not listening. No—I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever. That's
not
how this is supposed to end.”

He didn't know how much longer he had. His fingers were nearly numb. When his grip slipped, he'd fall . . . and take her with him. He dragged in a breath, looked up and met her eyes. “I love you. You are the sun and moon and all life to me. I told you I don't deserve you, and I don't expect you to love me back, but I know you care for me, so please, I beg you,
because
I love you, please let me go.” He hesitated, lost in her eyes, then simply said, “I can face death, but I don't want to die knowing I caused your death, too.”

“Then you better not fall—and you're not going to die!” She choked, slipped again, then through clenched teeth muttered, “Why are men such fools?”

He clung to calm. He couldn't last long. “Ang—”

“
No
!” The negative was ferocious. She glared at him. “You
dolt
—has it never occurred to you that I love you? Which means I will never, ever, not in a million years let you go?”

Angelica saw his slow blink. Realized that he hadn't, in fact, worked that out. “
Arrgh
!” If she could have, she would have hit him . . . suddenly remembered. “Where are my brothers and cousins?”

His lips twisted. “They were following, but I outstripped them. They're probably lost and well away from here. You can't count on any help—”

She filled her lungs as best she could, tipped her head back, and screamed to the sky, “Rupert!”

Filling her lungs again, she screamed, “Alasdair!
He-e-elp
!”

Her cries echoed back from the mountains all around, then faded into the roar of the falls.

And her body shifted forward again. She looked down, knowing that it was entirely possible that they both would fall and die. Her breasts were flattened against the rock, the front of her gown soaked, her leather-soled shoes wet . . . and only the balls of her feet were still in contact with the ledge.

Face set, Dominic grimly looked up at her. While she kept her fingers locked in his sleeves, he wouldn't try to let go of the rock—would do his best to hang on. She saw him open his lips, but before he could speak, she did. Fiercely. “Don't you
dare
argue! You have to hang on—we have a shared life to live, in case you've forgotten. You promised you would marry me if I helped you get the goblet back, and I have, so you can't renege and leave me a ruined woman.”

He looked at her, and she saw the simple, unadorned light of love shining in his eyes. “Angel—”

“
No
.” She wanted to shake her head, but she didn't dare move even that much. “I decided you were mine the instant I saw you in Lady Cavendish's salon—I set out to make you fall in love with me from then, and now I've succeeded I'm not letting you go, not now, not ever. As far as I'm concerned, not even death will part us, not yet—not for a very long time.”

She heard rock crunch above them.

“Angelica?”

“Down here!”

Seconds later, her brothers and cousins, Breckenridge, and Jeremy were all there. And for the first time in her life, she wasn't going to trust them. She had something far too precious at stake.

“Let go, and we'll haul him up.” Gabriel had fastened his hands about her waist, anchoring her.

Confident he—all eight of them—would never let
her
fall, she set her chin and shook her head. “No. I'm not going to let go. You can organize yourselves and pull him up, but I'm not letting go while you do it.”

Dead silence followed that pronouncement. None of them were slow; they could follow her reasoning.

It was Devil, standing beside the rock, who, after exchanging glances with the others, looked at her, then exhaled through his teeth. “All right.”

The organizing wasn't a simple matter. Dominic weighed more than any of them, and with the ledge so slippery they couldn't risk just having one man pulling on each of his arms. In the end, Devil was anchored by Richard and Lucifer, and Vane by Demon and Gabriel. Breckenridge and Jeremy held on to her while Devil and Vane, one on either side of the rock, leaned over and reached around until they each grasped one of Dominic's wrists. Slowly, they straightened, inch by inch drawing Dominic up until they stood upright and his chest was level with the edge. Once all of them were steady, braced, and ready, on a count of three, they all shifted first one, then two, then three paces along the ledge, away from the rock and the falls, to where the edge was clear and they could pull Dominic the rest of the way up and onto it.

With his feet finally on solid ground, Dominic drew in a huge breath, then nodded to the men who had saved them. “My thanks—”

Angelica flung herself at him, slapped her hands to his cheeks, hauled his head down, and kissed him.

Hard. Long. Deep.

He closed his arms about her and she all but wrapped herself about him—in full view of her brothers, cousins, and future brothers-in-law.