Terror filled her as the lamp glanced off the man’s body like a child’s ball bouncing off a brick wall. She barely moved from her position when he grabbed hold of her hair, cursing a blue streak.
“Now ye’ve done it, wench. Now I’m going to have to hurt you.”
As the blade came swooping down, Kate reared back into her pillow, pure horror twisting her heart. A quick prayer flew through her mind, and again she scolded herself, hoping Matthew would forgive her stupid decision of venturing into the English countryside alone.
Next door, Tristan awakened at the sound of a loud thump. He swung his feet off the mattress and pushed himself out of the chair. Probably some drunk making his way up the stairs, he thought. Cursing like a sailor too.
Tristan rotated his neck, realizing he hadn’t made it to bed at all. How long had he been sleeping in that blasted chair?
Another thump.
He shifted his gaze toward the wall separating him and the girl. Devil take it, he hoped the little termagant hadn’t gone against his orders and left her room unlocked. There had been some unsavory characters loitering about the taproom, staring at her as if she were the last plum pudding for Christmas.
He admitted the chit wasn’t much to look at, but she was a lone female, which made her fair pickings for any male in the vicinity.
He cursed beneath his breath. He thought he’d made it clear to everyone in the tap that he was her protector. But knowing Kate for only those few minutes, he guessed she had probably gone after that mangy dog. Dash it all.
Tristan didn’t know why the hell he cared, but there was something innocent about her that set his nerves on edge.
She was under his protection now, and if she wished to disobey him, she best do it without him watching over her. He ought to slap that little bottom of hers and set her straight on that account at least. The girl seemed to need a firm hand somewhere in her life.
Gritting his teeth against what he would find, he hastened into the hall and stomped toward her door. It was open a crack. Stupid chit! He had told her to lock it. Even if she went for that mangy beast downstairs.
But was Handsome in there? The dog would have barked at his presence in the hall.
There was the rustling of covers, and he clenched his teeth. Could the chit truly have invited one of those men into her room? Was she meeting someone here?
A part of his heart began to harden again. Good riddance then. He didn’t need another interfering female in his life.
Low voices drifted into the hall, and he uttered a low curse. Perhaps she had been waiting for someone all along, and he had fallen into her nice little trap, paying for her meal and her bedchamber. Confounded female. He should never have helped her.
He spun on his feet, ready to return to his room, but halted when a deep growl penetrated his brain. It wasn’t a sensuous growl. It was a low, hideous snarl like that of a wolf springing for the kill.
“Listen here, chit. You ain’t fooling me. You’re going to tell me where his lordship is or I’m going to slit your pretty neck. Talk.”
In two quick strides, Tristan was at Kate’s door, gripping the handle and easing it open. He peered inside. A bright moonbeam fanned through the window. His heart locked up when he observed a giant hovering over an angel dressed in white. A flash of metal winked against Kate’s long slim neck. Tristan stiffened as the point of the knife pushed against her skin.
“Go ahead and slit my throat. I’ll not let you put your filthy hands on anyone else. Y-you monster!”
A fire erupted in Tristan’s stomach. Devil take it. The stubborn chit was defending him.
“You deuced well will tell me, wench.”
“Looking for me, my man.”
The intruder spun around, pulling his knife off Kate as Tristan strode into the room.
“Ah, his mighty lordship has returned.”
Tristan’s eyes glittered. “Then I did hear correctly. You looking for me?”
“Funny thing, ain’t it? I was wanting to see your lordship, and here ye are.” The knife rose in the air as the intruder stalked forward.
Kate gasped. “Stop it! Stop it right now!”
Tristan’s stomach jumped in fear when he saw the girl scramble toward the end of the bed, as if she were going to step between the giant and him. “Stay put, Kate!”
The giant chuckled. “Ah, so her name’s Kate, now, is it? You work fast, yer lordship. But thank you all the same. Does help a man when he knows the chit’s name. If you know what I mean.”
Tristan’s mouth spread into a thin-lipped smile. “Oh, I know exactly what you mean, and I fear, dear man, that you will have to go through me to get to her.”
“But that’s me plan, yer lordship. Upon my soul, black though it is, you’re almost as stupid as the wench here. Why, this is going to be easier than I thought. You first, then Katie here.”
Tristan’s blood sizzled with rage. The thought of the man touching Kate barely kept him in check. But because it was her safety he was concerned about, he waited in strained silence for the man to make the next move.
“So you think you could best me, eh?” the giant said with a sneer.
Tristan’s work in reconnaissance had trained him well. But Kate was too close for him to try hand to hand combat. Fighting the intruder, man to man, as if they were in Gentleman Jackson’s boxing ring was his last resort. He had to make certain the knife was not in her vicinity. There would be one chance to get the man off his feet and that was by pulling the rug from beneath him.
In the glow of the moon, the man’s shadow fell upon Kate’s small form. Tristan bent his knees, keeping his eyes fixed on the giant coming toward him. His muscles grew taut as Kate hovered at the edge of the bed.
Before the massive intruder had another second to move, Tristan dropped to the floor and yanked the rug. The giant fell with a thud. There was a low groan, and Tristan sprung over the fallen man.
“B–blimey,” the ruffian muttered, “fell on me own knife. W-wasn’t supposed to be like th-this.” The man gave one last gasp and breathed his last.
Tristan turned the body over. Even in the moonlight that was suddenly smothered by a veil of clouds, he could see the knife protruding from the man’s chest. Something wet and sticky spilled over his hand. Blood.
“Is he dead?” Kate’s ragged voice whispered over his shoulder.
Tristan raised his gaze, more concerned for her then the intruder. “Yes. Don’t look.”
Kate stood away from the bed, her blond hair tumbling down her back, a thin white nightgown clinging to her delicate form.
She appeared so frail, Tristan’s gut twisted as she eyed the blood on his hands. “Turn away,” he said, but it was too late.
The clouds suddenly shifted, allowing the moon’s beams to spill onto the scene like a bright white light. Pools of dark red blood flooded the rug. Kate’s eyes widened in horror as she threw her hand to her mouth. Her bottom lip trembled along with her legs.
Before Tristan could respond, his little defender lay in a small heap on the floor, her white gown encompassing her like an angel of mercy.
He knelt down, wiped the blood from his hands on the nearby coverlet, and took her face in his hands. He noted the thick dark lashes that fell across her cheeks. Innocent, soft, pale cheeks. Two white feet peeked out from her gown, and he grimaced. A part of him knew instinctively that this little female would not have swooned had she been in better health.
His heart screamed with the injustice of it all. She shouldn’t have been subjected to this. She had refused to tell the thief where he was. That, in itself, deserved a loyalty that Tristan gave out sparingly.
The clouds shifted again, darkening the room in a forbidding blackness. An intense emotion swept through Tristan as he scooped Kate’s body into his arms. It was fear, he realized. Fear for her.
He took one last look at the dead man and carried Kate to his chambers next door. His mind raced with unanswered questions.
Was
the man looking for the diamond? Did he think Tristan had it? Was the man working for the sympathizers or was he a thief? The questions hammered at his brain, making him even more determined to secure the diamond for England.
Cursing to himself, Tristan tucked Kate into his bed and returned to her chambers.
Two hours later, the magistrate, Lord Hemly, a friend of Tristan’s, closed the case and said it was a matter of a simple accident, a thief falling on his own knife. The affair was closed and the proprietor was to keep quiet about the entire incident if he wanted more business.
Thoroughly embarrassed by the incident, the proprietor offered Tristan free lodging for the night. Almost ready to toss the pudgy man out the window, Tristan accepted, wanting to return to Kate as soon as possible. At this point, he didn’t even trust the servants.
After the owner departed, Tristan grabbed Kate’s trunks, along with the parrot, and moved everything to his chambers. The less everyone knew the better. It had been fortuitous that Lord Hemly had worked with him in reconnaissance during the war, or there might have been more questions.
Tristan stilled as he dropped his gaze to the small figure on his bed. The scrap of a girl had been ready to die for him. And she would have died if he had not arrived in time.
Hemly and the proprietor had informed Tristan that one of the servant girls had been found strangled to death in her attic chamber only minutes ago. Hemly had blamed that on the intruder as well, but Tristan wondered if the diamond had played a part in the night’s ghastly entertainment. Was the gem cursed after all?
Nevertheless, that evening Tristan rested on the chair beside Kate’s bed, wondering who in his right mind would let a frail, young female travel the country with no escort?
And what the hell was she doing out on a night like this? Where was her family, if she had one? Where was she going with all her trunks and that stupid parrot? And what the devil was she doing in England?
He figured she was from America. With a heavy sigh, he took in her heart-shaped face and petite form. She could be a beauty if she ever filled out. But that temper of hers was something to be desired or cursed. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out which.
He rubbed a hand across his jaw. He had come to the inn to obtain a precious diamond, but instead he stationed himself in the middle of the night to stand guard over an angel and a parrot.
“A young angel and a big mouth bird at that,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. What the hell was he supposed to do with the girl now?
As the warmth of the morning sun filled the room, Kate awakened to the sight of two brown stocking feet comfortably positioned at the end of her bed. Fear coiled in her throat as she continued her steadfast gaze up the tightly fitted breeches, outlining a pair of well-muscled legs that led to a massive chest and a set of powerful shoulders.
Her mouth went dry as the horror of the night came back to her. Matthew would have a fit if he ever found out about a man being in her room, not to mention that she had almost been killed the previous evening.
She hastened toward the dressing screen and whipped a fresh gown over her head. A frown marred her brow as she inspected her body. The gown sagged as if it were three sizes too big.
Brushing her hair, she swept her tresses high on her head and tied everything into a tight knot. She gazed into the looking glass. It was not a flattering hairstyle, emphasizing her sunken eyes and pale features, but it would have to do.
She hurried back to the bed and guessed that the earl must have slept beside her all night. She sat and stared. The man’s raven black hair was tousled about his head, giving him a boyish appearance, which was a sharp contrast to the man’s authoritative personality. The shadow of a black beard blanketed his finely sculpted jaw. A white shirt was stretched tight against a set of shoulders that seemed to hold a load of responsibility and power.
The man was tall, dark, and handsome, everything a female would want, even that strumpet named Maggie. But not Kate. Oh, no. This earl was too much of everything, and that scared her.
He was a man who would not let her have her way. He was a man who gave orders and expected them to be carried out immediately. And he had saved her life! Or was it all a dream?
She regarded his long legs, and her lips twisted when she noticed a hole in his stocking the size of her thumb tip. His valet would have a fit. But this man was real, and so was last night.
“See something interesting?” The earl’s husky whisper drew her gaze to his face.
She swallowed and looked over his shoulder, anywhere but those knowing green eyes. “Good morning.”
“Good morning?” he asked as he pulled his feet off the bed, and rolled his shoulders.
“Good morning?” His gruff tone sent chills through her as he repeated his reply.
She twisted the bed linens in her hands. This man was a stranger, and he was in her bedchamber early in the morning. She felt exhausted and weak. Her voice was still raspy from her journey when she spoke to his feet. “I pray you slept well.”
“As well as can be expected.” He paused while a crackling tension lingered between them. “That is, under the circumstances. Do you remember what happened?”
She bit her lips and looked up. Yes, but she didn’t want to remember. She instantly recalled the blood glittering in the moonlight.
She ignored his pointed look and rose from the bed. Her mind hummed with denial. “I’m famished. Shall we take breakfast now?”
“The man’s dead,” he said softly, trying to coax her to talk about last night. But Kate wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
The man’s dead.
A host of hot tears began to burn the back of her eyes. She twirled a finger around a stray lock of hair and turned to stare out the window. Dead. Matthew had repeated the same word months ago, but it meant something altogether different.
Swallowing hard, she ignored the shuffle of feet behind her and straightened her shoulders. She needed to put everything behind her and proceed to Ridgewater Manor as soon as possible. Yes, that was the best thing to do right now.
“I smell fresh bread weaving its way up the stairs,” she said, pushing away thoughts of yesterday. “My voyage has been quite tedious. I am certain a good meal would give me–”
“Kate.”
Strong hands rested upon her shoulders, and she felt her steadfast determination break. She pressed her trembling hands to her cheeks.
“Do you remember anything?” His voice was filled with concern.
Of course, she remembered everything. The knife. The blood! No. No. No! She didn’t want to remember!
She knew he was speaking to her again, but she didn’t hear him. She didn’t want to. She put her hands to her ears and tried to shake out of his hold. But his iron grip refused to release her.
“Kate. Look at me.” He gently turned her around to face him. The earl’s emerald green eyes flooded with tenderness. “He wanted me, not you, and now he’s dead.”
She blinked back a host of hot tears, feeling drained and hollow from the tumultuous night and the horrid journey. “H-he wanted to know where you were, b-but I didn’t tell him.”
He took his thumb and brushed away her tears, drawing her body against his. “I know. You were very brave. But I can fight my own battles, sweetheart.”
Something broke inside her. She swallowed, bunching her hands against his chest. “I keep seeing his eyes staring back at me.”
The sobs came now, spilling onto his shirt. She had never seen a man killed before, and the knowledge of what had happened last night was burned into her memory forever. “It was as if I killed him.”
“You didn’t kill him. I’d give anything to take back last night and save you from this horror. The man fell on his own knife.”
He lifted her chin in his hands, sending a shiver through her. “If you recall, he was the one with the weapon, not us, and he did threaten you.”
His face seemed to harden suddenly, and she brushed away her tears with the back of
her hand, taking a step back, humiliated at her outburst. “Yes. He did have a knife. I th-thought he was going to kill you. But he never had a chance, did he?”
A wry smile twitched at the corner of the earl’s lips as he lightly grasped her shoulders again. His breath was warm against her face, and her body tingled from his nearness. “No, he didn’t have a chance. But I didn’t want you hurt in the process.”
She was surprised by the gentleness in his tone, and if not for her distressed mood, she would have sworn he was moving his face to kiss her, but that was insane. She jerked back another step, realizing what a fool she was making of herself, and tried to change the subject.
“What do you think he wanted?”
He stared at her long and hard before he answered. “Money perhaps.”
“Perhaps. But he knew you were an earl. He was looking for you. All that trouble for a purse?” She shook her head. “No. What about jewelry? A ring? A watch? Maybe he knew you were carrying something more than money.”
When those green eyes darkened, Kate stiffened. So be it. He didn’t want to talk about it either. Managing a thin smile, she ran her hand across the parrot’s cage and lifted the yellow cover. It was amazing. The fanatical bird had slept through everything.
“Breakfast?” she asked, glancing up at the earl.
“What?”
“Breakfast?” He looked preoccupied, and she wished she knew what he was thinking. “We still need to eat, do we not?”
He stuffed a hand in his pocket and gave a stiff nod. “First, I need to speak to the proprietor. Wait here until my return. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
He marched toward the door. “And don’t leave this room until I come back for you. Not without an escort.” He peered over his shoulders, his cool green eyes drilling into hers. “Understand?”
She patted some of the wrinkles out of her gown, avoiding his steadfast gaze. Her emotions were spinning out of control. The intruder’s death made her ill. The entire journey ahead of her made her wary. And the handsome nobleman made her confused.
“I can manage on my own. But I do thank you for your kindness.” She looked up, surprised to see his jaw visibly tense.
Once Upon A Diamond (A sweet Regency Historical Romance) Page 6
