Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1)

by Skye, Christina

“One never knows,” came Luc’s lazy reply.

  “Turn around!”

  Luc turned his shoulder to the landlord and stretched his arms out behind him. “Who has been offering you money to clear everyone off Lavender Close Farm?”

  “None o’ your bloody business.”

  “Whatever it is, it won’t be enough. You can’t enjoy money when you’re dead.”

  “Hurry it up, can’t ye?” Amos shouted at the innkeeper.

  The publican caught Luc’s wrists with a savage twist, lapped the rope around four times, and then pulled it into two hard knots.

  They weren’t tight enough. Bram could have tied a better knot, Luc thought. But his captor wasn’t going to find that out quite yet. “Ow!” he thundered. “You don’t have to make it so bloody tight.”

  The landlord laughed coldly. “Wait till Millbank gets you. Then you’ll be howling for real.”

  Amos frowned. “Ain’t going to Carlisle or even to Millbank in the end, fool. There’s other as’ll pay more for him.”

  Luc’s breath caught. Others? “And who might that be?” he asked calmly, even as he felt his heart begin to race. Who else was playing such a deep game here in the Norfolk countryside?

  “Shut up! I reckon you’ll find that out soon enough!”

  A shadow ghosted around the legs of the table, directly to Silver’s right. Tail flat, Luc’s pet ferret crept along the floor and disappeared beneath an adjoining chair.

  “Now git his pistols,” Amos ordered.

  The publican was sweating as he gathered up the nearest gun and studied its silver decoration. “Fancy this ‘un will fetch a tidy few guineas.”

  Luc watched the man through slitted eyes as another knot sprang free beneath his fingers.

  Meanwhile, Silver was frowning at him. Luc looked pointedly at the parasol lying on the table beside her.

  Her eyes narrowed and she gave a tiny nod of assent.

  As Luc eased down into a chair and stared at Silver’s captor out of the corner of his eye, he saw his pet slip around the table.

  A moment later six inches of quivering muscle exploded into action. Eyes agleam, tail atwitch, the ferret bounded up Amos’s arm and locked a line of razor-sharp teeth on the man’s knife hand. At the same instant Silver broke away and seized her parasol, while Luc caught the stunned publican and wrenched his pistol free.

  Amos was howling with pain.

  The innkeeper was cursing.

  And Silver was free, holding her parasol protectively before her chest.

  Not bad for five seconds of work, Luc decided.

  He whistled once, low and sharp. A gray ferret appeared from his satchel and darted over the dirt floor to Luc’s boot. There the creature stood a teeth-bared vigil atop Luc’s second pistol.

  Luc motioned to Silver, who backed across the room with her parasol leveled. When she reached Luc’s side, he pulled her behind him. “I do believe it’s time to go. Come on, little ones.” At his order the two ferrets streaked across the room. “Well done. Now in you both go.”

  After a round of inquisitive squeaking the larger black ferret disappeared into the satchel and was followed by his mate.

  Smiling darkly, Luc moved toward the door.

  “But what about them? Those snakes know something, I’m certain of it!”

  “It will have to wait. I fancy we’ll be having company if we stay here any longer.”

  “But—”

  Luc cursed and gave Silver a little shove toward the door. They’d been lucky, but he wasn’t about to press his luck any further. “Go, woman!”

  “But what about the fire they set, nearly killing Bram? And what about the man they said is after you? Don’t you want to find out who he is?”

  Luc’s voice dropped to a hiss. “Any minute this place is going to be filled with friends of theirs. When that happens, I won’t be able to help you, damn it!”

  Without a word Silver reached down, hiked up her muslin skirt, and pulled out an engraved brass hand-pistol from beneath a fetching lavender-colored garter. “I expect this will help.”

  Luc blinked. He had known few women who could surprise him, but this one managed to do it again and again. “Sweet Lord above, Sunbeam.”

  “You can run away if you wish to, but I won’t. We St. Clairs never run.” She frowned. “I’ll begin with the big one.” Her eyes were hard.

  Muttering grimly, Luc wrenched her pistol free, dropped it into his satchel, then swung both satchel and Silver up over his shoulder.

  “L-let me go!”

  Luc paid no attention to either her hisses or her flailing feet. Satchel and kicking captive secure, he swung through the door of the Green Man and sprinted to his horse.

  The grimy boy was still waiting, a blade of grass stuck between his teeth. His eyes went huge when he saw Luc and his various burdens. “Blackwood, that has to be who ye are! I knowed it right off! Reckon nobody else cud do the likes o’ that! Wait till m’ brother hears about this.”

  “What about my horse?” Silver hissed. “And my gig?”

  “You should have thought about that before you went careening off on such a harebrained scheme.”

  Setting his teeth against the pain stabbing through his arm, Luc swung his horse about, with Silver still hoisted over his shoulder.

  “We can’t go yet,” Silver said desperately. “Those men have the only clues.”

  Luc shook his head. There was never a dull moment around Silver St. Clair. They crossed the street and then he pulled her forward and slid her onto his lap, his arm tight across her waist. He thought that she might thank him. Hell, he hoped she would kiss him, just the way she’d kissed him in the conservatory window.

  In fact, his temperature rose ten degrees just thinking about it.

  But she didn’t kiss him. What she did was send her neat, gloved fist into his jaw.

  “What in the devil was that for, woman?”

  “For dragging me out of that disreputable place!” Silver’s cheeks were high with color. “It was something I had to do.”

  “What, get yourself killed? When are you going to face the fact that you’re in over your head with these men, Sunbeam?” Luc’s jaw was smarting from her left hook and his thigh was paining him even more, from the exquisite torture of her hips grinding against his. Struggling to concentrate, he stared down at her. “Why didn’t you leave a message for me in the oak, where I told you?”

  “That might have taken hours! Meanwhile there was the cottage ruined and Bram — they almost—” Her voice broke.

  Luc cupped her cheek. “I would have come. I would have helped you. Damn it, Silver, don’t you know I lo—”

  Luc cut himself off, unable to believe what he’d been about to say. Unable to fathom the commitment he’d been about to make.

  But it was undeniably true, he realized. He did love her. He’d loved her since the first moment he’d seen her, proud and afraid but trying not to show it, pounding over the heath in the dead of night. He’d fallen in love with the mutinous tilt to her chin, with the improbable eyes that shifted from green to gold with every change of emotion. He’d fallen in love with her fire, her stubbornness, her intelligence, and the way she cared for the little band she’d made her family.

  Yes, damn it, he loved her. Loved her so hard, it burned like cannon shot. Loved her so much that it twisted him to pieces inside, making him forget all his old vows.

  He couldn’t love her. He was a man with a bitter past and a hopeless future. To invite her to share that future was unthinkable.

  His fingers tensed on her shoulders. “You can’t fight every battle by yourself.” He prayed she wouldn’t hear the hoarseness in his voice. “I’m your friend. You should damn well know by now that I’ll help you.”

  Just then the man with the missing teeth staggered out of the Green Man. “There, he’s the one,” he shouted. “That’s Blackwood. Get him!”

  Luc cursed. “Definitely time to leave.”

  Suddenly Si
lver twisted. She triggered a shot from her pistol back toward the door of the Green Man.

  But she was too late.

  She screamed as a bullet whined through the air and slammed into her side.

  ~ 23 ~

  She was bleeding.

  It was all Luc could think of as he cradled Silver against him and galloped east.

  Only a few minutes before she’d been stiff with indignation, brave enough to pick off an attacker at fifty paces. Now she lay motionless, her ivory dress streaked with blood.

  She groaned a little. “We — we did it. I got that bald snake with the gun, didn’t I?”

  Luc recalled the man’s howls. If he weren’t so worried, he would have laughed. “Perfect shot, Sunbeam.”

  “Tol’ you. Crack shot.” She gave a little gasp and Luc realized exactly how much pain she was in — and how much she was trying to hide it. “Never — talked about money. Have to pay you. Famous felon like Blackwood has to be paid…” Her voice wavered.

  “Don’t talk, little fool.” Luc kneed the great black horse forward. “Just hold on. It’s not much longer.”

  She smiled up at him in a vague sort of way. “Have almost thirty pounds put aside. Two shillings ha’penny of Bram’s too,” she added scrupulously.

  “Forget the money.”

  “What’s matter? My money — not good enough f’r you?” She was pale, so pale. Luc felt fear clutch at his heart.

  “Don’t talk. Save your strength.”

  She winced as he caught her close, and then her eyes closed.

  “Hold on. Sunbeam,” he whispered.

  And he knew he was talking to them both.

  ~ ~ ~

  His black gelding ate up the miles, and Luc managed to get Silver into the house before she regained consciousness. He was just carrying her up to his room when Jonas’s angry voice cut him off.

  “What’ve you done now, boy? Is it kidnapping you mean to try next?”

  “This is … the woman I told you about, Jonas. The little fool saved my skin, then got hit herself. I had to bring her back here.”

  “Dangerous, my lord. What if she tells someone?”

  Luc’s face was grim as he settled Silver on his bed and slid his knife along her sleeve. “She won’t.” Her chemise was bright with fresh blood. “No, not my Silver. You could torture the woman for a week and she’d still spit at you.”

  Jonas muttered darkly, but went off in search of gauze and hot water, tight lipped with disapproval.

  Luc went to work on Silver’s chemise. The soft cambric slit easily beneath the blade of his knife.

  He bit back an oath when he pulled the fabric away and saw her side covered with blood where a ball had burned between two ribs. Fortunately the lead had exited cleanly and the bones were untouched, as far as he could tell.

  Luc let out the breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. Then he saw the fragment of cloth lodged against one rib. The cloth would have to go, or she’d never heal.

  Luc prayed she’d stay under a little while longer.

  He was rolling back his cuffs when Jonas padded in, armed with a pan of steaming water and a pile of folded white cloth. “You want me to have a look, m’ lord?”

  Luc slid Silver’s dress closed, trying to ignore the smooth white curves and the tantalizing, blood-red crests. “I’ll do it,” he said hoarsely.

  Jonas studied him for a long moment, then shrugged. “As you say, my lord.”

  “We’ll need whisky, Jonas.”

  “Right here. Gauze and water too.”

  Luc’s jaw hardened as he uncapped the whisky bottle.

  “She’s still unconscious! The woman can’t drink, my lord. Not in that state.”

  “The whisky’s for me, Jonas,” Luc said grimly.

  A flicker of humor cross the Scotsman’s eyes. “Is it, indeed? Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

  “Well you have now, you ill-tempered wretch.” Luc took a long drink, then set the bottle down on the mahogany chest beside the bed. “You can leave us now.”

  The old servant looked like he meant to say something, but he only turned, shaking his head.

  Frowning, Luc took out his sharpest scissors and began.

  ~ ~ ~

  Twenty minutes later it was done. The cloth fragment was gone, the wound was clean, and Silver was wrapped side to side in soft linen.

  And Luc was shaking. Shaking as he never had in Rouen or even in the filth and stench of Algiers. The woman was a danger to herself. She didn’t know the meaning of fear, nor did she possess a scrap of common sense.

  And the bloody awful part was that he loved her for it.

  Luc slid a cover over his patient and turned to build up the fire laid against the day’s unseasonable cold. Staring into the dancing flames, he thought about duty and innocence. He thought about all he had been and all he’d become.

  And he thought about the auburn-haired woman in his bed who had no place in this new world he’d made for himself.

  But he had to repeat it again and again as the shadows lengthened and the wind hammered at the windows, carrying the tang of rain. Luc told himself it was only his imagination that he also smelled a hint of lavender in that chill air.

  ~ ~ ~

  He was running again, running through the cold corridor of memories, when the rustle of bed linens woke him.

  Lurching to his feet, Luc stared at shadows and the dying glint of embers in the grate.

  No swords. No pistols. No hard-faced guards with whips.

  Only in his mind, they lingered.

  His hands shook slightly as he moved to the bed. Silver’s face was covered with fine beads of sweat and she was talking softly.

  He smoothed a curl off her face. “It’s all right, Sunbeam. You’re on the mend. Just give in. Lie back and let someone help you for a change.”

  He didn’t realize she’d heard until she moved restlessly. Her eyes opened. She blinked and studied him groggily. “Hurts…”

  Luc knew she was delirious then. The stubborn woman never would have admitted such a thing if she were fully awake. “I’m sure it does. Move over here a bit. The sheets are tangled.” Carefully Luc pulled her against his chest and tugged a wad of linen from beneath her rib.

  As he did, her chemise pooled open over his fingers. Her breast, full and pale, lay wedged against his arm.

  Desire slammed through him.

  He gritted his teeth and slid away from her, calling himself a thousand kinds of fool. But it didn’t help. He might cover that silken curve, but he couldn’t hide it. The sight was graven on his memory.

  “Bram! Where is—”

  “He’s fine, Sunbeam. The boy is safe.”

  Silver seemed to shiver. She reached out and caught Luc’s hand. “Wind — cold coming. Must tell Tinker — cover the lavender.” Her eyes opened and she sat up, straining at his hand. “Must cover the lavender…”

  Luc pushed her gently back down. “The lavender won’t be harmed. Rest now. Go back to sleep.”

  Her eyes locked on his face, half delirious. Her hand rose to his cheek.

  Only then did Luc remember he’d forgone his mask after entering Waldon Hall. So much for all his careful precautions.

  “Luc,” she murmured, touching the scar above his lip. “Such a strange name.”

  Tinker had a loose tongue, Luc thought.

  “But — not disfigured.” Silver frowned. “Not at all. Beautiful.” Her fingers moved over the high cheekbones and along the ridge of his lower lip. “Just like in my dreams.”

  And then her eyes closed. With a little sigh she fell back into dreams.

  ~ ~ ~

  “What are you going to do now?” Jonas put down the tray he’d been carrying and scowled at Luc’s weary face.

  “I’m going to clean up a bit and then I’m going to eat that very substantial meal you’ve brought me, Jonas.”

  “Don’t be daft, Luc Delamere. You know exactly what I’m talking about and it ai
n’t food.”

  Luc sighed. “I’m going to see her through this and then I’m going to send her back home where she belongs. After that I plan never to see the woman again. Does that satisfy you?”

  “It’ll do for a start.” Jonas looked at the sleeping woman and shook his head. “The fever gone yet?” he asked softly.

  “I can’t tell. She seems to be sleeping soundly, but who can say if it will last?” Luc ran a tired hand across his neck. “And all she worried about was her bloody lavender. Damnable female.” But his eyes were warm as he stared at Silver’s face.

  “What about her family?”

  “Only a brother — along with a dragon of a servant. You’d better go around and let them know she’s here.”

  “Me?” Jonas squirmed uneasily. “What am I to tell them?”

  Luc clasped the black-eyed Scotsman on the shoulder. “I doubt that words will do the job, my friend. I expect they’ll insist on coming back with you to see her for themselves.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Dreams faded. Night slid back over the green hills and the neat rows of angelica and honeysuckle and dancing lavender.

  Silver tossed about, then opened her eyes to the first slanting bars of dawn.

  And gasped.

  Curtains of emerald silk moire ran before a solid bank of mullioned windows. The bed coverings were gold satin bordered in green. Every wall was lined with prints, elegant and detailed scenes of fighting ships in high seas.

  Then Silver saw the man standing at the window, one hand to the sill, the other clenched at his thigh.

  Her highwayman. And for the first time he wasn’t wearing his mask.

  As the dawn sun fell pale through the window she had her first real glimpse of him, of the chiseled jaw, of the slashing cheekbones above a mouth too full for peace or comfort.

  And he was beautiful, just as she’d thought. Just as she’d whispered in her dreams. Only they hadn’t been dreams.

  All the stories about him had been untrue.

  His white shirt was open, revealing a bronze chest dusted with dark hair. Not a hint of a disfigurement was to be seen anywhere.

  Silver moved slightly and pain tore at her ribs. The pain made her remember the rest, how she’d been shot as they fled the Green Man. After that he must have brought her here.