“An' why not settle this like gentlem'n,” he chuckled. “As it appears you are one o' them fine fellows.” Brant sneered and Lawrence glared at him, moving to counter the coming attack.
“What on earth leads you to believe that?” he demanded. Only Mousy had known that the earl was his brother before he'd given himself over to The Revenge. Whilst he knew that Mousy would have told his crew once they were safe away, he didn't understand how Brant could have come to hear of it. He remembered, though, that the militia had been out in force when he'd set foot on land back at home, and the crawling feeling that he'd been betrayed returned all over again.
“Ye got a rat aboard, huh?” Brant chuckled. “Aye, see the money yer worth dead is a sore temptation, even to a loyal man.”
“Who?” he demanded, as acid burned in his stomach. The men who had remained with him had been loyal and true, or at least he had believed they were. The idea that one of them had given him up ...
Brant shrugged. “It's o' no matter now, my lad. Ye'll have no cause to worry on it in a moment or two, nor on anythin' else neither.”
Lawrence adjusted his grip on the sword and faced the two men. Maybe Brant was right and his time was finally up, but either way, he was taking the two of them with him.
Chapter 33
“Wherein our heroine fights fire with fire, and discovers a pirate is a very fine sight to behold.”
By the time Henri had everyone crammed into the tower room, there was barely an inch in which to turn around. Which was a pity as she really needed to pace. This was the worst part of being born female, she raged internally. Why hadn't she got Lawrence to teach her how to fire a gun when she'd had the chance! So they were all supposed to cower here while the menfolk went off and got themselves killed. And yet she knew without skills with pistol or sword she was likely to be more of a distraction than a help. The knowledge rankled nonetheless, and she vowed that if they got out of this, it was a situation that would be remedied. When she got out of this, not if, she chided herself. They would all get out of this alive, there was no other option. She heard a man screaming in pain and closed her eyes, praying - with more fervour than she ever had for her own safety - that Lawrence would be spared.
Though the sounds were muted, shut away up here, each report of a gun shot made her heart leap and her blood run cold in her veins as she thought on Lawrence and Alex, fighting for their lives below. She felt like she was suffocating and as one of the maids began to cry, she squeezed through to the little slot of a window. She could see nothing of the fighting as it was all in and around the house but she scanned the surrounding countryside, praying that someone would have sounded the alarm. From below male voices drifted up.
“Go and help Brant, him and Tready 'ave got Savage cornered inside, but we need to move. We'll get the place cleared out and then light it up.”
Henri felt pure fear slide down her back. Lawrence was cornered, trapped with two men after his blood, and once he was dead and the house looted, they would burn it down.
“No,” she whispered. They wouldn't take Lawrence from her, not now, and they wouldn't burn this beautiful house or the innocent people within. She tugged on Annie's hand, pulling her maid to follow her down the stairs. “Annie,” she whispered. “I have to do something, they're going to kill him and they mean to burn the house down.” She squeezed Annie's hands as her eyes grew round as saucers. “I'm going to go and ... and do something,” she exclaimed.
“But ...” Annie began but Henri covered her mouth with her hand to silence her.
“I love him, Annie, I won't let him die without even lifting a finger to help him. But these people need help too. You can't let them die up here. Keep them quiet for a long as you can but if the fire begins you must try and get them out safely.”
Annie's eyes filled with tears but she nodded and took a breath as Henri removed her hand. “Don't ye worry none, my little duck, I'll take care a them. But ...” She sniffed as tears began to roll down her face. “Oh, lawd, my sweet girl, please be careful!”
Henri pulled Annie into a swift hug and kissed her cheek. “I will, I promise, and you too, Annie. Good luck.”
Henri scanned the corridor, and finding it empty, quickly slid out from behind the painting and closed it behind her. She needed a weapon, and she knew Lawrence had taken his, but Alex didn't strike her as the kind of man who took chances, and she knew he had enemies. He was bound to have weapons secreted close at hand. With that in mind she ran towards his room and flew through the door. She turned out drawers and rifled through the wardrobe. With a start she noticed a beautiful wooden box-she had seen that in his cabin on The Revenge. With a prayer on her lips she opened the lid and gasped with delight as her eyes fell upon two, beautiful duelling pistols. Thanking providence, she slid out the drawer secreted beneath the box to discover powder and shot.
Once, many years ago she had stayed one summer with her father's cousin. She had been little more than ten but they had an older boy and his father had been teaching him to shoot. Although they had banned her from the lessons, Henri had persisted in hanging around and watching as they poured in powder and rammed in the shot. It really hadn't looked very hard, so ...
Biting her lip with concentration and trying to steady her hands, Henri loaded first one pistol and then the other. The sounds of fighting and breaking furniture were becoming ever more desperate and it was with resolution that she grasped a pistol in each hand, and headed for the stairs.
With her heart beating in her throat Henri stepped silently down the stairs, the clash of swords and the grunts of men immersed in a deadly battle coming from behind the staircase. Breathing hard she raised the pistols and looked around the banister and saw two men and Lawrence, fighting for his life. The clash of blades rang out and she stifled a scream as she saw a crazed looking bald man lung towards him, but her man was too quick and clearly too skilled, turning the blade away and lashing out, dealing the brute a swift kick to his stomach that made him groan and stumble back. In terror she watched, praying for Lawrence to get clear of the shot for she feared killing him too if she tried now. Blood trickled from a wound on his arm and another at his side, and his shirt clung to him, dark and sticky red. In agony she saw that they were wearing him down, but he fought on and for a moment she thought he'd felled the dark-bearded fellow as he yelled out and stumbled, but to her desperate disappointment righted himself again. Then, with satisfaction she noted the man limping and a dark slash visible on his thigh, not killed then, but injured.
With frustration singing in her veins she watched as the fight became ever more brutal. All around them lay the debris of broken furniture, hindering their steps and tripping them up as Lawrence fought for survival. It was as if time stood still in some terrible nightmare as she was so desperate to help but knew that if she called out at the wrong time, even the slightest distraction could get Lawrence killed. Suddenly he feinted right and then rolled, leaping to his feet and almost killing the bald lout as he lunged forward, but the fiend appeared surprisingly agile despite his bulk and leapt back, though he bore a deep slash across his chest for his trouble. The move however had put them facing her with Lawrence's back to her. Without another thought she yelled at him, the weight of the pistols making her hands tremble as she aimed.
“Lawrence, get down!”
The two men looked up and Lawrence's head whipped around, all three staring at her in astonishment. Lawrence gaped as he noted the guns in her hands and dived, hitting the floor. And she fired.
The noise was incredible and the power from the shots forced Henri to take a step back and she lost her footing, tumbling backwards down the stairs. Landing heavily, the air was forced from her lungs in a rush and pain exploded behind her eyes as her head hit a step, and then everything went dark.
She awoke to a world of pain. Her head was throbbing and her she couldn't breath. This last was quickly explained as she looked down and found a muscular arm wrapped tightly around her chest a
nd the cold touch of a knife at her throat. She gasped, struggling to get free and then screaming for him to let her go, but the man just tightened his hold and pressed the knife closer to her throat.
“Shut ye mouth, bitch!” he commanded, as she came to her senses and looked around, seeing Lawrence advancing on them, a sword in one hand, a dagger in the other and murder in his eyes. Beyond him she could see the bearded man lying dead in a pool of blood on the floor. Had she done that? She very much hoped so. She screamed and struggled harder despite his curses as the man holding her dragged her unwilling form backwards towards the front door. No, no, no, she couldn't let him take her. She saw Lawrence's stricken face as he followed, unable to attack for fear the man would slit her throat.
He would never forgive himself. And then she realised she could smell the coppery tang of blood and that her right hand which was pinned to her side was sticky with it. She focused for a moment and realised with relief the blood was not her own, which meant ... She drew her elbow as far forwards as she could within the man's iron grip and jammed it with all her might into his side. He bellowed with pain and momentarily lost his grip on her. But only for a moment, and Henri screamed as his hand shot out and struck her.
Dazed from the blow, her feet skidded in the blood that slicked a trail across the polished wood floor and she fell. Scrabbling in vain on the slippery surface she tried to get up but from the corner of her eye she saw the glint of a blade in the devil's hand. She cried out as Lawrence shouted, falling to his knees and pushing her flat, covering her as he countered the blade with his own, metal shrieking against metal in an agonising sound. Pushing Henri roughly out of the way Lawrence prepared to meet another blow, but his gigantic opponent was on the offensive and Lawrence in a vulnerable position on the floor as the blade smashed down on him from above. Sparks flew as the swords clashed and Lawrence was forced onto his back. The man drew back to strike again but Lawrence lashed out, kicking him hard in the knee and the big man fell to one leg, grunting as he righted himself again but not giving Lawrence quite enough time to find his own feet. Henri screamed as she saw the man's massive arms raise his sword and realised that Lawrence would not have time to deflect it before it struck him down.
Suddenly the man froze, his sword arm still raised as the sound of a gunshot exploded around them. As if in slow motion the blade clattered to the ground as the man dropped like a stone and Henri looked around in bewilderment to see the giant figure of Mousy standing in the doorway.
Chapter 34
“Wherein the brethren are reunited.”
“Henri!” Lawrence was beside her in an instant, hands checking her over, panic in his eyes.
“I'm alright,” she gasped, clutching at his arms. “I'm not hurt.” She shook him, discounting the pounding in her head as trivial because he was bleeding!
“It's not my blood,” she said, trying to reassure him so that she could look at what was most certainly his blood dripping steadily down his arm. “I'm fine, but you're injured.”
He waved away her concern and looked up at Mousy who was stepping over a dead body, one he'd apparently supplied, in the doorway.
“Are the others here? My brother ...”
Mousy nodded and dragged the body from the doorway, dumping it in the garden. “Ye brother should be fine. This bastard 'ere was on 'is way to 'elp 'is mates finish ye off,” he said grinning. “And aye, Capt'n, the crew's 'ere, alrigh'. I sent 'em round the back to get the earl clear, they'll jus' be moppin' up by now.”
Henri sighed and saw her relief reflected in Lawrence's eyes as he turned back to her. “My God, Henri, when I saw you ... I believe my heart stopped.”
She looked up at him and smiled, obliging him with a kiss as he pulled her closer still. They both watched as Mousy strode past them and kicked the body of Brant.
“Bastard,” the big man cursed. “I always hated that double dealing rat.” He turned to Lawrence. “A good day's work that was,” he grinned, gesturing at the corpse.
“Aye,” Lawrence remarked, nodding. “I only wish I could take credit for it. Henri killed him.”
Mousy looked down at her, scepticism clear in his eyes and she shrugged. “It's true, though I demand that one of you teaches me to shoot properly. The recoil knocked me backwards.”
“Well she did fire two at once,” Lawrence said, laughing at the look in Mousy's eyes and the indignation in hers. “Oh, ow,” he gasped, clutching at the wound in his side, though it seemed to do little to diminish his amusement.
“Oh, Lawrence,” she scolded. “We must see to that at once.” But Lawrence was frowning at Mousy.
“What the devil are you doing here anyway? I mean, not that I'm ungrateful you understand.”
Mousy grinned at him and sat on the stairs. “Been followin' ye. The crew didn't take kindly to their Capt'n bein' taken from 'em see. So we figured we'd see where ye was off to, an' ifin ye was handed to the militia we'd see if we could grab ye.”
Henri laid a hand over Lawrence's. He had said nothing but she could see he was deeply touched by loyalty of his men.
“Brant said we had a rat,” Lawrence said in the end, looking up at Mousy as though he wanted to be told it was a lie, but Mousy's face darkened and he nodded.
“When we got 'ere the men hung about in Bordeaux while me an a couple of the lads came after ye' to get the lie of the land. By the time I got back to tell 'em ye were safe with ye brother ...” He stopped, rubbing his jaw with one meaty fist. “Jay was flashin' the cash about like a bleedin' fool. Never did 'ave a bit o' sense that one.”
“Jay?” Lawrence repeated, sounding disbelieving. “He sold me out?”
Mousy looked sorrowful but nodded. “Aye, an' not for the first time I reckon.”
“Where is he?” he demanded, fury in his voice but Mousy raised his hand, shaking his head.
“'E's been dealt with, Capt'n. the lads, well ... when they found out.” He shrugged and Lawrence nodded.
“I've never been so glad to see you in my life,” Lawrence said, smiling at him.
“Nor I,” Henri added. “It was the finest, most wonderful sight seeing you standing in the doorway with that gun in your hand. I will never forget it, and I will never be able to thank you enough. You saved his life.”
To Henri's surprise and delight Mousy blushed and stared at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck and looking uncomfortable.
Lawrence chuckled. “Well I might have been moved to jealousy by that,” he observed, grinning at Henri. “If it wasn't for the fact I agreed with every word. I owe you a great debt, Mousy.”
The big man shook his head. “Nah,” he said, his voice firm. “That' ye don't an' ye know it. I've had a debt to pay, fer ... well fer gettin' ye into this all those years ago, but now, maybe we're even.”
“More than,” Lawrence said, nodding. He reached out to shake Mousy's hand but then their attention was taken by a commotion at the end of the corridor, and more of Lawrence's men, that Henri recognised from The Wicked Wench, piled in from the kitchens with Alex between them, his hands bound in front of him.
“What ye wantin' doin' with thisun, Mousy?” One of the men demanded. He was an inch or two shorter than Alex and built like a barrel, with thick, hairy arms covered in tattoos. He poked Alex with the nose of a musket as he spoke. "There's a number o corpses out back an' matey 'ere didna want to come quiet like. The bastard laid Nibs out cold and I reckon 'e broke Sharkie's arm, not to mention nearly breakin' me bleedin' jaw."
Mousy's eyes went wide with alarm. “Plague seize ye, let 'im go! I tol' ye that the Capt'n's brother was there, ye blitherin' idiot. I swear, Harry, ye got no more brain than a sea turtle.”
“Tha's the earl?” Harry said in disbelief, and looking him over Henri could see it was hard to believe. She had always thought he had a devilish appearance, what with those cold, flint grey eyes, but now, with his shirt filthy and in tatters, and the beginnings of an impressive black eye beginning to bloom, he looked thoroughly d
isreputable. “'E don' fight like no gentlem'n,” Harry added, sounding very doubtful.
“Thank you,” Alex said to the man with a grave expression before raising an eyebrow at Lawrence in amusement, apparently quite unperturbed by being held at gunpoint by pirates.
“I am glad to see you in one piece,” Alex said, and then frowned as he took in Lawrence's bloody appearance. “You are in one piece?” he added, with a touch of anxiety.
“I'm fine, nothing serious.” Lawrence said, getting up and then sliding back to the floor as all the colour drained from his face.
“Bed!” Henri cried. “Now. This instant! Mousy, help me get him up will you.”
She glanced at Lawrence and could almost see the lewd remark gathering on his tongue. Scowling she wagged a finger at him. “Don't you dare,” she muttered. “We're not married yet.”
Lawrence chuckled and submitted with very bad grace to allow Mousy to help him up the stairs as Harry released the earl.
“Sorry, ye lordship,” Harry said, looking sheepish. “I didn't knows ye was 'is brother, like.”
“No hard feelings I assure you,” Alex replied, clapping the man on the back and making him wince. “I apologise for hitting you into the rose bed, but I had no idea you were on our side.”
Harry rubbed at his jaw and glowered a little at the memory. “I guess we're even then?” he said, sounding a little worried, clearly not trusting the nobility to let such a thing go without causing trouble. But Alex just grinned at him and nodded affably, before his face became disgusted as he took in the bloody corpse at his feet. “Time to clear out the rubbish, I think. Lend a hand, there's a good chap.”
Henri swallowed, feeling faintly ill as they both grabbed hold of Brant's body. She looked away and left them to it, hurrying up the stairs to Lawrence.
The Rogue Page 20
