Harlequin Historical May 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Unwed and Unrepentant\Return of the Prodigal Gilvry\A Traitor's Touch (65 page)

He increased the pressure, making Henrietta cry out in agony. Her shoulder felt on fire and tears stung her eyes. Too late, she realised the depth of Jeremy's hatred of her.

‘Tell me,' he snarled. The pressure on her shoulder brought her to her knees in agony. ‘Tell me, or I'll have your uncle hanged from the nearest tree. Perhaps that will loosen your tongue.'

‘I—I won't tell you while you're hurting me,' she uttered bravely. ‘The—the pain—my arm... Please...' The leverage was lessened slightly, but his grip remained firm. And then he released her with such violence that she fell flat on the floor. Jeremy's eyes blazed down at her. ‘If you don't tell me, it will be the worse for you and your uncle.'

Henrietta struggled to her feet, still trembling with shock. Sensing a small movement behind her, she turned from the shadows of the room to find Uncle Matthew standing in the doorway.

Chapter Nine

O
n returning to the cottage Matthew had come across the horse that had wandered into the lane from the concealing rocks. He entered as Henrietta was getting to her feet, her distress testament to the intruder's assault. It was the threat the stranger uttered that sent his temper soaring, but before he could cross the room and take the stranger by the throat, the man had drawn the pistol he carried in his coat, cocked it and aimed it steadily at his chest.

‘Back away,' Jeremy hissed. ‘Stay back, or I will kill you. So help me I will.'

In the face of such a threat, Matthew could do nothing but come to a halt, but it took a fierce effort of will for him to curb the goading temptation to drive his fist into the man's face. All the reasons for refraining from such an assault were there before him in the shape of a gun levelled at himself and Henrietta.

Quite suddenly, the door was swung wide and Simon appeared. Emerging from the cave and also seeing the horse, wary of the nature of the visitor within the house, he'd glanced in at the window. On seeing Matthew and Henrietta being held at gun point, alarmed for their safety and with little time to form any kind of plan, he'd cocked one of the two pistols he carried for such an occasion as this and for the sake of safety before entering the house.

Jeremy glanced around in sharp surprise and immediately swept his own weapon around and centred its bore on Simon's chest, not having expected the old man and Henrietta to have company.

Henrietta could see that every muscle of Simon's body was tensed, hard and motionless as stone, but pulsing with furious energy, ready to explode into action. She glanced at him with alarm. ‘Have a care, Simon. This is Jeremy Lucas—the man I told you about. He does not make idle threats.'

Comprehending, Simon narrowed his eyes dangerously. ‘So, the wretch has managed to track you down.'

‘As you see,' Jeremy ground out. ‘Put down your weapon—on the floor—or I will shoot the old man.'

‘He will, Simon,' Henrietta gasped, moving closer to her uncle as if to protect him. ‘Do as he says.'

After a moment of indecision, reluctantly Simon placed his pistol on the floor. Without lowering his aim, Lucas kicked it out of reach. Simon studied the man who had made such a misery of Henrietta's life from his superior height with a cold and barely controlled anger. He realised he was not entirely defenceless, but the time it would take to draw the pistol from his belt would take longer than for Lucas to carry out his threat and shoot Matthew. The air crackled with tension as the two men glowered at each other. Simon wanted to launch an assault right then, but he just couldn't dismiss the dreadful prospect that Matthew or Henrietta might come to harm. For once, better judgement took precedence. All he could hope to do was to gain time until circumstances could be turned in his favour.

‘Stay back,' Jeremy barked, reading what was going through his mind and tightening his grip on the butt of the gun. ‘I know how to use this thing, so don't think I won't.'

‘Oh, I'm sure that you're able to, Lucas,' Simon replied, slowly straightening to his full height. ‘You seem very cold-blooded about getting what you want out of life.'

‘He is, Simon,' Henrietta remarked angrily. ‘More than you realise. Not content with killing his aunt and uncle, he has just confessed to killing Mr Goodwin. You planned it all, didn't you, Jeremy, yet except for your aunt and uncle's death, none of it will ever come to pass now. Did Mr Braithwaite help you in your murderous deeds?'

‘He knew nothing about that. He only became an accessory when I offered him part of the inheritance if we could prove the validity of the original will.' He laughed sneeringly. ‘Braithwaite is partial to the little luxuries in life.'

‘Little wonder your uncle never liked the man.'

‘Like I said, two options were open to me. I could either find you and destroy the copy of the will—you along with it—or take you back to London and force you to sign a new will leaving everything to me before I got rid of you. The latter seemed a little far-fetched and long winded. Better to kill you here and be done with it. So you see, Henrietta, either way, you'll be dead.'

‘You have to get hold of the copy before you can do that,' Henrietta retorted.

‘If you mean to shoot any one of us,' Simon said, ‘be assured that I won't stand here and take it meekly. I'll finish anything you start, believe me.'

The cold gaze piercing the dimly lit cottage cooled Jeremy's temper effectively. The memory of the pain he had suffered when he'd been set upon by two ruffians intent on stealing his horse on the road from Inverness was too fresh in his mind for him to willingly invite further injury. But he held the gun and could shoot both these men whenever he liked.

‘You're proud of what you've done, aren't you?' Henrietta said. ‘You actually boast when you talk of your aunt and uncle being killed and how you planned it all. But you're not as clever as you think. Truth has a way of coming out eventually. The three of us know what you are guilty of.'

Jeremy waved the pistol threateningly, beginning to run out of his short supply of patience. ‘Then I'll have to kill you all.' He looked at Henrietta. ‘Now get me that will, or your life will end right this very moment.'

‘You're going to have to shoot me. And if you kill me like that,' Henrietta gritted out, ‘it will be difficult for you to get your hands on it, because I am the only one who knows where it is.'

‘Then maybe I should shoot your lover—because that's what he is, is he not, Henrietta? In fact I'm beginning to wonder what he's doing here at this time. Is he one of those damned Jacobites who escaped Culloden?' Henrietta's sudden pallor gave him his answer. He laughed low in his throat. ‘Good God! What a turn-up.' His eyes held Simon's in a cold, level stare. ‘I don't have to shoot you after all. A far worthier death awaits you. After I have spoken with the captain of the Dragoons and they hang you for being the traitor that you are, I shall make my way back to London. They might even hang the two of you side by side. That would even be worth hanging about in Inverness a while longer—if you'll pardon the pun.' He laughed.

Simon made a sudden move, his expression one of aggression, but he halted when Henrietta put her hand on his arm in alarm, fearful he was about to get himself killed.

Though they never wavered from Simon, Jeremy's eyes gleamed in eager invitation, as if he anticipated such a move. ‘Try it and I will blow your head off.'

‘Stop it,' Henrietta cried. She knew only too well that Jeremy was accomplished with sword and pistol. In fact, there were many things Jeremy was adept at, not the least of which was the skill of verbally baiting men who antagonised him.

‘And you would like that, wouldn't you, Lucas?' Simon uttered coldly. ‘But I don't intend letting you kill me or her uncle so you can drag Miss Brody back to London.'

‘I have told you that I have no intention of taking her back. Although,' he said, a plan of how he could get his own back on this upstart beginning to form in his mind, ‘I think the Redcoats might be interested in knowing who she really is. That her father was hanged for treasonable and seditious acts against the king. It should be interesting hearing her defend herself, and with tempers running high in the Highlands as the English search out escaping rebels, I doubt they will be convinced of her innocence.'

Jeremy noticed a slight movement. Having allowed his attention to become firmly fixed on Simon, he suddenly became aware that the old man had moved stealthily to one side, his eye firmly fixed on the weapon Simon had thrown down. Jeremy swung his pistol aside to aim at Uncle Matthew. In swift reaction Simon withdrew his pistol from his belt. It took only a split second to pull back the firing mechanism and fire.

Blood flew outward from Jeremy's chest as the lead shot burrowed deep. He convulsed forward, and a wry smile twisted his lips as he peered at Henrietta, who, surprised by what had happened and the speed of it, could only look death in the face as Jeremy centred the weapon on her.

‘Nooo...' she cried out, her heart all but stopping. It was a fleeting moment of terrifying, wrenching suspense as she waited for the hammer to fall. But as quick as a flash, Simon launched himself forward, sending Henrietta sprawling on to the floor and at the same time knocking the gun out of Jeremy's hand. The gun barked in an ear-numbing explosion, projecting the small leaden ball through the air and becoming embedded in the roof.

Jeremy swayed and stared down at his rapidly reddening chest before slumping to his knees. Then he turned his head up and looked at Henrietta, who was scrambling to her knees. His thin lips stretched awkwardly.

‘I should have killed you before you left London—you...you...'

He collapsed forward to the floor and breathed his last.

Unable to believe what had just happened, Henrietta froze while her uncle bent over the dead man. Quickly Simon went to her and, taking her hand, raised her to her feet and held her trembling body close.

‘It's over,' he murmured, his mouth close to her ear. ‘He can't hurt you any more.'

‘I—I thought he was going to shoot me,' she whispered.

‘Rest easy, Henrietta,' he gently soothed. ‘His intent was to kill all three of us and he paid for it with his life.'

‘I knew this was Lucas the minute I laid eyes on him,' Matthew murmured. Straightening up, he eyed Henrietta and Simon anxiously. Henrietta was visibly shaken. ‘Are either of you hurt?'

‘No,' Simon replied, ‘although one, or both of us, might have been had you not distracted him when you did.'

‘I already knew he'd killed his aunt and uncle and their coach driver, but I cannot believe he killed Mr Goodwin, too,' Henrietta said, trying to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand.

‘We all heard him confess to the crime, Henrietta,' Simon said. ‘We also heard him say that Braithwaite colluded with him in the cover up in order to line his own pockets. I have no doubt that where he is concerned, justice will have its day.'

Henrietta's face threatened to crumple once more with pent-up emotion, but she promptly sucked in a breath, willing herself not to break down. ‘What shall we do with him?' she asked in a small voice.

‘Bury him,' Simon answered with contempt.

Matthew shook his head. ‘That's the easiest thing to do, but I'll take him into Inverness in the morning. I'll spin some yarn to whoever's in charge of the Redcoats, about how he's been living out on the moor and tried to steal from me and threatened to shoot me if I didn't hand over my horse and some money. I doubt they'll waste time trying to discover the identity of one more dead rebel from Culloden Field.'

‘But he isn't, is he?' Henrietta said quietly.

‘No, but better for us if they think he is,' Matthew told her.

Matthew was right. No questions were asked when he hauled Jeremy Lucas's body into the cart and took it into Inverness.

* * *

Two days after Matthew had taken Jeremy's body to Inverness, rising from her bed and glancing out of the window, Henrietta saw Simon looking out over the open moor. Clutching her shawl about her shoulders, she left the house. Reaching his side and looking at his strongly marked features, it suddenly seemed to her that she was looking at another man, a man she did not know. What was it? Was it in the hard twist to the mouth, a certain weariness in the eyes or something distant in his whole attitude? It was as if he had suddenly removed himself into another world.

‘You're deep in thought, Simon.'

Without taking his eyes off the moor, he nodded.

Silence fell between them, broken only by the occasional bird soaring high above them. Henrietta was struggling to still the frantic beating of her heart. It seemed to have become colder all at once, although the wind had dropped, but then she realised that the cold was inside herself. It was spreading from the numbness round her heart.

‘You are leaving, aren't you, Simon?' she asked after a moment. He had reached his decision—Henrietta could see it in his shadowed face, resignation and determination mingled. There was grief there, and sadness, too, but those had been put aside—he had no time for sentimentality now.

‘Yes. I must. I have wasted too much time already.'

She gave a tiny laugh. ‘Yes, you're right. You have wasted too much time.'

Did he sense the bitterness in her tone? Abruptly he took her arm and drew her close. ‘Henrietta, why do you say that? You know very well how things stand and that I cannot remain here indefinitely. Until I leave Scotland and find out what is happening, I am not my own man. It's true I have wasted too much time, for my time is my country's and my country is still suffering. We always knew that this moment would come. We agreed that I would leave. You have not forgotten that?'

‘No, I have not.'

Henrietta had been too afraid to think that this day would arrive. While knowing there was no future for them together, despite this, she had hoped and prayed for so long that it never would. And now it had. Hearing what he was saying, she stood still, feeling her heart break, her vision blurring, the wind grieving in her ears.

He smiled then and looked down at her with great tenderness. The smile faded from his face as he again glanced at the moors and the shaded hills beyond. The sun was on them now, but Henrietta would feel the menace of them when night came.

He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her. They were silent for a long time as the day lengthened. It was quiet now—she could hear nothing but Simon's breathing close to her ear.

‘When?'

‘Tonight.'

‘So soon.' Her heart fell. So little time left. Each moment must be savoured and remembered and treasured against a future empty of him.

* * *