“Grace, you really do not have to—”
“I do.”
“Grace—”
“I do, Nash. Being with you, doing all of this,” she gestured vaguely around the hallway, “it has at least taught me I am more capable than I thought. I will speak with him.”
“I’m really not comfortable—”
“Nash,” she said firmly, “I have had men tell me what to do my whole life. I am certainly not going to listen to you now.” She patted his shoulder. “Besides, if I do not talk to him, what will happen? He shall only reveal the three of you. It seems most logical that I try to reason with him.”
He opened his mouth then closed it. Hell, he couldn’t help admire her. This man had dictated what had to be a miserable existence and she could easily tell him to go thrash the man then send him on his way. He only hoped her idea of reasoning with him was not to give in to her uncle’s demands.
He led the way downstairs and found the three men in the kitchen. Russell stood by the door, blocking the exit whilst Guy remained standing by the sink, leaned back against the porcelain, his arms folded.
However, nothing was nonchalant about his posture for which Nash was grateful. The uncle sat at the table, peering up at both men, his eyes wide. Rounded in figure with thinning hair and dressed in fine clothing, Nash saw nothing threatening in the man.
That did not mean, however, Nash intended to relax.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
Grace put a hand to his arm and moved past him. She remained standing at Nash’s side and he caught the tiniest tremor moving through her body. As much as he wished he could tuck her behind him or put a comforting arm around her shoulders, he managed to keep his arms firmly folded across his chest. Grace had asked to speak with him, and he’d let that happen, but if the man said anything disrespectful...Hell’s teeth, he was not sure he could be held responsible for his actions.
THE TENSION IN the room made Grace shiver. She spied Nash’s blanched knuckles out of the corner of her eye. He was like a horse, waiting to bolt, so she needed to ensure the situation remained calm. However her uncle found them, he knew now who was involved and he could cause a great deal of grief for the three men who tried to help her. There was no chance she was letting anything happen to them, especially when they would go on to help other women in her situation in the future.
And she could never let Nash come to harm.
“Grace.” Uncle Charlie smiled. “You are unscathed. How wonderful.” He looked between the men. “I do not know what is happening here, but I am taking my niece away.” He waved a finger at Russell. “I warn you, if you try to harm me...”
Russell took a step forward, his lips a thin line, his eyes cold. Her uncle shrank down into the chair.
“They will not harm you, Uncle,” she said, shooting a warning look at Russell. He huffed and took a step back. “But you will not be taking me away either. Did Aunt Elsie tell you where I was?”
He scowled. “No. Why the devil would she know where you were? You wish to stay with your kidnappers?” He went to rise from the chair then thought twice about it and sank down. “Good Lord, I have heard of this before. Women seduced by their kidnappers, their minds warped by them. I always knew you were a silly girl, but I never expected—”
Nash slammed a fist down on the table. “She is no silly girl,” he said through gritted teeth.
Grace motioned for him to stand back and drew out a chair to sit opposite her uncle. She eyed him dispassionately. How odd it was that he scared her so not that long ago. Now she only saw a sad little man, trying to make up for his lack of, well, anything, by spending money on clothes and belongings. He wasn’t like Nash, who could have done the same with his earnings, but instead put it into reviving the house he loved so much.
“I will return home,” she said.
“Like hell,” Nash hissed.
“When I am ready,” she continued. “After my birthday.”
Her uncle shook his head wildly. “We have the marriage license. You must marry Worthington. I promised you to him.”
“I was not yours to promise.”
“I am still your guardian,” her uncle snapped. “I can damn well do what I like with you.”
“Not anymore, Uncle Charlie.” She laced her fingers together. “I will be one-and-twenty in two days, and you cannot decide my fate.”
Her uncle’s cheeks reddened. “I can and I will. I’ll have you dragged away from here. No court in the land will let this stand. And all of you will hang for this.”
A scoff escaped Guy. “You think you can make it out of here alive to tell your tale?”
“I...I...” Uncle Charlie’s face looked as though it might explode. He shifted in his seat.
“Uncle, I have no wish to see you harmed,” she said softly. “But you cannot tell anyone of what these men have done.”
He scowled. “Why on earth not? They must have terrified you, must have hurt you in some way. They are kidnappers, Grace!”
“They have done a lot to help me,” she explained slowly, “and I will not have you cause them any harm.”
“Then come home with me and perhaps I shall forget it all.”
“Uncle—”
“She cannot come home with you,” Nash interrupted. “Because we are engaged to be married.”
Grace twisted in her seat to eye Nash, her mouth ajar. That was certainly unexpected.
“Engaged?” Uncle Charlie’s eyes bulged. “To your kidnapper?”
“We plan to marry shortly, do we not, darling?” Nash said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m a viscount which I think should please you greatly, and if you say anything about what we do, you shall have a criminal in the family. Are you certain you wish that?”
Her uncle looked between her and Nash. “Is this true?”
It would be so easy—a logical, ideal solution really. But she was not certain she wanted logic. And she certainly did not want Nash to marry her out of some desperate way to save them both. There had to be a way to ensure her uncle’s silence that was better than this.
She loved Nash and she would not cheapen her love like this. Nor would she let these men dictate her future to her.
“It is not true,” she admitted.
Nash’s hand dropped from her shoulder. “Grace—”
She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. As wonderful as the idea of marriage to him was, she needed more than him swooping in to be her rescuer, more than him offering simply to save her from one man so she could be passed on to another.
“It is not true,” she repeated, glancing around the room. Russell offered her the slightest of encouraging smiles and Guy remained in the same position, one eyebrow lifted. “But you will not be telling anyone what has occurred here.”
“B-but—” Her uncle spluttered.
She held up a finger. “I will return home on my birthday. Once I am there, I will have my inheritance and I will offer you this—four hundred pounds for your silence.”
Uncle Charlie opened his mouth then closed it several times like a fish gasping for air. Finally, his shoulders slumped. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”
“Excellent.” She pushed the chair back and rose from the table. “Russell, will you see my uncle out?”
He grinned. “Gladly.”
Her uncle shook his head. “I do not understand what has happened here, but it is strange indeed.”
“It is a little strange,” she agreed, “and I am glad for it.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nash had thought the most painful thing to ever happen to him had been his father breaking his promise to fund the repairs to Guildham House.
Not anymore. That was a mere pinprick compared to Grace turning him down flat.
Not that he had asked for her hand in marriage in the traditional sense, but he thought he’d made it fairly clear what he was offering. And he had thought she felt the same way as he did.
Damn. Ho
w wrong could a man get?
Russell unfolded his arms and scooped a hand under the uncle’s arm. Guy came to the other side of them. “Time to go,” he said.
They escorted the flustered-looking man out into the dark. He only hoped they could find out how exactly the man had tracked them down. There had to be someone, somewhere who had given them up, but who it was, he could not fathom. Almost no one knew of the lake house.
He turned to Grace, but he couldn’t think what to say. He shuffled his feet and eyed the floor. He wanted answers really. Why did she not love him? Was it his past? Was it something else?
“Nash, I must thank you for what you did but you must know I could not go along with the lie.”
“I was quite happy to,” he muttered.
“You are no liar and I would not wish you to be one.”
“I am sort of.” He glanced up. “That is probably why you did not wish to go along with it, I suppose.”
She shook her head. “No, that is not it at all.”
“Then why?”
“Because...I feel a lot of things for you.”
He scowled. “For a woman who prides herself on logic, that makes no sense.”
“I feel a lot of things for you, but this has been a strange time and I feel a lot of things for me too.”
“Now I’m really lost.”
“This time with you has taught me a lot about myself and has shown me I can be brave.” She reached out to him, but he shifted out of her way. He was behaving like an ass, but he was not certain he could bear her touch right now.
“I cannot let someone tell me what to do. Not right now.”
“You know damn well, I wouldn’t—”
The kitchen door burst open and the uncle stumbled through. He bent double, gasping for breath.
“Uncle Charlie? What has happened?”
He remained bent over, drawing in ragged breaths. “Worthington, and his men.” He straightened and gulped down some air. “They are here. Several of them. He told me where you were, but I did not think he was going to come. He told me to bring you home.” He nodded toward Nash. “Your friends told me to come back here and seek shelter while they took them on. God knows the man will beat me to within an inch of my life if he finds out I agreed not to give him Grace.”
“Bloody hell.” Nash turned to Grace. “Take your uncle and go upstairs.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll have to help Guy and Russell.”
“But—”
“Just do it,” he barked.
Grace nodded and took her uncle’s arm. “This way.”
He waited until they were upstairs, and he heard the bedroom door shut before shoving his feet into his boots. The men outside were likely those ones they ran into at the inn. A dangerous lot. Guy and Russell were fighters but if the men were armed, they’d be in danger. He couldn’t very well leave them to it.
If only he’d brought his bloody weapon downstairs, though.
Before he could step out of the kitchen, the back door slammed open. Nash rushed at the first man to enter, slamming him in the gut and shoving him back into the next man. He ducked a fist from God knows where and responded with a punch of his own, sending the second chap sprawling. A third pushed past them. Nash curled his lip.
“Worthington.”
The older man peered down his nose at him. “Who the devil are you?”
“It doesn’t much matter.”
Worthington lifted his pistol as the other two men staggered to their feet. “No, I suppose it does not. Now, where is my fiancé?”
“She’s most certainly not your fiancé.”
“Tell me where she is,” Worthington demanded.
Nash glanced around Worthington. One of the men clutched a bleeding nose and the other had a hand wrapped around his stomach. None of them had weapons in their hands so he only had Worthington’s pistol to contend with. He would have to rely on the fact pistols were not very accurate unless Guy and Russell could get here quickly. He had to assume they were dealing with the rest of Worthington’s men and he only hoped they were not in the same sort of trouble.
“Tell you what,” Nash said. “We can fight like men. If you best me, you can have Grace.”
“Grace, is it?” Worthington narrowed his gaze. “Don’t tell me the silly little whore has ingratiated herself toward you.”
Nash clenched his jaw. God, he hoped the man wanted a fight. He’d love to smash that smug face in and make him pay for scaring Grace. “A fight, damn it.”
Worthington’s lips quirked. “An honorable kidnapper. How odd. Though, I did think there was something strange when that boy told us about you.”
Nash grimaced inwardly. The only boy they had helping them was Tommy Jenkins, the delivery boy. He must have told Worthington about them, though how he knew about the lake house, he didn’t know. “You better not have hurt him.”
“Only a little.” Worthington flashed a smile. “But now I am going to hurt you.”
“Not if I hurt you first.”
Worthington lifted his pistol and Nash drew in a breath. If only he knew Grace would be safe, he could make his peace with dying but as it was, he could not.
The man pulled the trigger.
“HE’S GOING TO kill us both!”
Grace didn’t have time to deal with her uncle’s whimpering. That had been a gunshot, surely? And Nash did not have his Flintlock. She knew that because it was in her hand. She fumbled with the powder, and pushed it all down with the ramrod
Uncle Charlie’s face was slick with sweat as he cowered behind the bed. “H-how do you know how to do that?”
She shook her head. To think she had been scared of this man for all those years. He was nothing but a coward.
She could not be, though. Not today. Nash needed her and she hoped to God that gunshot hadn’t been for him.
If he was dead.
She shook her head. Now was not the time to think about that.
“Stay here,” she ordered her uncle, ignoring his protests as she stepped out of the bedroom. How could that man offer her up to Worthington when he knew full well her fiancé was a violent man? Why would he do that to her? But those questions were for another time, a time when Nash’s life wasn’t in danger.
A beat pulsed hard in her fingers where she gripped the pistol and she gulped down deep breaths as she hastened downstairs. Nash might scold her for not being quiet, but his life was in danger and there was no time. She stepped out into the kitchen, brandishing the pistol.
The air left her lungs when she spied Nash prone on the floor. Bile rose in her throat and everything felt hot, like someone had lit her shift on fire and she was flaming from head to toe. Nash groaned from his position on the floor and she spotted blood seeping through his breeches, just above his knee. Worthington fumbled with his pistol, readying himself to reload whilst three unarmed men lingered by the back door.
She lifted the pistol and pointed it at Worthington. “I would drop your weapon if I were you.”
Worthington’s startled gaze flew to hers. “Well, if it isn’t my fiancé.”
“I am not your fiancé.”
“Grace,” groaned Nash, using a chair to haul himself to his feet. “Go back upstairs.”
She shook her head. “I suggest you leave,” she told Worthington, “or I shall be forced to shoot you.”
He smirked. “A little mouse like you? You would never shoot me.” He offered out a hand. “Come home with me and I’ll make you my wife, and we can forget all about this.”
She pulled back the hammer with two fingers. “I will never be your wife.”
His expression shifted and her blood turned to ice. This was the man she knew was under that sleek charm. The man his late wife had probably seen too many times. “You do not have any choice,” he bit out.
“I will never be your wife,” she repeated, stepping in front of Nash.
He gestured to Nash. “Is this because of him? Because of thes
e kidnappers?”
“No.” She lifted her chin. “This is because of me. I am tired of being told what to do, of living a life dictated by men.”
He made a dismissive sound. “You are addled. I shall marry you then have you sent to an asylum. That will teach you to obey your fiancé.” Worthington tore a powder packet with his teeth.
Grace lifted her weapon higher. The pounding in her chest had gone, the bitterness in her throat had vanished. For the first time in forever, everything was clear and calm. She did not need to analyze the situation or write notes. She knew exactly what she had to do.
“If you try to shoot either of us, I will shoot you first.” She put her finger to the trigger.
“You wouldn’t dare.” He poured the powder into the pan then down the barrel.
“My father taught me to shoot when I was a girl,” she said calmly. “It has been a while, but I think I could still aim true.”
“Grace,” Nash said, trying to force her behind him.
She ignored him. Nash had done so much for her. She certainly wasn’t letting him get hurt again.
Worthington eyed her for a few moments then a grin slid across his lips. “You are too soft and scared, Grace. You could never hurt me, not even to save your friend here.” He lifted his pistol.
“I am not scared anymore.” She pulled the trigger, the recoil sending her tumbling back into Nash. A scream echoed about the room and Worthington collapsed to the floor. Grace scrambled over and snatched up Worthington’s weapon then brandished it at the men. “Go or I’ll shoot you too.”
They wasted no time in stumbling out of the door. Once they were gone, she glanced at Worthington as he rolled around on the floor clutching his leg. “Well, I was aiming for your arm, but your leg seems fair, seeing as you did the same to Nash.”
Nash stared at her, mouth wide.
She handed him the gun and pulled out a chair for him. “I had better bandage you two up, I suppose.”
He nodded and sank onto the seat. The kitchen door burst open and he lifted the gun as Grace whirled around.
Guy came to a halt in front of Worthington, who still moaned and gripped his injured leg. “What the devil happened?”
Capturing the Bride (The Kidnap Club Book 1) Page 18
