The Bodyguard

by Joan Johnston

  “Enough!” Kitt’s sharp voice frightened Gareth, who let out a wail. “There, there, my sweet,” Kitt cooed to him as she settled him on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for scaring you away from your supper.”

  “When do you see Blackthorne again?” Moira asked.

  “I’m to have supper with him tonight.”

  “Will you take Gareth with you?”

  “I must, since he’s not yet weaned.”

  Moira snorted. “What’s the duke to say when you get up from the table to leave and feed your son?”

  “You’re excused?” Kitt said wryly.

  “ ’Tis no laughing matter, Kitty. Blackthorne means to break your heart and punish you for things you never did.”

  “I lied to him, Moira. I deceived him.”

  “You never lied about loving him,” Moira retorted.

  Kitt laid her head back and rocked her son. “How could he believe that I loved him, when I lied to him about all else?”

  “He should have known better,” Moira said. “He should have felt the truth in his heart.”

  Kitt closed her eyes. “His first wife deceived him also, Moira. He did not trust his feelings.” Besides, how could Alex have known how much she loved him, when she had not known herself until he was gone? It was only then she had realized he was the other half of her.

  Though Alex was lost to her forever, she had been willing to share their son. She had simply never imagined he would demand that Gareth live with him in England. It would be the death of her to give them both up.

  Kitt turned her face and brushed her nose against Gareth’s fine baby hair, breathing in the sweet scent of him. She had labored a night and a day to bring forth Blackthorne’s heir. She had almost died. But the joy of having Gareth had been worth the pain. Love for her son had filled the empty places inside her. Now Blackthorne wanted to take him from her.

  Alex had said that he would send a carriage for her, and Kitt’s heart clutched when she heard the jingle of harness, the rattle of the carriage, and the clop of hooves coming up the lane.

  “Dinna go!” Moira cried. “Dinna put yerself in the devil’s hands. Run away, my darling Kitty!”

  Kitt knew Moira wanted to spare her the pain that lay ahead. But there was no way of avoiding what must be done. “I have no choice, Moira.”

  “Ye always have a choice. Ye dinna have to do this. No one would blame ye if ye thumbed yer nose at him.”

  “How can I watch my clansmen lose all they hold dear, while I keep my own child safe in my arms?” Kitt said. “Gareth will want for nothing with his father.”

  “Except a mother’s love.”

  “Please, Moira,” Kitt said, her voice breaking. “Dinna punish me so.”

  “You could ask to go with yer son to England,” Moira said. “Have ye thought of that?”

  To her shame, she had. “Alex says I am welcome to come and nurse the child.”

  “Well, there’s yer answer then,” Moira said. “Dinna send yer son away with the duke. Go with him and make yerselves a family.”

  Kitt gave a helpless laugh. “It isna so easy as you make it sound.”

  “Why not?” Moira demanded. “Ye made him love ye once. Ye can do it again.”

  Kitt sighed as she readjusted the bodice of her dress, burped Gareth, then laid him on the bed while she placed a shawl around her shoulders. “Fine. I’ll go to England. And I’ll wiggle my tail in front of the duke until he’s fairly caught. Are you satisfied?”

  Moira cackled with glee. “Now that’s more like the Kitty I know. The poor man hasna a chance.”

  Kitt hugged her nurse. “I dinna know what I would do without you, Moira.”

  “ ’Tis time ye found out,” the old woman said.

  Kitt wrapped Gareth in a warm blanket, placed him in a fur-lined basket, and carried him out the door.

  Kitt handed the basket containing her son into the hands that reached out for it, then lifted her skirts to step up into the elegant carriage.

  Only, the door closed first.

  Kitt stared up at the open carriage window, surprised and alarmed.

  Mr. Ambleside stuck his head out and said, “I am afraid there has been a change in plans. Tell the duke I will trade him back his heir for the sum of ten thousand pounds.”

  Kitt watched in horrified disbelief as the driver whipped the carriage horses into a gallop. She ran after the coach shouting, “Stop! Come back!”

  But Blackthorne’s steward was long gone.

  Chapter 23

  The entire journey to Scotland Alex had let himself hope that Kitt had not wanted him, lain with him, loved him, simply to have the land. He had not trusted his own feelings, so he had come up with a test: Blackthorne Hall in exchange for his son.

  She had failed it. What woman would give up her child, the son of the man she loved, for a piece of land?

  Alex had let himself hope, and now that hope was gone. Kitt had never loved him. Her interest had always and only been a desire to have back what the English had stolen from her grandfather at Culloden. Well, she could have the castle and the land. And good riddance.

  He was still coming to grips with the fact that he had a son. Gareth Alexander Wharton, Viscount Hazlitt, had been born nine months, nearly to the day, from his last coupling with his handfast wife. Kitt had been very lucky. Actually, the luck had been his. He had a son and heir.

  Under the terms of their agreement, he would remain married to her, though they would live apart. It was not what he had wished for, but it seemed he was to be twice mistaken in his choice of a woman to love.

  Alex had made more than one serious mistake during his previous visit to Scotland.

  He had condemned an innocent man. At Mick’s urging, Alex had searched the taverns around the London docks and finally, at the Whistle and Pen, found the three sailors who had attacked him on board ship. According to the three miscreants, it was Mr. Ambleside, not Carlisle, who had tried to have him killed.

  Unfortunately, it was an irretrievable wrong. The ship on which Carlisle had sailed for the penal colony in Australia had never reached port, and all on board were presumed to have perished. He had held out some hope for a while that a miracle had occurred, and Carlisle had been thrown onto some foreign shore. But no word had been heard from him by anyone in England.

  It was another wrong to lay at Mr. Ambleside’s door.

  It had become abundantly clear to Alex, once he was not blinded by rage, that Mr. Ambleside had lied to him about everything. It was easy to recognize, once he was looking for them, the sly glances, the dissatisfied looks, the disingenuous remarks. He wondered how long his steward had been cheating him. He had hired the Bow Street Runners to find his uncle, but so far, Mr. Ambleside had remained elusive.

  Alex shoved the papers around on his desk. He had sent a carriage to pick up his wife and child. Soon he would make the exchange. This stone building for his son and heir.

  “Alex! Where are you? He’s taken Gareth! Alex!” Kitt careened through the library doors and directly into his arms, which he had instinctively opened to her. His gut tightened when he saw the torment in her green eyes and the tears streaking her face.

  “Who’s taken Gareth?” he asked.

  “A carriage arrived and I thought you had sent it, so when someone reached out for Gareth, I handed him inside. But, Alex, it was Mr. Ambleside who took him from my arms. He said he wants ten thousand pounds in exchange for Gareth!”

  Alex felt his blood run cold as he thought of his son in the clutches of a man who had thought nothing of hiring men to murder his own nephew. He curled his shaking hands into fists. “Did Mr. Ambleside say where and when we are to meet him to recover Gareth?”

  Kitt stared blankly up at him. “No. I … I was too frightened even to think of asking. I ran all the way, straight here to you. How will he feed Gareth, Alex? What if he starts to cry?”

  “We’ll have Gareth back long before he’s hungry again. For ten thousand pounds, I am sur
e Mr. Ambleside will endure a little wailing.”

  “I’m frightened, Alex.”

  “So am I,” he admitted in a quiet voice. He tipped her chin up with his forefinger and said, “Don’t despair, my dear. All will be well.”

  He watched her realize suddenly that she was standing in his embrace. That she had come to him for succor. And that he had given it.

  She stepped back and the hands that had been around his neck were knotted in front of her. “I hope you are right. I pray you are right.”

  “Have you any notion where Mr. Ambleside might have gone?”

  “How could I know? Do you?”

  Alex was afraid he did. “There is a dungeon beneath Castle Carlisle.”

  “Surely he would not take a tiny babe to such a place,” Kitt said.

  “Where else could he hide? He has no friends here. And Castle Carlisle has been abandoned since the earl was transported. I think it very likely Ambleside has gone there.”

  “We should go after him.”

  “I’ll go after him. After all, Gareth is to be mine.”

  Kitt shook her head. “I’ve changed my mind, Alex.”

  “It’s too late. You’ve already agreed—”

  “I’ll leave Scotland and go to England with you, if you wish,” she cried. “But I canna—I willna—give up my child.”

  “Such devotion,” Alex said, his lips twisting cynically. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind again?”

  “I was wrong, Alex. There, I’ve admitted it. Wrong to lie to you in the first place. Wrong to trick you into marriage. Wrong to make a promise to my father that I knew in my heart was dishonorable. I only did it because I loved him, and I wanted him to love me. Fulfilling his last request was a way to prove myself worthy of receiving his love.

  “Can you understand what ’tis like to want love so much you’d do anything—anything—to get it?”

  Oh, yes, he understood all too well. All he had ever wanted was to love and to be loved.

  “I would have loved you, Kitt. I would have treasured you all the days of your life.”

  He watched the tears pool in her green eyes.

  “I wish we could start all over again,” she said. “I wish you and I and Gareth—”

  “Save your wishes for later. When Gareth is safe in your arms.”

  “You willna make me wait here, will you, Alex? You’ll take me with you? I canna bear to stay behind.”

  He knew he should leave her where she was safe. Especially since he felt a kind of hope he hadn’t felt since he’d left Scotland nearly a year ago. That he and his son were more important to her than her clan. That he and Kitt might make a life together.

  “Very well,” he said. “Come with me if you must.”

  Chapter 24

  Despite the damp cold inside the dungeon at Castle Carlisle, Mr. Ambleside was perspiring. Amazing how pulling one tiny loose thread could unravel everything. He should never have involved Carlisle. He could have managed on his own, but he had not been able to resist manipulating the young man for his amusement.

  Blackthorne was another matter entirely.

  Mr. Ambleside was tired of dodging the Runners the duke had sent after him. Stealing the duke’s son had been an act of desperation. His situation now was precarious, to say the least.

  The basket containing Gareth Alexander Wharton sat in the corner of the cramped cell. Mr. Ambleside held up the lantern so he could see into the child’s face. It looked like every other infant he had ever seen—large eyes, button nose, rosebud lips. But through an accident of birth, this child would one day be the richest man in Scotland and England.

  It simply was not fair.

  He felt a sudden murderous rage, a desire to slam the child against the stone wall. When Blackthorne came he would see how little good all the wealth of his dukedom had done him, when a mere steward could destroy his son and heir for the pure pleasure of thwarting him.

  It was a delicious thought.

  But Mr. Ambleside had never indulged such whims in the past. And he did not do so now. Cold, calculated murder was much more to his taste. And before he was through, the child and its father would both be dead.

  “Mr. Ambleside, I know you are in there.”

  He felt a chill run down his spine as Blackthorne’s voice echoed down the passageway from the sea. He was not really surprised the duke had found him. After all, where else could he have gone?

  “Have you brought the ransom for your son?” he called out.

  “Is the babe alive and well?” Blackthorne replied.

  A malicious grin curved Mr. Ambleside’s lips. “I’m afraid there has been a slight accident.”

  “He’s killed Gareth!” Kitt cried. “Alex, he’s murdered our son!”

  “Be still!” Alex hissed. “He’s not that stupid.”

  “Then why would he say such a thing?” Kitt demanded, lowering her voice to match Alex’s harsh whisper.

  “To spur me to a killing rage,” Alex said. “To make me careless enough to come charging down that passageway, where I am sure he is waiting with a loaded pistol to put a period to my existence.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you see? I am the one who ruined all his plans to have Blackthorne Hall for himself. I am the one he wants dead, not Gareth.” Alex believed Gareth would not long survive him, if his uncle managed to kill him, but he didn’t want to worry Kitt by admitting as much.

  “We should have brought help,” Kitt said, wringing her hands. “We shouldna have come alone.”

  “He’s one man, Kitt. And better dealt with alone.”

  “What can I do to help, Alex? I must be allowed to help.”

  He understood her plea. If he loved her, he should be willing to trust her; and if he wanted her love, he must give her his trust. It was a hard thing to do when everyone he had ever loved—including Kitt—had let him down. But unless he was willing to give up on love entirely—and he was not—he had to risk being hurt again. It was frightening, but not so frightening as the prospect of spending the rest of his life without her.

  “Together, I believe we can thwart him. Here is what you must do.…”

  * * *

  Kitt felt an ache in the back of her throat.

  Thank you, Alex, for giving me a second chance. I willna disappoint you this time. I promise you that.

  As she listened, Kitt’s eyebrows rose all the way to her hairline. Alex’s plan sounded dangerous. A second chance would not mean much if he were dead. “Alex, is there no other way?”

  “He must believe he has won,” Alex said. “I cannot be armed when I confront him. I don’t think he’ll expect you to have a weapon. You’ll have to use your own judgment when and whether to make your move.”

  “What if I judge wrongly?”

  “Then you’ll be the Dowager Duchess of Blackthorne,” he said with a rueful smile. “And will have to raise our son on your own.”

  “Dinna make fun, Alex. I’m scared. I dinna want to lose you. Not when I have a hope … not when we may …” She looked up at him and saw all the love she felt for him reflected back threefold in his gray eyes.

  Kitt wasn’t sure which of them moved first but a moment later she was in his arms and Alex was holding her tight. She pressed her cheek against his chest and heard his heart pounding.

  Why, he is afraid, she thought. And yet he trusts me to save us all.

  “I’ll not fail you again, Alex,” she said. “Never again.”

  “ ’Tis time for the play to begin,” he said, reluctantly releasing her. “Remember to stay at least a half dozen steps behind me when you come down the passageway.”

  In a loud voice Alex said, “Damn you, woman! I said to wait here. I cannot have you hanging on to me when I confront the man.”

  “Please, Alex!” she said in a tearful voice. “Take me with you!”

  “I said let go!” Alex slapped her hard, loud enough to be heard down the passageway, hard enough to bring tears to her
eyes and make her jaw ache.

  He gave her one last, grim look before he turned and ran toward the cell where Mr. Ambleside was holding their son. As he headed down the passageway, Alex called out in a crazed, furious voice, “If you’ve harmed a hair on my son’s head, I’ll strangle you with my bare hands.”

  Kitt counted to ten in her head, as Alex had instructed, then started after him. The setting sun provided a garish pink light in the passageway, but Kitt’s gaze was focused on the harsh yellow lantern light emanating from the cell into which Alex had disappeared.

  “You’ll hang for murder, if you do,” she heard Alex reply to something Mr. Ambleside must have said.

  She hurried along the passageway, staying close to the wall. When she reached the cell door, she peeked around the corner and saw that Mr. Ambleside was holding one of his exquisite dueling pistols against Alex’s right temple and had the other aimed at Gareth, who lay in his basket in the corner.

  She took a step back, rested her head against the stone passageway, and moaned softly. Dear God. If she shot Mr. Ambleside, one or both of his pistols would surely discharge and kill those she loved most. But if she waited, she would lose the distraction Alex and Gareth provided. And once they were dead, Mr. Ambleside would not leave her alive to tell of his part in it.

  Kitt took a deep breath and let it out. Alex trusted her to play her part as he had written it, and she had promised she would not fail him. Time was running out. She must act.

  Kitt took the three steps that put her in the doorway beside Alex, the pistol hidden in the folds of her skirt.

  “Oh, God!” she cried, pretending a distress that was part of the act, but which felt entirely real. “Please, God.”

  Alex’s right hand slid behind his back, and she passed the gun to him while Mr. Ambleside’s eyes were focused on her. As Alex had predicted, the pistol being aimed at Gareth swung around to point at her.

  “You fiend!” she snarled. “Cur! Blackguard!”

  During the diversion provided by her verbal attack on Mr. Ambleside, Alex brought his arm up and fired a ball into the monster’s heart.

  Not one, but both of Mr. Ambleside’s pistols discharged, filling the cell with smoke and noise, before he crumpled to the ground. Gareth screamed and kept on crying.