For the Love of a Soldier (42 page)

He frowned at the mention of the old lecher who had tried to buy Alex from her uncle. The man still lived only because he hadn’t touched her. “Apparently, he got caught in a compromising position with another man’s wife and hasn’t been seen since. Rumor has it that he’s recovering from a rather delicate wound and won’t be playing Lothario for a while, if ever again. And as you once so sagely advised me, there is usually truth in rumors.” He grinned.

“Oh, dear.” Humor danced in Alex’s eyes.

“What it cost him was dear indeed.” His lips twitched. “And the other men who would slander your name were empty threats. But no one will dare come forward now that you are mine. They’d know if I don’t kill them, Brandon would.” He squeezed her hand. “On another matter, your uncle also agreed to rehire Marks, be allotted an allowance, and leave estate management in Marks’s more capable hands.”

“Why on earth would he agree to that?” She frowned.

“Because if he did, I promised to provide his daughters with full dowries when they marry.”

“You offered dowries for the girls?” Alex looked stunned.

He shrugged. “They are your cousins, and as you said, innocent of your uncle’s mendacity. Also, one of the girls was peering between the railings of the upstairs banister when we arrived. She had to be no more than ten or twelve and had these enormous blue eyes and a wild mane of blonde hair.” He grinned. “She reminded me of someone I had met over a hand of cards and who stole my heart.”

“That must have been Prudence,” Alex murmured.

“No, that would be you,” he teased.

“I meant peering through the banister,” Alex clarified with a smile. With a glad cry, she threw her arms around his neck and spread eager kisses over his face. “That is wonderful! You are wonderful! I adore you!”

He smiled and wrapped his arms around her. “So now we can get started on making those babies…”

The light in Alex’s eyes suddenly dimmed, and she pushed away from him, evading his arms when he would have pulled her back into his embrace. He frowned. What now? Was there someone else he had to kill? Was he ever going to get her out of his shirt? “No, Garrett, we can’t.”

“Why? What now?”

She lifted her hands and dropped them in a plaintive gesture. “Garrett, how can we sit here and discuss our future when we might not have one?”

Christ. That was what truly kept them apart. A smoldering ember ready to ignite, or rather a loaded gun aimed and ready to fire. He blew out a breath and closed his eyes.

He felt Alex shift on the couch, and her forehead pressed to his, her breath warm on his lips as she spoke. “We need to return to London and resolve this murderous plot.” She drew back and stared into his eyes. “We can’t forget why I am here, why I agreed to come with you in the first place.”

“You’re right.” He nodded. “There is our bargain to consider, and your need to uphold your side of it. Should I pay you for services rendered to date,
services rendered
being your choice of words, not mine, well then, one can construe that as payment rendered for—”

“Don’t even go there.” Her eyes narrowed in warning. “Not while we are discussing needing my help in saving your life. It could be dangerous.”

He laughed and held up his hands defensively. “I’m in full retreat.”

“Good.” Her smile dimmed and her words were soft. “It is time, Garrett. I want those babies, but I refuse to raise Romeo and Juliet alone.”

He gave her a dubious look. “Romeo and Juliet?”

“It’s in tribute to your poetry.”

He laughed and then became serious. “Fine. We’ll head for London at the week’s end and catch the bastard.”

“Good.” She smiled. “I trust you to do so.”

Silence settled between them, laden with the unspoken knowledge of the high cost of failure. So they wouldn’t fail. There was a reason he had survived Balaclava, and she sat beside him. “Let’s not let your uncle or other worries steal any more of our time when God knows how much we have left of it.”

“Don’t say that!” Alex flung her arms around his neck. “Don’t even think it. I can’t bear it.”

Sighing, he closed his eyes and crushed her close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, it’s just this morning did not go in the direction I had planned when I woke up with you naked in my arms. Too many distractions rudely interrupted us. Let’s put them aside and discuss a far more lucrative negotiation.” He removed her arms from around his neck and set her away from him. “Something mutually rewarding.”

“What can you possibly want from me?” Alex moistened her lips and cocked her head to the side, batting her eyelashes at him.

He laughed at her coy look, but then slid his gaze meaningfully over her body. “I want to know what it will take for you to get naked?”

Alex pursed her lips and looked as if she were seriously pondering his question. She lifted her hands to her collar, sliding them down to undo the top button, teasing him with the curve of her breast. “Well, you’d have to get me out of your shirt.” She eased off the sofa and stood, slowly backing away from him.

He frowned, not sure of her game, but appreciating the
challenging gleam in her eyes and the sudden surge of heat spiraling through his body.

“In order to do that,” she said as she moved farther from him. “You’ll have to catch me first.” She tossed her words over her shoulder as she turned and fled.

Instantly, he was on his feet and had rounded the sofa before Alex had gained a few yards, had nearly caught her when she squealed and ducked behind an old rocking chair. He dodged one way and she the opposite, laughing as she kept the barrier between them. He planted his hands on his hips and assessed her bright, blue-eyed gaze.

“You are lovely.”

“But still wearing your shirt,” she countered, laughing.

He shrugged. “For the moment.” He watched her, waiting as her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She had never liked it when he fell silent. Her unease had amused him. When it suited his mood to unnerve her, he had simply remained quiet and watched her and waited. His calm, composed Alex would get flustered and color a delightful shade of pink.

She studied him, trying to gauge his intent. Then she made her mistake, her eyes straying from his momentarily to seek an escape route.

In her one unguarded moment, he whipped the chair out of the way and his arm snaked around her waist, yanking her to him.

She squealed, shoving at his bare chest before her foot caught in a rug. She cried out as she stumbled, and he scooped her into his arms.

Triumphant, he laughed and spun her around, her arms clinging to his neck. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I have you now.”

“No, I have you.” Alex smiled and added, “And your shirt.”

“So another mutually beneficial resolution has been found,” he murmured as he carried her over to the blankets before the fire. “But about that shirt…”

T
HEY
had allowed themselves one night at the lodge. A long, languid night of talking, laughing, and making love before the fire. Garrett found he had an aversion to clothes on Alex. While she looked lovely in anything she wore, he preferred her wearing nothing but the pink afterglow from their lovemaking, a dazed expression, and a satisfied smile.

One night wasn’t enough. He wanted forever. For that reason, as soon as they returned home, he had sequestered himself in his office and took another look at Hammond’s damn guest list.

He had isolated a few murderous contenders, and something nagged at him when he looked at the list, but he couldn’t jog it loose. It was like a hook snagged on the clutter of his thoughts. Perhaps if he stopped pushing at it, it would shake free.

He stood and rounded his desk, recalling that Alex and Kit were in the back garden. Kit was never happier than when she had her fingers in a pile of dirt. With luck she’d convert Alex to the pastime and keep her out of Stewart’s hair. When his estate manager and Alex got their heads together, it was difficult to pry Alex away, but the garden…well, Alex gardened
as well as she sang. There was hope she’d be willing to abandon her task for a more intimate respite.

He strode through the back doors and down the steps, his mood lifting at the sight of Alex. She was kneeling beside Kit and jabbing at the dirt with a trowel. She was lovely. Furrowed brow and all. At his laugh, she stood, brushed her skirts, and smiled at him.

As he started forward, his name was called in a high-pitched squeal. He turned to see Will scramble through the doors, his nursemaid struggling to catch him. His sights set on Garrett, Will tripped on the last step and went sprawling to the ground. The item clutched in his hand spiraled through the air and landed with a clatter at Garrett’s feet. He scooped it up as Will’s howls pierced his ears.

“All right, little man, a bit of a spill is all.” He lifted Will into his arms. With his nephew’s face buried in his shoulder, Garrett turned to see Alex assist Kit to her feet. “Here, let’s feel for broken bones.” He gently probed Will’s arms, legs, and then poked at his stomach, tugged on his ear, and squeezed his neck, transforming the boy’s distress into squirming giggles of delight.

“He’s in one piece,” he reported to Kit. “No broken bones, no missing pieces on the ground. Oh, wait, we did find one thing.” Smiling, he lifted the pocket watch that Will had dropped and brandished it just out of reach.

“Mine!” Will cried out, straining for the watch.

“Is it now?” Garrett teased. “I don’t know. I have one just like it. Maybe we should take a closer look.” Evading Will’s grasping hands, he snapped open the cover and froze. His smile faded as he stared at the bird engraved on the inside.
A falcon
.

The Brown family crest.

The falcon stands for one who does not rest until his objective is achieved,
his stepfather’s pompous words reverberated. Garrett wouldn’t forget them, for the damn bird was branded on the watch burning a hole in his own pocket.

The Browns had been a titled aristocratic family, but they had taken umbrage at Henry VIII’s courtship of Anne Boleyn. Due to their lack of allegiance, they had been stripped of their title and banned from court. Garrett recalled Arthur’s bitterness over his ancestry, had been reminded of it every time Garrett
had sullied his own title and Arthur had lectured him on being undeserving of an earldom.

“Mine!” Will cried. “Grapa give me! Mine. I have.”

Will’s words chilled Garrett. He returned the item to Will and set him on his feet. Straightening, he regarded Kit and Alex. Will did not have this watch before he left, always coveting Garrett’s. It was a recent acquisition. His jaw clenched.

“He was here. When? When the hell was he here?” He struggled to keep his voice level for Will’s sake, but his bile rose at the knowledge of his stepfather invading his home. But how? How had he bypassed the men he had patrolling his property? But he knew. Arthur was family, regardless of whether or not either of them chose to acknowledge that fact. He doubted any of his men would believe his directive about no trespassing applied to his stepfather.

“Garrett, I can explain,” Kit started.

His gaze locked on Alex. Kit’s loyalty was to Brandon; Alex’s should be to him. “You said you trusted me. Is this how you show it? You know how I feel about him.”

“No!” Alex gasped, blanching at his attack.

Kit stepped in front of Alex. “The decision wasn’t Alex’s but mine. She wanted to tell you, but I asked her to wait. Garrett, you need to listen to me. I can—”

“How the hell did he know I was here?”

“Keyes wrote to him. Garrett—”

“I can imagine what he wrote.” He snorted. The sudden image of the watch flying through the air flashed before Garrett, and his blood ran cold. The debris cluttering his mind cleared, the hook unsnagged, and the thought that had pestered him earlier bobbed to the surface. “And the watch? Why the hell would Arthur part with his treasured family heirloom? Didn’t he tout it as his only fortune?” It was why as a naïve boy he had sought to buy the bastard another.

Kit looked taken aback by his question. “This isn’t what you think. It’s a cheap replacement that doesn’t even keep the time. Arthur said he had lost the other one. He’d never have willingly parted with the original. Not even for Will.”

No, Arthur hadn’t willingly parted with the watch. He’d had no choice. Payment was due.

“Garrett, about Arthur’s visit, let us explain.” Alex spoke for the first time, her tone beseeching.

“Not now.” His eyes locked on Alex. “But later. Later we will have lots to discuss.” His thoughts spiraling, he turned his back on her and retraced his steps to the house.

“Garrett, wait!” Alex’s cry bounced off him as he dashed through the French doors, his mind racing.

He knew the identity of his would-be murderer.

Arthur
.