Of Noble Birth (43 page)

Alexandra gave him a
fleeting smile, but couldn’t wait to share her news. “I know where
Nathaniel is.”

Trenton sobered.
“Where?”

“He’s in the hulks at
Woolwich.”

“How do you
know?”

“I saw him there. I
watched a guard beat him.” She winced, the memory too painful to
relive. “How do we get him out?”

Trenton shook his head. “I
don’t know. Perhaps a bribe or two might motivate the right people
to turn their heads.”

“What about the guns? Have
you done anything with them?”

“I sent the duke a letter
offering to trade them for Nathaniel, but he scoffed at me. I’ve
never met a more arrogant bastard. He doesn’t think we can hurt
him, no matter what. I’ve since written to the Lord High Admiral.
Now I’m waiting for him to respond.”

“I’d better stay here
until Nathaniel is free,” Alexandra said. “I’m afraid Greystone
will catch on to my reason for coming in the first place, and cause
something even worse to happen to Nathaniel. But I don’t like it
here. Lord Clifton is—” She stopped.

What was the use of
explaining the marquess’s behavior when Trenton could do nothing to
stop it? “Never mind. I’ll be fine, for the time being. Just hurry
and do something, and let me know what that something
is.”

“I’m going to Whitehall in
the morning to see if I can meet with the police commissioner.
Mayne might listen to us if we threaten to take our story to
The Times.”

A sound near the house
made Alexandra jump. They fell silent, waiting, but heard nothing
besides the horses in the stable. “I’d better get back,” she said,
uneasy. “Send me word.”

“I’ll be staying at Marley
House if you need me,” he whispered.

Nodding, Alexandra headed
back. The house was dark and silent, and despite her nervousness,
all seemed as it should be as she made her way to her bedroom. She
snuggled beneath her covers, anxious for the rest her body craved,
and sleep came in an instant.

But she was awakened long
before dawn.

“Alexandra.” Someone
tapped timidly on her shoulder. As the sleep cleared from her eyes,
she blinked to see Rory, the stable boy, standing above
her.

“Rory, what is
it?”

He motioned for her to be
silent and beckoned her to come with him.

Puzzled, Alexandra rose
quietly from her bed and followed the boy back down the stairs.
“What is it?” she whispered again when they reached the back
door.

He shook his head,
refusing to answer until they were outside and well away from the
house.

“Tell me, Rory,” she
pleaded, mystified.

He turned and took her
hand, pulling her toward the stables. “There’s a man out ‘ere. ‘E’s
bleedin’ awful bad, an’ ‘e keeps callin’ yer name. ‘E asked me to
get ye an’ to tell no one else—”

“A man?”

The boy nodded rigorously.
“‘E’s been stabbed, I think.”

“Did he say who he
was?”

“Aye. ‘Is name is
Nathaniel Kent.”

Alexandra found Nathaniel
crouching in the straw of an empty stall, shivering. In the dim
light of the lantern that swung slowly overhead, she could see a
dark, sticky substance on the back of his shirt. Blood? Her pulse
began to race as she bent to touch it. Sure enough. It was fresh,
and it was warm.

His eyes fluttered open.
“Alexandra—”

“What happened to you?”
She started to lift his sopping shirt, but he moved his arm to stop
her.

“I think my father feared
the hulks were too pleasant a home for me.”

“Greystone did this?
That’s where he went tonight?”

“Not him.” Nathaniel
swallowed. “Someone he hired.”

Alexandra could see the
sweat popping out on his forehead and tried to suppress the panic
that made her hands shake. “Why did you come here? They’ll kill you
if—”

“This was the last place
they’d expect me.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “And the
only place where I’d find you.”

“But Lord Clifton didn’t
go with his father.” Alexandra looked anxiously behind her, through
the open stable door toward the house. She glanced at Rory, who was
watching them in awe. “Never mind. Don’t try to talk anymore. We
must get you out of here.”

“What ‘appened to ‘im?”
Rory whispered.

“This man is a friend of
mine, Rory, and you were right. He’s hurt very badly. I need your
help. We must get him away from here before your father returns
with the duke.”

Nathaniel’s head fell
forward, and Alexandra bent worriedly over him.
“Nathaniel!”

“I’m here,” he mumbled,
his voice thick and slurred.

Alexandra turned to the
stable boy. “Rory, can you get me a mount? We need to get him on a
horse and take him to a doctor.”

Rory gave him a skeptical
look. “Don’t look like ‘e can stand.”

Alexandra steeled her
nerves so she wouldn’t snap at the boy. “We don’t have any other
choice. Will you get the horse?”

While Rory went to do her
bidding, Alexandra clung to Nathaniel’s hand. “Hold on, Nathaniel.
Please.”

To her surprise, a wry
grin twisted his lips as the blue of his eyes lifted to her face.
“I thought you hated me.”

“If you die, I will hate
you. I’ll hate you forever,” she told him.

His eyes closed again and
the smile disappeared as he leaned his head on the wooden
planking.

“Hold on,” she whispered,
smoothing his dark hair off his forehead.

Rory had a bridle on a
horse in a matter of minutes but didn’t bother with a saddle. He
led the chestnut gelding out of its stall, stopping a few feet
away.

“Thank you. I owe you all
the scones you can eat,” Alexandra said. “Now we must get Mr. Kent
up and onto the horse.”

The boy’s brows rose as he
looked at the huge man huddled at their feet. “‘Ow do ye suppose we
do that?”

Alexandra stooped and
pulled Nathaniel’s good arm around her shoulder. “Like this:
Nathaniel!” She made her voice low and sharp, trying to cut through
the cloud of his delirium.

Nathaniel lifted his head,
but it fell back again almost immediately.

“Nathaniel!”

A groan was his only
response.

“On the count of three,
we’re going to help you up. You need to stand, do you hear? You’re
too heavy for us to carry.”

“After what I’ve eaten, I
should be as light as a woman,” he mumbled, and Alexandra had to
smile. He was still there. He was still fighting.

“One, two,
three—”

“Going
somewhere?”

Alexandra nearly collapsed
under Nathaniel’s weight as Lord Clifton strode into the light. She
felt Nathaniel’s muscles tense and realized that he, too,
recognized his half brother.

“My lord, please.” She set
Nathaniel gently back down. “He’ll die if I don’t get him some
help.”

The marquess laughed,
pulling a gun from his belt. “And that’s supposed to move me? Throw
that pistol away.” He motioned toward the gun tucked into
Nathaniel’s breeches. “Over there,” he said, waving at the far
wall.

“A dying man would garner
sympathy from anyone who had a heart,” Alexandra replied as she
took the pistol and tossed it a few feet. “Look at him. Haven’t you
done enough already?”

Clifton kicked the weapon
farther from the two of them. “What about me? What about this?” He
waved his handless arm in her face. “I can scarcely ride or shoot.
I’m no more accomplished than a three-year-old with a sword. And
you’ve seen my writing. It’s hardly legible. But you don’t care
about that, do you? You only care about him.”

“Jake—”

“It’s ‘my lord’ to you,
remember?” He pointed the gun at her.

“No,” Rory cried, rushing
forward.

Nathaniel tried to stand,
but fell weakly back. “Leave her out of it. This is between us,
remember?”

The marquess ignored him.
Turning to Rory, he indicated the stable door. “Go. Get out of
here. This man is a thief.”

Rory hesitated. “Shall I
wake Mrs. Wright and have her send for a constable,
then?”

“No. Go back to bed. I’ll
handle this myself.”

The boy shuffled toward
the door, hanging back.

“It’s all right, Rory. You
go up to bed. Everything will be fine,” Alexandra said
encouragingly, afraid of what Lord Clifton might do if the boy
disobeyed.

Rory threw Alexandra one
last furtive glance as he shut the door, his face revealing
confusion. Alexandra hoped he would go for help, but deep inside
she knew that Rory would never defy the marquess’s authority to
that extent.

When the boy was gone,
Clifton turned to Nathaniel. “Now, where are the
rifles?”

Nathaniel staggered to his
feet but swayed dangerously as though he might fall. He shook his
head, his eyes on Clifton’s pistol. “I’ll never tell
you.”

“Then I’ll find them on my
own. Bristol is not so large a place.” Setting the barrel of the
gun on his forearm, the marquess awkwardly attempted to aim it. By
his own admittance, he couldn’t shoot well, but at such close
range, Alexandra didn’t see how he could miss Nathaniel.

“My lord.” She stepped
cautiously toward him.

“Stay back. I’m going to
kill the bastard, like we should have in the first
place.”

“No, my lord, listen. I’ll
give you anything you want if you’ll spare him. Anything. Do you
understand? He’ll likely die anyway, from his injuries.”

Lord Clifton glanced at
Alexandra, a lascivious smile curling his lips. “So this is what it
takes to melt the ice maiden. Did you hear that, big brother? Your
little doxy has just offered me a sample of her charms.”

Nathaniel tried to move
toward him, but he succeeded only in pitching forward. “Stay away
from her,” he groaned as he hit the dirt floor.

Clifton laughed. “I think
not.” He waved the pistol at Alexandra. “Perhaps a little torture
is in order for your lover. Take off your clothes.”

Alexandra swallowed and
glanced at Nathaniel, sensing his awareness despite his
semiconscious condition. She unbuttoned her white cotton nightdress
until the curve of her breasts gleamed beneath the lamp.

“Now, that’s a beautiful
sight,” the marquess breathed. He reached for her, bent her
backward, and licked her face. “Damn, she tastes good. Nathaniel,
you don’t know what you’re missing.” He grinned devilishly at his
half brother. “Or perhaps you do.” His mouth moved down her neck,
spreading sloppy, wet kisses along its path.

Alexandra bit her lip so
she wouldn’t scream. Rory’s sleeping loft was just above them.
Surely her cries would frighten the boy. She didn’t want Nathaniel
to know how badly Clifton hurt her, either.

“Oh, this is nice,” he
said, burying his head in her cleavage.

Alexandra’s mind raced as
she tried to decide what to do. She’d only managed to buy them a
little time, nothing more; she had no illusions that the marquess
would spare Nathaniel because of her.

She glanced over Clifton’s
head to see Nathaniel inching his way toward the rack of Harry’s
whips, directly behind him.

Moaning as though she
enjoyed Clifton’s caress, she pulled the marquess down to the
ground with her, running her fingers though his hair and clinging
to him so he couldn’t look up.

“Jake,” she breathed.
“Jake.”

Clifton’s ardor increased
at her response, but by then, Nathaniel had the whip. Alexandra
watched as the pirate captain strained to reach his pistol with it,
then slowly began pushing the gun toward her.

She moaned again and
arched her back, reaching through the hay. The marquess covered her
mouth with his, and stuck his tongue so deeply into her throat she
nearly gagged.

One last circle with the
handle of the whip brought the weapon within Alexandra’s reach. She
could feel Clifton’s gun pressing into the flesh of her backside.
He couldn’t angle it to shoot anyone now if he wanted to—but then,
neither was she far enough away to fire Nathaniel’s pistol at
him.