Blackthorne's Bride (13 page)

Maddie was afraid she knew. She was afraid she had sorely misjudged Blackthorne. But even if he was nothing more than a selfish scoundrel who probably deserved Bleven's wrath, she couldn't leave him to Bleven's non-existent mercy.

She couldn't leave him at all. Not while there was still the chance that he would touch her, hold her, kiss her.

She glanced at Ashley, feeling guilty.

"Maddie, come on. Please," Ashley urged, tugging at her.

"No." Maddie stepped away from her. "Keep running. Go save yourself."

Ashley stared at her. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going back."

* * * * *

Jack woke up when the horse he was tied to farted. It was just loud enough and smelly enough to rouse him from unconsciousness. But he didn't move, didn't show any sign of being awake and alert. Instead he stayed slumped over the horse's mane and listened.

The horse was stationary, which made it easy for Jack to identify the sounds and deduce that he was behind Bleven's carriage and surrounded by Bleven's men, who were preparing to depart.

Ahead of him, Mr. Dover whimpered and tsked and generally made feeble pleas to be set free. Jack heard a slap, and then Dover was quiet.

But he heard nothing from his brother. He eased his eyes open and tried to focus. His head was spinning, and he immediately wanted to vomit. Instead, he clenched his fists, which were bound behind his back, and waited for the nausea to pass. The spinning slowed, wobbled, teetered, and finally ceased. His vision cleared and he realized he was staring at the ground.

Darting his eyes to the right, he spotted another horse's hooves. He allowed his gaze to travel higher—aware that at any moment he might be noticed and knocked out again—and he saw a boot. Nick's boot. His brother had been dropped over the horse beside him. Nick appeared unconscious, unless he too was playacting.

Jack stared at him, but Nick didn't stir. His breathing was deep and irregular, and he was slumped over his horse with his hands bound.

Damn it. Jack wanted to kick his brother, wake him, tell him to get moving. Maddie was probably cold and scared in that wood.

Unless ...

Jack's heart skipped. Unless Bleven had gone after her and found her.

No.

Jack forced his racing heart to slow. She was safe. He had to believe that. He listened to the quiet conversation and movement around him. Nothing indicated that Bleven had found Maddie.

And if Bleven had, fat lot of good he would be anyway. He was tied to a horse, weak as a puppy, and on the verge of passing out again. What could he do to help? He couldn't protect her.

Jack shook his head. He was a man now. And that was a long time ago. That was a different lifetime.

Or was it? How had Bleven known what had happened all those years ago in that dirty alley? Had he been there? Been part of it?

Rage made Jack's breath come quick. He would get to the bottom of this. And if Bleven had any part, he would personally rip the man into a dozen pieces.

He forced his breathing to slow and tried to concentrate on the present.

"Hey, I think this one's waking up," one of the men near him called out.

"Doesn't matter," another man replied. "We're 'eading out."

There was a chorus of yahs and hups, and the wheels of the ducal carriage creaked into motion. Slowly, the rest of the party followed. The horse's movements jarred Jack's sore and bruised body, and he hoped Nick felt the same pain.

Anything to wake his brother.

Jack took another peek at Nick, trying to gauge if his brother was close enough to kick, but a flurry of movement above him caught his eye instead.

Something white had moved in the treetop.

Jack closed his eyes. He was seeing things. Or perhaps it was an owl.

An owl with blond hair?

He bolted upright, a warning cry on his lips, but it was too late. He turned in time to see Ashley drop from the tree and onto the back of the unsuspecting thug riding the last horse in line. Ashley and the man went down with a thud, then Maddie ran out from the undergrowth and conked the thug on the head.

Jack stared in horror. He waited for the horse to scream and bolt. He waited for the thug to grab Maddie and snap her small body in two. He waited for pandemonium to erupt and the girls to be caught.

There was no way that the girls' plan would work.

But none of that happened. The thug stayed down, Ashley grabbed the skittish horse's bridle and calmed him, and Maddie began dragging the unconscious man into the undergrowth.

"Hey!" The man behind Jack was now waving a pistol at him. "Get yourn 'ead down. There ain't nothing to see back there."

Jack didn't argue. He ducked his head back down on the horse's mane and closed his eyes. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd last prayed. Years. Too many to count. But he began to pray anyway.

"Just knock her out, God," he mumbled. "Trip her, get her lost. Whatever. Just keep her away for a little while longer."

But, as usual, God didn't listen.

With a whoop and a cry, the rider on the newly commandeered horse galloped at full speed past the duke's entourage. Maddie was on the horse's back, her chestnut hair and lavender ribbons whipping out behind her.

He was going to murder her for risking herself like this.

"What the—" the man behind Jack began, but a shot rang out, drowning his words.

Jack's horse reared and he struggled to control him. Unable to use his arms, he clamped his legs tight and made soothing sounds. When he looked again, Maddie was in the middle of the road, her pistol pointed at Bleven's carriage.

The entire train had slowed to a stop, and the horses were dancing from side to side, their nerves frayed from yet another commotion.

"What the 'ell do ye think yourn doing?" the coachman called to Maddie as Bleven threw open the carriage door and stomped out.

"What the devil is the meaning of this?"

Maddie leveled her gun at Bleven, and though Jack knew this was her best and only strategy, he winced as a half dozen other pistols were immediately trained on her.

"Maddie," he muttered. Why the hell couldn't she have run, like he'd told her to? If one of the men shot her, he would kill them all.

"Ah, Your Grace," Maddie said with a sweet smile for the duke. "Just the man I wanted to see."

Bleven put his hands on his hips. "Is that so? Have we met, miss? You look familiar."

"Lady Madeleine, daughter of the Earl of Castleigh, Your Grace. And before you ask why I'm here, let me just say that if you don't ask questions, I won't."

The duke, clearly not bothered by a petite girl with a pistol, shrugged. "Very well. Why have you stopped us? Playing at highway robber?"

"Actually, I've come because you have something of mine, or rather,
someone
of mine."

Her eyes met Jack's and then slid away. Jack followed their path, saw her gaze drift to Nick, who was now sitting and looking somewhat woozy, then to Dover.

Jack scowled. Of course. She'd come for Dover.

Maddie pointed to the professor, who was staring at her anxiously. "My fiance."

All eyes turned to Mr. Dover, and the professor smiled weakly.

The duke laughed. "That one is your fiance? More trouble than he's worth. Take him and be on your way."

Maddie nodded. "Ride into the woods, Mr. Dover," she ordered, but she did not lower her pistol. And Jack continued to hold his breath.

The men were silent as Dover disappeared, and then the duke said, "Is that all, Lady Madeleine?"

"One more request, Your Grace." She prodded her horse forward, closer to him. "A private request."

He looked up at her, and she leaned down to whisper in his ear. When she had his full attention, she glanced up and screamed, "Now, Ashley!"

Everyone looked around, uncertain what would come next, and then they heard a voice behind them: "Over here, boys!"

Everyone turned, and Jack's mouth dropped open. Ashley Brittany was naked and waving from the side of the road. "Come and get me!"

Bleven's men didn't need much encouragement. Three started for her before she even darted back into the trees. The others were hot on their heels, even as Bleven yelled, "No! Stop!"

But it was too late. Jack's eyes met Nick's, and the two men nodded in silent understanding. Nick spurred his horse into the woods, after Ashley, and Jack rode for Bleven.

The duke was facing Maddie again. She was pale, her eyes wide. She glanced up at Jack and cried, "Watch out! He has a pis—"

Bleven swung round, and Jack ducked. The heat of the bullet caressed his ear, and he felt the warm blood slide down his cheek. Ignoring it, he plowed his horse into Bleven. The duke jumped out of the way but went down, rolling into a ball.

Maddie didn't need any direction from him. She kicked her horse into motion, riding ahead. He spurred his own horse faster, caught up to her, and nodded toward the woods opposite those Nick and Ashley had disappeared into.

They had just cleared the treeline and disappeared behind thicker foliage when Maddie slowed her horse and turned the animal.

"What the hell are you doing now?" Jack demanded.

"Going back for Ashley," Maddie answered. "I can't leave her."

"She's fine. Nick went after her."

"But—"

"Jesus, woman. For once, save yourself. Nick's got Ashley Let's get the hell out of here."

But Maddie was no longer staring behind her. She was looking at him. "Jack, you're hurt!"

"It's a scratch. Nothing to worry about."

But the words were barely out when his head began to ring and that spinning feeling returned. Jack frowned. It had been just a scratch. Hadn't it?

He tried to reach out, to clutch the horse's saddle and hang on, but he'd forgotten his hands were tied.

"Oh, damn," he swore as he slid off his horse and hit the ground.

"Oh Jiminy!" Maddie cried, and dropped off her own horse to kneel beside Blackthorne. He was bound, and thus his body lay at an awkward angle.

She shook him, and when he didn't wake, she leaned close to listen for his breathing. Thank God. Then she got a better look at the blood covering Blackthorne's face and neck and wondered if she'd been premature in her gratitude.

Quickly, she reached under her skirts, tore off a good portion of her petticoat, and began wiping away the blood. She had to tear off another section before she could see the wound—a small nick at the top of his right ear.

She felt his head and neck and, other than a half-dozen bumps and knots, found no additional injuries. Lord, but that little nick bled enough for a full-fledged head wound.

He looked uncomfortable with his hands bound behind him, and she fumbled with the knots in the darkness. It took her three or four tries, but then the rope fell away and he lay flat on his back.

Maddie sat back on her haunches and sighed, but the sigh turned into a sob, and before she could stop herself, she was heaving and gulping and wailing.

Lord, but she was a baby. Why was she crying now that everything was over and done? It had all worked out as she'd planned. Even Ashley had changed her mind and decided to help.

Ashley's contribution had been most inventive. She had told Ashley to "cause a diversion," not strip bare, but that was Ashley for you. Ask for a cup of tea, and she'd give you a pail.

Maddie hiccupped, thought of Ashley naked in the woods with those horrible men after her, and started wailing again.

"At least I know someone will cry at my funeral," a gravelly voice said, and Maddie glanced down to see Lord Blackthorne looking up at her. "But you needn't put on quite a production."

She tried to glare at him through her tears. "I'm not crying for you, you dolt." She sniffled. "Well, I was, but now I'm crying for Ashley."

"My brother has her. She's safe." He struggled to sit, and when he'd managed it, he gave her a reassuring nod. "I promise."

Maddie wanted to believe him, but really, how could he know?

"Stop worrying," he said, reaching out to smooth her brow. "And stop crying."

Maddie hiccupped again. "I c-can't."

"You have to," Blackthorne said, drawing her into his arms. "I can't strangle a weeping woman."

"Strangle me?" Maddie knew she ought to pull away and peer at his face to gauge his expression. But now that she was in his arms, she didn't want to leave.

He was so warm and solid. He smelled like pine and freshly turned earth. So instead of moving away, she burrowed into his chest. "Why would you strangle me?" she asked, aware that her words were muffled.

"Because you're driving me mad," he answered. She liked the way his deep voice resonated in his chest and reverberated through her entire body. Even her toes felt the rumble of his bass tone. "Because you're trouble."

"No, I'm not," she said, and yawned. Her tears had dried up, and exhaustion weighed on her like a heavy blanket. No one had ever called her trouble before. She rarely merited any adjective more creative than
kind
or
sweet.