Pure Temptation (28 page)

Moira felt the weight of loneliness after Kevin and his family departed for Pembroke Hall. Kevin had asked her to join them, but she was reluctant to leave Jack, even though he spent long hours at his office with his man of business. Taking over the reins of the dukedom was a complicated affair, occupying a great deal of Jack’s time. Moira couldn’t have borne it if she didn’t know that when Jack returned he’d devote all his attention upon her. At night, they closed themselves in their bedchamber and forgot the world existed. Her growing girth did nothing to dampen Jack’s ardor, for which Moira was eternally grateful, as they delved more deeply into the realm of sensual pleasure.

During those blissful days, Moira worried that she was too content for it to last and feared something unforeseen would interfere with her happiness. Fortunately, her grandfather’s notice in the newspaper had eased her entrance into society. Invitations were arriving daily, though they had as yet to accept any of them, but still Moira was troubled. She kept recalling the face in the crowd she’d seen at the docks. She knew she was imagining things, but Roger Mayhew’s face had been so clearly defined that she kept seeing his malevolent sneer everywhere she turned.

She deliberately refrained from confiding in Jack, realizing
how foolish she’d appear when he proved her fears groundless. Instead, Moira tried to immerse herself in the renovation of Graystoke Manor and observing the growing affection between the dour Pettibone and Matilda.

“Would you like to visit Lord Pembroke again?” Jack asked one day before he left for another endless consultation with his man of business. “We can go out on Friday and spend a few days with him and Kevin. You must be missing the children something fierce.”

“Oh, Jack, can we?” Moira enthused, throwing her arms around his neck. “Kate’s time is drawing near. I’d like to be there when her child is born.”

Jack kissed her soundly. “If I’d known you’d be so grateful, I would have suggested it while we were still abed. There’s still time to…” His half-finished suggestion hung in the air like a fragrant spring day.

“Get on with you,” Moira said, blushing prettily. “I knew I’d married a man with amazing stamina, but you’re surpassing your own record.”

“Few men are fortunate enough to encounter the pure temptation of a delicious little body like yours. And your face. God help me, Moira, for I can’t help myself. Every day I want you more. I just wish I could thank Lady Amelia for throwing you into my path. Unfortunately, the lady hasn’t reappeared.”

Moira sent him a laughing glance. The Irish were known to believe in faeries and sprites and little people, but she’d always remained skeptical. “I’m sure your elusive ancestor knows everything that’s occurred.”

“Indeed,” Jack replied, glancing over his shoulder as if he expected the elusive lady to appear at his elbow. “If I can’t entice you back to bed, I suppose I should leave.” He kissed her with the fervor of a desperate man and reluctantly departed. Neither Jack nor Moira saw the man lurking in the
shadow of the building, or his satisfied smirk when he saw Jack leaving.

It was a full two hours later when Pettibone answered the door and found a grubby urchin standing on the doorstep.

“Beggars are fed at the back door,” Pettibone said with a sniff.

“I ain’t a beggar,” the lad said, swiping his dripping nose against his dirty sleeve. “I got a message for Her Ladyship.”

“A message? What kind of a message?”

“There’s been an accident. His Lordship has been hurt,” the lad repeated in a voice that hinted of coaching. “His friend is waitin’ in the coach to take the duchess to His Lordship.”

Moira walked into the foyer in time to hear the lad’s words. “An accident! Dear Lord, how badly is Jack hurt? Where is he?”

“Don’t know, milady. The nob in the coach paid me to give you the message. He’s waitin’ to take ya to his lordship.”

“It must be Spence,” Moira said, all reasoning leaving her as she hurried out the door toward the waiting coach.

“Milady, wait,” Pettibone called after her. “I’ll go with you.”

“There’s no time. Send for the doctor, Pettibone. You’re needed here to handle things. I’ll return with Jack as soon as I can.”

“Milady, I don’t think…”

Whatever Pettibone thought was left unsaid as Moira opened the door to the coach and was literally pulled inside. “Spence, whatever are you doing?” she cried as arms like bands of steel closed around her. “Let me go.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Moira, but you’re not going to escape me again.”

That voice! Turning her head sharply, Moira stared into the beady eyes of Roger Mayhew.

“Where is Lord Spencer? What are you doing in England? Let me go! I have to go to my husband.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Your husband is dead.”

A ragged cry left her throat, and Moira fainted for the first time in her life.

Jack left the office in a jovial mood. He had finished his business sooner than expected and looked forward with relish to spending the remainder of the day with Moira. Perhaps a ride in the park, he thought, or a matinee at Drury Lane Theater. For his part, he’d prefer spending the afternoon in bed with his delectable little wife, whose passion brought him untold joy.

His arousing thoughts were carrying him on such a delightful journey that he paid little heed to Colin, who waited patiently in the driver’s box of the carriage parked at the curb. Jack paid little more than passing notice to Colin’s bowed head and hunched shoulders as he ordered the lad to proceed directly to Graystoke Manor before climbing inside and settling against the leather squabs.

Jack’s mind wandered along pleasant pathways as the carriage wended through London’s crowded thoroughfares. Lost in thought, Jack didn’t become alarmed until he happened to glance out the window and noted that they were traveling the outskirts of London. Spitting out a curse, he pounded on the roof for Colin to stop and explain himself. A sudden spurt of speed tossed Jack onto the floor.

By the time Jack regained his balance, the carriage careened onto a deserted dirt lane that wound through hedgerows. Minutes later, it came to a screeching halt. He groped for the door, but it was flung open before he could reach it.

“What’s the meaning of this, Colin?” Jack asked in his sternest voice. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Get out, Yer Lordship,” a gruff voice answered.

Jack’s head shot up. He saw at a glance that the man who spoke wasn’t Colin. Nor was the man behind him Colin. Or the driver, who was stepping down from the driver’s box to help his partners in crime. Jack had no choice but to climb out of the carriage. But before he did he reached behind the squabs, retrieved a primed pistol kept there for just such an emergency and thrust it into the waistband beneath his coat. At least he’d be able to get off one good shot before he was overpowered. If he was fortunate, it might even scare off the others.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Jack asked curtly. “I’m carrying few valuables on my person. I’ll make it worth your while to let me go. Take me home and I’ll reward you handsomely.”

“Ye can be sure we’ll take whatever yer carryin’ on ye, but ye ain’t goin’ ’ome. We ain’t fools. More than likely ya’ll set yer men on us. Some bloke wants ya dead and paid us to do ya in.”

Jack studied his adversaries, realizing he had little but his wits to get him out of this one. “I’ll pay you more.”

“Do ye have the blunt on ye?” one of the men asked hopefully.

“I told you, I’m carrying little of value. What have you done with my driver?”

“We weren’t paid to kill him,” the spokesman muttered. “We just roughed him up a bit and left him in an alley.” He made a chopping motion with his hand. “Enough talkin’.”

The men closed in and Jack moved out into the open, not wanting to be cornered with his back to the carriage.

The footpads were separating, each coming at Jack from a different angle, two brandishing knives and one a stout branch he’d picked up from the ground. Jack waited, knees bent, his body tense. The moment they rushed him, he pulled
out the pistol, aimed and fired. One man fell. Momentarily stunned, the others halted to stare at their fallen comrade.

“Ye kilt old Henry!” the leader cried, his face mottled with rage. “Ye gone and done it now! Get him Dickey!”

Wishing he’d brought his short sword, Jack decided that flight was the better part of valor. He turned to flee and found his path blocked by Dickey, obviously a seasoned street fighter by the look of his bulging muscles. Glancing over his shoulder, Jack noted that the other man was quickly closing in on him from another direction. Finding no other option, he mentally prepared himself to fight.

Dickey threw himself at Jack, bringing him to the ground. “I got him, Robin,” Dickey crowed as he pinned Jack down with pure brute force. Jack focused all his strength on keeping Dickey’s knife from slashing him to ribbons. As soon as Robin joined the fray, Jack realized he was fighting a losing battle.

Jack sustained a nasty cut to his upper arm and another to his ribs. They were painful but not life threatening, but he realized it was only a matter of time before a mortal wound was delivered.

Suddenly shouts and the sound of creaking wheels reached Jack’s fuzzy brain, nearly at the same time that Dickey and Robin heard them. With his knife poised at Jack’s throat, Robin turned his head to stare at the carriage jolting down the dirt lane. He cursed violently and leaped to his feet. Jack wasted no time in throwing Dickey off and gaining his own feet.

“Ho, there, Jack! Can you use some help?”

The carriage ground to a halt and Spence leaped from it before it came to a full stop. Colin, his head dripping blood, followed close behind. They were joined by Spence’s burly coachman, wielding a stout cudgel. When Robin and Dickey saw they were outnumbered, they turned tail and ran.

“Don’t let them get away!” Jack yelled. Colin and the coachman caught them handily and dragged them back to where Jack and Spence were waiting.

“What should we do with them?” Spence asked, prodding Robin with the point of his short sword. “Who are they, and what did they want with you?”

“Obviously they’re street thugs who were paid to do me in,” Jack said, staggering weakly against the carriage.

“Bloody hell,” Spence muttered darkly as he turned a ferocious glare on the man held captive by his sword. “Who paid you to kill Lord Jack?”

“I don’t know his name,” Robin said sullenly. “I think he’s some high-born bloke, but I ain’t sure. We was to collect the rest of our blunt at the Fatted Calf later tonight.”

Jack frowned. “The Fatted Calf is the roughest dive on the waterfront. What time were you supposed to meet him?”

“Ten o’clock.”

“Someone will meet your benefactor, but it won’t be you.” He turned to Colin, wincing when he saw a lump crusted with blood blossoming on the lad’s head. “There’s rope in the boot, Colin. If you’re up to it, help Spence’s coachman tie them up and put them inside the carriage. I’ll drop them off at Newgate and press charges.”

“I’m up to it, milord,” Colin said. “I’m sorry I failed you. They hit me in the head.” He gave Jack a cocky grin. “’Tis the hardest part of me. They made the mistake of not tying me up. I staggered out of the alley just as they drove off. I assumed you were with them. The next person I saw was Lord Fenwick. He’d arrived at your place of business looking for you. I told him what happened and we gave chase. I should have been more vigilant.”

“It’s not your fault, Colin. No one was expecting something like this. I thank God you’re not hurt and had the presence of mind to enlist Spence’s help. Can you drive? I don’t think I’m up to it.”

“Christ, Jack, you’re hurt!” Spence cried, noting the blood seeping through Jack’s sleeve and vest where it covered his ribs. “Get inside the carriage before you fall down. You’re pale as death.”

“I’ve suffered worse,” Jack said, though admittedly the pain from his wounds was making him light-headed.

“I’m taking you to the doctor.”

“Not until these two are locked up. After I’ve pressed charges, you can take me home and send Colin for the doctor. I have this unaccountable urge to see Moira.”

Spence grinned. “Matrimony must agree with you. Very well, as soon as my man loads up that dead fellow we’ll be off. By the way, good shot. You always were accurate.”

Jack limped into the house leaning on Spence’s shoulder. Pettibone was beside himself with worry as he fussed over his master. Jack was surprised to see that the doctor had already arrived and was waiting. They bore him to his room and divested him of his coat, vest and shirt, laying bare his wounds. Very carefully, Dr. Dudley cleansed the lacerated flesh, clucking his tongue like a mother hen.

“These look like knife wounds,” the good doctor said. “I thought you’d been injured in an accident.”

“It’s a long story, doctor. I assure you I’m not badly hurt. You must be a mind reader to have arrived so quickly.”

“You’ll need some stitching,” Dr. Dudley said as he threaded his needle. “This shouldn’t take long.”

“Where is Lady Moira?” Pettibone asked as he suddenly realized Moira hadn’t come in with Jack and Spence. “I must admit I was leery and more than a little worried when that grimy urchin told us some outlandish story about you being injured. Even though I knew Lady Moira would be all right with Lord Spencer, I greatly feared something was amiss.”

The blood froze in Jack’s veins, and he jerked spasmodically.

“Hold still,” the doctor warned as he drove the needle into Jack’s flesh.

Ignoring the pain, Jack tried to sit up. The doctor pushed him back down and glared at him. Mindless of the doctor, Jack grasped Pettibone’s sleeve. “What are you saying, Pettibone? Isn’t Moira home? As you can see, she isn’t with Spence.”

Pettibone’s face turned gray with fear. “I thought…That is…The carriage…The lad said…Oh, my God!”

“Get hold of yourself, Pettibone,” Jack said through clenched teeth. “Start at the beginning.”

Pettibone swallowed convulsively. “Very good, milord. A ragged urchin appeared at the door this morning, bearing the news that you had been injured in an accident. He said your friend was waiting in the carriage at the curb for Lady Moira to join him. We all assumed it was Lord Spencer, and that he would take Her Ladyship to you. I wanted to go with her, but she bade me to remain here and send for the doctor.”

Jack’s expression grew grim. That explained the doctor’s presence when he arrived home, he thought, but it still didn’t explain Moira’s disappearance, or with whom she had gone.

“No one could have known about my injury except…”

“The man who wanted you dead,” Spence contended. “But why would he abduct Moira? It just doesn’t make sense.”

Jack felt as if his world had just come to an end. “Moira is carrying my child,” he said tonelessly, addressing no one in particular. “If she or my child is harmed, I’ll kill the bastard who took her.”

Pettibone gave a visible shudder. Dr. Dudley took the last stitch, knotted the thread and said, “You’re not going anywhere for a while. Your wounds aren’t life threatening, but you’ve lost a considerable amount of blood. Bed rest is indicated for the next few days. I recommend that you contact the authorities and let them deal with this.”

“Not bloody likely,” Jack grit out.

“Listen, Jack,” Spence urged, “the doctor knows best. Let me handle this for you.”

“No! If some crazy bastard has my wife, I’m damn well going to be the one to get her back. And I strongly suspect that the man who took her is the same man who paid to have me done in. We won’t know who or why until we have him in our possession.”

“How do you intend to do that?” Spence wanted to know.

“I can see that you aren’t going to follow my advice,” Dr. Dudley said as he packed up his bag. “I have other patients to treat. If you need me, send someone around to my office. Good luck, milord. And congratulations on the forthcoming birth of your heir.”

The moment the door closed behind the doctor, Jack eased into a sitting position, catching his breath when the stitches pulled against his lacerated flesh.

“What can I do, milord?” Pettibone asked as he hovered over Jack, wringing his hands in despair.

“Find me something to eat,” Jack directed, more to get rid of him than because he was hungry. Pettibone left immediately.

“I know what you intend,” Spence said, frowning. “You’re going to go to the Fatted Calf and wait for the man who ordered your death. You’re not up to it, old man. You don’t even know the man’s identity. Let me handle it. Or better yet, the police.”

“No! If he sees the police, he’ll likely be frightened off, and I’ll never find Moira. Bloody hell, Spence, if only I could find a reason in all this! Who would hate Moira or me enough to do this?”

Thoroughly stymied, Spence ran his fingers through his thick, blond hair. “I wish I knew. What can I do to help?”

“You can question the men we dropped off at Newgate earlier. I know they denied any knowledge of the abductor’s identity, or his reason for wanting me dead, but it can’t hurt
to question them further. If you learn anything, I’ll be here until it’s time to leave for the Fatted Calf.”

Spence left, silently vowing to be at the Fatted Calf at ten o’clock with plenty of help no matter what Jack wanted. Jack was in no condition for a fight should he need to defend himself.

Jack stifled a groan, lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He didn’t dare cave in to the pain with Spence and Pettibone looking on, but now that he was alone, he allowed himself the luxury of expressing his pain and anguish.

You must find her.

Jack’s eyes flew open. She stood at the foot of the bed, shrouded in mist and shimmering light.

“Lady Amelia, thank God you’ve come back. Do you know who has abducted Moira? Can you help me?”

Lady Amelia shook her head.

You are the only one whose life can be changed by my intervention.

“God knows you’ve made a new man of me,” Jack admitted, wincing as he levered himself up against the pillows.

She has redeemed you; now you must save her.

“I intend to. Are you certain I will succeed?”

You must succeed. The future of the dukedom lies within Moira’s womb.

“I have no future without Moira,” Jack said with slow emphasis. “Can you tell me nothing more?”

Beware the tides.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Suddenly the door opened and Pettibone stepped in, balancing a tray in his hands. Jack spit out a curse as Lady Amelia receded into the shadows. “No, don’t go! Come back, please.”

Startled, Pettibone looked at Jack as if his employer had just lost his mind. Following Jack’s gaze, Pettibone saw a flickering light in the corner of the room. He watched in stunned silence as it vanished before his very eyes.

“Bloody hell!” Jack said, sending Pettibone a disgruntled look. “You’d best set the tray down before you drop it, Pettibone. And close your mouth.”