Authors: Shirl Henke
Valerian stepped away from Josh at the same time. Sabrina, who had returned to consciousness just as she was being hauled from the carriage, had overheard Zarenko instructing his men to carry out this escape plan. She knew she had to do something, but, held fast by such a brute, all she could do was feign unconsciousness, praying for inspiration as they made their way toward the assassination site to locate their leader.
Now Josh and Mr. Jamison were here, and the Russians might kill them. She allowed her lashes to lift just enough to see where everyone stood. Both her love and the British agent were armed. She had to move before they dropped their weapons. Zarenko stood close beside her, his pistol aimed at Josh. In one sudden movement, she kicked out as hard and fast as she could, aiming for his gun arm, while at the same time sinking sharp little teeth into the hairy throat of the bear who held her.
With a startled oath, he dropped her. Zarenko's weapon discharged as the toe of her boot connected wickedly with the bones in his elbow. The shot skimmed by Josh, who dived toward his nemesis, unable to fire for fear of hitting Sabrina. Still, his Colt made a formidable club, and he smashed it into the side of the Russian's face as they went down together. The servant who had been carrying her made a guttural sound as one meaty paw rubbed at his throat where she had drawn blood. His other hand lashed out, connecting with the side of her head and knocking her to the ground.
Sabrina literally saw stars as the earth came up to meet her and everything around her whirled in dizzying circles. On all fours, she shook her head to clear it as the sounds of life-and-death struggling surrounded her.
I will not be used as a bargaining chip again!
That was all she could think of as she saw Josh and Zarenko punching each other bloody.
Alexi was too weak from his injuries to make it more than three steps before he fell to his knees. Ignoring him for an instant, Jamison fired at Valerian, who had seized the pistol Zarenko had dropped when Sabrina kicked him. Valerian went down, hit point-blank in the heart. Zarenko’s servant reached for her, knowing that she was the key to ending the fight before help arrived for the English; but she kicked and struggled, engaging his attention until Jamison could reach them. When she twisted away from the Russian's grasp, Jamison dispatched him just as he had Valerian.
“Josh, watch out!” Sabrina screamed, looking past Michael to where Josh had just knocked Zarenko flat. Alexi, still on his knees and white as the cliffs of Dover, had picked up Valerian's pistol and was taking aim at Hambleton's heir.
“My last act for Mother Russia,” he said with a sigh.
But Josh's instincts were honed by years of bar fights and backroom brawls. He dived behind Zarenko, who was struggling to get back up. Alexi's bullet hit his compatriot an instant before Jamison put a second shot into the ringleader.
Peering across the carnage, the Texan grinned. “About time you did something to help me,” he said as he stood up, dusting off his torn and bloody clothes.
“Happy to oblige now that diplomacy's been served,” Michael replied coolly.
“Are all men idiots?” Sabrina asked rhetorically, swallowing her gorge as she tried not to look at the dead Russians littering St. James’ Park. Instead, she fixed her eyes on Josh, who was striding toward her.
“I can't rightly speak for all the members of my gender, but when it comes to you, darlin', I reckon I'm one,” he said, picking her up and whirling her around in a circle.
“Put me down,” she hissed as the sounds of men approaching were quickly followed by the appearance of a phalanx of bobbies and Mr. Parker's agents.
Josh ignored them and her command, holding her fast as he let her curvaceous little body slide down his. He kept one arm around her waist and cupped her face with the other hand, gently caressing the angry red swelling where the Russian had struck her. “Can't you ever stay out of trouble?” he asked, planting soft kisses on her injury.
“Josh, we have an audience,” she whispered as the officers of the law began to haul away bodies while Michael Jamison calmly related to Mr. Parker what had transpired.
“Appears to me half of ‘em is past caring and the other half is too busy to pay us any mind,” Josh said, silencing her next protest by lowering his mouth to hers and kissing her soundly.
“Whatever am I to do with you?” she asked in a dreamy voice when he relinquished her lips.
“Marry me?” he supplied.
“Josh, don't be absurd. You’re Lord Hambleton’s heir and I'm—oh!” She realized the deadly Mr. Jamison was standing directly beside them now, grinning as he listened to every word they said!
“You can’t possibly be as unsuitable as Grandmother Beth was when my great-grandfather Blackthorne forced my grandfather Derrick to marry her,” Michael said. “The Countess of Lynden was reputed to cavort naked with Italian artists, and even lived in an Algerian seraglio for a time.”
Sabrina blinked. “You're jesting,” was all she could think to say.
“ ‘Pon my honor, it is the truth.” Michael raised one hand solemnly.
“And a spy would never prevaricate,” she replied dryly.
“More ten-dollar words,” Josh said. “I reckon I'll have to buy a dictionary just so I can palaver with her once we're married.” By this time the three of them were alone. He winked at Michael.
“Oh, Josh, you don't realize what you're asking,” Sabrina said softly as she met his laughing green eyes. “I'm the daughter of a country squire, a—a nobody compared to a viscount, much less an earl.”
Josh scratched his head. “You know, I've been studying on why Uncle Ab hired your fool cousin and then you. Now I know the reason. Clear as sunrise.”
She had been wondering about that herself. “And, pray, what could that be?” she asked suspiciously, not daring to hope this wonderful dream could ever work in the real world.
“We'll just go and ask him right now,” he said resolutely.
Sabrina swallowed for courage. How could she dare to face the Earl of Hambleton with such an audacious proposal? But Josh appeared so determined, so certain. After all they had been through together, she knew, for good or ill, that she would brave the old man's wrath. “I shall go with you, but I fear you're going to be given a sharp set-down.”
“Would it bother you to marry a plain ole Texas stockman—who happens to be a millionaire? ‘Course, you'd have to come live with me in America.”
Now his certainty appeared to waver. “Oh, Josh, you cannot abdicate your family duty,” she protested.
“Hel—I mean, shucks, darlin’, the only reason I agreed to be a viscount in the first place was because President Roosevelt asked me to.” He remembered how Uncle Ab had pulled strings to bring that about and grinned, his confidence once again rising. “No more balking. Come on,” he said, taking her hand and practically dragging her to where the boy watching his horse stood dutifully waiting.
Josh paid the youth a sum sufficient to cause the lad's eyes to widen in astonishment. “Thank ye, gov, thank ye!” He gave a crude bow and scampered off.
Josh swung up into the saddle with that fluid horseman's grace she'd always admired, then reached down and pulled her into his arms. As he kicked the horse into a brisk trot, she suddenly realized that he was smeared with blood and dirt and had bits of grass and twigs clinging to his torn clothing. If he looked that bad, how much more disreputable must she appear?
With dismay, she glanced down at her slashed skirt, petticoats hanging out in plain view. After hours on horseback, she reeked of equine perspiration, not to mention her own. Her hair was a welter of tangles, with pins undone and the whole mass falling about her shoulders. The earl would be appalled almost as much as she. “Josh, my unmentionables are showing!” she cried, trying in vain to smooth her skirt over the white cotton that billowed out stubbornly all around it.
He threw back his head and laughed joyously. “I won’t mention ‘em if you won’t.”
Before she could retort, he kissed her, silencing her protests.
* * * *
“Please allow me to make myself presentable first,” she hissed as Nash, without so much as a raised eyebrow, led them toward the earl's office.
“When I tell him what you've gone through to save the treaty, he won't care if you're wearing nothing but a ring and a sneeze.”
Red-faced with mortification, Sabrina allowed Josh to lead her into the earl's presence. The sooner Josh was disabused of his romantic notions, the less painful it would be for everyone. Seeing her in this condition would certainly exemplify for Hambleton how impetuous and impractical Josh's plans were.
The old man's face was enigmatic as they stepped into his office. He stood up, his keen gray eyes sweeping over their rumpled appearance. If he was upset by a woman whose petticoats hung out from her slashed skirt, he did nothing to indicate it. “Mr. Jamison just departed after giving me the particulars of your adventure. I commend you both on work superbly done, although I certainly apologize to you, child, for having placed you in such danger,” he said as he walked around the desk and made a courtly bow before her.
That caught Sabrina up short. “It is I who must apologize for my most unseemly appearance, my lord, but Lord Wesley insisted that he speak with you at once.” There was nothing for it but to stand up straight and face the consequences.
“Oh, and what is it that ‘Lord Wesley’ ”—he stressed the title with a bit of humor twinkling in his eyes—“wishes to say, hmmm? Allow me to speculate, if you please,” he added quickly as Josh opened his mouth to speak. “Indulge an old man’s fancy.” He looked from the belligerent stance of his nephew, who held Sabrina Edgewater's hand in a death grip, to her pale, proud face with those worried blue eyes fixed on her lover.
His smile broadened. “You wish to marry, and I, of course, give my blessing. After all—” He paused, thoroughly enjoying the looks of incredulous joy on both of their faces, then proceeded. “I went to considerable trouble bringing you together.”
Josh sighed with relief. Uncle Ab had come through. “You knew I'd never go for one of those snobby, blue-blooded females who can't pick up a hankie without asking for help.”
“That is why I paraded the most oppressive of the lot before you.”
“Lady Eunice?” The words popped out of Sabrina's mouth before she could stop them. She reddened again. Curse her wayward tongue! Ever since she'd met Joshua Cantrell, her decorum had fled along with her heart.
“Quite so,” Hambleton replied delightedly.
“He wanted a woman with some gumption for me—oh, and with enough spit and polish so a little would rub off. You were made to order for me, darlin’, and all the while neither of us knew it.” He turned to the earl. “But Uncle Ab did.”
“Yes, I most certainly did, most especially after she planted that facer on you at the fountain. Well done, my dear. Young Whistledown's potential was not at first nearly as apparent as yours, but now that Hodgins is gone, I suspect I can whip him into shape, with a bit of help from you,” he said to Sabrina.
“You are more than kind, my lord. I shall see to it that my cousin lives up to the trust you have placed in him.”
Fixing his eyes sternly on Josh, the earl said, “The only concern I had with your potential was getting you to give up your libertine way of life. I'm delighted that Miss Edgewater has made you see the error of your ways.”
“I reckon she’ll keep working on my errors...for the rest of our lives,” Josh said with a rueful grin.
“Get on with you, then. I suspect you have more to say to each other in private,” Hambleton said, shooing them from his office. “I have a mountain of paperwork from the Foreign Office to address.”
Josh took Sabrina out into the garden by the fountain where they had first kissed with such disastrous consequences. Now that they had his uncle's blessing, he had to be certain she understood what she would be taking on by getting hitched to him. “I may be a viscount but I'll never make a real English gentleman.” He shook his head, searching for the right words. “What I mean is, I reckon you can take the boy out of Texas but you can't take the Texas out of the boy.”
“Josh, I was hired to teach you manners—and at times I may still chide you—but you have more fine qualities than any stuffy Englishman I've ever met,” she said earnestly.