Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (82 page)

'Then it's settled.' Brandon's voice was low and husky.

The door slammed open on their intimacy. Brandon clutched Nora to him out of a reflexive need to protect, to shelter.

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'Unsettled might be the better word once you've heard what I have to say.' Witherspoon filled the room. Behind him, St John barred the door.

'What are you doing here, Witherspoon?' Brandon asked in cold, commanding tones.

'The more interesting question is, what are you doing here?'

Witherspoon countered, malice and calculation radiating from him as he took in every aspect of the scene.

'My betrothed and I were in need of some privacy,' Brandon responded,

Witherspoon to contradict his explanation.

He did just that. 'Your betrothed? She's no more your betrothed than she's Eleanor Habersham. Stockport, the is

up. You've been caught

with a criminal of

the highest order. The woman with whom you've been

"settling" things is none other than The Cat of Manchester.' He pointed his riding crop at them for emphasis. 'And you very well know it.'

Nora twisted in his arms to face Witherspoon. He tightened his grip on her, hoping she wouldn't do anything bravely foolish. 'You make unfounded accusations, sir,' she ground out, sounding very credibly like a lady wronged.

Witherspoon's smile turned cruel, his gaze raking Nora. 'St John and I followed you from the jail, my pretty thief. You see, I was curious. Things about Stockport and this situation didn't add up, particularly his behaviour the night of your capture. He suddenly becomes a dolt on horseback when everyone knows he's a capital rider.'

Witherspoon tut-tutted and slapped his riding crop against his thigh with a series of ominous whacks. 'It made no sense that Stockport was in league with you. He has more to lose on this venture than any of us. But then, I got a good look at you-Nora, is it? I began to see the appeal. I began to think that if I had a woman like you in bed, I might start to think less of my factory and more about my pleasures.'

Pickpocket Countess

'This woman is to be my wife. I will not stand here and listen to another word of slander against her. Say what you came to say and get out or face me at twenty paces.' Brandon nudged Nora off to one side, directing Witherspoon's attention to him solely. He would not tolerate another of the man's leers at his wife- to-be.

'Oh, yes, I had almost forgotten my real news. Your factory is burning as we speak and this woman is guilty of it.' The chill of evil was evident in his voice.

'That's not true! I couldn't have set the fire,' Nora cried.

'I've been here.'

Witherspoon drew a pistol from beneath his greatcoat, training it on Nora. 'It won't matter what's true or not. You'll be dead shortly. Your body will be found in the ashes and ruins along with Stockport's unless he's willing to make a deal.

There'll be insurance money enough from the fire for the three of us to make out handsomely, Stockport. There would have been more if we could have waited a year or two. But cut

my losses in exchange for your eternal gratitude, Stockport. All you have to do is keep quiet.' He jerked the pistol, motioning for St John. 'Take her now, Magnus.'

Pandemonium broke loose in Mary

small cottage.

Trusting Nora to handle herself against St John,

Brandon rushed Witherspoon, grabbing his gun arm in a dangerous gambit.

The two men fell to the floor in a wrestling heap. The battle for the pistol was on. This was no bloody fisticuffs. This was a fight to the death. Witherspoon and St John had come to the cottage intent on one murder, if not two. Brandon knew he was fighting for his life and Nora's. There could be no holds barred.

Across the room,

lunged for Nora. She danced

away, deftly putting the cottage's wood table between them.

She laughed and taunted as she feinted left, then right, on her

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side of the table, throwing

St John continually off

balance.

The ploy couldn't last for ever. Eventually, St John would tire and attempt a leap across the table. The cottage was a small place. It would be hard to get past St John and the brawling Witherspoon and Brandon. She

what she had to do. When

St John lunged, she had to find a way to disable him for the duration of the fight.

From the other side of the room came the grunting, punching efforts of Brandon and Witherspoon, punctuated by an occasional crash as Mary's furniture or few pieces of crockery were sacrificed to the occasion. It took all of Nora's training and concentration not to glance over at Brandon, to see how he was faring. His situation was more dangerous than hers at the moment. His fight involved a deadly weapon. Her fear for Brandon threatened to distract her-another reason for wanting to subdue St John.

Finally the lunge came. St John dove across the table, swiping at Nora's shirtfront. She darted backwards just out of reach, causing St John to lose his balance and tumble to the ground.

'Bitch!' he roared, furious at having been made to look a fool. He struggled to regain his feet. He never quite made it.

Nora grabbed up a pitcher used for milk and broke it soundly over his head. He staggered and fell. With expert quickness, she shredded a dish towel into strips and tightly bound the unconscious man's hands. If he woke before the fighting was over, he'd be useless. These bonds were not held with easy, playful knots like the ones she'd used on Brandon a few weeks ago.

These knots were practically Gordian. He'd only get out of them with the help of a knife.

She sprang from her trussed captive, ready to join the fray against Witherspoon. She wished she had her dagger handy, but all her usual weapons had been taken from her during her captivity. One look at the fight and she doubted it would do any