She stroked his cheek, willing in him strength and vitality.
Sitting upright, Isabeau tore a corner of her shirt and tried to clean the dried blood.
His eyelids flickered, then opened.
"Tell me you're all right," she pleaded gently.
"Isabeau." Her name was a groan.
Despite her squeak of protest, quickly muffled with her own hand, Pierce levered himself upright, then leaned against the wall behind him. "Damnation!" He touched his head. "I feel like I've been in a drunken brawl." Grimacing, he rolled his head back, his fingers kneading the muscles at the base of his neck.
"I've been so worried," she whispered. "No one knew where you were. Malry's not back yet either, I didn't know what to do. Do they have Malry also?" Unable to contain the emotion roiling within, Isabeau knelt on the bed to put her arms tightly about him, wordlessly telling him all she had not said.
"It's all right," he reassured her gruffly, then he went still.
A strange expression crossed his features.
"What is it?" she asked.
"That smell. A new scent, sweetheart?"
Isabeau colored. "The pig pen," she muttered. "I had to hide there."
A hint of a grin molded his lips.
Abruptly, she leaned back.
He pulled her back into his arms. "I love you no matter what you smell like. I'm sorry you had to get into the pen."
She smiled at him.
Pulling her chin up, he demanded, "Why are you here in this mess?"
"Why are you here in this mess?" she threw back at him. "I came looking for you."
Pierce groaned. "I know, we're in a fine mess together." He sighed and leaned back, taking her with him. "Treat," he said simply, nodding at her angry grimace. "He's been smuggling, and he's wasted on opium. He's in pretty deep with a lawless bunch between all of that and gambling. Malry and I have investigated his finances. He's up to his eyes in debt.
"We discovered boxes of illegal contraband stored in the Manor's cold cellar and underground caves. I planned to confront him, but I was careless," he ended in disgust.
"There are underground caves connecting with the Manor?"
"Yes. Actually, Malry knew of them, and I had forgotten them, though I played in them growing up. Before the war, they were used for smuggling, then during the war, valuables were hidden there. They access a river outlet."
"How did you suspect Treat was involved with contraband?"
"Malry and Hawk work for the government. They've been watching this area for some time."
Isabeau blinked. "Well, I never saw that one coming," she said slowly. "That's why I kept getting conflicting impressions about Malry. I suppose he's undercover?"
Pierce nodded and put a finger to his lips. He stood up, stretching, then moved over to the door. "There's two guards posted outside. Maybe we need a diversion to get out of here."
"First, let me look at your head. Sit down."
"Quickly." He sat on the bed, handed her a clean handkerchief and dipped his head. "We're sure the sheriff is involved. Malry and Hawk have been a team for years."
"You didn't really have amnesia?" she demanded, using the cloth to dab at the blood.
"Oh, I had amnesia all right. Malry, being the resourceful fellow, figured I could be a temporary stand-in for Hawk until he recovered from being attacked three months ago."
Isabeau looked at him. "But I thought you were attacked?"
"No. I just showed up in this time with no memory. Hawk was the one who was actually attacked that night."
"So this has all been a farce, and Malry's known all along you weren't Hawk?" she asked angrily. "What if you'd never remembered?"
"But that didn't happen," he said gently, taking the handkerchief from her and refolding it. "That's good enough. Don't be hard on Malry. He was looking out for Hawk."
Isabeau crossed her arms. "No excuse." She shook it off, knowing this wasn't the time for this discussion. "What does Treat plan to do with us?" she asked instead.
"I don't intend to wait and see."
Pierce gestured toward the bed.
Taken back, she looked at him dubiously.
Grinning wolfishly, Pierce said, "When I signal, scream as loud as you can. We're going to set those boys back on their heels."
Isabeau stood on the bed. He moved to one side of the door, wielding a large chunk of firewood. He signaled with his hand and she opened her mouth, letting out a scream she hoped would wake the dead.
Silence.
She screamed again. The door flew open, one man then another charged through the opening, howling in turn as Pierce belted their knees with the block of wood.
Clumsily, they tumbled over each other, rifles hitting the floor, one discharging with a deafening roar into the ceiling.
Jumping from the bed, Isabeau snatched up a rifle, then backed toward the door, motioning at Pierce.
"Hurry!" she cried.
Pierce stood unmoving. The rifle he'd grabbed he now let fall to the floor.
"What are you waiting for?" she hissed. Suddenly she was prodded in the back.
She turned quickly, coming face to face with Treat. A grin split his handsome face, as if he were enjoying a secret laugh.
She stepped back as he pointed a pistol at her.
She threw the rifle at him "Murderer!" she spat, glad when the rifle hit him on the shin.
Angrily, he kicked it aside, all amusement gone as he stepped forward and put his face close to hers.
He reared back instantly, his eyes widening in almost comical surprise. "Good God!" he exclaimed, "M-Miss Isabeau!"
Isabeau turned her back on him and stepped closer to Pierce.
"I'd never have believed it of you, Hawk," Treat said slowly. "You kept her closeted for your own amusement." He looked at Isabeau. "I have to admit to grave disappointment at this turn of events."
"We're going to be married, so watch your mouth," Pierce growled, taking a step forward. Treat cocked the pistol, then gave vent to a malicious laugh. "Married? I don't think so. Remember Amelia, your beloved fiancée?" He smirked at Pierce, the gun wavering in his hand. "It's against the law to have two wives. Of course, you could be like Father and keep your mistress on the side. If something happens to you, don't worry about Amelia. I'll console her."
Motioning Isabeau back against the wall, Treat picked up the rifles. "It doesn't matter what plans you have, you can't marry." He laughed. "I won't let you. You haven't got a decent coin to your name. How do you propose to marry?"
"You don't have anything either, Treat," Pierce said softly.
Treat laughed. "Of course I do."
"Your assets are being seized as we stand here by the United States government."
Treat laughed, then narrowed his eyes. "What have you done?"
"Malry works for the government. They're on to you."
"I never liked that bastard," Treat muttered. "You two," he kicked at the guards as they slowly regained their feet. "Go on, get hold of him." He waved the pistol haphazardly at Pierce. "Bumbling idiots." He laughed scornfully, but Isabeau heard the note of desperation. "I'm surrounded by bunglers."
"A true and interesting observation," Pierce remarked idly, ignoring the men now on either side of him. "How did you dare to do it?"
Treat, waving the pistol around, was making her increasingly nervous.
"You've been stealing from the company for years!"
Treat looked at Pierce. "I only took what was my due. I deserved more than that paltry sum you put in my account each month."
Flexing her fingers nervously, Isabeau took a cautious step sideways. She squealed when Treat's hand snaked out and shackled her to his side.
Eyes slitted in amusement, he remarked, "You can't get anything past me. I see it all." He pulled her closer until she felt his breath repulsively sweet in her face.
"You make me sick to my stomach," she snapped.
"Don't turn from me." He scowled at her, his hand tightening
punishingly as he pulled her tightly to him. "We both know you didn't turn from him. Honorable Hawk Morgan -- no, wait, let me guess. I'll bet he tossed you in the hay. Just like our father."
Pierce struggled with the two men holding him pinned to the wall.
"Perhaps you and I should spend some time together," he said, too close to her face for her comfort. "If you are very good, perhaps I won't kill you. I'll keep you around once I move to Hawk's Den."
Painfully, his thin fingers dug into her skin.
"Really?" Isabeau said softly, jerking back from him. "Why keep me around? You don't even like girls."
Treat looked stunned, then he shoved her to the floor. As he reached for her again, she lay back and swung her foot in an arc, catching both of his feet and sending him flying back and down. She scrambled backwards, but was unable to move fast enough when he recovered and again lunged at her.
When he grabbed her shoulders Isabeau went wild, using every dirty trick she'd ever been taught. She thrust the heel of her hand full force into his nose.
His fingers spasmed, then released her.
On hands and knees, Isabeau huddled against the foot of the bed, screaming when hands pulled at her again.
"Sweetheart! It's Pierce -- Pierce." He repeated it several times before she stopped struggling and hitting his hands away. Pierce lifted her and helped her sit in a chair, pushing the damp tendrils of hair from her eyes.
Dazed, she looked at Treat moaning on the floor. The two men who had been holding Pierce lay on the other side of the room, both of them out cold. "Did you do that?" she asked.
Treat attempted to rise, but Pierce jerked him to his feet, his face set in murderous rage. Treat suddenly pulled a small pistol from his pocket. Pierce struggled with him, then finally wrestled the weapon from Treat. He pointed it at Treat as the other man sat on the floor.
"No." Isabeau leapt forward. She felt the corded power in Pierce's arm. "Don't. He's not even aware of what's going on. He's drugged up. You don't want to kill him -- it can't be by your hand."
Pierce stepped back with a gesture of disgust. "It was all a waste of time, do you hear me Treat? The whole plan to get rid of Hawk!"
Treat lifted his head. "I'm the rightful heir, I tell you. I was born first that night. The nurse, she switched babies, she switched us."
"You're lying."
"My mother told me. I've got proof."
"There's no proof, because it's a lie."
"The nurse. My mother gained her sworn statement we were switched that night. I'll take it to the magistrate, they'll put me in my rightful place."
"Your mother's a sick woman, Treat," Pierce said in a low voice. "Malry found the nurse who delivered you that night. She said she signed that statement at your mother's coercion. In return, she was set up for life."
"That's a lie."
"Malry talked to the doctor who delivered Hawk Morgan. He never left during the delivery. He saw Hawk born, he saw the unusual birthmark on the sole of his foot. The baby with the birthmark is Catharine and Brendon's son."
"There is no birthmark," Treat said angrily. "I don't believe you. I want to see it. Show me the proof," he demanded.
"I don't have to show you anything. Your ignorance about the birthmark just proved you're not Catharine and Brendon's son."
"She lied to me? How could my mother lie to me? It was all for nothing," Treat muttered brokenly."
Pierce urged Isabeau outside.
Treat followed them. "Hawk --"
"The assassins you hired were bunglers," Pierce said.
"I didn't have much money." Treat lifted his head, eyes filled with pain.
"No, you spent it on opium, and it's killing you," Pierce's voice was tinged with sadness.
"Be quiet, damn you!" Treat cried.
Isabeau looked away from the tears coursing down his cheeks. It was not easy witnessing a man fall into total ruin.
Pierce swung to face him. "The time we were almost killed on the docks, it was your fools bungling once again. I recall how you acted shaken. I could have sworn your reaction was real."
"I was almost killed," Treat whispered brokenly.
"Of course," Pierce muttered. "You were almost killed."
Isabeau stared at Treat's once-handsome face, now a mottled red, showing signs of his neglect and abuse.
"What have you done to my son?" cried a voice. Mrs. Sanderly hurried toward them across the lawn. "Hawk, what have you done?" Outraged, the woman rushed over to Treat.
"Hawk, for old times, you have to help me," Treat said, ignoring his mother.
Pierce looked at Treat in surprise. "Old times? Would those be the old times when you arranged a kidnapping? When you hoped the rightful heir would be killed or lost at sea?"
Treat stepped back. "No."
"That is nonsense," stated Mrs. Sanderly, but it was too late. Isabeau had seen the fear in the woman's face.
"It was you Mrs. Sanderly," Pierce said slowly. "You arranged the kidnapping."
"Don't be ridiculous." Arrogantly, she tipped her chin. "You have no proof of anything."
"Mother?" Treat now looked at his mother.
Pierce reached for Isabeau's hand. "I suggest you both wait for the authorities," he said. "There's nowhere you can hide."
Pierce urged her away from the pair. "Let's go," he said somberly. "It's over." He placed an arm across her shoulders. At the edge of the lawn, though, he actually smiled. "And now it's just beginning for us."
#
Isabeau felt strangely weak and drained and was glad Pierce held onto her as they walked along a graveled path.
"Are you okay," he asked in concern.
She nodded. "Just glad it's over."
Pierce dropped a kiss on her mouth. "I know. All this time, all these years, it was first Mrs. Sanderly, and then Treat. And neither one of them knew about the other."
"Maybe. I would tend to think she knew he was up to something."
"Well, it's done. Malry's notified the authorities in the next town by now." Pierce looked down at her and had the audacity to grin. "I've said it before, I don't ever want to go toe to toe with you in a fight."
She laughed, but it was more from the immense relief of knowing they were both safe.
They took horses from Treat's stable and rode quickly to Hawk's Den. It was when they entered the stable block that Isabeau realized something of major importance was causing a commotion.
James came running toward them as they reached the stable, completely out of breath. "Mr. Hawk -- it's the little cottage in the woods -- someone's set a torch to it."
They turned in the direction from which they had come, for the first time seeing the black smoke topped by scarlet flames leaping over the trees. Smoke billowed, obscuring the mountains, until the wind pulled it away, towards the river.
"He's gone," Pierce said gruffly.
"You knew he'd try something?"
"I knew," he admitted heavily. "Shame and guilt are heavy burdens. He lived in this town all his life. He was ruined."
"But surely they'd have sent him away or something?"
"That's not up to me. The authorities will be involved. Hawk will take it from here."
Isabeau frowned. "You sound as if it's a done deal, as if you know he's coming back."
"I do know, Isabeau." He looked down at her, regret darkening his eyes. "I'm sorry I kept that from you, but at the time I felt it was for your own safety."
"I was so worried he was displaced," she said, "just like we were. I was worried Amelia would arrive expecting to marry you instead of him."
"I did what I thought was best," he said. "It wasn't my secret to tell."
"Malry."
Isabeau needed time to think, to clear her head after all this stress and fear. She took one last look at the smoke riding the tops of the trees, then walked into the house.
In the hallway Pierce caught and held her wrist gently. "Please come into my study."
She followed him down the
hallway. It felt strange to no longer be under the stress of a murder plot. Pierce closed the door behind them. She sat down on a chair, her legs curiously weak.
He looked at her. "I had to protect Hawk, and I had to protect you. We came here to right a wrong -- in the process we've changed the lives of so many people."
"History has been rewritten because of our interference." She looked at him, wetting her lips. "I'm almost afraid to go back and see what changes have been wrought." Her eyes were suddenly riveted to the heavy tome on his desk. The Bible.
Isabeau passed a trembling hand over her eyes, slumping into the chair. "I don't even want to touch that book. Everything seemed to be set in motion by that Bible." She suddenly threw her head back. "The date -- what's today's date?"
Pierce knelt beside her, hands massaging the coldness of her arms through the cotton sleeves of her shirt. "Sweetheart," he whispered, "today is May 20. Hawk and I are very much alive. With any luck, we'll stay that way for some time."
"Yesterday was the 19th?"
"Yes."
Isabeau felt light-headed.
"Don't let our future scare you," he urged. "We're meant to be together. It doesn't matter how -- all the proof is clear. I accept it. I want you to marry me." Pierce's voice vibrated with emotion. "I love you."
It was everything she had ever wanted, to be loved by this man, yet Isabeau felt hampered by an uneasiness she couldn't shake. She touched his cheek. "And I love you so very much. I want to believe in a future for us." A happily-ever-after, but a shiver crawled up her spine. "Nothing will change that, but --"
"The threat is gone. It's gone."
"But we're still here. What if I marry you, we're here together, and maybe we start a family. Then one day one of us disappears? I don't think I can do this to you -- to myself. I can't marry you."
"We can take the chance together," he said urgently. "I would rather have you now than not at all. For however long it will last."
"I wish I had your confidence." A deep ache clawed at her.
Pierce worried about the feverish glitter in her eyes. He touched her forehead. "Your cheeks are red. Do you feel well?"
"I'm fine. I know you're right, we should take what we have right now."
He pressed his forehead to hers. "We have so much to learn about each other. I don't know anything about you, what kind of life you lived before coming here. Maybe everything has been changed around again, and we're both supposed to stay here."
Time Travel Romance Collection Page 26
