A Persistant Attraction

by Silvia Violet

  Mouton took another step toward her. She considered throwing the rock, but if she missed, she wouldn’t get a second chance. She needed to wait until he was closer and catch him off guard. She studied his face. He’d done an excellent job of altering his appearance, but he was Walter Linton, she was certain of it. Maybe she could startle him with her revelation.

  “We beat you once, Walter, and we’ll beat you again.” He laughed. “So you did know. I wondered. I planned to tell you before I killed you, anyway. I wanted you to know who was making you suffer.”

  “Even if you kill me, Rhys will hunt you down. You will not survive.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that. I have powerful allies.”

  “Like you did before? Reddington and Katrina didn’t help you then, did they?

  Katrina would have killed you like she did your brother.”

  “Katrina was a fool. This time, I’ve found much smarter people to work with.”

  “People who want to destroy England.”

  He smiled. “What do I care as long as I have what I want?”

  “And what is that?”

  “Money and women who have no choice but to obey me.” He came closer. She had to try something. “You will never have me.” She brought her arm up to strike, but he was ready.

  He wrenched her arm back, squeezing her wrist until the pain forced her hand open and the rock crashed to the ground. She beat at him with her free hand, but the blows did not affect him. He’d apparently learned a lot from his friends in Les Centimes. This was not the same buffoon who’d fled London after his brother’s death.

  Her heart hammered. She had to do something. She was not going to die out here alone, never seeing Rhys again.

  Walter captured her other arm and began tying them behind her with rope he produced from his coat pocket. She fought, wrenching her shoulders as she pulled against his hold and kicking back with her feet, but she couldn’t get loose. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let him see her cry.

  He pushed her down when he’d finished with the ropes. She couldn’t control her fall, and she barely turned in time to stop her nose from being crushed. The impact jarred her, but she recovered, quickly maneuvering herself to stand. She had to try to run. It was her only chance.

  As she got her feet under her, Walter fired a pistol. The bullet flew past her, ruffling the tall grass at her feet.

  “Stand still, or the next one won’t miss.”

  Walter moved toward her again. Her heart pounded against her ribs. What was she going to do?

  But her time was up. She saw only a blur as his gun slammed into the side of her head. The world darkened. She tried to claw her way out of the pain, but she failed. The last thing she saw was his laughing eyes.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What do you mean you let her go out unescorted?” Rhys’s heart pounded against his chest. He’d ridden at top speed since leaving Mark’s house, praying he would find Amanda safe at his estate.

  “She insisted she wanted to be alone. I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t think—”

  “No, you didn’t. You of all people should have known not to let my wife tear off on her own.” Rhys’s butler, Charrings, was the only one of his servants who knew the truth about his line of work. He knew what dangers might lurk for Rhys and his family. Yet Rhys knew he couldn’t wholeheartedly blame Charrings. Amanda was a hard woman to refuse.

  Rhys pressed his hand against his forehead and closed his eyes. Fear was constricting his chest, cutting off his ability to breathe. He had to get himself together. The one thing that would get you killed faster than anything else in his line of work was uncontrollable emotion.

  When Rhys looked up again, Charring inclined his head. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought you’d left your organization.”

  Rhys sighed with disgust. “So did I. Do you know precisely where she went?” Charrings’s face colored. “No, sir. Only that she would be down by the sea. She expected to return for the evening meal.

  “Did she take anything with her?”

  “A blanket, a basket of food and a book, sir.” If she’d run away again, she’d been poorly prepared, and that wasn’t like Amanda. It was growing dark. They dined early in the country so Amanda was hours late. “I’m going to get a fresh mount and begin a search. If she returns to the house, see that she stays inside and send a footman to find me. I’ll start my search along the cliffs.”

  Rhys wished Mark were with him. He was in no shape to conduct an investigation.

  But that had to change. Amanda’s life depended on it.

  Grisly scenarios flashed through Rhys’s mind as he made his way to the stables. He imagined Amanda slipping on one of the rocky paths to the beach and falling to her death on the rocks below. He imagined finding her lifeless body, dead at the hands of Mouton or d’Eglantine. He’d never been a man to consider God much, but he prayed as he never had before, longing to find her alive, desperate not to have failed another woman he loved.

  Moments later he was galloping down the road that led to the cliffs. He pulled hard on the reins. Something hung twisted in a tree where the path curved and began to follow the cliff line.

  He leapt from his horse and hurried to the tree, hardly waiting for the animal to stop.

  The object in the tree was a blanket, likely the one Amanda had taken with her. He searched the ground nearby and found her book and the picnic basket. Could she have simply gone for a walk and left her possessions, intending to come back for them?

  He searched the area more thoroughly, and his heart stopped when he saw charred paper that indicated a pistol had been fired. Panic rose in his chest, but he fought it. He had to distance himself from his emotions, or he’d never save Amanda. If she were still alive to be saved.

  He walked back the road and discovered horse tracks heading away from the cliffs—

  a single animal. He searched the area around the tree one last time, not wanting to miss any clues. On this pass, he found a frayed strand of rope. A scenario formed in his mind.

  He didn’t like it, but if he were right, then there was a chance Amanda was still alive.

  There was no need to tie up a corpse.

  He guessed that Mouton or d’Eglantine had shot Amanda when she resisted capture then tied her up. There were some storage sheds in the direction they’d ridden. The buildings were used to house the grain before it was transferred to the main silo. But the fields around them had lain fallow this year so they were not in use. They’d make a

  perfect hiding place for a man with a hostage. He prayed he’d find Amanda in one of the sheds. Alive.

  He loaded a second pistol, tucked it into his boot, then whistled for his mount.

  *

  Amanda’s head throbbed. She tried to move and realized her arms were tied behind her. With a sickening jolt, she remembered Walter tying her up and rendering her unconscious. Where was she now?

  She opened her eyes slightly. Walter was sitting near her and d’Eglantine sat next to him. Damn! If it had only been Walter she might have stood a chance of escaping, but with her hands tied and her head pounding, she’d never get away from both of them.

  She looked around as best she could without drawing attention. They appeared to be in a small barn or storage shed. Her gaze returned to Walter. She shuddered at the thought of what he might do to her. She had to find a way out.

  Walter turned his head and saw her watching him.

  She started to sit up, but her stomach lurched. She lay back down lest she vomit.

  Walter lifted his weapon. “Don’t move.”

  She gave him a vicious look, but she had little choice but to obey his command.

  “I know just where to shoot you to bring the most pain without killing you. You will die today, but it’s up to you how easily you go.” She thought she heard the distant sound of hoof beats mixed with the crashing waves. But she couldn’t be right, could she? No one knew where she was, and she’d not seen anyone besides Walter all a
fternoon. But just in case, she tried to stall. “You learned a lot in France, didn’t you?”

  He laughed. “Yes, I did, more that that idiot Reddington could ever hope to teach me.” His hands went to the button of his pants. “Now get on your knees so you can show me all the whore’s trick’s Stanton has taught you.” Amanda swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and shook her head in refusal.

  He trained his pistol on her. “Do it. Now.”

  D’Eglantine frowned. “Just fuck her then shoot her, Mouton. I don’t have time for games. We’ve got important business to conduct here.” Walter curled his lips as he continued to stare at Amanda. “Relax. We’ll take care of Stanton once I’m done with his wife. He’s not here now, anyway. We might as well have some fun.”

  Keep him talking. “Why did you ask for money when all you really wanted was to hurt me?”

  “Oh I wanted the money too. Reconstructing myself after nearly dying didn’t come cheap. If I could have you and a thousand pounds all the better. But I’ll settle for your utter humiliation.”

  Amanda opened her mouth to ask another question but the door creaked.

  “Drop the gun, Linton.”

  Amanda turned. Rhys stood in the doorway, two pistols in his hands.

  Walter laughed. “You drop your guns, or I’ll kill your precious Ice Princess.” Walter kept his gun trained on Amanda. D’Eglantine drew a weapon and pointed it at Rhys.

  Amanda’s heart beat so fast she worried her fear would kill her before Walter did.

  She watched Rhys, praying he had a plan to get her free.

  The standoff lasted a few more seconds, then Rhys fired his guns in rapid succession.

  D’Eglantine crumpled to the floor, taking a bullet to the head, but Walter dodged just in time. Rhys leapt between Amanda and Walter as Walter fired.

  Walter’s bullet hit Rhys. He collapsed on top of Amanda, shielding her from further fire. Walter drew a second pistol.

  Amanda tugged at her bonds, desperate to find a way to save Rhys and herself. Then a shot went off. Mouton staggered then fell as blood seeped through his shirt to cover his chest.

  Amanda turned to see Farrington standing in the door. He rushed in and pulled Rhys off of her. Rhys moaned and stirred but never fully roused as Farrington laid him on his side.

  “Are you injured?” Farrington asked Amanda.

  Amanda shook her head. Farrington reached to untie the ropes binding her wrists, but she pulled away. “See to him first. I’m fine. Really.” Farrington looked dazed as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what she was saying. He wasn’t behaving like the polished man she’d met in London.

  He bent over Rhys and peeled back his blood-covered shirt to find the wound.

  Amanda held her breath. Rhys had risked his life to save her as she’d once done for him.

  She didn’t care what he’d done, how he’d deceived her. The thought of him dying without knowing how much she loved him threatened to rip her heart in two.

  Farrington exhaled long and loud. “The bullet grazed his side. He’s lost a lot of blood but his pulse is strong. He should be fine.” Amanda exhaled slowly. “Thank God.” She felt relief, but with it came the full realization of how close they’d both come to death. She began to shake and tears poured down her cheeks.

  Farrington ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt and wrapped it around Rhys’s wound.

  “This should keep the bleeding under control until we get him back to the house.” As he spoke he turned to Amanda. His eyes widened at the sight of her tears. She saw a flash of raw pain before he managed to cover it. He quickly moved behind her untied her wrists. Then he pulled her into his arms. “It’s all over now. Truly it is.” With gargantuan effort, she forced herself to staunch her tears. There would be time for weeping later. Now they had to get Rhys patched up. “We would both be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

  Farrington shook his head. “No doubt you would have found a way to save yourselves. You both seem to have an indestructible quality a man like me has to admire.”

  He was once again the cool, controlled man she’d met weeks before, but she refused to let him diminish his role in the rescue. “You saved us, and I will not hear otherwise.” He started to protest again, but she held up her hand. “No more. We need to find a doctor and get Rhys back to the house.”

  Farrington nodded. “See if you can rouse him while I make sure these two are dead.”

  Amanda stroked Rhys’s hair. He stirred but didn’t awaken. “Come back to us, my love.”

  Farrington knelt beside her as she held Rhys’s hand. “They’re both dead. Let me look at your wrists then I’ll fetch the authorities and a doctor.

  Amanda didn’t want to release Rhys’s hand, but Farrington refused to accept her assurance that she was fine. While he examined her wrists, she asked him how he’d found them.

  “I’ve been tracking d’Eglantine since he left France. I tried to get a message to Stanton, but it missed him in London. I followed d’Eglantine here. I’m sorry I wasn’t faster.”

  “Rhys and I are alive. That’s what matters. Thank you again.”

  “I owed Rhys. I owed him a hell of a lot.”

  Amanda nodded.

  “I know that whatever caused you to flee London is none of my business, but I must beg you to give Stanton a chance. He’s one of the most honorable men I know, and he loves you, even if he doesn’t know how to show it.” Amanda wanted to ask Farrington how he knew Rhys’s feelings when she didn’t know them herself, but before she could, Farrington rose. “I’ll ride back to the house and summon help. Take my pistol just in case you have any more trouble.” Amanda accepted the weapon and let Farrington go without questioning him further.

  A few moments later, Rhys stirred again. Amanda called his name several times until finally, he groaned again and tried to sit up.

  “Lie still. Farrington’s gone for help.”

  “Farrington?”

  “He tracked d’Eglantine here from France. He tried to send a message, but it missed you in London.”

  Rhys nodded and managed to get himself to sitting position.

  “I told you to lie back down.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. You’ve been shot.”

  “I’ve had worse.”

  “Please lie down.” She put her hands on his shoulders, intending to force him back onto the floor. His eyes widened.

  Heat raced between them, as it always did when they touched. His skin burned through the thin fabric of his shirt. She wanted to bend forward and run her tongue along the smooth column of his neck, but she pulled back. She couldn’t let herself get caught up in his sexual spell again. He was in no condition for such sport. “You’re injured. You need to rest until a doctor can examine you.”

  “I told you. I’m fine. We need to talk.”

  “Not now.” After seeing him nearly killed, she had no defenses left.

  “I have a message from Cassandra.”

  “What? When did you speak to Cassandra?”

  “Miss Halverston and I assumed you’d fled to Devon. I went there searching for you.

  When I got to Northamberly, a missive had arrived from her saying you were here.” If Elise had not yet known where Amanda was when Rhys spoke to her, then he must have left London in the night just as she had. Her treacherous heart raced at the thought that he’d been so eager to find her. “What is Cassandra’s message?”

  “She said you should give me a chance to explain. She doesn’t want you to make the same mistake she almost did.”

  Amanda’s heart accelerated. Cassandra had run away from Mark thinking he did not want her. Yet the man loved her so much Amanda hadn’t understood how Cassandra could question what was between them. Mark hadn’t seduced her because of a bet, rather their affair had been Cassandra’s idea from the start. “Mark didn’t place a bet on my sister’s honor.”

  Rhys scowled. “That bet has nothing to do with my desire for
you, Amanda.”

  “Why should I believe anything you say?”

  “Give me a chance. Please.”

  The look of agony in his eyes and his pleading tone did her in. “Fine. I’ll listen. But only if you lie down while you speak.”

  Rhys obliged her, settling back into the hay. For several long seconds, he said nothing, knowing how much rested on his saying the right thing. Pain seared his side, but he ignored it, pushing it away from him. His injury was insignificant compared to his need to have Amanda believe in him. They’d both survived when the odds were against them. He wasn’t going to lose her now.

  Finally, he took a deep breath and began his tale. “I met an informant at my club on the night of Lady Leighton’s party. As I was leaving, I heard your name being bandied about. Stupidly, I went to investigate and found Walter proposing a contest. He challenged others to attempt to seduce you before he could. When he saw me, he insisted I sign the book, and several others cheered me on.” Amanda frowned. “You didn’t have to let him goad you.”

  “If I’d refused, he and the other men in the room would suspect that I truly cared for you. I didn’t want him to gain another weapon to use against me or to put you in further danger. Never did I think to win money by seducing you.”

  “What did you think to win by your actions?”

  “At first, a fun diversion. A liaison with such a passionate woman as you might help me forget the hell of the last few years. You seemed determined to discover what bedding a man was like, and I couldn’t stand the thought of some cad touching you, taking advantage of you. But I quickly realized I was in over my head. Within days after we struck our bargain, I could no longer deny that I was falling in love with you.” Amanda’s heart pounded. Her instincts screamed at her to accept his words. Deep inside she knew he was telling the truth. She needed him with every fiber of her being and she knew that if she left him again, something inside her would break. But before she could let go of the last of her defenses, she had to know that she would not spend the rest of her life living in a dead woman’s shadow.