Velvet Embrace

by Nicole Jordan

  Dominic had been gone several hours by the time Julian rose the next morning. Still concerned, Julian rode over to Greenwood, intending to give Brie a much needed explanation. When he arrived, however, he was informed by the lad who took his horse that Miss Brie had ridden out early and was not expected back before noon.

  "Was she alone?" Julian asked, knitting his brows.

  "Yes, milord. She didn't want anyone with her. But she was carrying a pistol. A body had better think twice before bothering her."

  Truly worried now, Julian requested to see Caroline and was shown into the breakfast room where she was still eating. "Where is your cousin?" he asked impatiently, not wasting time with polite greetings.

  "Why, she is out riding," Caroline responded in surprise. "But any of the servants could have told you that."

  "I didn't think Brie would be so foolish. Doesn't she know there are men at large who may very well be killers?"

  "Of course she knows! Who could forget it after the fire? Brie said—and I perfectly agree with her—that it would serve no purpose to sit at home cowering while some monster beats her horses and burns down her barns. Indeed, I wouldn't be surprised if Brie has gone in search of them."

  "What?" Julian said incredulously. "And you let her go?"

  "Well, what, may I ask, did you expect me to do? Lock her in the dungeon? We don't have a dungeon!"

  "For God's sake, Caroline, be quiet. I must think." Ignoring her indignant expression, Julian raked a hand through his hair and began to pace the floor. "At least Brie had enough sense to take a weapon. I only hope she won't be afraid to use it. Well," he said, stopping to glower at Caroline. "Don't just sit here staring. Get me some writing materials."

  His tone was so serious that she decided not to argue. She returned a moment later with paper, pen, and ink.

  Julian hastily scribbled a message and handed it to her with directions to have it delivered personally to Dominic. Then he picked up his hat and strode to the door.

  Caroline ran after him. "If you're going to look for Brie, I'm coming with you."

  Julian halted in mid stride, nearly causing a collision when he turned. His frown was menacing as he grasped Caroline by the shoulders. "No you won't, young lady. This is no task for a woman. If you so much as budge from this house, I will personally give you a sound thrashing. Do you understand?"

  "Y-yes, Julian," she stammered.

  He glowered a moment longer, then astonished her by grinning. "I only wish Brie were half so compliant. I'll be back as soon as I find her."

  When he had gone, Caroline stood there staring until she suddenly recalled his instructions. Obediently then, she turned to give the bellpull a tug and proceeded to dispatch a footman with Julian's message.

  Dominic had just returned to the Lodge when the note was delivered. Recognizing Julian's handwriting, he quickly perused the message, not having to read it a second time to realize that Brie had deliberately ignored his warning not to get involved. It read: Brie has gone after your quarry. Am going to search for her. Suggest you do the same. A t least she knows how to shoot.

  Dominic swore under his breath, calling Brie any manner of uncomplimentary names—the tamest of which was 'idiotic little fool.' Promising himself when he found her he would wring her lovely neck, he lost no time in calling for his stallion. He also enlisted Jacques' aid in the search, ordering the Frenchman to cover the territory south of Greenwood, while he took the north.

  Once he was on his way, galloping across the countryside, Dominic found himself growing increasingly anxious. If something should happen to Brie he would have only himself to blame. He had intended to tell her about his suspicions when he had called on her two days previously, but then the fire had made the situation far more serious. Wanting to get on with the search, he had not taken the time to explain.

  That had been a mistake, Dominic admitted to himself. He had wanted to keep Brie out of it, but he should have told her his plans, as Julian had first suggested. He could well imagine her angry reaction when she learned he was controlling her servants. She was too proud to meekly accept his orders without reason. But now she had deliberately gone in search of danger, and she could be anywhere within a ten-mile radius.

  When Diablo showed signs of laboring under the fast pace, Dominic slowed the sweating horse. He had been heading toward a distant stand of birch trees where he had discovered signs of habitation the previous day. The underbrush not only had been disturbed, but a charred spot indicated where someone had recently set up a campfire. The remains of several rabbits had been buried nearby, suggesting that the poachers had been there for more than one meal. Dominic was inclined to believe that the forest visitors and the men who had ignited the Greenwood fire were one and the same, and he meant to start his search for Brie there.

  The morning seemed unusually quiet. Even Diablo's steel- shod hooves made little noise, muffled as they were by the damp earth. In the silence, Dominic had no trouble hearing the shot that rang out, or the woman's scream that followed.

  He felt his heart lurch. Whirling the stallion in the direction of the shot, he dug in his heels.

  At that moment Brie was wishing she had heeded Dominic's warning. She had not intended to search for anyone. She simply had refused to be confined at home and had gone riding. With half of Greenwood's servants out looking for the arsonist, however, she had expected to be quite safe. Taking her father's pistol had merely been a precaution.

  She had ridden a good distance, letting Jester have his head, when she came to a shallow stream. The horse started misbehaving then, balking at the water and refusing to enter the woods on the far side. Brie had difficulty controlling the skittish animal, particularly since she was wearing skirts and riding sidesaddle, and she had further difficulty once they were among the trees. When they finally left the woods behind, Brie was in a fine temper. Seeing a field spread out before her, she urged the bay into a gallop, meaning to work off his fidgets.

  They were in full stride when a loud retort sounded from the far end of the meadow. Jester suddenly stumbled, then fell hard, pitching Brie headfirst and startling a cry from her. She landed on her shoulder, doing several violent somersaults before coming to a halt.

  The fall jarred her entire body. Dazed, she pushed herself up and shook her head to drive away the ringing echo in her ears. Her left ankle was throbbing, but otherwise she thought she was unhurt.

  The man who had fired the shot was moving toward her, but she only had eyes for her injured horse. Jester lay a few yards away where he had fallen, blood streaming from his chest. Brie could tell from his thrashing movements that he was badly wounded, and his feeble efforts to rise brought tears to her eyes. She wiped them away as the gunman approached, however, realizing that this was no time for sentiment.

  The man was a stranger to her. He was short and heavyset, and his rather ugly face sported a nose that had been broken at least once. He was grinning broadly, an unpleasant smile that made Brie want to shudder.

  Slipping her hand in the pocket of her riding jacket, she felt for her pistol and breathed a sigh of relief when her fingers closed around the smooth handle. She kept it hidden beneath a fold of her skirt, waiting to see what the man would do.

  Crooked-nose walked over to the wounded horse and savagely prodded the bay's neck with the butt of his flintlock. Giving a grunt of satisfaction, he turned to Brie. "Too bad about yer horse, ain't it?"

  Brie had no difficulty believing this was the man who had beaten Firefly and burned her stable, for she could see the enjoyment he was deriving now from tormenting a wounded animal. Nauseated by his cruelty, Brie inhaled a deep breath. "You obviously don't care for horses, do you? I assume you were the one who tied up my mare and whipped her till she was covered with blood."

  The man eyed Brie speculatively. "Liken it was me. Then again, it could 'ave been me brother. Martin likes to 'urt things, 'e does. It gets 'im excited." His gaze travelled insolently over her body. "Martin'll be right gla
d to see you. 'E ain't never 'ad a lady before. Bet you'll scream good an' loud."

  Recognizing the lecherous look in his eyes, Brie shuddered. If that leer was any indication, Martin would not be the only one who had his way with her. Crooked-nose would rape her first before turning her over to his brother. Brie began to feel frightened, even knowing she had her pistol for protection. "Who are you?" she asked uneasily. "What do you want with mer

  "Freddy Boulter's the name, but it ain't you I want. I want that Stanton fella. You'll be the one what brings 'im to me. I seen you and 'im riding together—an' I seen you comin' outa that cabin that day. Liken you'd been spreading yer legs for 'im"

  Brie felt her cheeks burn, but she tried to ignore Boulter's crudity. "What do you want with Lord Stanton? What has he done?"

  "I don't bleedin' know what ee's done, an' don't care, neither. I been paid to do a job. I mean to kill 'im."

  Hearing his cold-blooded admission, Brie felt her stomach churn. "I don't expect your employer would approve of your methods," she said shakily. "Locking us in the barn wasn't very clever. And you didn't succeed in killing Lord Stanton."

  The man shrugged his heavy shoulders. "'Egot lucky. But I mean to try again. I'll bet 'e'll come along right fast when 'e finds out we got you."

  He took a step toward Brie. "Now, little lady, jest you 'old yer tongue. Yer be coming with me."

  Brie abruptly drew the pistol and aimed it at Boulter. "I wouldn't be too sure of that, Mr. Boulter," she replied quietly. "I think you will be the one coming with me—straight to the local magistrate. Any number of people will be pleased to see you in prison."

  Seeing the elegant, highly polished weapon in her hand, Boulter froze in his tracks. Brie tightened her grip on the pistol. She was tempted to put a bullet through this horrible man, but she didn't think she could stomach actually shooting him.

  "Put down your gun, Mr. Boulter," she indicated the flintlock he was still holding. "It won't do you much good in any case, since you didn't reload."

  Boulter hesitated, regarding Brie in indecision. He had seen women who were handy with a knife before, but never a lady with enough nerve to use a gun. This one, however, was far from fainting or having hysterics. Even though her hand was unsteady, she looked as if she meant business. She might very well shoot him. But his alternative wasn't pleasant, either. He would be sent to Newgate where he would hang. He decided to take his chances with the lady.

  Swinging the flintlock around, he threw it straight at Brie, then charged her, trying to catch her off guard. Brie was in an awkward position to dodge the weapon, but she managed to deflect it away from her body with her arm. She couldn't do the same with Boulter. He landed directly on top of her, hitting her with the force of a battering ram.

  Brie felt the pistol discharge in her hand, felt Boulter's heavy body give a violent jerk. Then lights exploded in her head and she tumbled into oblivion.

  Dominic had reached the meadow a few moments before, but when he saw Brie sitting on the ground, conversing with the man who apparently had just shot her horse, he abruptly reined in his mount. She was still alive and he wanted her to stay that way. He would be risking her life if he charged across the meadow, for he could see the gun Boulter was holding and knew it still might be loaded. He also knew he couldn't hope for accuracy with his own pistol at that distance. His only chance to rescue Brie safely would be to circle around the field, using the trees for cover until he could get within shooting range and draw the man's fire. Even as he turned his horse, though, he saw Boulter lunge and heard the gunshot.

  Dominic couldn't tell who fired or if Brie had been hit, but dread gnawed at the pit of his stomach as he galloped across the meadow. He reached her in a matter of seconds, leaping from his horse to kneel beside the two still figures.

  When he rolled the man's body away and saw all the blood, Dominic thought for one heart-stopping moment that Brie might be dead. The front of her habit was drenched with red, and her face was pale and lifeless. Carefully, Dominic ran his hands over her body, but he found no wounds. Then he noticed the pistol still gripped in her hand and he let out his breath slowly.

  A quick inspection of the dead man revealed a ragged hole in his chest where the ball had penetrated. Dominic murmured a silent prayer of thanks and set about the task of reviving Brie.

  Loosening her jacket had no effect, so he gently slapped her face. Brie moaned, stirring slightly, then suddenly started to struggle. Dominic had trouble holding her down. "Stop fighting me, damn it! Brie, look at me."

  She froze, hearing his voice, then slowly fixed her gaze on his face. Dominic could see fear in the blue-green depths.

  She anxiously searched Dominic's face, clutching at his shoulders as she remembered the moment before she had blacked out. "What happened . . . to Boulter?" she whispered hoarsely.

  Gently Dominic gathered her in his arms. "If you mean the fellow who was attacking you, he's dead." When her eyes filled with pain and she turned her head away, he cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. "No, Brie, it is better to talk about it. Listen to me. It isn't easy to kill a man, and your feelings are only natural. But you acted in self-defense. Would you have preferred that he kill you instead?" When she took her head, he tenderly brushed a curl back from her face. "Tell me what happened," he urged.

  "I . . . I was riding across the field. . . . Jester . . . Jester is dead, isn't he?"

  The trembling of her lips wrung his heart. "I haven't had a chance to look at him yet," he said grimly.

  "He shot Jester . . . and he admitted setting the fire. Dominic, that man deserved to die."

  She gazed up at him, her eyes pleading with him for understanding, and Dominic involuntarily clenched his fists. Wanting to comfort her, he drew Brie more closely against him.

  Haltingly then, she recounted her conversation with Boulter, answering all of Dominic's questions. When she had finished, she closed her eyes and buried her face in his shoulder. "I didn't mean to kill him," she said, shuddering.

  A surge of tenderness flooded Dominic's heart. He stroked her tumbled hair and murmured meaningless words in her ear, feeling a protectiveness he had never before felt for a woman.

  Yet, all the while he was silently scoffing at himself. Brie hadn't needed his protection. She had proved her courage. Indeed, she had been braver than many of his acquaintances would have been in similar circumstances. She was shaking uncontrollably now, but she was only feeling the shock of having taken a human life.

  Giving a sigh, Dominic brushed his lips against her hair, then held her away. "Come, ma belle, we had better get you home. Did you break any bones? I hope not, for we have but one horse."

  Brie tried to smile. "Nothing . . . is broken, but I'm afraid I must ask for assistance. I'm not quite up to mounting a horse by myself at the moment."

  With Dominic's help, Brie got to her feet, but the movement made her dizzy. She swayed once before her knees buckled beneath her.

  Dominic caught her as she fainted. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried Brie to his horse, but he was saved the difficulty of mounting while holding her, for Julian rode up just then.

  Julian sucked in his breath when he saw Brie's blood-stained clothes. "My God! Is she . . . ?"

  "No," Dominic replied tersely. "Only bruised a bit. The blood gave me a fright as well, but it belonged to him." He tossed his head in the direction of the dead man.

  "Who's he?"

  Dominic gave Julian an impatient frown. "I'll explain everything, but later. Now I just want to get Brie home." When Julian held out his arms to take Brie up with him, Dominic shook his head. "I'll see to her. I got her into this mess. You can take a look at that horse of hers. Perhaps he's not dead and we can save him."

  He mounted his stallion, settling Brie securely in front of him, but before he left, Julian asked what should be done with the corpse.

  Dominic's mouth curled sardonically. "I don't give a damn what you do with him, so long as that horse is alive when
I get back. If Jacques heard the shots, he will be here shortly. He'll know what to do. I'll return as soon as I can."

  Turning Diablo then, he urged the stallion forward.

  The next few hours were difficult ones for Dominic. When he reached Greenwood, he was greeted with cries of alarm by the entire household. Brie's elderly companion was particularly shocked. Her face turned white when she saw the bloody riding habit.

  By the time the doctor had examined Brie and given her a sedative, Dominic was glad to make his escape. He returned to the meadow to find Julian and Jacques hard at work on the wounded horse.

  Julian showed Dominic the ball they had extracted from Jester's chest. "It didn't hit any organs, but there's a nasty hole, Dom, and he lost a lot of blood. It would be much easier to put him away. He isn't worth saving anyway."

  "I don't expect Brie feels that way," Dominic replied dryly.

  "I know. But if infection doesn't set in and kill him, the horse will have to have food and shelter. How do you propose to do all that?"

  Dominic's answer was a bit complicated, and several hours later Julian was still shaking his head. It had taken ten men to load the horse on a wagon and carry him to the Lodge stables where Dominic had designed a contraption to keep the injured animal from thrashing about and reopening the wound. A heavy net was suspended from the rafters by a series of ropes, then stretched under Jester's frame, holding him upright and immobile while a special harness supported his head and neck.

  Afterward, Dominic and Julian stood watching as Jacques applied a foul-smelling poultice to the raw wound and changed the bandages. Patrick Dawson was also present, for he was to care for the injured horse.

  When Dominic had inspected the coachman's handiwork, he drew Julian aside. "That should draw the heat and keep infection down. If the horse can live through the next week, he'll make it. I'd rather you didn't tell Brie about this, though. If it doesn't work, she'll only be disappointed."