by Brenda Hiatt
She was looking pensive. "You don't think he'll retaliate for what I did by spreading stories, do you?"
He shook his head without hesitation. "Plunkett is a coward before anything else. Now he'll not only be afraid of what I'll do to him, but of you, as well." Suddenly, he chuckled. "I would imagine he's thanking his stars right now that he didn't end up marrying you after all."
"Why, what an ungallant thing to say," Dina exclaimed, but there was laughter in her voice as well. Then, after a moment, "I must confess that one reason I thought marriage to him would be safe was my belief that I could, ah, control him."
"A reasonable belief, I should say. But then you ended up with me, instead. Clearly, I have not been treading as carefully around you as I ought." He was only half joking, still slightly shaken by what he'd seen her do to Plunkett.
She sobered. "That's exactly why I was so reluctant to marry you. I could see at once that you would not be nearly so . . . tractable as Mr. Plunkett."
"I am a bit larger," he conceded.
"That, too. But I doubt I could overpower even Mr. Plunkett without surprise on my side. No, I was referring to your strength of character, more than your physical strength."
"Indeed?"
Dina nodded. "Within moments of meeting you, I could tell that you were a man of conviction who would not be persuaded from any course he felt to be the right one. A man who could not be bought."
"I am flattered. But I'm also curious as to what it was that gave you that impression. From other things you have told me, I gather that you have not known many such men."
"Very few," she agreed, "and none well. Our vicar, I suppose, and perhaps one or two others." She fell silent for a moment, thinking. "I believe it was your concern for Violet, as well as, paradoxically, your initial distrust of me."
He had to smile. "I did subject you to quite the inquisition before agreeing, as I recall. It never occurred to me that you would find that admirable, however."
"Your approach showed both honesty and intelligence." She smiled tentatively back at him. "Qualities I have come to appreciate even more, as I've become better acquainted with you."
Thor felt a rush of tenderness for Dina, not tempered in the least by the knowledge that she could box as well as many men. "I hope that in time you will discover more about me that you will approve —just as I am discovering about you."
In answer, she moved closer and again folded her hands over his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder.
They fairly flew along the road, Thor pushing the horses as fast as he dared, but still there was no sign of a brown coach. At Spilsby they learned that Moore was still nearly half an hour ahead of them, and still headed south. At Boston, they were forced to change horses, as the bays were nearly spent.
"A brown coach, with two passengers," Thor prompted the 'ostler as he unhitched the pair. "A large man and a dark-haired woman."
"Aye, they was here, changing horses like yourself. The young lady seemed a might agitated, wanted to go into the inn, but the gent wouldn't hear of it. In a terrible hurry, he was. They left not twenty minutes since, headed toward Sleaford with our fastest pair."
Thor pulled out half a crown and flashed it.
"Oh, aye, sir," the 'ostler said before he could even speak, eyeing the coin in Thor's hand. "I c'n have you on your way in half a moment, with our next best."
True to his word, only a minute or two later they were thundering along the road again, this time headed East. "They can't be far ahead now," Thor muttered.
"How much faster do you think their horses are?" Dina asked anxiously.
He shrugged. "There's no way to tell, but they're driving a heavier coach, which has to count for something. With any luck, we'll catch up to them before they reach Sleaford."
But luck seemed to be conspiring against them. Halfway to Sleaford, some blasted shepherd chose just the wrong moment to drive his flock across the road. By the time the last stragglers were out of the way and Thor was able to set the team back in motion, they had lost nearly ten minutes.
"Why the devil wasn't that fellow out celebrating Boxing Day like other decent people?" Thor muttered savagely.
Dina patted his arm. "We'll catch them. No harm will come to Violet, I am sure of it."
Thor wished he could share her confidence. What if Moore had other confederates besides Plunkett and had switched coaches again? They could even now be pursuing the wrong one while Moore and Violet were headed straight to Scotland. He did not speak his fear aloud, however, merely nodding as though reassured.
At Sleaford they changed horses again, but again Moore had taken the best the village had to offer. At least Thor was reassured to discover they were still on the right road, and that they had cut Moore's lead to a mere ten minutes. As they neared the much larger town of Grantham, on the Great North Road, they began to encounter other vehicles. Twice they had their hopes raised and then dashed as they overtook brown coaches that proved not to be the one they sought.
Finally, not five miles out of Grantham, with the daylight nearly gone, Thor sighted another coach up ahead that looked to be brown. Dina, at his side, leaned forward.
"Please, please, let it be them," she chanted.
It was. That became obvious as soon as they drew near and the other coach suddenly picked up speed. With a shout of triumph, Thor urged his pair to a canter and the lighter curricle began gaining on the larger coach.
They had nearly caught up when Moore's head appeared in the window of the coach, shouting directions at the driver, who moved to the center of the road, preventing Thor from passing. "That tactic can only work for so long," Thor said grimly. "Eventually another carriage —ah."
Even as he spoke, a traveling coach with a team of four horses rounded the bend up ahead, coming toward them at a placid trot. Moore's coach held the center of the road for another dozen yards or so, then the driver swung his pair over to the side.
Thor was ready. "Hold on," he cried to Dina. The moment there was enough space to pass, he plied his whip, startling his own pair to a burst of speed that sent the curricle hurtling past the brown coach, then deftly swerved to the side with only a few feet to spare before the chaise and four lumbered past, its driver shaking his fist and swearing something about "damned holiday drunkards."
Now that he was in front of Moore's coach, Thor moved his own vehicle to the center of the road, blocking the other from passing as he gradually slowed, forcing the larger coach to do the same. Glancing ahead, he saw that the road would soon widen slightly. Deciding they had slowed enough for safety, he executed the same maneuver he'd used to stop Plunkett, turning the curricle to block the road completely.
A better driver, or even one driving a familiar team rather than a hired one, might have managed to get around the curricle, but Moore's driver didn't even try. When his pair shied, he pulled the coach to a halt. At once, Moore slammed out of the coach with a curse.
"Damn it, man, I knew I should have driven myself. Spineless wastrel, you should have tried—" He broke off as Thor leaped down from the curricle and advanced on him.
"You had to know you would never get away with this, Moore."
The other man wheeled to face him, his face red with fury. "That's all you know, Turpin. If I'd been driving—"
"But you weren't." Thor kept his voice calm, knowing instinctively that would infuriate Moore more than anger would. Any moment now, the fellow would give him an excuse to thrash him.
"Grant?" Violet's voice came from the coach and an instant later she was clambering out. "Thank heaven!"
"Get back in the coach," Moore shouted over his shoulder. "I'll deal with this, and then—"
"No, Silas, you won't." It was Dina this time, speaking from behind Thor. "Violet, go around the other side of the coach and get into our curricle."
Moore's eyes bulged with fury as he glared past Thor's shoulder. "You! You conniving, disloyal, whoring little—"
That was enough for Thor. With
intense satisfaction, he sent his fist crashing into Moore's jaw, effectively silencing him. Moore was no Plunkett, however, but a powerful man nearly as large as Thor himself. Though he staggered and went to one knee, in a moment he was up again and charging, head lowered.
Thor barely had time to get into a defensive stance before Moore crashed into him, fists flying. He caught one in the stomach and another in the side, then came back with a blow to Moore's ribs that made the other man grunt.
"Stop it," Dina cried from behind him. "This will solve nothing. Silas, please!"
From the corner of his eye, Thor saw Dina moving past him to make a grab for her brother's right arm. To his horror, before he could prevent him, Moore swung a fist at her. Though she tried to sidestep, the blow caught her shoulder with enough force to send her flying back several feet to land in a crumpled heap on the road. Somewhere behind him, he heard Violet screaming.
With a roar of fury, Thor launched himself at Moore, bearing him to the ground beneath him. Straddling his chest, he rained blow after blow on his enemy's face, a red haze all but obscuring his vision. He'd never been so angry in his life. Beneath him, Moore struggled and gasped, trying to ward off the blows with his hands, but Thor was like a man possessed.
Dimly, he became aware of voices, then felt small hands tugging at his shoulders.
"Thor, don't! You'll kill him." Incredibly, it was Dina. Startled and relieved, he turned from his victim to see her standing there, dusty but not visibly hurt.
"Yes, Grant, please stop. He's not going anywhere," came Violet's voice from his other side. "If he tries, I . . . I have a pistol." Indeed, she was gingerly brandishing the weapon he'd brought along, then left in the curricle in his eagerness to engage Moore physically.
The red haze receded and he glanced down at his adversary, whose left eye was beginning to swell shut. He rose and took the pistol from Violet, then aimed it at Moore. "He deserves to die, for what he did. He could have killed Dina just now—"
"But he didn't," Dina said, putting both hands over the one that held the gun, forcing him to lower it. "I'm barely bruised."
Thor frowned down at her, anxiously raking her from head to toe with his gaze. "Are you sure? I thought—"
"I'm sure. I won't deny that Silas deserves punishment —severe punishment —for kidnapping Violet and putting her through such an ordeal, but I doubt she wants you to become a murderer any more than I do. He's not worth it."
"No, Grant, he's not. We won't let you do it." Violet moved to his other side. "Let the authorities deal with him, instead."
Thor's anger ebbed away to be replaced by relief at Dina's safety—and Violet's. He heaved a great sigh. "Very well. But I should warn you both that what he's done will almost certainly result in his hanging."
Both women gasped.
Moore, still prostrate on the ground, made a choking sound of protest. "Dina," he whispered. "Please. You can't allow—"
"Is there no other alternative?" Violet asked when Dina made no response. "Dina, you won't want the notoriety that would come with a trial, will you?"
"I . . . I suppose not," she conceded, frowning down at her brother. "But I'd far rather that, than for Thor himself to get into any trouble with the law."
Thor glanced from Violet's pleading face to Dina's troubled one and made a sudden decision. "Very well. Let's get him into the coach. You there," he called to the dumbstruck driver, who had watched the entire proceeding from the box of the coach. "Drive my curricle into Grantham. We'll meet you at the Black Boar."
The man darted a frightened glance at Dina, who nodded. "It is all right, Jefferson. If you cooperate, I'll see that you are not implicated in my brother's crimes, for I know you were merely following his orders."
Nodding, he scrambled down from the box. "D'ye need help gettin' Mr. Moore into the coach?"
Though conscious, Moore seemed unable to stand on his own and it took both Thor and the coachman, with a bit of help from Dina, to hoist him to his feet and bundle him into the coach. Even though Moore looked helpless at the moment, Thor took a length of spare rein and tied his hands behind his back as a precaution, then handed the pistol to Dina.
"Do you know how to use this?" He wasn't particularly surprised when she nodded. "I need to drive, so it will be up to you and Violet to see that he doesn't escape —not that he looks in any condition to try it just now."
"Are we going back to Plumrose?" Violet asked. "It's nearly dark."
Thor shook his head. "We'll leave the curricle in Grantham, then head to Melton-Mowbray. With fresh horses, we should reach Ivy Lodge in less than three hours."
He waited until the curricle had started off, then climbed onto the box of the coach and flicked the reins, hoping he had done the right thing by sparing Moore's life. Of course, killing him might well have alienated Dina forever. Still, he very much hoped that Rush could advise him on his remaining options for dealing with Moore.
Inside the coach, Dina settled herself in the backward-facing seat beside Violet, since neither of them cared to sit next to Silas. As her brother was both tied and nearly unconscious, she did not bother to keep the pistol trained on him, but kept it on her lap, where she could bring it into play if necessary. She did not think she would hesitate to use it if necessary, for she was nearly as angry with Silas as Thor had been.
After all that Thor had done for him— that she had done for him—to help him out of debt, only to have him betray their trust in such a way . . . She'd never had a high opinion of her brother's ethics, but she had not guessed he would stoop to something like this. Clearly, she had been blinded by family loyalty, but no more.
"What do you think Grant means to do?" Violet asked after they had driven in silence for several minutes.
"I don't know. He spends a lot of time in Melton-Mowbray, so perhaps there is a magistrate in the area he wishes to consult."
At that, Silas stirred. "Don't let him take me to a magistrate, Dina," he mumbled through thickened lips. "You heard what he said. Kidnapping is a hanging offense."
"You should have thought of that before you committed it, then," she told him sharply. "Honestly, Silas, I don't know what you could have been thinking to do something so stupid —so vile."
He flinched at the tone of her voice, but then struggled to sit up straighter. "It's your own fault," he said, his voice a bit clearer as his senses returned. "You drove me to it, with this accursed marriage of yours. I had no choice."
"Of course you had a choice," she snapped. "You've always had the choice of living within your means, of giving up the gaming. Of treating others with respect. It's simply not the way you choose to live and now you are likely to pay for that."
They arrived at the Black Boar then and Dina was just as glad, for there were things she wished to say to Silas that were not fit for Violet's ears. She would strive to get her temper under better control before they continued on to Ivy Lodge.
"Everything all right?" Thor asked her, opening the door to the coach. Though he glanced at Silas, the concern in his eyes was for her alone.
"He's revived enough to attempt bargaining, but yes, we are all fine." Reaching up, she touched his bruised cheek. "I'm sorry he was able to hurt you before you subdued him."
Thor seemed to start at her words. "Me? I was afraid he had killed you with that blow. I've never been so relieved in my life as when I saw you standing next to me." He helped her down from the coach, then pulled her to him, only to release her abruptly. "I'm sorry. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Dina had to laugh. "I'm fine. Didn't I just say so? Perhaps a bruise or two, but nothing worse. When will you believe—"
"I hate to interrupt, but . . . may I get out of the coach?" asked Violet, leaning out of the door. "I've been in it for hours, except for our altercation on the road."
Thor turned to help his sister to the ground, then took the pistol from Dina while the ladies went inside the inn to use the necessary. By the time they returned, the horses had been ch
anged and old Jefferson put up at the inn for the night.
A few minutes later, they were on their way again. To Dina's relief, Silas did not renew his whining, contenting himself instead with glaring across at her in sullen silence. Violet, understandably exhausted by her ordeal, soon fell asleep. Dina was tired as well, but dared not close her eyes with Silas in his present mood. Instead, she passed the time by wondering what Thor meant to do with her brother —and by occasionally stroking the pistol in her lap.
It must have been nine o'clock when the coach finally stopped again. Dina blinked, realizing that she must have dozed after all. Luckily, Silas had fallen asleep as well. Now he sat up again, as did Violet, both blinking bleared eyes.
"Where are we?" Silas asked groggily.
"Ivy Lodge," Thor replied, opening the door of the coach just as Silas spoke. "Ladies?"
As he helped them from the coach, Dina saw the door to the ivy-covered house open and two or three figures emerge.
"Rush, is that you?" Thor called. When Lord Rushford's voice answered in the affirmative, Thor beckoned him over. "I need your assistance here—and Stormy's, too."
Dina and Violet stepped back and watched while the three friends hauled Silas bodily from the coach. He was now able to stand on his own, though his hands were still tied behind him.
Lord Rushford looked from the ladies to Silas to the coach, then said, "I confess, I am all agog to hear the story of what brings such an unlikely group here at such an unlikely time."
"Let's all get indoors," Thor suggested. "Once I tell you everything, perhaps you can put your vaunted capacity for strategy to good use and advise me on my next course."
An hour later, Dina found herself in the comfortable parlor of Ivy Lodge, surrounded by several members of the Seven Saints Hunt Club, who seemed to comprise Thor's best and most trusted friends. The travelers had been fed, Silas's hands untied so that he could eat. He now sat near the fireplace with everyone else in a semicircle around him, looking very much like a prisoner on trial.
