"I haven't forgotten anything except how good it will be not to be confined in an enclosed space."
"You sound as if you'll even be willing to ride when we get back," she teased.
"Yes, I will. I'm actually looking forward to it. I can't wait to be home with you."
He looked so happy at the prospect that she refused to put a damper on his enthusiasm by reminding him that the vicarage belonged to Jonathan and his wife.
Sooner or later they were going to have to leave. Possibly sooner if she didn't carry well and her pregnancy began to show.
She looked up into his handsome face and also found herself wondering how long it was going to be before his curiosity about his past was renewed.
Their two accidents had rendered her most uneasy. Was it possible someone knew who he was after all? That the danger she thought was only in his mind was REAL?
Chapter Twenty-seven
That evening, as Sarah admired the glitter of the stately Octagon, she felt the concert was a lovely and fitting end to their trip to Bath. The music was glorious, and Alexander most demonstrative. They sat holding hands during the whole performance as the airs and cantatas soared to the rafters.
Alexander was at his affectionate and sensual best, sitting close, murmuring intimate and even erotic comments in her ear until she blushed and stopped his mouth with a heated kiss.
"There's something very romantic about Bach," Alexander observed as they walked up the hill towards the townhouse, having told the carriage driver to go on without them. He was holding her tightly against him, hip to hip, with his hand curved around her waist cupping her pelvic bone, his thumb riding in the dip most suggestively, perilously close to her soft mound, sliding seductively against the silk with every step she took.
"He had twenty children you know. Two different wives."
"I'm sure you know the old joke-that his organ didn't have any stops." She giggled at the witticism. "As for me, dearest Sarah, I'll settle for ten children with one wife," Alexander said, his breath catching in his throat at the grave import of his words.
"Have you any lady in mind?" she asked pertly.
"More than in my mind. In my heart, my bed. And soon to be in front of the altar at a church, if she'll have me," he said earnestly.
"Oh, Alexander--"
He paused to kiss her so powerfully that she thought she heard rumbling in the distance. No, not thunder, a firework. It was a popping and crackling sound.
Sarah whipped her head around and heard running feet. She tensed, but released a sigh as she realized they were heading away from her.
"What is it?"
"It sounds like rain," she said quietly.
As she walked past the high wall Alexander had been kissing her near, she noted the pockmarked surface and the chipped plaster. "Come, we had better hurry before the downpour starts."
She shivered, and almost ran all the way home, towing him along by the hand, his marriage proposal all but forgotten amid her confusion and terror.
Much later, as he was drifting off to sleep with his head pressed against her breast, he whispered, "We need to talk tomorrow. I seem to recall I was about to ask you something."
She held him close, her heart full to bursting. "You know what the answer will be. Yes, Alexander. You know I can deny you nothing. I love you so very much."
"And I you." He sighed happily, and snuggled even more tightly against her. His voice was a mere whisper as he drifted off. "You were wrong about one thing, pet. There was no rain after all."
But Sarah knew the storm had opened over their heads. She just had to decide what to do about it. If she told Alexander her suspicions, he might try to do the noble thing and leave her. Then he would be as defenseless as a newborn kitten.
She could see it all now. His enemies had been clever the first two times, staging occurrences which would have easily been explained away as accidents if anything had happened to either of them. But the shooting that night had been no accident, and the killer had aimed high.
He could have shot her first, and then finished off her lover. But he had aimed upwards, at the level of Alexander's tall head. Someone here in Bath must have seen him, recognized him. Now his shadowy past had truly caught up with him.
The trouble was that they had met dozens of people whilst in the town. Anyone whom Alexander knew could have seen him without them even being aware of it. There was no way of telling who Alexander's enemy was, or where he could be hiding. Enemies, plural. A leader and his henchmen in the carriage and dray.
Damn.
While she had no idea who they were, they knew Alexander. And if they knew where they were staying in Bath, it would not take them long to find out where she lived.
They would be coming for him soon. Pray God they didn't finish the job they had started in Spain. She just couldn't let him die. But what on earth could she do to keep ber beloved safe?
Chapter Twenty-eight
Once they were underway the following morning in their small gig loaded to the brim with parcels, Sarah said to Alexander in a casual tone, "What would you say to heading up to Yorkshire to see my sisters?"
His face fell. "But we've only just come from Bath," he pointed out in a plaintive tone.
"I find I'm getting a bit restless," she lied, hoping the quiver of nerves in her voice didn't betray her completely. "Jonathan still hasn't replied to my letter. I'm eager for him to tell us anything he might know about you. And then with any luck, we can be married, and settle on where to live. Who knows, you might prefer medieval York to Bath. It's certainly worth seeing. In any event, I'm dying for you to meet my family." "I know, but still-"
"Since he and Pamela will be there in a matter of a few days, if he isn't already, we can kill two birds with one stone and go up to meet him. We can go through Oxford and some other fine towns, make a real trip of it. We can be married by him as soon as we can get the license. I'm sure he will be glad to officiate. It will be a very special and unusual honeymoon."
"It sounds very nice," he said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his tone. "But I thought you wanted to get back to Brimley as much as I did?"
"I do, darling, really. However, I would also love to firm up our plans to be married as well. I feel sure that-"
"You don't have anything to tell me, do you?" he asked quietly.
"No. What on earth could there be?" she asked, thinking of the child within her even as she did so.
He looked doubtful, but to her relief did not pursue his line of questioning, and simply kissed her. "Whatever you want, my love. If you wish to head north, Sarah, we'll go find your brother and be married. In truth, I want to be your husband more than anything."
"It will take me a day or so to get things organized, unpacked, washed and repacked."
"That's fine. I'll keep myself busy with the pianoforte, and the garden."
"The pianoforte," she said quickly, not daring to let him out of her sight for a minute. "I'll need to do my accounts, and leave instructions. You can keep me company, so to speak." She kissed him seductively, and he began to grin.
"Hmm, a good idea," he said, gathering her into his arms for a bit more dalliance until she nearly upset the gig in the road, and told him to behave.
He sat back sheepishly, but kept one huge warm maddening hand between her thighs the whole way home.
Sarah began the preparations as soon as she got in, dashing off a note to her elder sister Rebecca, and unpacking the bags right downstairs in her parlor. She sorted their laundry quickly, and then began to repack. Near to hand she placed a brace of her brother's pistols, and with the weapons some powder and shot.
That evening, Sarah sat at her desk, exhausted. She had done everything she could to prepare for her departure, making lists and leaving instructions for Mr. Evans the curate.
The plain fact was that she had no idea when she was coming back, if ever. But her brother had left the vicarage in her care. She had to behave responsibly, no matter h
ow much her instincts told her to turn tail and run as fast as she could.
"There, that will do," she said, putting down her pen and picking up her reticule. They could leave that evening, get up as far as Willesden to spend the night. She would give Jenny and Caleb false information about their destination to put Alexander's enemies off the scent until she could find her brother and gain his assistance.
She was just taking one last pensive look around when a shout across the hall terrified her.
"Sarah! Sarah! Come quickly!" Alexander bellowed.
She ran into the large drawing room, and found the hearth and the wooden settle a blazing inferno. The stench of lamp oil was sickening, though she couldn't imagine where it was coming from, who had spilled it.
Alexander was trapped in the corner over by the pianoforte, the flames already licking along the carpet toward the splendid instrument. She heaved the huge object toward her, pulling with all her might. Her terror had lent her almost superhuman strength. She couldn't even begin to imagine Alexander's panic at being blind and trapped in a burning room.
"Come on, darling, climb over, quickly."
He was already coughing and sputtering, and fear made him clumsy. He tripped over the stool and fell heavily, jangling the keys with a discordant crash that sounds to Sarah like a death knell.
All of her fierce protective instincts rose to the fore. She felt like a tigress protecting her most cherished mate. "This way, my love," she called as he heaved himself to his feet.
She grabbed at his hand and led him to the relative safety of the hall.
"I don't understand," he rasped, clinging to her almost desperately. "What happened? How did it catch on fire?"
"Never mind that now! We need to try to put it out."
Jenny and Caleb, who had been just tidying away the last of the supper things and assembling a basket of food for their trip, came running.
"Lord have mercy!" Jenny exclaimed.
"Jenny, run, get the water pump going, fill the tub, and bring some wet blankets," she called, grabbing from the cupboard under the stairs the buckets they had used for cleaning and washing the wool. "Caleb, Alexander, come help me."
The three of them formed a bucket brigade down the hall to the bathroom, with Caleb at one end and Sarah battling the blaze at the other.
"You and Jenny should leave," Alexander shouted to her about the roaring blaze.
"I'm staying. But you need to get to safety," Sarah urged.
"I'm not leaving you, love," Alexander stated in a tone that brooked no refusal.
Jenny had done her best to help with the bucket brigade and wet blankets, but as the fire continued to devour the carpet she could contain her fear no longer.
"I can't breathe," she gasped.
Before Sarah could say a word, the older woman dived into the kitchen and flung open the back door.
A loud explosion and the smell of powder came wafting through the open portal.
Caleb ran toward it, but Sarah shouted, "No! Get down!"
She grabbed the old man's coat and dragged him to the flagstone floor as a bullet whizzed past them, smacking into the plaster, spraying them with powder.
"Oh, Jesus!" Caleb gasped.
Sarah raised her head to follow the old man's line of vision. In the light that tumbled out of the door onto the garden path, she could see Jenny lying on her back, her eyes staring sightlessly up at the stars. A gaping red hole in her chest told Sarah everything she needed to know. She threw herself forward full length, and slammed and bolted the door, keeping low as more musket balls smacked into the heavy oaken door. She slid the large wooden slat into place, then ran to make sure her companion was unhurt.
"Caleb, the front door! Make sure it's secure. And for pity's sake stay down."
"Sarah, what the hell is happening?" Alexander asked, grabbing her arm as she tried to push past him.
"They're trying to kill you!" she blurted out. "They've been trying since Bath. I wanted to run away, go up north where we might be safe, and get Jonathan's help. But we've run out of time."
Alexander looked dumbstruck. Then he said, "Well, let them take me."
"No! No!" Sarah gasped, tears springing to her eyes.
"They've already killed Jenny, haven't they. Haven't they?" he demanded.
"Yes!" she admitted.
"We don't have a choice. They'll kill us all if I don't come out of here. The house will burn down with all of us in it."
She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard. "I know you don't remember everything that happened in Spain. But do you really think they're just going to let us all walk out of here alive? Do you?"
"No," he conceded with a sigh.
"Then don't you dare speak to me again about giving yourself up!"
She stormed into her own small parlor, and grabbed her brother's swords. She scraped each out of its scabbard and propped them by the door to the hall. Then she called Caleb to come help her with the wet blankets.
With Alexander running back and forth with two buckets at a time, they eventually got the blaze under control. Then she had to decide what to do next.
"Can they get in upstairs?" Alexander asked.
"The windows are probably too high, and the casements are all the old-fashioned leaded variety. I doubt a grown man could squeeze through," Caleb said tearfully.
"That means we also can't squeeze out," Alexander sighed.
"True. The windows on this floor have me more worried. They might try to rush the house," she speculated.
"Or set fire to the other chimney," Alexander guessed.
"Or the roof."
"At least it's slate, Miss," Caleb pointed out, his eyes running with tears of grief for his beloved wife.
"I'm so sorry, Caleb."
"Not your fault, sir. It's them bastards what killed her."
"I know you can load the weapons, Alexander. If they do rush the house, we have a fighting chance. I think we should make a stand here. Pile up some furniture as a barricade here in the hall. Then no matter what room they try or door they attempt to come through, we'll have them in our sights."
"Except I have no sight," he said bitterly.
"Just point and shoot. You're the one who told me that, remember?"
"No, you and Caleb do it. I'll help reload."
She looked at their small armory. "We have six guns, two pistols, two swords. I don't know how many men there are, or how many guns, but they won't get the chance to reload. If we make every shot count, we'll get through this."
They kept low and dragged two solid wooden chests out of her parlor, and kept under cover in the space between them. They waited for at least half an hour, but all was silent outside.
"I think they're gone," Alexander said.
"Or they're regrouping. They probably didn't think we could put the fire out. They assumed that we would flee the house, as poor Jenny did."
Caleb's cheeks still glistened with tears. At the mention of his wife's name, he sobbed anew. "Those bastards," he muttered again.
"Sush!" Sarah silenced them.
They could hear noises at both the front and back doors. "Don't shoot. They can't get in through those slats."
"They're just seeing the lay of the land. The leading in the windows will give them pause. That just leaves the doors, and they're pretty solid."
"Aye, that they are," Alexander whispered, feeling slightly more confident that they could hold off their attackers.
A battering ram crunching into the back door startled them all.
"Lord, there must be five or six of them out there!" Caleb gasped.
"We just have to keep our heads and reload as fast as we can," she said.
Another assault with the battering ram caved part of the back door in. A third blow had it in splinters. Sarah began to pray fervently, and she and Caleb shouldered their muskets.
A fourth blow at the door burst it right off its hinges. Several dark-clothed men with handkerchiefs over their faces
came charging into the kitchen. Sarah picked off the first one, who dropped, causing the next one to trip.
"Aim low!" Alexander urged. "Make every shot count."
Caleb's bullet tore into the second man's chest, while Sarah's pistol shot winged the third one in his left shoulder, spinning him round, and causing him to crouch down in agony, the blood flowing between his fingers in dark rivulets. She stared at his face, but was sure he was no one she knew.
Alexander was reloading as fast as he could, but if there were more than three other men outside the door, they were going to be in trouble.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 28
