Capturing the Viscount (Rakes and Roses Book 1)

by Win Hollows

  “You’ve never seen a dead person before?” Rem asked her.

  “No. Never. I’ve been to two funerals, but neither had a body for viewing.” Laura wiped a damp tendril of hair from her forehead. “What do we do? They’re just-“she swallowed painfully “- lying there, alone, with no one they loved there to take care of them.”

  “At the risk of sounding callous, I don’t think they really care at this point, but you’re right. We can’t leave them like that. I’ll take care of it. Can you stay here for me? Please?”

  Laura nodded. She let out a small sob and wiped her wet cheeks. “Thank you.” She concentrated on taking deep breaths, even though the pressure hurt her ribs. With the corset off, it felt much better, the pain not as sharp as before. Thankfully, her dress had an adjustable bodice that she now loosened with shaking fingers to accommodate her natural waist. Her eyes she kept closed, and she wanted to cover her ears as well when she heard the sound of the bodies being drug off the road by Rem. The images refused to go away, and she didn’t know if a day would go by for the rest of her life when she wouldn’t think of the vacant eyes and torn bodies of the men lying there. She shivered, partly from the constant scene in her mind and partly from the chill that was gathering in the air.

  After several minutes, Rem was by her side again. “All finished,” he told her, his hand alighting upon her back.

  Laura opened her eyes to darkness. The sun had fully set now, and the moon was not yet up, or perhaps clouds covered it. There had been some on the horizon earlier, but she didn’t know if they were the ominous kind or not. Nonetheless, the air was now devoid of its earlier warmth, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms and legs as she rose to a standing position. It was so dark that it was hard to distinguish where the road was and where the trees began. Laura was actually thankful for the obscurity; she could no longer see the bloodstained dirt or where Rem had put the horsemen. “What do we do now?” she asked, surveying the onset of nightfall.

  “We need to find somewhere to bed down. We aren’t getting out of here without any light.”

  “Not here. Please. I don’t want to,” she swallowed. “-to think of them so near.”

  “Alright. We need to hurry though. Come on, up you go.” He swept her up in his arms again and began to walk down the path, past the place where the terrible things had happened.

  Laura appreciated that Rem didn’t comment on her sniffling and tears as he walked. She couldn’t help but think of the families and loved ones of those men. They were probably expecting them to come home any moment, not knowing that they would never see them again. The thought was unbearable. If one of her family members were killed in such a horrible way, she didn’t know if she would be able to cope with it. If it had been Rem lying there, his eyes open, throat ripped out… She fought another wave of nausea. No. She couldn’t even think about it.

  How Rem was able to stay on the path, Laura didn’t know. She couldn’t see anything, just vague shapes against the clouded sky. After a few minutes of traipsing, he told her to hold on, and he left the path, ducking into the woods again. Laura didn’t want to go into the trees. With everything around them dark, the forest now seemed menacing and capable of producing monsters…monsters of the kind that hacked and sliced and bludgeoned people. Who knew if the horsemen’s killer or killers were still out here with them, waiting…

  “Do we have to leave the path?” Laura asked as Rem felt gingerly ahead with his foot with every step.

  “Yes, so we can be out of the wind and find some insulation. I don’t know how long we’ll be out here. They should be searching for us very soon, if not already, but it’s going to get colder. He set her down when they were a few yards away from the path. “Here should be fine.”

  Laura sighed as her feet touched the soft moss that blanketed the ground. Though it was hard to see, Laura sensed that there was a large tree to her left. She felt for it and ran her hands over its rough bark. Lowering herself slowly to the ground, she allowed herself to relax, feeling more secure with the tree at her back. Rem was rummaging around somewhere nearby, presumably looking for something with which to keep them warm. Laura dug her fingers into the crinkly moss, liking the familiarity of its texture. Her head dropped back to rest against the hard trunk, but she didn’t close her eyes.

  Though she knew it was silly, she was actually very afraid of the dark that surrounded them. What was, during the daytime, a picturesque and cheerful neck of woods was now a mysterious and infinitely frightening mass of dangers to her. She knew that animals roamed the woods at night, not to mention the humans who had committed the murders close by. They had no idea if whoever had done it was still in the area or whether their intended target had been Rem or herself. The thought that someone might want to hurt Rem was unthinkable. And no one would waste any effort on trying to hurt her. She had never been involved with anyone or anything remotely dodgy. It must have been the men on horseback they were after, which, Laura conceded, was very selfish, but was glad of. Why they had shot down their balloon, she had no idea. It could have been an accident for all she knew.

  A rustling sound a little ways in the opposite direction of Rem had Laura sitting up straight and straining to see through the darkness. She began to feel around for a stick, knowing that it might be useless, but also knowing she would feel slightly better with it in her hands. She was certain there were numerous animals in the vicinity, all most likely harmless- birds, voles, rabbits, deer… But you never knew when a badger or fox would come along and feel threatened, and then all bets were off.

  “Laura, where are you?” Rem called out, startling Laura out of her search for a stick.

  “I’m here,” she answered, continuing to talk until he had reached her.

  Rem laid down a pile of debris next to her. Laura felt of it and detected that it was comprised of mostly moss with some feathery fern fronds mixed in. “Here, lie down,” he told her, putting a hand on the back of her head to guide her down. She complied, settling amongst the springy vegetation. She felt Rem lie down beside her, his body sending warmth towards her back. She wanted to scoot right back into him for his heat and safety, but knew, even for matters between them, he might find such a move too forward.

  She had never slept with a man, actually slept, other than in her father’s lap when she was very small. Her heart sped a bit wondering how it would feel to sleep with Rem’s large frame surrounding her, his muscled body curved around her own. Breath shallow, she waited to see if he would make the motion to bring himself closer, perhaps wrap his arms around her, and sensed his own hesitation behind her. Mayhap he thought she would not welcome such an advance, given her upset of the circumstances. It made sense. Mama had told her that sometimes men didn’t know what to do with women who showed great emotion, and she had certainly been crying quite a bit in the last couple of hours.

  “Rem?” she whispered, as much to drown out any rustlings around them as anything.

  “Yes,” his voice came back, barely disturbing the hairs that had fallen onto her neck.

  “I’m…” she debated one more moment on her course, then flung caution to the wind. “I’m cold.” It wasn’t a lie, after all. She was growing quite chilly now that the excitement was over and the sun had gone down.

  He moved not an inch for several seconds. She wondered if he had decided to ignore her admission as female griping. Then she jumped as he placed a hand on her stomach and slowly drew her back into the cocoon of his body. And oh, it felt heavenly. Every inch of her backside was in contact with some part of him, drawing in his warmth and strength. His solid and tangible touch instantly drove away most of her fears of the surrounding night. She felt his nose briefly nuzzle her hair and his breath warm her neck. Her belly struggled to not quiver under the possessive hold of her arm around her midsection. Though they both had on layers of clothing between them, she did not doubt that he too felt the acute awareness than blossomed from every point of contact.

  “Is that bett
er?” he rumbled into her hair.

  Laura’s lips turned up, knowing he couldn’t see it, and tried not to let it show too much in her voice. “Yes, thank you,” she murmured.

  No more was said after that. She wasn’t sure what to say, truth be told. Her mind was a jumble of conflicting pieces of information that she didn’t know how to reconcile. Dead eyes, dark blood, Remington’s glorious warmth, champagne giggles, fire and panic and running… She didn’t want to think about any of it, yet the scenes all tumbled over each other in a confusing mess until she felt tears once again leaking out of the corners of her eyes. Not wanting Rem to know she was crying again, she didn’t bother wiping them away, but concentrated on wiping her mind clean and letting her muscles relax. Taking deep, steadying breaths, she forced herself to keep her thoughts peacefully blank as she focused on her breaths. In, out. In, out… And eventually, even the crisp swishing of the trees and the snap of distance twigs could not prevent her from falling into a deep, blessedly dreamless sleep.

  Laura’s body did not release her mind from the mire of sleep easily. She was pulled from a pleasantly indistinct world of fuzzy white shapes into a more concrete dream, complete with unfamiliar voices and willful characters.

  “Well, obviously, we can’t let anyone know we found them like this. And the others will catch up soon enough,” said one male voice.

  “Why not? It’s not as if her reputation isn’t shredded to Hell as it is. Might as well tell the entire, romantic story to the world,” a deeper, more cynical voice dissented.

  “Come off it, Con. What, exactly, is this romantic story? That they decided to eschew all civilization and run amuck through the woods of Lorenberry like savages? Because no one can know the truth. You know that. We don’t even know what the truth is, in fact.”

  “We know enough to know that no matter what, this episode only ends one way.”

  Laura heard a distinct snort. “You’re right on that score. Poor sod.”

  “I don’t think Rem sees it that way.”

  The other man made an assessing sound. “S’pose I shouldn’t feel too sorry for him. I mean, look at her.”

  “I’d rather not, given Rem will undoubtedly flay the flesh from any man’s bones he catches doing so,” the deeper voice said drily.

  “It’s a good thing he’s asleep then, isn’t it?” the other said jovially.

  Throughout the conversation, Laura had begun to realize that it was no dream at all. Two men were most definitely having a conversation about their present situation. She wasn’t sure that she should let her conscious state be known before she ascertained who these men were, but the choice became irrelevant when Rem said hoarsely, but clearly from behind her, “I wouldn’t count on that, you mangy buggers.”

  Her eyes flew open and she blinked to clear her gaze. It was light and sunny, the woods back to their cheerful state. The insult hadn’t sounded as if it were intended for enemies. And the men had spoken of Rem as if they knew him in some capacity.

  “Oh, good, you’re awake, Ol’ Boy.” Laura turned to see one of the men give Rem a hearty kick in the buttocks.

  Rem grunted. “You couldn’t have let a wounded man sleep?” he scratched out. Laura sat up when Rem did and looked toward the voices, taking in two men in gentlemen’s evening wear standing above them. Both were startlingly handsome, enough so to rival Remington’s looks, one wearing a smirk and the other’s countenance intense, but unreadable. Her body protested her sudden movement, every sore muscle making itself known. She cleared her throat.

  Rem turned his head toward her and smiled reassuringly. “It’s alright. They’re friends,” he said quietly. Then, more loudly, he turned and announced, “Miss Parrington, meet my sad excuses for compatriots: Viscount Treadstone and…what are you again, Con? Oh, that’s right- Duke of Volmere,” he finished irreverently, a smile on his face.

  Laura could clearly sense the comradery between the three, which was calming. If Rem was comfortable enough to bam around with these fellows in their current circumstance, it was a good sign. “Pleased to meet you both. You’ll excuse me if I don’t curtsy,” she said with a smile.

  The one with molten gold for hair laughed. “I like this one. You’re sure you’re taken with him, love?”

  She paused, then rejoined with, “If it’s a choice between the two of you, then…unequivocally.”

  The Viscount laughed again, his tawny eyes alight with mischief. Laura glanced at the other man and saw that, though he still had his arms crossed, she had managed to drive the corners of his lips up.

  “Are you going to stand there all day flirting with her, or are you going to help us up?” Rem said, brushing a few twigs from her hair and his with the palms of his hands.

  Both men held out their hands then, and Laura took the Duke’s steady hand, while Viscount Treadstone helped Rem up from their bed of ferns. Laura tried to brush out her skirts as much as possible, but there really wasn’t any point. They were beyond ruined, black soot and dirt ground into the delicate, pale silk, not to mention the deep wrinkles that had decided to stay during the night. She took one step up toward the edge of the dirt path and let out a small cry. Rem immediately caught her by the elbows, supporting her weight. Lifting her skirts, she raised one foot to look at it. Deep, ragged cuts caked with blood and dirt covered the bottom of it, and from the feel of it, the other was not much better.

  Rem, looking over her shoulder at the damage, swore. “You can’t walk. Not right now. And those slashes are going to become infected if we don’t attend to them soon.” He scooped her up before she could protest and set her on the edge of the path, gently cradling her feet onto the ticklish grass. Rem’s voice, she noticed, was hoarse, almost unrecognizable.

  “How are we going to get back?” she asked, hating to be helpless one slowing everyone down.

  “Those will help, I should think,” Viscount Treadstone remarked, crooking a thumb towards a pair of horses that stood not a hundred feet down the path.

  “How did you find us?” Rem asked in his raspy tones.

  The man they referred to as Con answered. “My father was informed of the incident since he was given as your reference when you arrived at Honeymoore. Naturally, he immediately notified me, and Tris and I set out at once.”

  “Good thing we hadn’t planned on sleeping last night anyways.” Treadstone gave Laura a wink.

  With the help of Rem and his friends, Laura was bundled onto a horse and her feet carefully wrapped in the Duke of Volmere’s cravat as best as could be managed for the time being. Viscount Treadstone mounted the other horse, seemingly unaware that anyone else might like to have ridden it. Rem and The Duke strode beside the horses while Rem filled their companions in on everything that had happened since leaving Honeymoore in the balloon. Rem’s friends listened and asked questions at intervals, but there wasn’t much that they hadn’t already figured out, since Remington knew nothing of the motivations behind the attack, nor who had orchestrated it. Volmere and Treadstone had discovered the bodies of the horsemen just before coming upon Remington and Laura that morning, covering them with a horse blanket and leaving a marker for them to be found by.

  The mention of the dead bodies sent threads of nausea into Laura’s stomach once more, but in the light of day, with these capable men around her, the image was easier put from her mind. Still, she felt a deep and heavy sorrow for the families of those men who had gone to work that day, never to return. The reality of their deaths made thoughts of her own family and life that much more precious. Should anything happen to any one of them… It was so fragile, life. There one moment and gone the next. It made her want to wrap everyone she loved up and keep them away from the dangers that were not as far away as she had once believed.

  After a short while, they met another search party of five village men who had been looking for them through the night. Laura thanked the haggard men for their diligence and told them that a meal, compliments of her family, would be waiting for them
at Honeymoore that night after they had rested. Rem told them where the horsemen’s corpses lie, and the search party left for the grim duty of retrieving them.

  Once they reached Honeymoore, Laura’s feet were attended to by the resident physician, who was constantly on hand should any of the patrons need medical attention, which Laura thought disturbing in itself. Eliza burst into the room as Laura’s feet were being swabbed with ointment. Laura had to calm her maid down from the brink of hysteria while her feet were once again wrapped in clean white linen.

  After that, she was then quickly, but carefully, placed in her carriage and taken back to her family’s London residence, Rem a grim visage of thought the entire way back. Laura sighed as they trundled past the tranquil sheep pastures, thinking that it was only yesterday she had been so buoyant with Rem as her companion. It seemed their…friendship was destined for ruin. Perhaps it was a sign. Laura wasn’t sure she believed in such things, but it was hard to ignore a bullet wound, however small, and a fiery balloon crash all in one week.

  The moment Rem carried her into her parents’ foyer, the household erupted into chaos. Mrs. Parrington burst into tears seeing her daughter’s bedraggled and bruised appearance, and her father, normally a calm individual, rushed forward, took Laura from Rem’s arms, and furiously demanded to know what the devil had happened.

  “I’m alright,” Laura put in loudly, but no one was inclined to listen to such a thing at that point. She grit her teeth as her father carried her up the stairs and into her bedroom, laying her carefully on top of the plush counterpane. Her mother fluttered around the bed, ordering any maid in sight to fetch everything from water to doctors to smelling salts.

  Rem had followed the trio up the stairs and stood uneasily just inside the doorway to Laura’s room. Laura caught his eye and rolled hers. A brief ghost of a smile passed over his lips, but it was replaced by a serious expression again as Lord Parrington swiveled away from Laura to fix his thunderous glare upon Remington.