The Flame and the Flower (63 page)

From somewhere in the bedrooms down the hall she heard him slamming wardrobe doors open and throwing furniture about. She would wait until he came into the room next to the one she was in before she made her move. If she could manage to slip by the door without being detected, she could make it to the stairs without much effort and slip away from him. Her cloak was in the hall. If she could snatch it up before he realized she was escaping... But her life was more valuable than her modesty. Oh, pray, if she could just escape him!

With a start, she realized he had come into the adjoining room. Quietly, so as not to make a sound, she turned the knob on the hall door, keeping a wary eye on the door between the two rooms. Without glancing into the hall, she slipped out and pulled the door closed without a sound. She stepped backward a couple of paces, then spun around to run past the room he was in.

She screamed and died a thousand deaths as she felt a man's arms close about her.

"Heather!" Brandon cried, alarmed. His eyes went down her naked body.

With a half-choked sob, she fell against his chest, not even asking what miracle had brought him from jail to her side. He was soaking wet from the storm, but it was a nice, secure dampness. Then she heard footsteps running and knew Thomas Hint was after her again. Her heart in her throat, she tugged at her husband.

"Oh, Brandon, hurry! He has pistols."

Brandon's face was pale. "Has he hurt you, Heather?"

She had no time to reply. She knew his meaning, yet she could not pause to reassure him. She pulled him into a room across the hall and was just closing the door when Mr. Hint opened his and looked out. He saw her immediately and lifted the pistol. For a second she stood petrified and the shot exploded. The ball drove into the door by her ear, splintering the heavy wood, and shaken, she slammed it closed.

Brandon didn't stop to ask questions. The shot had been too close to his wife for comfort. He jerked Heather behind him as he pressed himself against the wall by the door. The knob turned as he stood tensed beside it. The door swung open and Mr. Hint barged through. Brandon raised his arm and brought it crashing down on the man's wrist, sending one pistol crashing to the floor. Mr. Hint jerked around, completely startled. It was apparent from the surprise on his face that he hadn't known of Brandon's presence before he entered the room. It came as a shock for him to find that he wasn't just pursuing a helpless woman any longer but her husband as well, and that husband was far from helpless. Mr. Hint saw the fist coming and dodged to the side, but not completely out of its path. The fist grazed his cheek, less than the total force of the power behind it, yet it knocked him backward against the wall. Dazed, he managed to raise the pistol he still held in his other hand until it was pointed at Brandon's midsection. He heard the woman scream.

"You knocked the wrong one out of my hands, Mr. Birmingham. 'Tis a shame, ain't it."

Brandon made a move forward, his expression murderous. Heather screamed again and grabbed his arm, pulling back with all her weight to stop him. She couldn't.

"He didn't harm me, Brandon! I got away in time!" she screeched.

Brandon stopped. He looked down at her and some of the violence seemed to leave his face.

"He killed Louisa," she said.

"Aye, I did," Mr. Hint admitted as he grinned at Brandon. "And I won't think twice 'fore shootin' you. But I have my idea you knows what I did already, don't you?"

"Perhaps," Brandon replied. He stepped back a few paces, pulling Heather with him.

"Aye. I know it for certain. I hear you were asking about me in town. You started nosin' around that day you come to my shop, wantin' to know when I comes from England and what sort of fellow I be. What I wants to know is why."

Brandon grinned leisurely as he pulled his shirt from his shoulders. "My wife made mention of you several times."

Startled, Heather jerked her head up and looked at him closely. He smiled down at her reassuringly, drawing his shirt around her. But his eyes hardened when they fell on the marks left by Mr. Hint's teeth. His mouth went rigid as he touched the spot and the muscle in his cheek twitched violently.

"Aye. I see you've noticed my brand on your wife. She's a small bit of woman, ain't she? Looks real fetchin' without her clothes," he snickered. "That's a hard thing what to admit for a chap in my profession. But 'tis true. There's no one ever I see what got her beauty. And she's a mite more resourceful than most. Got away from me 'fore I had a taste of her charms. Slippery as an eel, she is."

"You'd be dead now if you had taken her," Brandon growled.

Mr. Hint grinned his horrible smirk. "So she told you about me, eh? I didn't figure that. When she run from Willy's shop that night I thought she'd be too frightened to say my name, she a thinking she killed him and all. I didn't figure that she'd talk. But why did she act so frightened when I told her I'd tell you if she didn't buy my silence?"

"I'm afraid my wife knew nothing of what she said to me."

Mr. Hint frowned. "Eh? What's that you say? You don't make sense."

"It's no matter, Mr. Hint. Now if you would be so good as to tell me what my wife gave you, I would be grateful."

"You know what she give me or you know of part of it. I seen you pick up that diamond earring when you stood over Louisa's body." Mr. Hint grinned as Heather gasped and dug in his coat pocket. He brought out the jewels clutched in his hand and displayed them for Brandon. "To satisfy your curiosity, guv'na," he smirked. "Pretty lot, ain't they? Just like your wife. A pretty thing she is with her silky skin and her black hair. She has teats what I'd wager any man would itch to touch, nice and soft and—"

"Did you also rape and murder Sybil Scott?" Brandon interrupted.

Mr. Hint squinted at him. "Aye, I did. She laughed at me like Louisa. I followed her from Charleston that day and took my pleasure of her in the woods. She weren't nearly so pretty as your wife though."

"You were also in the woods by my mill?"

"Aye. I couldn't hardly help myself that day. I got the feeling in me loins for her what left me aching for a week. When the bartering man sold me that gown, I knew she were here. I tried to find out from him where he got it but he wouldn't say. But in the woods I recognized her right off as being the same little girl what Willy tried to bed. She fooled him too and stuck a knife in him."

"No!" Heather cried. "He fell on the knife when we were struggling."

"Well, she thought him to be dead, but he weren't—that is, not 'til I slit his throat."

"You murdered all these people, Mr. Hint, without anyone becoming suspicious of you?" Brandon questioned.

"Aye, and a lot more. I had my time when I had to run from England, but nobody has caught me and nobody were suspicious of me here."

"You must think yourself a very clever person."

"Clever enough to add a few more to my list." He waved the pistol around dangerously. "But I have my wish to please myself with your wife afore your eyes while you still lives. I never had it that way before."

Brandon sneered. "You'll find yourself dead if you lay one finger on her."

Mr. Hint laughed loudly, and his eyes had an unnatural shine to them. "Aye. It'll be most pleasurable. I can just see you now—all trussed up and unable to move while I have your wife spread on the bed. You'll go mad as you watches me settle myself in her. I'll even make her scream for you everytime I take a bit of her."

Heather clung to Brandon tightly and buried her face against his chest.

"I'll kill her myself before I'll let you get your slimy hands on her, Mr. Hint," Brandon swore. "But you aren't even going to get near her. You'd better take careful aim with that pistol. If you don't kill me with that one shot, you won't live long after you release that hammer."

He was moving in on the man, pushing Heather behind him.

"Your death can very easily be arranged," Mr. Hint warned as he braced himself against the wall. He lifted the pistol until it pointed at Brandon's heart.

With a cry, Heather flung herself in front of Brandon. He tried to push her behind him, but she clung to him fiercely and in her fear for him, her strength exceeded its normal bounds.

"For God's sake, Heather, get out of the way!" he cried.

"No!" she said stubbornly. "He only has one shot. He can kill just one of us with it." Her voice became pleading. "Let it be me, Brandon. I'd rather die now than have him touch me again. I couldn't bear it."

"Your wife has a point, guv'na. I can hardly kill you both with one pistol. It'll be interesting to see which one of you I get. You're both so anxious to die for the other." He jeered at Brandon. "Now you, guv'na, are a gallant soul. You say you'll kill your wife yourself 'fore I lays a hand on her. What chivalry! A body would gather you think I'm not fit to bed her."

"You're not fit for her to walk on," Brandon sneered. "Do you honestly think that I'm going to let you touch her? I let no man use what is mine, and you, who crawl upon your belly in the mud and slime, think I won't fight heaven and hell to keep her safe from your depravity!"

"You've no choice, guv'na," Mr. Hint smirked. His eyes went over Heather's back. Holding the pistol pointed straight at Brandon's head, he reached for the shirt covering her and snatched it away. He stepped back quickly, grinning as his eyes roamed greedily over her thighs and buttocks. "I likes her better this way."

With a sound close to a growl, Brandon stepped forward, but immediately Mr. Hint's attention was on him.

"Step back or I'll blow your wife's head off with this pistol."

A limb hit the window with the force of the storm outside, shattering the glass and startling Mr. Hint. He looked around in surprise, and Brandon seized his moment. He lunged forward, catching Mr. Hint off guard, but not so much that the man forgot the pistol in his hand. He fired and Heather screamed as Brandon went reeling backward, but he did not fall. He grabbed for his shoulder as blood oozed from the wound down over his arm and chest. He grinned evilly.

Mr. Hint realized his mistake. The man was not dead and he had every assurance that Brandon would keep his word and see to it that life ended for him. He was now the hunted. He had ceased to be the hunter. Terrified, he jumped for the door and was out of it in a flash despite his lameness.

Brandon was after him without a second's hesitation. Heather stood for a moment, dazed and feeling sick. The shock of seeing Brandon reel from the pistol's discharge had almost been too much. She followed out the door, still trembling, in time to see her husband start down the stairs after Mr. Hint. The cripple half fell, half slid down the steps. He glanced back over his shoulder fearfully and she saw froth oozing from his mouth. His tongue flicked vigorously over his fat lips and his eyes were wide with panicking terror. When he reached the bottom level, he turned in circles, not knowing what to do. He glanced down at the pistol he still held in his hand and, realizing it was useless, raised it above his head and flung it at the man coming after him. Brandon ducked and the pistol hit harmlessly behind him. Mr. Hint whirled to run to the door, but Brandon was too quick for him. He leaped from the stairs and flung himself onto the hunchback. They both went crashing to the floor, but Brandon was on his feet instantly, dragging the man to his. With a cruel smile, he sent a fist smashing into Mr. Hint's face. The man flew backward, the blood flying from his face. Brandon picked him up again and slammed him back against the wall with enough force to break the man's back. Mr. Hint screamed. Brandon only looked the meaner and buried his fist into the man's belly. When the cripple doubled over, Brandon brought him up straight again with a vicious blow under his chin. The murderer shrieked and sobbed and pleaded as he tried desperately to free himself, but Brandon had no intention of letting him go.

"You'll not have another chance to sink your teeth into my wife, you slimy bastard!"

Heather was frightened. She had never seen Brandon act so violently. He was not hindered by the wound in his shoulder. He seemed for the moment to have forgotten it. Both men were red with blood, and it was impossible to tell whose blood they wore the most of. It mingled as Brandon continued slashing at Mr. Hint with his fists. Her legs trembled as she crept down the stairs toward them, clutching an arm over her bosom, the other hand down her body.

The man was becoming a bloody pulp, unable to comprehend what was happening to him. He whimpered as Brandon drove in another blow.

Heather could stand no more. She ran to Brandon and grabbed his arm.

"Brandon, stop! You're killing him! For God's sake, stop!"

Brandon, in a daze, turned the man loose and watched him slide to the floor. Mr. Hint groaned and clutched at his middle, but Brandon was no longer interested in him, and Heather didn't care to see how vicious her husband could be when he lost his temper. They turned from him without so much as a pitying glance in his direction. She began immediately to examine her husband's wound. He winced slightly as her gentle fingers touched torn flesh.

"We must get you home, Brandon. That ball needs to be taken out of your shoulder."

He managed a grin. "I'm afraid going home is out of the question for some time. We'll have to stay here for the night. The storm makes the journey home unsafe. It has worsened since I came and probably doubly so since you ventured out."