Punish Me With Roses - a Victorian Historical Romance

by Juliet Moore

  The gun shots continued and she realized that there must have been more guns in the room than she thought. Alexander was standing, his gun pointed at Riley, whose gun was trained on Alexander. They were both standing very still and she thought she would faint away completely when she considered the implications. In her heart, she felt Alexander could do anything, but did that include being a good shot?

  She heard a muffled groan beside her. She turned her head only to wish she hadn't. Her uncle was lying on the floor, and he wasn't moving.

  Lightheaded and sick to her stomach, she crawled toward her uncle. She heard someone else come into the kitchen then. Two shots went off in rapid succession, startling her so that she almost collapsed onto her stomach. She felt like she'd been punched in the arm. Then Alexander was kneeling beside her and whispering.

  "Oh, Victoria," he said again, his voice muted.

  "Alexander..." she said, his full name and the syllables rolled off her tongue with silky satisfaction. In his arms she felt warm and dizzy. From the happiness, she supposed. "Is my uncle dead?"

  His face registered confusion. "He isn't in the best shape, but he managed to avoid getting shot."

  "Then why do you look so sad?"

  "Victoria..."

  "I can't hear you, Alex." She closed her eyes for a moment, tired and love-smitten.

  "I'm speaking normally, dear." She felt something wet fall onto her cheek. "Don't you even know you've been shot?"

  She opened her eyes. "By who?"

  His expression was stricken. "Riley, that bastard."

  "Where is he now?"

  "Rafe got him from behind."

  She wasn't glad to hear it, as much as she feared for all their lives. "What about the other two?"

  "I got them."

  She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to look at him. She couldn't bear to see the expression in his eyes: shock and sadness combined in an unhealthy mixture of emotions. She cared too much to watch him struggle with what he'd done. His words seemed to say that he didn't care, but she'd killed someone herself so she ought to know what it felt like. They'd both been responsible for death, but that was where the similarity ended. His had been self-defense. She wondered if that made all the difference in the world, or if because of her stupidity, he would have to battle the guilt demons for the rest of his life.

  "They were willing to kill anyone that stood in their way. They went out fighting. They had no intention of giving up quietly. We had no other choice."

  "Am I going to die?"

  "No!" His arms wrapped tightly around her then and she began to feel the pain of being shot. But it assaulted her in such a manner that she wasn't sure where the bullet had hit her.

  "I hate to interrupt such a touching scene, but aren't you going to fetch the doctor?" Her uncle's gruff, irritated voice was wonderful to hear.

  Alexander's mouth was close to her ear and when he spoke, she shivered. "Rafe already went to get someone."

  Wind rushed past her ears when the door was opened. She had her eyes closed and listened to the new arrivals make their loud presence known.

  "What are you doing with her, Alexander?" It was the familiar voice of Rafe Randel, not always her favorite person. Hadn't he caused those men to come there? Had he had an attack of conscience at the end?

  "I'm supporting her. Do you expect me to leave her on the floor?"

  "You could have moved her to an ottoman or laid her down on a bed." Rafe's footsteps were loud and made her temples sore. "On second thought, that might have been a bad idea."

  "She's not unconscious, you know!" Alex said.

  "Let me look at her." This voice wasn't one she recognized.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder and finally opened her eyes. The face that greeted her when she opened them wasn't at all what she expected. The bright blue eyes and dark ruffled hair weren't doctoral and neither was the overly friendly smile the man issued her. "Let me take a look at you...what's her name?"

  "You can call her Miss Fyn," Alexander said.

  "Miss Fyn, you've been shot."

  "Who is this idiot?" Her uncle was definitely up.

  The man ignored the question. "Let's..."

  As they left the kitchen, her uncle thankfully able to walk, the men started to argue. "Why the hell did you bring Fabian?" Alex demanded.

  "He's a doctor, isn't he?" Rafe said.

  "The question is how much of a doctor is he really?" Alex questioned.

  "I'm right here, Alex. You can talk to me rather than insulting me to someone else," the man apparently named Fabian said. From his voice, she could tell that he was quite cultured and probably came from a distinguished family. His occupation made her doubt that, but his clothing also told of having money.

  "I stopped speaking to you years ago," Alex replied. "Don't worry. He's only going to treat her until I can get a real doctor to come."

  "Good luck." Rafe finally spoke again. "I brought Fabian because he just came to visit me and because, contrary to what you believe, he's a good chap. But I also brought him because old Bromley is busy with shipwreck victims."

  Alexander was silent, kicking open her bedroom door with impunity. Her uncle, who had directed them there, didn't reply either. Nothing was said until after she was laid on the bed. "You'd better not make any mistakes," Alex scowled.

  And then he just left.

  She started to cry, and when they looked at her she said, "It hurts so much." Not only did it bring the attention back to her, which really was more important than a silly childhood feud, but it changed the atmosphere in the room. Fabian started to hustle everyone out of the room and she heard them call for a maid to help with the examination. It was only proper and she continued to cry as they left.

  She was glad they didn't know the true reason she'd suddenly broken into tears. Alex had left her. She knew it would be highly improper for him to stay, but she couldn't be rational at that moment. And maybe she would have been able to deal with his departure if he had held her hand one more time or caressed her forehead with the tips of his fingers. But in the end, he hadn't even looked at her. No matter what his reasons, it hurt. She didn't want to think he'd forgotten her, but as she wept, she faced that possibility.

  The maid came in and together they began to remove her dress. In their ministrations, one of them put their hand right where she hurt the most. She yowled and finally, after all she'd remained conscious for, she slipped into oblivion.

  Chapter 13

  She woke up startled.

  She quickly sat up and looked around her bedroom, seeing it full of people who shouldn't be there. Rafe sat impassively in the corner chair, his knees as far apart as his morals. Her uncle was nearby, standing near the door as though poised to rush out. Finally, Alex was at the end of her bed, leaning against the carved wooden post.

  Her uncle spoke first. "Forgive the intrusion, Victoria, but we have important matters to discuss."

  She looked down at her nightgown and pulled the bed sheets up to her chin. "How long have I been asleep?"

  "Just overnight," Rafe replied, looking at his father.

  She looked away from her family. Alexander was silent, looking at her with a pained expression. "Is there something seriously wrong with me?" Rafe shook his head. "Alex?"

  He stepped forward. "Fabian says that you should be fine. The bullet didn't actually go inside. It was only a scrape. You could have wounded yourself worse with a kitchen knife."

  "Then why the sad, morose expressions?"

  Her cousin leaned forward in his chair. "It looks like we have a vendetta on our hands." He shook his head, looking at the floor as he continued. "Mr. Trevelyn's father and brother want to pay us back for something. Maybe they really do think that you are a murderess and should be punished. Or maybe they're upset that their criminal plans didn't work out the way they...planned. Either way, we have a couple of formidable foes on our hands."

  "But that was all conjecture." She looked
at Alex, still uncomfortably silent. "Has something new happened?"

  Her uncle grimaced. "They were the cause of this little fiasco. Or perhaps I should say Charles Trevelyn, the old bastard, was responsible."

  "Did they send those men to kill us? I thought Rafe was responsible."

  "Idle threats, my dear. I wouldn't do something like that and the proof is in my rushing over here to save my father's butt."

  She was thoughtful. "Are the two of you...reconciled?"

  Rafe shrugged and her uncle looked away. Men.

  "So it was Mr. Trevelyn who truly is responsible for this?" Once again, she looked at Alexander. Was it difficult to discover how sinister your own family was? Could that explain why he wasn't reaching out to her, wasn't comforting her amidst such confusion?

  Rafe shook his head. "The men weren't paid to hurt anyone, but they were tempted to violence. As you might have understood last night, they were from the ship that sunk. They knew that half of their goods had been stolen. Our good friend, Charles Trevelyn, disguised himself as a sailor and told them who was responsible for the theft."

  "And they pointed to my uncle."

  "Exactly."

  Her cousin became comfortable once again. She still found it hard to believe that they were all in the same room together. "How did you find this out?"

  "I overheard the conversation. I've discovered many secrets with elaborate espionage, but sometimes the best solution is the simplest." He smiled, quite satisfied with himself. "He and Michael are headed for Blackmoore--"

  "Where they'll tell anyone who might be interested where you are hiding," Alex finished, approaching the head of the bed. "Which is why we must make haste to get to the same place."

  "We're going to Blackmoore?"

  "No," her uncle replied. "We're going to Blackmoore."

  She looked from one man to the next, shaking her head. "You can't leave me here."

  "You need your rest," Alex said quietly. "None of us want you to suffer any ill effects from what you've been through."

  "But you said yourself that I could have done worse while cooking! I just don't think it's fair."

  Rafe stood up. "We're not going to a party, cousin. You should be thankful that you have the opportunity to stay in bed while we men do all the work."

  "I don't think that's the best way to convince a woman to take you viewpoint," Alex said, still standing close to the head of her bed.

  "You're probably right. Rafe and I will let you do the rest of the convincing. Meanwhile, we have things to prepare." Sparing her hardly a backward glance, John left the room. His son followed.

  Alexander sat beside her on the bed. "I know you don't understand our reasoning."

  "No, it's because I understand it that I am so angry."

  His hand went to her forehead. "Please trust me that this is the best possible way."

  She shivered with delight at his touch, but it also brought conflicting thoughts of the future into her head. What would be the end of all of it? Could he ever give her what she most desired?

  She looked away then, her eyes burning with unshed tears and her body straining with the effort of keeping it all inside. "You must hate me. All of you must because I caused all of this. If I hadn't been such a fool--"

  "Let's get a few things straight, Victoria," he said. "First, I don't hate you. In fact, the truth is quite the contrary."

  "How so?" she asked, trying her hardest not to let her hope show.

  He kissed her then, and it was such a kiss that she no longer doubted the truth of his words. In fact, she had lost all the built-up insecurities and guilt for her past actions that had obscured the truth. "You once told me all about your respect for the law and your pity for those that break it."

  "I may have felt that way once, but I don't anymore. You've changed me, Victoria. I don't know how you managed it, but you did. I used to think that every instance had its right way and its wrong way. But you're right...the world isn't black and white. And, you know what; I wouldn't want it to be. If it was, I wouldn't be sitting here with you right now."

  "I'm so glad that you are," she whispered. "But..." She tried to form the words, tried to ask him for something extra. Something that she wished could be possible, but didn't truly believe. Could he love her?

  Could such a man open his heart to a woman that had made such mistakes?

  Instead, she asked, "What is the purpose of this chase? What do you men hope to accomplish by going after your family?"

  "A confrontation. An accusation. Perhaps a few insinuations." He smiled.

  "I'm glad you can find humor at such a time."

  "Since I've found you, I can find joy in anything."

  She rejoiced. That must be love.

  "To answer your question more succinctly, your uncle intends to thank them for almost killing you."

  "This is your family they are talking about. Do you feel just a little disloyal?"

  "My loyalty belongs to those that deserve it." He stood up. "I think they'll be expecting me to finish in here. We need to leave immediately."

  He had taken his hand from her forehead and the removal of it suddenly made her feel empty and alone.

  "Fabian will be here to keep an eye on you."

  She shivered. "I need a guard?"

  "Just in case," he said, but the implication did not escape him. He frowned, looking around the bedroom nervously. "I don't believe you're in any danger. But if you were, rest assured that Fabian is a crack shot."

  "I thought that you didn't approve of Fabian." She felt warmer thinking of his jealousies.

  "I don't, but your uncle made that decision. I think they felt safer choosing a guard that Rafe knew personally, and someone not of this town. Then there's no chance he could be in league with me."

  "What are you implying?"

  "Just that your uncle doesn't completely trust that I'm on your side," he said, walking to the door.

  Immediately she thought that he didn't deny it to her. She assumed that it was implied in the fact that he was mentioning it to her. Was she getting suspicious again?

  His hand was on the door handle. "Don't worry, Victoria. We'll straighten this whole thing out and then..." He smiled broadly.

  Her heart did a somersault. "And what if it doesn't get sorted out?"

  He opened his mouth a second before the door shot open, hitting him square in the back. "Watch it!"

  Rafe stuck his head in through the opening and grinned. "I think it is you, sir, who needs to watch where he stands." He looked at her, then back at him. "We need to go. Now."

  Her cousin's head disappeared and Alex stood aside to open the door completely. He turned back to her. "I'll be back before you know it. Good-bye, Victoria."

  The moment he left her vision, she closed her eyes to the pain. What he was doing might be dangerous. While his father and brother seemed to have started out small, they were getting more violent. And it seemed that the more they were pressed, the more they bit back. She couldn't help but fear for his life. He had become so important to her.

  She lay back, trying to feel that something would finally be accomplished. She was able to relax just a little bit and feel more powerful than she had since the tragedy. Perhaps she would finally know what would happen to her. Would she be labeled a murderess or would she be labeled an unknowing pawn in a grand scheme? And what about her future with Alex?

  The pain swiftly returned like a physical blow to her chest. Had he done it intentionally? Did she need to be worried? She felt like mud.

  He hadn't answered her last question.

  * * *

  The knock on her door was faint, barely audible to her over her pitiful thoughts.

  "Yes?"

  Through the door, she heard, "It's Dr. Fabian Mallory. I just thought I'd let you know that I was here. So if you need anything..."

  She groaned. "If you'd like to speak to me, just open the door."

  "I believe that would be improper if it didn't have anyt
hing to do with your health."

  "There's going to be something wrong with your health if you don't stop talking to me through the door."

  The door creaked open. The doctor stepped inside the room. "How is your health?"

  "I'm fine."

  "Any headaches? Pain?"

  She could see that he was looking for an excuse. "Perhaps my bandage needs to be changed?"

  "Yes, let's do that." He came towards the bed and she saw that he'd already had his medical bag in his hand.

  "When did they leave?" she asked.

  "You mean Alex?"

  There was no use pretending. "Yes."

  "Not long ago. About an hour."

  She'd fallen asleep soon after he'd left her room. Through sorrowful dreams and terrifying nightmares, it seemed as though she hadn't slept as long as she thought. Dr. Mallory pulled a chair up to the bed and reached for her arm. He unpinned the bandage and began to unwind the gauzy strips. When he was finished, she had her first look at her injury. The blood hadn't even gone past the first layer of gauze and the scar was nearly imperceptible.

  "Not much of a war wound, is it?"

  He shook his head. "Not at all. If you want to see a scar, you should see Alexander's father. He sports a mighty large one on the side of his face."

  Somewhere in her consciousness, that was important to her. Was it something she had heard about his father?

  "But this cut is very insignificant. He wouldn't have left you had it been worse."

  She didn't feel completely comfortable sitting with a man she hardly knew discussing a topic on which she had so much riding. Instead, she asked, "Why did you feel it necessary to talk to me through the door?"

  "I told you. I'm a single gentleman and you're a lady. It wouldn't be proper, under normal circumstances, for me to be in your boudoir." He bandaged her up slowly, obviously in no rush.

  His quiet seriousness had so far been far removed from his reputation. "The funny thing is, from what I've heard of you, I didn't realize that was a concern of yours."

  "If you've heard anything about me, I'm quite sure there were no ladies involved." He grinned, revealing fine, white teeth.