Riverrun (56 page)
“It’s only over,” she said, “when I say it is, Geoffrey. And the only way it will be over with me is when I’m dead. Because that’s the only part of me you’re ever going to get—my corpse!”
Hawkins leaned away from her, raised his hook into the air as though he were going to strike her—and froze.
No, Cass thought. It’s too soon!
His good hand released the reins and fumbled with his dark leather Union holster for his revolver. Cass tried to stop him, but it only took a brusque shove with his leg to drive her away.
“You have a foolish friend,” he said, and cocked the hammer.
“No!” Cass screamed, and leapt in front of the horse, her arms waving wildly. The animal, startled, lumbered back a step and reared; Hawkins, who no longer held the reins, shouted his anger as the revolver discharged into the air and he was pitched over backward onto the ground. The gun was thrown into the darkness. Cass tried frantically to chase after it, but the plunging horse was now totally out of control and she had to keep darting from the sharp hooves.
And then, just as Hawkins had recovered his wind and was stumbling to his feet, there was somebody standing beside her.
“Keep away, Cass,” Eric said. “I’ll not be denied this.”
Before she could even reach out to touch him, Martingale had advanced on the madman and they were wrestling, grunting, struggling in place as each sought and probed the strength of the other. The plumed hat was trampled under their boots, the sword tossed to one side when Hawkins, for a brief moment, shoved himself free. They closed again, arms about each other with hands clasped tightly behind each others’ backs in an attempt to snap the spine.
Cass backed away, her hands stretched out to either side as she tripped over furrows in the dark. When her foot struck something hard that skittered away from her, she only glanced down distractedly, looking back up just in time to see Geoffrey release his hold on Eric. “Eric!” she screamed, but it was too late.
The hook raked across Martingale’s shoulders, spinning him away, catching him across the chest just before he fell. He gasped, rose to his knees with blood soaking his shirt front and back. Hawkins moved to him. The hook flashed again, and Eric screamed as the sharp weapon lashed across his forehead.
“Geoffrey!” Cass shouted, and bent down.
Hawkins paused, saw where she was standing and was about to draw the hook over Eric’s throat when he saw the revolver in her hand. He grinned, stepped over the groaning man, and walked slowly toward her, shaking his head.
Cass watched.
And when he opened his mouth to speak to her, she took swift aim and fired. Once. Twice. She emptied the revolver into his chest. And dropped it as though it had scorched her palm.
B
y midnight it was quiet.
Their wounds cleaned and bound, the remnants of Riverrun’s household gathered in the kitchen. The townspeople had left two hours earlier, taking with them the dead and Hawkins’s wounded, promising to return the following day to help Cass and Eric rebuild what had been destroyed. Cass had said nothing, leaving the thanks to Eric; she was weary, and frightened, and wanted nothing more than to take him to her bed and have him hold her until the chill that had settled into her bones was gone forever.
Judah, who had received a gunshot wound in the side during his struggle with Forrester, sat in front of the fire while Alice stood behind him, massaging his shoulders and crooning into his ear. He was grinning, and Cass was amazed to see how handsome he was when that cold and dour look was erased from his face.
Eric, his own face smiling though half-hidden in bandages, poured everyone a tall glass of wine. He held his glass to the firelight and watched the shimmering red glow. Cable was dead, and Abraham, and Billy. But Amos, his left arm in a sling and a walking stick in his right hand, insisted that whatever mourning there was to be had to be cheerful. It was, he told Cass, their way, and they would want it so.
Cass found it hard to smile, even when Eric showed her the papers that made Riverrun theirs.
“Among my people,” Eric said then, and softly, “it’s customary at a time like this to drink a toast to the Queen.” He grinned and looked around him. “Unfortunately, I don’t seem to be among my people.
“There is, however, a queen among us and may I say that even though I first found her drowning like a rat in the river not far from here, I cannot think of anyone more regal, and more lovely.” He brought his glass to his lips and sipped, as did the others, while Cass tried not to look embarrassed and stared instead at her hands.
“So is we gonna have us a weddin’?” Melody asked impatiently.
“Child!” Amos admonished, and looked apologetically at Cassandra.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Yes, there’ll be a wedding.” Then she looked toward the fireplace and grinned at Alice. “Two, in fact, if Amos can handle it.”
“Missus, they ain’t nothin’ in this worl’ yet I can’t handle, if you gives me enough time to catch my breath.”
The laughter that filled the room then seemed to weave itself into a veil that cut her off from everyone but Eric. She looked at him and smiled, and when he smiled back, she took his hand in hers and squeezed it.
“It’s going to be rough,” he said. “Times are changing around here, and we’re going to have to be sure we change along with them. We can’t depend on good old Harry for the rest of our lives. There’ll be parties, but there’ll be work, and—”
She touched a finger to his lips, and he quieted at once.
“Listen,” she said. “If I wanted to be dull, I’d be on the first train to Philadelphia in the morning. If I wanted nothing but parties, I’d make you run for mayor and let Oliver work for a living, for a change.
“But you listen to me, Eric Martingale. If you think for one minute you’re going to play lord of the castle around here—or whatever it is they have over there in England—if you think you’re going to lie around bed all day and let me do all the work, then—”
“Hey, Cassandra,” he laughed, “is this the way it’s going to be from now on?”
“Well,” she said innocently, “I told you it won’t be dull.”
Also by Felicia Andrews
Caitlin Morgan yearned to leave the glittering opulence of London and return to her beloved Seacliff, crowning the misty bluffs of Wales. But an impetuous act had welded her destiny to a stern English nobleman, even while a gallant Welsh lord commanded her heart.
When Caitlin finally returns home to Wales, it's as a captive to her scheming husband and his mercenaries, who seize the prize of ancient Seacliff as English booty. Caitlin vows to defend her ancestral homeland — turning for help to Griffin Radnor, noble outlaw from the windswept hills…passionate lover who'd betrayed her innocence…scoundrel she would risk everything to possess once again…
Coming soon from Felicia Andrews
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