The Black Duke's Prize

by Suzanne Enoch

  ''Your Grace?"

  With a start Nicholas opened his eyes. Althaea Hillary stood in front of him. "Miss Hillary. Thank God. Please untie me." She knelt behind him, and he felt her fingers pause as they touched the bloody ropes binding his wrists. To his surprise she didn't faint, but after a moment began to tug at the knots. He wanted to yell at Kate, to tell her to get out while she could, but he didn't want DuPres coming over and stopping Althaea before he was free. He yanked at the ropes again. "Hurry, Miss Hillary."

  "I'm trying," she said in her hesitant voice, and went to work again.

  "Miss Hillary?"

  "Sit still and be quiet. I'm nearly finished," she ordered, tugging hard enough at the bindings to make him wince.

  Apparently the flower wasn't as timid as he had thought. Surprised, he complied. After a moment the ropes were loosened and he tugged his hands free. They hurt like hell, but he immediately bent and began pulling at the ropes binding his legs. The last knot came undone, and he staggered to his feet in time to see DuPres grab Katherine by the hair and pull her against him. .

  "Get your filthy hands off her, DuPres," Nicholas snarled.

  "Nicholas," Katherine sobbed, breathless and half hysterical, and punched at DuPres as the madman yanked her toward the door.

  Francis pulled his pistol out of his pocket and pointed it at her head, bringing Nicholas to a skidding halt. "Stay right where you are, Sommesby," he said, then bent his head and kissed Katherine wetly on the lips. "It seems I now own several things that used to belong to you," he murmured at the duke, dragging her out the back door and kicking it shut behind him.

  ''Let go of me!" she shrieked, but DuPres wrenched her arm and pulled her down the alley.

  The door was thrown open again behind them, and Francis whipped around, flinging her into the wall. He fired as Nicholas dove behind a pile of rotted cabbage and greens. Katherine couldn't tell whether he had been hit or not, and she screamed again. DuPres grabbed for her, and she ducked away. She yanked the other pistol free from her pocket and aimed it at him. "Leave me alone," she spat out, taking a step backward.

  Nicholas lurched to his feet again behind DuPres, who took a step toward her. "Put that down," DuPres ordered.

  He lunged forward, and she aimed carefully and pulled the trigger. The shot missed him and dug into the wall a foot in front of Nicholas. "Kate, put that down!" Nicholas bellowed, stumbling again.

  DuPres grabbed her arm, wrenching the spent weapon out of her hand and pulling her toward the street. "You'll pay for that, shrew," he snarled.

  "Where are you taking me?" she demanded, trying to free her arm and look over her shoulder to see if Nicholas was still behind them. "Nicholas!"

  "Shut up. You might think you've ruined things again, but you and I are leaving England for the colonies. I doubt, though, that you'll survive the voyage," DuPres said panting.

  That made sense. He would only keep her alive long enough to see that he had gotten safely away from England and the .authorities. They reached the street, and he yanked her to the right. His coach stood waiting past the corner and beyond two dozen street vendors and passersby, who all turned to watch them curiously. "I'll kill that bastard Sommesby this time."

  ''Try it, then."

  Nicholas slammed into DuPres from behind, and the two of them crashed onto the cobblestoned street. Katherine stumbled away and threw a hand out against one wall to keep herself from falling. The two men came to their feet at almost the same time, and DuPres slammed the pistol at Nicholas's head. The duke ducked and barreled into the smaller man's chest.

  DuPres twisted as he fell and grabbed at Nicholas's ankle, yanking him off his feet. Katherine watched as Francis grabbed the duke around the neck. Varon broke the stranglehold and threw off DuPres. Nicholas dodged sideways and scrambled to his feet, dragging DuPres up with him. While the shorter man punched and kicked at him, screaming curses, Nicholas grabbed him by the back of the collar and slammed his head into the wall. DuPres went limp, but Nicholas did it again. And again.

  "Nicholas, stop!"

  The duke released his grip and staggered backward.

  DuPres slid bonelessly to the ground, blood flowing from a deep gash in his forehead. Nicholas straightened and turned toward Katherine. He was bleeding from a cut on his cheek and lip, and dark blood soaked into the right sleeve of his tom jacket.

  "Nicholas, are you shot?" she sobbed as she reached his side. He was filthy, his fine jacket torn and muddied.

  "A ricochet," he said breathlessly. "Are you all right?" She nodded, and he wrapped his arms around her, lowering his face into her disheveled hair. "I was afraid I'd lost you," he murmured, pulling her closer. "And we have gone through entirely too much for that." After a moment he leaned away a little and tilted her chin up with his fingers.

  ''That's the bloody Duke of Sommesby," someone from the crowd called.

  "It's the Black Duke," someone else muttered. Nicholas raised his head and looked around them. "We seem to have attracted an audience," he noted.

  "I don't care," Katherine replied, curling her fingers into his jacket. "Take me home, Nicholas," she whispered.

  "I will, if you promise never to pick up a firearm again," he muttered, chuckling and keeping his arms close around her.

  She gasped, horrified, and touched his arm. "I did this?"

  "It's all right, my sweet. You missed me the first time, as it turns out, so I suppose this is only fair."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It was DuPres."

  She looked down at the unconscious figure beside them.

  "DuPres? How?"

  Thomas and Althaea appeared up the street, the viscount shoving Reid in front of him at gunpoint. "I'Il explain later." Nicholas released her and bent over to rifle through DuPres's pockets. After a moment he produced the paper he had signed. "Here, this belongs to you."

  Katherine looked at it for a moment, then tore it up, letting the pieces flutter down over DuPres's unconscious form. "Now you can have it," she said.

  "I'm relieved you had a plan," Nicholas murmured, looking down at her.

  She shook her head, stepping forward to rest her head against his- shoulder as he hugged her to him again. "I would have let him have Crestley," she whispered, tears starting to form in her eyes, "to save you." Agreeing to relinquish Crestley Hall, given the alternative, had been the easiest decision she had ever made. She would have parted with a hundred Crestleys for Nicholas Varon.

  He sighed, his breath warm in her hair. "Thank you," he returned, equally softly. "And I hope to never make you go through that again."

  She smiled a little. "I wonder what will go wrong next." His eyes twinkling, he shook his head. "I really don't wish to take the chance of finding out," he murmured. "You know," he continued softly, touching her cheek, "I think that I fell in love with you the first night we danced."

  She eyed him, surprised by the admission and wondering what he was up to now. "But I was awful to you."

  "Yes," he agreed, "but very few people are." He gave her a lopsided grin that made her feel weak-kneed. "And now I find that I cannot live without you. I love you, Katherine. "

  "And I love you, Nicholas," she returned softly, smiling.

  "Will you marry me?"

  She had never thought to hear him utter those words. "I will."

  He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, their emerald highlights glinting at her. ''Thank God." He bent his head and kissed her on the lips. She closed her eyes and reached her arms up around his shoulders. His arms enfolded her, and he pulled her tightly against him.

  She didn't open her eyes again until their gathering audience began applauding and laughing. "Nicholas," she said, shoving at him and blushing.

  "Nick, I'm not certain this is the place for—" Thomas said, his face flushed and a cut bleeding over one eye.

  "It's all right. Thomas," the duke replied. "We're to be married." He looked down at her again. "I love you," he whispered.


  "And I love you," she returned promptly. ''Now let me go."

  He shook his head. "Not until you do something for me," he said, his gray eyes dancing.

  "What?"

  His grin widened wickedly. "Kiss me, Kate, and we will be married on Sunday."

  She recognized the reference to The Taming of the Shrew, and returned his grin. "We'll wed on Saturday," she improvised.

  "And I say 'tis Sunday," he returned.

  "'Tis Saturday," she corrected, and then couldn't argue any longer, because he was kissing her so thoroughly that all she could do was give in and kiss him back while the onlookers cheered the duke and his lady. Black knights were definitely more interesting than white knights, she thought distractedly. And Black Dukes were the best of all.