For the Love of a Soldier (6 page)

“The horses?”

“Fine, sir. Skittish, but I settled ’em down.”

“What happened? Where are we?”

“Few blocks from Mayfair, sir. Close to home.”

“There were two men? Is the one Havers hit wounded or dead?”

“Dead, sir.” Ned frowned, his blue eyes darkening. “A gent went to fetch the night watch. Said he’d take care of the body.”

Before Garrett could reply, clattering noise buffeted the carriage side and Havers joined Ned, his cheeks flushed, his hair standing up in tufts. “I lost the other one, sir. One dead, one gone.”

Garrett cursed. Any leads or information he could extract from the men were lost.

“Some blokes are here to assist with the carriage,” Havers said. “Heard the crash. Shall we give you a hand out?”

Garrett frowned down at Daniels. “Not yet. Ned, you said we’re close to home?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good.” He leaned over and lifted the cushion on the seat to reveal the compartment underneath. Extracting the revolver, he stood and handed it up to Ned, knowing Havers carried his
own.
Armed
and
Ready
were Havers’s middle names. Serving as Garrett’s adjunct for two years in the Crimea, he’d lived up to them.

Used to taking command, Garrett quickly snapped off his orders. “Ned, take this and go home. Saddle up Champion and return with him. My companion has hit his head and is unconscious. No point in moving him until I have a ride. I don’t trust any hired hackney. And Ned, watch your back. Havers, stand guard. Keep an eye out for the night watchman. I don’t know if there are others, but plan for it. I don’t want to be outflanked again. Inform any man who remains to help with righting the coach that he will be paid handsomely for his troubles. Those who can offer any information on the dead man will be paid double. And Havers, alert me to Ned’s return.”

“Right, sir,” the men replied simultaneously.

He watched them disappear from above, the sound of their steps against the carriage reverberating through the coach.

Left alone, Garrett’s attention returned to Daniels, and he knelt beside him. He slid his hand behind the young man’s shoulders and gently propped him into a sitting position. At the close contact, something prickly climbed the back of Garrett’s neck. It was similar to the feelings he had experienced before riding into battle, minutes before the hidden ambush mowed down half his men.

Daniels groaned and his eyes opened. Pools of watery blue blinked up at Garrett before fluttering closed.

The vulnerable look touched Garrett, tugging at something buried deep inside him. Compassion? Disconcerted, he sat back on his heels and rubbed his neck. And then he froze. His eyes shifted over the pale features inches before him, reassessing the cream-colored skin, the pink cheeks, and those full, sensual lips in a heart-shaped face.

He removed one of his gloves and leaned over to loosen Daniels’s cravat, sliding the material free. He slipped his hand into the open collar of Daniels’s white dress shirt, feeling for his pulse at his throat. Daniels’s skin was warm and soft against his fingers, delicate and smooth as silk.

An ominous chill swept Garrett. Almost unconsciously his hand lowered until he encountered a swath of bandages encircling the man’s chest. He paused, the chill deepening as he
slipped his hand beneath the tight binding. When his fingers slid over the beginning mound of soft, round flesh, he jerked his hand free and dropped onto his heels. He spit out a string of expletives as he swiped his hands down his face. The answer to what disturbed him about Daniels plowed into him. Bloody hell.

Once again, he had been ambushed.

This explained why he was drawn to Daniels the minute their eyes locked across the card table. Why he had followed him across the room. Why Daniels didn’t dare confront the men he had overheard on the patio. Gut instinct sharpened by years of battle had warned Garrett there was something different about Daniels. He had attributed it to his being so damn young, peach-faced soft, and fresh out of the schoolroom. Not once in his wildest imaginings did it occur to him that the man
was a woman
.

His mind rebelled against the revelation. It was as if the enemy before him had suddenly switched sides. Garrett clenched his jaw.

What the hell was she doing gallivanting around dressed like a man?

And more important, who the hell was she?

And why the hell did she have to crash into his life when it was already in pieces?

G
ARRETT
had little time to contemplate this disturbing turn of events, for Havers bellowed his name and the carriage echoed with the clamor of someone again scaling the side of the cab. Moments later, Havers’s face appeared framed in the open door.

“Ned’s in sight. Shall we haul you up, sir?” Havers spoke with his usual blunt eloquence.

Garrett blew out a breath, struggling to collect his thoughts. The shock of his discovery still pulsed through him. “Yes, ah, we’ll assist Daniels out first. I’ll lift him up to you. Take care with his head. Take care with her,” he muttered the last under his breath. He slid an arm beneath her knees and another around her back, carefully cradling his burden as he rose to his feet. Her body was warm, featherlight, and he curled his arms protectively around her.

It had been so long since he had held a woman, two years too long.

Gritting his teeth, Garrett yanked his attention back to the task at hand.

With Havers pulling from above and his assistance from below, Daniels slid free of the coach.

Havers returned to grasp Garrett’s hand and drag him out. Built like an ox with arms the size of tree trunks, hauling over fourteen stone barely extracted a grunt from Havers.

Outside, Garrett leapt to the ground and circled to where Havers had propped Daniels against the coach’s roof. A cool breeze brushed over Garrett, and he shrugged off his evening jacket and knelt down. Easing Daniels forward, Garrett wrapped his coat around her, the large garment engulfing her body. Frowning, he studied the pale, still features before him.

Damn, he should have seen it.
Why hadn’t he seen it?

Long lashes swept her cheeks and her lips were lightly parted. He recalled those deep pools of blue blinking up at him, and the jolt at the feel of a slim hand warm in his when he’d returned her wager.

A woman. A Goddamn woman.

Twice in one night she had caught him by surprise. Despite the gentle features before him, this young woman held some mettle. It took that and more to have done what she had this evening: infiltrating a gentlemen’s card room, following a man plotting murder, and then confronting Garrett with the plans. All three scenarios had placed Daniels in danger, if that was indeed her name.

Garrett swore. He didn’t like to be ambushed. He had never liked puzzles, and he sure as hell didn’t like the idea of being some bloody bastard’s prey.

Once again, he was at war. Different location, different players, but the goal remained the same—kill or be killed.

Garrett clenched his jaw and vowed that this time, he’d be damned if he’d make for easy prey. An image of his blue lancer uniform flashed before him. The sun had gleamed off it, lighting it like a bright beacon for the Russians to use as target practice. With it, came the inevitable onslaught of memories. Shot and shell rained, death screams deafened, and the rank smell of gunpowder and corpses suffocated him.

He bolted to his feet and staggered back, shaking his head to dislodge the images. Christ. He had burned what remained of his bloodied and battered uniform. Pity, he couldn’t burn his memories with it.

He felt a touch on his arm and whirled to find Havers beside him. Calm brown eyes steadied him. Once again, Havers
dragged him back to the present, regardless of whether or not he wished to return.

“My lord? All right, sir?”

He swiped an unsteady hand across his face. As right as he’d ever be. That was the way of it for those pitiful few who had survived the carnage of Balaclava.

He turned to face Daniels’s slumped figure and nodded. Right. New war, new players. He needed to draw up a battle plan—one that included Daniels.

She possessed the only intelligence Garrett held, and Garrett refused to let her go. Not until he knew more about her.

He let his eyes roam over her slim figure in the masculine disguise. An image flashed before him of those luminous blue eyes spearing him with defiant scorn. For the first time since his return home, a woman had caught his attention. While he had no plans for a woman in his wreck of a life, she intrigued him, and he’d be damned if he’d let her go before he knew more about her. His mind was made up. He was keeping her.

He recalled their exchanges in the coach, the jabs, parries, and retreats. The arrangement might lead to a few skirmishes. Good thing Daniels had some mettle to her. She would need it for the upcoming battles.

Garrett left Daniels and joined Havers to assess the damage to his coach. There would be nicks and dents on the side flush with the street, but nothing permanent. His attention shifted to the horses. He ran his hand over the coat of one of the four hefty bays, assuring himself they had weathered the ordeal as well. As he did so, his eyes scanned his surroundings.

A group of men stood a few feet away, waiting as Havers had directed, to assist with the coach. Gas lamps lit the immediate vicinity but little breached the veil of fog coating the evening. A prostrate body sprawled on the cobblestones a few yards from the coach. Garrett left the horses to see to the man Havers had shot.

Sightless pools of black stared up at him from a pockmarked face. Garrett didn’t recognize the man but had no expectation he would. He was a hired lackey, one of many patrolling London’s seedier districts, ready to do any dirty job to earn a quid. Poor sod. The only information he could provide was corroboration
for what Daniels had overheard. Someone wanted Garrett dead.

Ned drew up beside him, holding the reins to his stallion, Champion.

“My lord, is he all right?” Ned nodded to Daniels, his brow furrowed under his mop of black hair.

Garrett hesitated before replying, his eyes following Ned’s. “Yes, he’ll come round.” Explanations would have to wait until he knew more. The more information he collected, the better to form a strategy.

He walked over and mounted Champion. “Havers, lift Daniels up to me. I’ll take him home. When the watch comes, should he have any questions after speaking with you, direct him to my address. No, wait.” After the recent ambush on his coach, plans needed to be changed. “Direct him to Warren’s. I’ll be staying there tonight.”

Garrett recalled his brother-in-law, the Earl of Warren, was in town, having plans to meet up with him later in the week. His sister, Kit, remained in the country, awaiting the birth of their third child. His eyes strayed to Daniels, and he thought Kit’s absence fortuitous. The last thing he needed was his half sister’s inevitable barrage of questions, needling him for answers he didn’t have—yet.

Havers bent and slung Daniels into his arms, turning to lift him up to Garrett with Ned stepping forward to assist. Between the two of them, they managed to drape Daniels’s body across the saddle.

Garrett studiously averted his eyes from the round buttocks before him. Later, free from prying eyes, he would readjust her position, but the intimacy of cradling Daniels in his arms and between his legs would raise a brow as well as a few snickers. Garrett didn’t need to draw any more attention to himself. What he was receiving thus far was already deadly. Disguised as a man, Daniels had to exit like one. There was no help for it.

“Sir, should I inform the watch about the trouble you warned me about?”

Havers was as shrewd as a hawk; nothing escaped the man. Garrett frowned. He’d be damned if he’d repeat Daniels’s story to the city watchman. He preferred to arm himself with more
information before loading others with the paltry bits of conversation Daniels had overheard. He tightened his hands on the reins. “No. For now, tell the watch the usual footpads overstepped their territory in search of easy prey.”

Havers nodded and stepped back.

Garrett gave his overturned coach a last glance and then nudged Champion in the direction of his brother-in-law’s residence. He rested his hand on Daniels’s back as he walked Champion a few blocks to place some distance between them and the accident. Once free of witnesses, he slipped his hands beneath her body and with a grunt, lifted her up to settle her into the saddle before him. Her head lolled on his shoulder and he drew her closer. A slim thigh pressed flush against his, and the feel of her posterior cradled intimately against his loins awakened dormant areas from a deep sleep. Cursing, he shifted in the saddle and urged Champion into a gentle walk.

All the while, his mind scrambled for an answer.

Who the hell is she?