What a Widow Wants

by Jenna Jaxon

  The creak of the barn door sent tension flooding through Fanny’s entire body. Motionless, she listened for additional rasping of the ancient hinges. The wind might have picked up enough to swing the door back and forth. Such a sound would likely have awoken her. As she was about to release the breath she held, the whisper of voices froze her heart and sent fear licking through her veins.

  Men’s voices, louder as they came through the door, on the far side of the room where she and Ella lay.

  “I can’t see anything.” A man with a gruff voice whispered loudly in the darkness.

  “Quiet, ye daft nigit.” The insistent voice was quieter, but held more menace. “Yer wanna give ’um notice so they can squawk?”

  “Let’s get on with it. I told you I didn’t want to get wrapped up in crashin’ no woman.”

  The third man’s words sounded ominous, especially the part about “crashin’ ” a woman. Fanny didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t sound like it boded well for her. Breathing shallowly so as to make no noise, she prayed the three would simply miss them in the dark and move on.

  “We wouldn’t be in this pickle, Tom, if you’d been on time,” the menacing voice growled. “I tole ye t’ meet us at the Chequers at noon. Then we’d be to the dancin’ tree well before the carriage arrived.”

  Fanny’s heart beat quicker. These ruffians had planned to meet at the same inn she’d been at. Worse, their mention of the “dancing tree” shot dread through her. That was how she had described that one tree to Ella. Dear God, were these men after them?

  “I couldn’t help it that my wife’s family arrived at dawn.” The gravelly voiced man sounded put upon. “I was lucky to escape when I did. Her mother is a rare harpy. Coulda had me choppin’ wood and fetchin’ water most of the day.”

  “But if you hadn’t been late, my fine fellow, we woulda been at the dancin’ tree afore the bitch got there. But you were late so we had to follow her. We coulda done our work and been home afore now.”

  “Go explain that to my wife, then. Tell her I had to leave her and her god-awful mother to go throttle a woman.”

  “You’d better hope you can explain it to Mr. Davies if we don’t find them.”

  Clenching her teeth to keep from crying out, Fanny forced herself to lie still even though fear had seized her in a death grip. Davies had arranged for these men to accost her and Ella. The ever-present question was why.

  “That’s one thing I don’t like, Mick. Doin’ for a woman, well, that ain’t too bad, but killing a child just don’t set right with me.”

  Please let them leave. Please let them leave. Fanny swallowed convulsively and prayed harder.

  “Mr. Davies said the marquess particularly wanted the brat crashed, but don’t you worry none, Jack.”

  Fanny could hear the evil smile in his voice.

  “I’ll do for the kid. Then we’ll all do for the highflyer.”

  Theale. Theale wanted them dead. Had he taken her words as truth, that she would advertise the circumstances of Ella’s birth? Or did he simply want to erase the blot on Stephen’s name permanently? Her brother-in-law must have run mad to think he could get away with this.

  “You look over in that room to yer right, Tom. Jack, you check up in the loft. Mebbe they climbed up there t’ get off the floor. I’ll look about down here. Wish there was a moon tonight.”

  “How d’you know they’s even in here, Mick?”

  “We follow’d um from the dancin’ tree, noddy. Where else they gonna go, up a tree? This is the only place they coulda gone to sleep for the night. Now get to it.”

  Quick fumbling sounds ensued as one of the ruffians shambled off to the right. Another set of footsteps moved restlessly, eventually retreating until that man shuffled out of the room. That left the menacing man, who moved off to the left of the pile of hay. He hadn’t discovered it yet.

  The man lumbered around and Fanny lost track of where he stood. Finally, the creaking of a ladder told her one of the ruffians had gone to the loft.

  Forced to lie still in the dark, unable to even attempt to flee or find a better hiding place, Fanny prayed harder for the men to leave. Rustling in the hay on the far side of the pile made her hold her breath. One of the men had found her hiding place. Would he find her? She couldn’t tell for sure, but she prayed none of them carried a lantern. If she were lucky they might miss her and Ella in the dark.

  Suddenly the rustling stopped and someone’s footsteps scraped the floor as they moved away from her. Fanny released her breath slowly. Complete silence descended upon the barn and she sent up a prayer of thanksgiving.

  A hand clamped down on her leg and jerked her out of the hay.

  CHAPTER 29

  Fanny screamed as one of the ruffians pulled her from her hiding place.

  “There you are, milady.” The smug voice of the menacing ruffian sent a shiver of fear running through her. “Right naughty of you to hide from us. Tom, Jack, I got ’er. Bring the lantern.”

  “Mama, Mama!” Ella’s high-pitched shriek shook the darkness.

  “Ella! Run, Ella, run outside. Hide!” Fanny jerked away from her captor, scrabbling to rise. The man hit her side, knocking her back to the ground. “Run, Ella!”

  “Mama!”

  Twisting toward her child, Fanny could just make out a man holding Ella in his arms.

  She still shrieked and kicked, but was no match for the brute’s strength.

  “Let her go, you blackguard.” She scooted onto her knees, trying to rise but impeded by her skirts. “If you hurt her—” Another blow laid her flat on her back.

  “Where you think ye’re goin’, dearie?” The menacing man towered over her. “Tom. Bring your nob and the lantern over here. I wanna good look at this ladybird afore we gets started.”

  The man’s meaning was abundantly clear. He planned to kill them under the orders of the Marquess of Theale. Could she reason with them? Bribe them, perhaps? “How much is Theale paying you to do this?”

  “What d’ you care? You won’t live to see it hurt your purse.” The one they called Mick, a burly fellow with arms the size of hams, sneered down at her. His greasy hair fell over his face, but Fanny could see the jowly cheeks, the small eyes, and the short stature of the man. A rude-looking fellow any way you looked at him.

  “What if I offer you more money?” Fanny threw out the only card she suspected would interest this vulgar lot. “More money to take me and my daughter to safety?”

  Mick looked first at Jack, holding the now quiet Ella, then at Tom who nodded his head ferociously. “For that much, I’d help you, milady, if you don’t have none could take you to an inn or town.”

  “Jack!” Mick barked a warning. “We’ve already eaten the marquess’s salt, so to speak. No goin’ back now.” The man with the menacing voice hoisted the lantern over her. The thin beam fell on Fanny’s face and she shielded her eyes as best she could with her hand. “Not that I’d want to at any rate.”

  “What if I offered double what the marquess is paying you?”

  That got even Mick’s attention. He peered down at her and shrugged. “You got no money to be paying a brass farthing, much less what his lordship wanted to pay.”

  “You’ll get every farthing you are owed but from Lord Lathbury, not the marquess.” She must be convincing.

  Eyes narrowing, Mick held the light down toward her. “How do I know this bloke will post the cole?”

  “He will, I swear to you before God. He will be overjoyed to see his wife and child home and safe with him again.”

  “That be lot o’ blunt, Mick.” Tom eased closer to the surly man. “Set me up proper, it would.”

  The man they called Jack, who still held the quietly sobbing Ella, sounded eager. “It would, Mick. And we don’t got to swing for murder if we rescue the lady.”

  “Ain’t nobody swingin’ no matter what.” Mick stared down at her, his face settled into harsh planes in the yellowish light. “We hush the pair of ’em
, ain’t nobody alive to tell the tale. She’s seen us now, gents. Can’t let ’er tell or we all meet Jack Ketch and the end of a rope.” The gleam in Mick’s eyes turned her blood cold. “Hold her down, Tom. We got all night.” He licked his lips and set the lantern down, then dropped his hand to the fall of his rough breeches. “No need to be hasty.”

  “Noooo!” Fanny jerked up off the floor, pushing a startled Tom to the side as she tried to crawl toward Ella.

  “No, you don’t.” A big hand grabbed her leg through her skirt and yanked her backward. Her face hit the hay-strewn floor, the straw pricking her cheeks as Mick hauled her toward him. “Gonna have my fun with you afore we finish the job.” With a deft hand, he flipped her onto her back and she could see his fall dangling before his gaping breeches. “Now hold her, Tom. You’ll get yer turn after I’m done.”

  Kicking her legs wildly, Fanny connected with Mick’s shin and the blackguard grunted and fell to his knees.

  “You’re gonna pay for that, my fine lady.” Grabbing her legs, he slid her skirts up to her thighs, cold air rushing between her legs.

  “You’re going to roast in hell.” Terror seized her and Fanny bucked, almost dislodging the cur whose hands fumbled on her cold flesh.

  “Hold her down, you caw-handed fool. If you let her get away—”

  “Help me! Help me! Somebody!” Screaming and twisting, Fanny dug down for every ounce of strength. She wrenched her arms up and pushed at Mick with all her might. “Get off me, you cur.”

  The thunderous boom of the door being blown open stopped them all.

  Fanny screamed, still struggling to push Mick off her.

  Swift feet pounded across the floor. A meaty twack and Mick sailed off her, flying into the darkness of the barn.

  Before she could draw breath to scream again, Tom’s body was plucked up off her. She was free. Scrabbling for a purchase in the loose hay, she slipped and trod on her gown. The rip of parting fabric didn’t impede her at all as, sidling like a crab, she found her footing and staggered to her feet.

  The man called Jack stood, eyes white and wide, clutching Ella to him.

  Fury burning in her heart, she descended on him like an avenging angel. “Give me my daughter.”

  Glancing away from her into the darkness from which arose the sounds of fists pounding flesh, groans and moans, and the crunch of bones, Jack tossed Ella into the hay, turned tail, and melted into the darkness.

  Ella screamed and Fanny darted forward. “I’m here, lovey. Shhh. Shhh.” Scooping Ella out of the hay, Fanny ran for the door. Finding it hanging broken, attached only by a piece of leather hinge, she sped out into the cold night air, her child’s sobs harsh in her ear. “We’re safe now, lovey. Shhh.”

  She peered into the darkness. Where to go? It needn’t be far. Doubtless the ruffians would flee as soon as their compatriot finished the drubbing they so richly deserved. Had that been Davies? The coachman had never impressed her as having much physical strength, but working with horses may have toughened him in ways she didn’t understand.

  Her eyes adjusted quickly, assisted by the faint starlight, and she spied a group of bushes off to the left of the barn. She scurried over to them, ducking behind them and crouching close to the ground. Ella clung to her and she clutched her tight. “It will be all right, lovey,” she crooned over and over in a whisper. Dear God, let these men depart and not seek them out again.

  A man emerged from the barn holding the lantern high.

  Sucking in a breath, she whispered in Ella’s ear, “Be quiet, Ella. Not a word, not a sound.”

  He swung the light to and fro, peering into the darkness. Searching for them. Lowering her head, Fanny prayed.

  “Fanny? Fanny, are you there?”

  “Matthew!” The sound of the beloved, familiar voice brought her head up with a snap. She bounded up from behind the bushes, staring at her savior in the light. “Matthew, oh, God.” Clutching Ella, she ran back toward the barn.

  He met them halfway, enfolding them in his strong arms. “Fanny, thank God you’re all right.”

  Stunned and completely drained, she burst into tears.

  His arms tightened around them. “Hush, love. I’m here. Nothing will ever harm you again, I promise. If I have to kill Theale with my own hands, he will trouble you no longer.”

  The assurances only made her cry harder. This man had wanted nothing but to marry and protect her for so long. Had she not been so stubborn and blind none of this escapade would have happened. She didn’t deserve such devotion and the realization made her wail even louder.

  Ella chimed in with her own sobs.

  “Fanny, are you hurt? Is Ella all right? For God’s sake, tell me.” The deep concern, something near panic in his voice forced her rational mind back to the fore.

  “Yes.” She sobbed and gulped, trying to stem the tears. “I believe Ella is well. Are you, lovey? Did the bad men hurt you?”

  The child nodded, then burrowed her head into Fanny’s shoulder. “Mama, who is it? Is it the bad man?”

  “No, lovey. It’s Lord Lathbury come to rescue us.”

  “Lord Laffbury?” Ella poked her head up. “Lord Laffbury, is it really you?” She clasped her arms around his neck and he drew her out of Fanny’s arms and into his.

  “I believe she’s fine, as am I. A bit bruised, perhaps, but truly not harmed.”

  “Truly?” Lifting the lantern, he peered into her face, silently asking the question.

  “No, you arrived before . . . before . . .” She shuddered and laid her head on his chest. It had been a near thing. One more minute and—

  “Hush, my love. You are safe.”

  When had she started weeping again? “I’m so sorry.” She tried to pull away and should have saved the effort. Might as well try to move the standing stones on Salisbury Plain as break his grip. “Let me go, Matthew. I can’t be a watering pot, not now when Ella needs me to be strong for her.”

  “Why don’t you let me be strong for both of you?” Dark smudges underneath his eyes, the deeply grooved furrows of his brow, and the drawn look about his mouth attested to his profound concern for her and Ella. His daughter.

  Surely after this night the tale must come to light, for she would deny him no longer. If he still wanted her, wanted them, then she would be a widow no longer. She nodded.

  “Then come. Lucifer is over here.” He led them to the side of the barn.

  “Lucifer? What happened to Spartan?”

  “That is a long story”—he paused to entangle them—“one that will perhaps keep until I get you both to an inn with a soft bed.”

  They drew near to the barn and Fanny balked. “Are they . . . are the ruffians . . . dead?”

  With a sharp laugh, Matthew shook his head. “I decided not to soil my hands with their blood. Well, with more of their blood. The two inside will find it hard to eat anything more substantial than a coddled egg for a month.”

  That got Fanny to giggling, releasing the tension that had wound itself tightly around her since Davies had put them out of the carriage hours ago. Her shoulders sagged and she put out a hand to grab Matthew’s arm to steady herself. The warmth of his body seeped into hers at an astounding rate. So much the better. She suspected she would never be warm enough after today unless Matthew held her.

  He led them to a huge black horse, tethered to a bush. The animal snorted at their approach. “Easy, Lucifer.” Matthew set the lantern down and patted the arched neck. “This grand fellow is as much your hero as I. He should be called Pegasus as far as I’m concerned. Brought me here faster than I’d ever dreamed.”

  “Where did you get him?” Fanny looked askance at the enormous animal, snorting and prancing. Lucifer seemed rather an apt name at that.

  “At the Duke of Gloucester in Mickleham. Spartan was spent by the time I got there. I plan to buy him off the inn when we return, no matter the cost. Here, darling,” he said, standing Ella on the ground, “let me put your mother on the horse then
I’ll hand you up to her.”

  The child whimpered and threw herself at Fanny, sobbing. “Mama.”

  “It’s all right, lovey. Lord Lathbury won’t leave us for a second.” Fanny hated to leave the girl’s grip, but she had to mount if they were ever to leave this godforsaken place.

  “Have you ever rode pillion?” Matthew asked, running his hand over the rump of the horse.

  “Perhaps once or twice. Why? Do you plan for all of us to ride?” That raised her eyebrows.

  “The child’s weight is negligible. And we will go only at a walk. It’s some five or six miles back to the Chequers and we need to get you two out of this cold as quickly as possible. If I walk and lead the horse, it will take several hours. Ella, watch how your mother is going to sit right behind the saddle here.”

  Matthew put his hands around her waist, and she reveled in his touch once more. Never did she ever want him to let go. The night was growing colder, however, and he quickly hoisted her up behind the saddle. Perched on the rump of the horse, she settled herself as best she could.

  “Now your turn, my dear.” He scooped Ella up, bringing forth a shriek, and deposited her before the saddle. “Hold his mane, Ella.” He closed her hand over a handful of the horse’s hair. “I’ll sit up behind you and hold you the whole way.” Swiftly he retrieved the lantern, blew it out, and tossed it back on the ground before grabbing the reins and mounting behind Ella.

  The horse stamped impatiently, but otherwise seemed not to be distressed by his full load. A hero indeed.

  With a slight nudge of his heel, Matthew started them off.

  Fanny grasped him around the waist to steady herself, and although she quickly became accustomed to the horse’s swaying gait, she kept her arms around her love, glorying in his presence. She leaned her head against the small of his back. “Did you receive my letter this morning?”

  “Actually, no.”

  Startled, she sat up. “Then how are you come here?”