Hero, Come Back (23 page)

The room looked normal. Like a snake, he slithered in, pausing, checking for movement, for ambush. Nothing moved. Once inside, he stood and took the knife in his right hand. Moving along the wall, he listened for the creak of a floorboard, looked for a sign of life. Nothing.

Where was Dehaan?

The door that entered the sitting room was ajar, and with a surge of power, Harry kicked it open. It hit the wall hard, rattling the windowpanes. Still nothing moved, but he saw a body. Dehaan’s body, unmoving, stretched out across the table.

Blood covered his face and puddled beneath his cheek. His nose was broken, his eyes were blackened and shut. Dead? No, Harry saw the lift of his breath, and controlled the surge of his rage. The outer door stood open. This room showed the evidence of the fierce struggle. Chairs were overturned, vases shattered, the sofa cushions tossed aside.

Harry sidled across to the smaller bedchamber. No one. To the kitchen. No one. Going at last to his valet, his friend, Harry leaned down to turn him.

Dehaan’s eyes sprang open, his hand shot out and he grasped Harry by the throat. Then recognition struck. His hand dropped away. His eyes, so swollen they scarcely opened, slid closed. “I’m sorry,” Dehaan whispered. “I saw him too late.”

“And I am a fool.”
I thought only of protecting Jessie.

Dehaan echoed Harry’s thoughts. “Is Lady Jessica hurt?”

“She’s secure.”
But I can only protect one person at a time.

“Good. Better I am harmed than her.” Slowly, shaking, Dehaan sat up, touched his battered face, and winced. “He’s good. I was careless.” He glanced about at the wreck of the room. At the hiding place beneath the sofa cushions where the lockpick kit was visible, at the overturned chair where the knife had once been hidden. “Be wary. He knows who you are.”

Harry helped him off the table. In the doorway of the bedchamber, Dehaan’s knees collapsed, and Harry was forced to carry him. Because of Harry’s past, his strong, annoying, romantic, vigilant valet had been attacked and brutalized. Harry hoisted him on the bed. “Rest. I’ll take care of matters.”

Dehaan watched as Harry retrieved a loaded pistol from the dressing room and a small sword from the desk. “Lady Jessica,” Dehaan said.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe.” Harry tied a dark cloth around his throat to cover the white of his cravat, tied so precisely and with such hope just an hour ago.

“My lord…” Dehaan groaned, for he saw the harsh truth on Harry’s face.

“Rest.” Harry went swiftly into the fog. He couldn’t bear for Jessie’s joyous spirit to be exposed to the ugliness of the world. He was part of that ugliness.

After this was over, he would never see her again.

J
essie paced across to her closet. When Harry came back for her, she must be ready to go. When Harry came back for her…

She tried not to wonder where he had gone, how long he would be gone, why he was acting so mysteriously, who he really was…

No. No, she couldn’t think of those things now. She needed to prepare for… for what? Travel, he said. Flight, she guessed. She stripped off the light blue lawn morning dress, and donned her dark wool traveling clothes. She removed her beribboned, satin slippers and laced on her black, ankle-high boots. She pulled on her plain dark bonnet and her sturdy black riding gloves.

After her flurry of activity, she had nothing to do. So she sank down on a chair, picked up her book, and stared blindly at the lines of black letters marching across the white page.

What had happened in the dining room this morning? She didn’t understand. Harry hadn’t liked Lord Granville, and surely that was good. After all—the letters grew blurry as she remembered—she’d just spent the night in Harry’s arms. Which had not ended in a marriage proposal. Not that she wanted or expected one, but—she snapped her attention back to the present. Had she heard something outside the door? Yes, the rustle of petticoats.

Her chaperone rapped on the door. “Jessica, are you in there? Lord Granville is waiting for you on the veranda. He wishes to escort you for a walk.”

Jessie remained still, frozen by the memory of Harry’s warning.

“Jessica? Remember, your father wants you to get married, and the other two suitors are gone.” Miss Hendrika knocked harder. “You must admit, Lord Granville is quite handsome.” She thumped at the door. “He is your
last chance
.”

Jessie put her hand over her mouth. Lord Granville
was
her last chance. What was she doing?

Miss Hendrika snuffled about, and Jessie imagined her looking in the keyhole, imagined opening the door and having her fall in, imagined her own satisfaction…and Harry’s displeasure. Jessie hunched her shoulders and sat still, out of the line of sight.

“Where is that girl?” the old woman muttered, and shuffled away.

Jessie thought it was foolish for her heart to pound so hard at the sound of Miss Hendrika’s voice. The woman meant her no harm, yet Harry had been so precise in his instructions. Perhaps the one she should be afraid of was Harry.

She rubbed her fingers over her forehead. She was so confused!

What could be wrong with Lord Granville? Her father had sent him as a suitor, and Harry was acting as if Lord Granville were a villain. She stood up. She ought to go down to the veranda right now, place her hand on Lord Granville’s arm, and walk with him!

She sank back down. Except she’d promised Harry she would remain in her room, and she wouldn’t break her promise.

A single, quiet knock sounded at the door. “Jessie? Come out.” Harry’s voice.

She rushed to the door, put her hand on the key. Yet he had spooked her. Or perhaps she sought a little revenge for her fright. “How do I know it’s really you?” she asked softly.

He had the nerve to sound amused. “I know the location of the mole on your thigh.”

Turning the key, she flung back the door. The corridor was empty except for her Harry, grim faced and intent, yet still she had to say, “Shh!”

With a single glance, he encompassed her change of clothes, and warmed her with a nod of approval. “I won’t tell anyone. Do you know how to shoot?”

“No.”

“Can you use a knife?”

Irritated, she snapped, “No. But I know how to needlepoint!”

“Very useful if we needed chair covers. You can ride?”

“Like the wind.”

“Then we’ll ride. Go down the back stairs to the stable.” Harry shut her door and locked it, then pocketed the key. “Quietly now.”

She went, trusting him like the lovesick fool she was. “Lord Granville is waiting for me on the veranda.”

“Good. He’s out of the way. Lord Granville is an impostor.”

She stopped short, then moved on with Harry’s hand in her back. “An impostor? What do you mean, an impostor?”

“Quietly,” he warned again as they hurried down the stairs. Before they reached the bottom, he moved in front of her. He looked both ways, then led her out of the stairwell and through the servants’ quarters to the outer door. “I mean, I know Lord Granville, and that’s not Lord Granville.”

Jessie hurried after him, indignation bubbling over—but quietly, as he had instructed. “You know Lord Granville? And you let me discuss him in such a manner?”

Again Harry looked out before he allowed her to descend the stairs to the ground and into the foggy air. “I didn’t say I liked him.”

Harry sounded slightly ironic, and that infuriated her all the more. “That man on the veranda is
so
Lord Granville. He looks very like him!”

Taking her arm, Harry set a pace that was almost a run. “On Lord Granville’s behalf, I am insulted.”

She trotted at his side like a faithful dog and wondered if she hated him. “I have never heard anything so outrageous.” The mist curled between them, and she could see nothing of the cottages. She could hear nothing but the waves, eternally grinding at the shore. For all she knew, the two of them were alone—and she was in peril. From whom, she didn’t know. From Lord Granville, or from Harry? “Where, pray tell, is the real Lord Granville? Are you saying he is such a weasel he couldn’t bear to come down to court me himself and so sent an emissary?” An idea that infuriated her.

“Shh,” Harry hushed her soothingly. His own voice was deep and calm, pitched to reach her ears and no farther. “Nothing quite so bad. You see, the real Lord Granville didn’t know that his mother—”

From inside the inn, she heard the report of a gun. She jumped violently, clutched at Harry. “Wha…? What was that?”

He didn’t pause, but pulled her along even more quickly. “It’s not good.”

Jessie tried to turn back. “Miss Hendrika?”

“She’s not worth a bullet. Probably the lock on your door.”

“Are you saying he wants to shoot me?”

“Just your door. He wants to take you hostage.”

She assimilated that. “Why does Lord Granville—”

Harry shot her a glare.

“What would an impostor want with me?”

As the stable broke through the fog, Harry said, “Damn!”

The door stood open, the damp ground trampled by a dozen hooves. “The horses are gone,” she whispered.

“Mischief, indeed.” Harry’s nostrils were white and pinched.

For the first time, a real chill struck her. This was not a distant gunshot. This was destruction and possibly harm, for the hostler would not have allowed the horses to go without resistance. “Did
he
do this?”

“Unless
he
has an accomplice. All right. We’ll walk.”

“Where?”

“Where
he
isn’t.” Harry urged her along the top of the cliffs.

Fear closed in on her. Truth to tell, she hated the fog, clinging so close around them. Yet Harry allowed her no pause. Silent now, he concentrated on their steps, glancing at each stone and bush, stopping and listening.

His silence deepened her dread. She wished she could see or hear
anything
. Then a faint gust of wind touched her cheek, and she breathed in, grateful for the fresh, salt-scented air.

Harry felt his gut tighten. “Damn it again. Our luck didn’t hold.”

“What luck?” Jessie asked, and she sounded truly puzzled.

The sea, which had so kindly gifted them with the blessed fog, was now whisking it away, tearing at their cover, gradually revealing Harry and Jessie to any watching eye. “What luck, indeed?” he repeated. For not a damned tree or a bit of cover was anywhere in sight. As he glanced up the hill, he saw the inn, then he saw it disappear in a puff of fog. No one had stood on the veranda; the inn might have been empty, but Harry knew the servants must be cowering in their hiding places, frightened by the gunshot. And the villain… ah, he was undoubtedly on their trail.

This morning, when Harry had dressed, he’d hoped to propose to her. Now he just wanted to keep her alive.

Turning toward the cliffs, he said, “Softly, now.” Just yesterday, he had fallen down the cliff onto a narrow, winding path. It was not visible from above, and the rugged boulders along the way provided cover from any watching eyes on the beach. He would hide Jessie there, then go back and find the so-called Lord Granville.

The first step was long, waist-high on him, and he slid down, then turned and held up his hands.

She peered over and turned a pale green.

“Make haste. I won’t let you fall.”

“I know that,” she said in a peevish tone. Then she took a breath and slithered over. Before them the vista opened up to the horizon. Wisps of fog smudged the ocean. Black boulders pocked the sandy beach below. She said, “This is not a reassuring sight for a gently bred young lady.”

“Truth to tell, it’s not a reassuring sight to me.” If he were alone, he wouldn’t think of the danger, but having to protect Jessie…yes, he’d made the right decision. He couldn’t ever see her again—if they came out of this alive.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jessie asked.

He didn’t answer. Pressing himself against the wall, he took her hand and led her along. Their feet dislodged bits of gravel, and she pressed herself against the rock as if she could meld with the stone.

“You never told me you were afraid of heights,” he murmured.

“I’m not. I’m cautious.”

She sounded snappish, and for some reason, that cheered him. “Very wise,” he murmured.

“Where are we going?”

Yes, definitely snappish. “To hide you, then go after this Lord Granville.” A movement on the beach caught his eye.

The impostor stood on the beach, scanning the cliff with a spyglass.

Harry pushed Jessie down so she was bent double, then pulled her toward the shelter of a large boulder along the path. When they were crouching behind it, he cautiously looked out.

The impostor still surveyed the cliff.

“He’s rather casual, isn’t he?” Jessie spoke in his ear.

Harry glanced around to see her peeking over his shoulder. “Get down!”

She ducked behind him, but seemed unrepentant. “Can you shoot him?”

“It’s too far.”

“Can he shoot us?”

“Only if he has a rifle, which he does not. Now, listen. I’m going to have to leave you here.”

He was on his knees. She was on her knees. But she faced him without flinching. Her head was tilted, and her wide eyes watched him inquiringly. If she was frightened, she didn’t show it, and his heart squeezed with the pain of knowing he must save her today and abandon her tomorrow.

She would face disgrace and ruin, he knew, but better that than death.

Somehow her chin had gotten smudged, and absently he licked his thumb and scrubbed at the mark. “I want you to stay put. No matter what happens, remain here until I come to get you.”

She nodded.

“You do trust me to come and get you.”

She nodded again.

He couldn’t resist. One more time.

One last time.

Wrapping his hand around her neck, he pulled her toward him and kissed her. Her eyelids drooped. Her lips easily parted for him. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she sucked at it eagerly. Pulling her against him, he held her close, chest to chest, and the world faded away. For a brief, exultant moment, there was no crashing ocean, no lurking danger. There was only Jessie, and him, and love.

Love.

Tearing himself away from her, he stared into her exquisite face for one agonizing moment. He loved her, and his heart was breaking.

Her eyes widened as he gazed at her, and lifting her hand, she smoothed the hair off his forehead. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing.” His voice rasped through a throat tight with anguish. “Stay here.” He was off and running, staying low, dodging from boulder to boulder. He got off the path. He worked himself along the cliff into position above the impostor. The impostor still looked up on the cliff with his spyglass, and Harry realized he was searching the very top of the cliff, looking for the place where they had descended. The impostor was too sure of himself; he must have spotted them after the fog cleared. At last he seemed satisfied, and moved a little farther down the beach, closer to the place where Jessie was hidden—and closer to Harry.

Cupping his hand around his mouth, the wretch called, “Lady Jessica, I saw you go over the cliff. I know you’re up there. You’re frightened. Come, let me care for you.”

Harry judged the distance between them. He smiled. He was now close enough to shoot. Kneeling behind a rock, he pulled his pistol free.

“Listen to me. The man you’re with…he’s an impostor.”

Harry froze.

“He’s not who he says he is. He has a dark past.”

True, but not true, and Harry had never wanted to kill someone as much as he wanted to kill this bastard.

The man had a smooth voice that soothed and charmed. “He’s a criminal, wanted by the law. A murderer. I fear he’ll harm you. Come to me. I’m Lord Granville. You can trust the man your father wants you to marry. I’ll protect you.”

She wouldn’t listen, would she? She didn’t have any doubts about Harry, did she? Not since last night. Surely she didn’t think he would injure her.

He steadied on the boulder and took aim right at the bastard’s heart. He pulled the trigger… and nothing happened.

Damn it! He almost flung the pistol on the ground. Damp powder, probably. The mists of England were notorious for ruining shots.

“He let the horses go so you couldn’t get away. Think of the poor horses, running free, falling in holes, breaking their legs…”

Harry glanced over at Jessie. She watched him, her face solemn. She didn’t believe that bastard, did she?

“He’s a dangerous man, a villain of stunning treachery. He has a gunshot wound in his shoulder. He’s trying to kidnap you so he can threaten me. Come down, darling, I’ll protect you.”

She stared at Harry for one more moment, then she stood.

“No!” Harry was far enough away and the ground was precarious. He couldn’t reach her in time to stop her. “Please. Jessie, no.”