Third Son's a Charm

by Shana Galen

  “And you wish to save her because…”

  “I don’t want her harmed. Can we walk?”

  “That time in Egypt, when I was taken by Turkish soldiers.” Neil threw his pack over his shoulder, which Ewan considered a good sign. “You didn’t want me harmed, but no one said you threatened violence while Lord Phineas took a week to bribe half the local sheik’s men.”

  “You aren’t as pretty as Lady Lorraine,” Jasper said, starting in the direction of Wight House.

  Finally! Ewan wanted to scream.

  “No one but Beaumont is that pretty.”

  Ewan rounded on Neil. “Don’t insult the lady.”

  “Then I take it you consider her prettier than Beaumont?”

  Ewan said nothing.

  “Does she kiss better than Beaumont?” Neil asked.

  “How the hell would I know? I never kissed Beaumont.”

  “But you have kissed Lady Lorraine.” Jasper paused and looked over his shoulder.

  Ewan didn’t say a word. He knew a trap when he saw it—even if he was already snared.

  “Why don’t you just admit you have feelings for her?” Neil asked once they were hiking again.

  “Did you do more than kiss her?” Jasper asked.

  Ewan glared at him. “I will hit you hard enough to make your ears ring for a week.”

  “I’d take that as an affirmative,” Neil said, then jumped out of Ewan’s reach when he grasped at him.

  “Exactly how serious is this?” Jasper asked. “Do you love her? Want to shackle yourself to her?”

  Love. She’d said she loved him, but Ewan didn’t know what that meant, what that felt like. Was the clawing sensation tearing at his gut love? Was that how it felt?

  “I can’t marry her. She’s rich and the daughter of a duke.”

  “You’re the son of an earl,” Neil pointed out. “The legitimate son.” An important distinction to Neil, who had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.

  “The third son,” Ewan said. “No property. No money. Nothing to offer.”

  “What a pile of horseshit,” Jasper said. “You’re a decorated war hero. You’re invited everywhere—or would be if you ever moved out of Langley’s hell. You’re from an old and honorable family, and you don’t need blunt because she has piles of it. Ridlington should be glad to have you.”

  “The real question,” Neil said, “is do you want Ridlington? Do you want his daughter?”

  Ewan was saved from replying when Jasper raised a hand. It was a signal Ewan and Neil knew meant stop. The two men halted as Japer crouched and studied the ground. This time Ewan didn’t have to wonder what had caught Neil’s eye. He saw the imprint of the boot clearly in the damp mud.

  Jasper wiggled his fingers, indicating the men could move forward again, but Ewan knew better than to make any noise. Not that he had anything to say. Silence suited him very well, and it would keep Neil from baiting him.

  They walked a few more yards and Jasper signaled again. Ewan halted and glanced at Neil. Neil’s gaze moved back and forth, searching for possible threats. The gesture had been second nature during the war, but Ewan hardly thought it necessary back at home.

  “Protector,” Jasper whispered and motioned to Ewan.

  Moving as quietly as he could, Ewan crossed to stand beside Jasper. He pointed to the ground, not as muddy here, but soft from recent rains.

  “Most of the footprints were washed away in the rain last night. This imprint is a bit deeper.” He pointed to an indention in the mud that Ewan hadn’t seen at first. It was smaller than the other and less well defined. “That’s why it lasted. The other was a beater case—a boot, but this…I don’t think so.”

  Ewan nodded his agreement. This was no boot print.

  “It’s smaller. Perhaps from a lady’s slipper.”

  Ewan’s gaze locked on Jasper’s face, now difficult to see in the shadows from the fading light. Another quarter hour and it would be futile to search for footprints until the morning.

  The deadline was midnight. Morning would be too late.

  “It’s hers,” Ewan said.

  Jasper looked up, then back at the print. “I can’t know that, but I do know it was made within the last few days. Otherwise it would have washed away by now.”

  “Lead the way.”

  Jasper flicked his fingers at Neil, and he followed, keeping an eye on the rear. Ewan didn’t know how Jasper could see to track, but he walked with confidence for another half mile at least.

  “You sure you know where we’re headed?” Neil asked, his voice a low rumble. “I don’t relish spending the night walking in circles.”

  “When have I ever led you in circles?” Jasper demanded.

  Neil raised his brows. “There was that time in—”

  “I knew you would mention Lisbon,” Jasper retorted. “A cove makes one mistake.” Suddenly, he raised a hand, and just as Ewan sidestepped to avoid smacking into his back, Jasper gestured down. Ewan lowered to his haunches, followed by Neil. Jasper bent double and crept forward. He moved through a dense patch of foliage, and Neil looked at Ewan.

  “This had better not be a diversion tactic so we don’t notice he’s leading us in circles,” Neil said.

  Ewan watched the spot where Jasper had disappeared. A moment later it rustled, and the bounty hunter emerged. He gestured for Ewan and Neil to move back a few feet with him. Under a large tree, he waved his fingers, gesturing for them to stand close. “There’s a cottage through those bushes. This looks to have been a wild garden at some point, and now it’s just overgrown. It was probably a gardener’s cottage or workhouse, but it looks abandoned.”

  “Empty?” Neil asked.

  “Looks to be,” Jasper answered. “Except I saw a rogue standing guard on what is probably the path to Wight House. He had a rifle.”

  “Why would an armed man guard an empty cottage?” Neil asked.

  “I wondered that myself.”

  Both men looked at Ewan.

  “Shall we go in and find out what he’s guarding?” Neil asked.

  “You think she’s in there?” Ewan asked.

  Jasper shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

  “Then we take it.” Ewan looked at Neil. “What’s the plan?”

  * * *

  Inside the dark closet, Lorrie had no idea how much time had passed. She knew night approached, but she intended to wait until it settled in. Even when she’d finally loosened the last plank enough to squeeze her body through, she hadn’t done so. She didn’t want to go until she had the cover of darkness to shield her.

  She’d whispered this plan to Welly, who had yawned without much interest. Lorrie had taken the opportunity to close her eyes and sleep. She’d slept perhaps thirty minutes when she sat, startling the puppy awake.

  “Welly!” she whispered. “What if waiting is a mistake?”

  Welly cocked his brown and white face and his soft brown ears lifted.

  “We can’t wait,” she told the dog. “I’m assuming they intend to keep me here several more days, but why would they do that? The longer they have me, the more chance something goes wrong. If this is a ransom attempt”—and she was more and more certain that’s exactly what the abduction had been—“we might be out of time.”

  Which meant she would have to make her escape now before true dark set in, because if her abductors intended to move her, that’s when they would do so.

  Lorrie pushed one of the loose planks forward and peered out.

  “Gah!” she hissed. “It’s only dusk.” Her white nightclothes would shine like snow under moonlight in the waning light. If she managed to make it to the woods, she’d cover herself with leaves and mud to dull the white.

  Lorrie eased the plank back into place and took a deep breath. Ten minutes. She’d wait ten more
minutes. That should lengthen the shadows and turn the pewter-gray light into more of a charcoal.

  Her hands shook as she began to count slowly and evenly to sixty. She’d do this ten times, and then she would gather Welly in her arms and run.

  * * *

  “That’s it,” Neil said, glancing at Jasper, then Ewan. “Any questions?”

  “What the hell kind of plan is that?” Jasper asked.

  Neil frowned at him. “If we were at war right now, I’d have you sent to the stocks for that.”

  “That’s why I never said it when you were my commanding officer. God knows I wanted to plenty of times.”

  Neil looked at Ewan. “Any questions?”

  Ewan had the same question Jasper expressed. But Neil had come with him as a favor, and he didn’t want to incur his friend’s wrath. “Go over it again.”

  Neil sighed. “Jasper and I approach the building, one from the left and one from the right. We move quietly and come from far enough back that we incapacitate any guards on either flank. Jasper takes the left flank. We know there’s a guard there, and he’s seen him and can anticipate his location.”

  “Thanks,” Jasper muttered.

  “Once Jasper and I reach the cottage, we flank the door. If all goes well, we’ve been quiet enough not to alert those inside. Then you come out of cover—that’s the bushes Jasper described in front of the place—and we knock on the door. When it’s opened, you pound the man who opens it. Throw him aside and pound the next one. We’ll cover your back and come in behind.”

  “And if the rogues inside are alerted to our presence?” Jasper asked.

  “Then Ewan runs out early and starts beating the hell out of anyone in his way. Ewan and I take care of the men outside while you go in and find the lady.”

  “She doesn’t know him,” Ewan pointed out.

  “She’ll only be frightened for a moment, and once she sees you, she’ll be relieved,” Neil said.

  “What if she won’t leave with me?” Jasper asked.

  “She’s little more than a girl,” Neil said by way of answer.

  “You don’t know her,” Ewan remarked. “She’s not…” What was the word? “Biddable.”

  Neil sighed and muttered something about chits. “Take her dog. She’ll go where it goes. Get her to Ewan and he can carry her as far away as possible. We meet back at the inn in the village. We guard her tonight and take her back home at first light.”

  “A lot of variables in this plan,” Jasper said.

  “Then think on your feet.” He looked at Ewan. “Don’t kill anyone. This isn’t France. If we can, Jasper and I will restrain the men so the constable can collect them in the morning.”

  “Don’t let them get away,” Ewan warned. Like Jasper, he worried too much about how Neil’s plan could go wrong. But it was better than any he might have devised. Neil moved in front of Jasper and Ewan, taking the lead. It felt natural to follow Neil this way. Ewan found it actually calmed him. Neil’s plans weren’t always successful, but he’d managed to keep twelve of thirty men alive through suicide missions Ewan did not care to remember. That was enough for Ewan.

  “Put on your dancing shoes, lads,” Neil murmured almost by rote.

  “Time to dance with the devil,” Jasper answered.

  The three started forward. As they neared the cottage, Neil motioned for Jasper and Ewan to get down. Being taller than the other two, Ewan caught a glimpse of the building before lowering to his knees. It looked as Jasper had described—old and in disrepair. No signs of smoke or lamplight that would indicate habitation.

  The three crept forward until Ewan was in position.

  “Jasper.” Neil pointed to the left, then to himself and to the right. He held up five fingers, intending to count down, but he’d lowered only one finger before Jasper started in his direction.

  Neil scowled. He hated when his plans weren’t followed exactly. Jasper, on the other hand, liked nothing better than riling Neil by going his own way.

  Or leading the men in circles, as Ewan was pretty certain the incident near Lisbon had been intentional. The troop had lost two men in the mission just before, and no one—except Neil, it seemed—was eager to engage in the next suicidal foray.

  Ewan peered through the bushes as Neil moved away. He knew the time between now and when Neil or Jasper made the first strike would seem like an eternity. His heart thudded with familiar excitement and a new sensation he recognized as fear. It wasn’t like the fear he’d had in the midst of battles—the fear that a cannonball would blow his leg off or smash his skull flat like the bodies of the men whose remains littered the ground.

  This fear wasn’t for him. It was for Lorraine. If he died fighting for her, so be it. But if she was killed and he survived, he did not know how he could go on.

  And what the hell was that feeling? Was this love? He would have died for any of the men in Draven’s troop, and he’d mourned them when almost twenty of them had been killed. But he’d gone on. There had never been a question of wanting to live. But without Lady Lorraine in his life, Ewan couldn’t see the point.

  Something on the left side of the cottage, near where Jasper would emerge, moved. Ewan drew his shoulders down and tried to find a better view. Had Jasper already taken the guard?

  Part of the wall of the cottage seemed to push out, and then a small ball of fur Ewan recognized dropped to the ground, followed by long legs clad in white.

  Ewan wanted to scream at Lorraine to go back. Not now! Of all the times to make an escape attempt. Why should he be surprised she’d chosen now?

  “Hey!” the guard Jasper had mentioned yelled.

  Lady Lorraine tumbled out of the wall of the cottage, looking right, then left. And stumbling as though disoriented. The guard on her left started for her, and to Ewan’s horror, she ran toward him. Any sane person would have run the other way. Neil’s plans were shot to hell now. Without waiting for Neil and Jasper to circle around, Ewan jumped out of the bushes and raced to intercept Lorraine.

  * * *

  “Welly!” Lorrie yelled. “Come, Welly!”

  But the little dog raced, yipping with all the ferocity of a child’s toy, toward the guard charging them. Lorrie could see exactly what would happen. Welly would nip at the guard’s heels and the guard would kick him away and hurt the little puppy. She couldn’t leave Welly alone and hurt in the woods.

  The silence of the late afternoon shattered as the guard yelled at her again, Welly barked, and more shouts rang out. Lorrie didn’t bother to look behind her. If the men in the house were after her, she’d rather not know how quickly she’d be apprehended.

  “Welly!” she yelled again, but the little dog’s fur bristled and his focus was centered on the guard who had almost reached them. Lorrie took two more steps, bent to retrieve Welly, and missed.

  An arm came around her waist and lifted her off the ground and away from her puppy.

  “No!” She fought her captor’s hold, twisting and kicking violently. The man was like a marble statue. Her efforts were useless. She screamed one last warning to Welly, then watched in amazement as a man with dark hair falling over a face with one side horribly disfigured grabbed the guard by the back of the neck and threw him down. Welly seemed equally surprised, dancing and barking around the men as they struggled on the ground.

  “Stop kicking,” a voice said in her ear.

  Lorrie froze. She knew that voice—that low stilted growl. She’d know it anywhere. Her Viking!

  “Ewan!” She tried to crane her neck to see him, but at most she caught a glimpse of light hair. Behind him, shouts and the sound of muffled thuds punctuated the air. She couldn’t see anything or do anything about the way he carried her into the woods and away from Welly. “Put me down.”

  “No.”

  “But Well—my dog. I can’t leave him.”

>   He swore under his breath, and that was his only response before he deposited her—none too gently—behind a row of shrubs. He took both of her shoulders and turned her so she could see his face. “Run.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll fetch the dog. You run.” To emphasize his words, he pushed her away from him.

  She stared into his blue eyes. “Promise? You won’t leave Welly behind?”

  Ewan nodded. Lorrie took two steps away, then three, then raced back to him. She threw her arms around him, hardly able to believe he was real.

  “I knew you’d come,” she said, squeezing his solid form with all her strength and the love flowing through her. “I knew you’d find me.”

  “Go.” He pushed her away again, this time more gently.

  Lorrie ran.

  Twenty

  Ewan hadn’t expected the embrace. He hadn’t expected the words she’d given him. She’d believed he would come for her. She had trusted in him. No one in his life, save the men of Draven’s troop, had ever trusted in him or relied on him or believed he was capable of anything more than brute feats of strength.

  His head felt strangely light as he turned and tromped through the overgrown garden. He almost wanted to smile.

  In the midst of the clearing, Neil valiantly fought off three men who had surrounded him. On the left, Jasper dealt what looked to be a final blow to the guard he’d incapacitated. The dog—the goddamn dog—made whining noises, as if deprived of the pleasure of attacking the man himself. Neil needed his immediate assistance, and Ewan jumped into the fray, his back to Neil’s.

  “Just like old times,” Neil said, throwing a punch.

  Ewan ducked and jabbed. “Once again, I save your arse.”

  Neil laughed, but when the next punch landed, Ewan lifted one of the abductors and tossed him into the man who had hit Neil. Both men went down, groaning softly. The third man, eyes wide, took a step back. Neil wiped sweat from his eyes, but Ewan wasn’t even winded.

  “Go ahead,” he goaded the man, sticking his jaw out. But the abductor thought better of it and raced into the trees. Ewan started after him, but Neil grabbed his arm.