The Right One (One and Only Series)

by Samanthya Wyatt

Kat could not believe a man could move so fast. One minute he stood a few feet away, confident strength emanating from every inch of his broad-shouldered frame, and the next she was shoved to the ground. Her knight in shining armor fought like a devil. He used long legs to kick, and his fists punched in succession, creating a blur. Muscles bunched as he moved. What a sight.

  With one lout sprawled on the dirt, she cheered her protector. While his back was turned, the man called Augie pulled a knife from his boot.

  “Look out!”

  Her champion jolted at her cry. He turned around too late to protect himself. Augie buried the blade in the man’s side. Without slowing, his face a mask of pure rage, her knight fought his attacker. Grunts and growls echoed in the alley as the two men charged like animals. Kat heard an ear-splitting crunch and then Augie’s head rolled to the side and his body flopped on the ground.

  Kat pressed her fist to her mouth in terror.

  A scream surged to rip from her throat, but died an instant death at the sight of blood pouring from her rescuer.

  He stumbled and dropped to his knees before he fell with a thud onto the packed earth. A heart-stopping moment passed as she stared at the unmoving man.

  When she regained some of her scattering wits, she ran to his side. Her rescuer now needed rescuing. Kat raised a trembling hand to his forehead. Of course he’d still be warm even if he was dead. She pressed two fingers just below his jaw, as she’d seen one of the men at her uncle’s stable do to another who had taken a bad fall from a horse. Yes. The little blue vein gave a slight jump. If his heart still beat, this gent must be alive.

  She tried rolling him on his back. Great day, he was heavy. Struggling, she finally turned him over and discovered her hands covered with blood. She stared at the sticky mess on her fingers. So much red. Her hands shook. A heavy odor overwhelmed her senses causing bile to rise in her throat. She wiped her hands on the front of her gown, scrubbing the image from her mind.

  Taking a deep breath, she regretted her action as once again the fresh smell of blood hit her. She covered her nose with the fabric at her elbow, and calmed her breathing. She focused on the man lying helpless on the ground.

  How can he still be alive with so much blood draining out of him?

  Boots hammered the earth. Kat’s head jerked. Two men ran in her direction. Her heart pounded harder. What should she do? What could she do? She was a mere woman, and alone. Surely they were not after her? Would she have to fight for her life again? She fisted her hands and hardened her resolve—and prayed they were here to help her.

  She rose as they rushed forward. These men were much larger than the first two who grabbed her. A beard covered the older man’s face. His dark scowl made Kat take a step backward. He may have had a few gray hairs, but he did not lack muscle. The younger man, a bit taller, also flexed bulging muscles. Flowing blond hair enhanced his blue eyes. But the look he gave seared her to the bone.

  The bearded man dropped to his knee and placed two fingers on the side of the injured man’s neck. “He’s alive.”

  The younger man eyed Kat. “What happened?”

  She could not make the words come out of her mouth. Were they friend or foe?

  “Look George, she’s got blood on her hands.”

  Shocked, Kat stumbled against the wall.

  “It’s her.”

  “Don’t be getting any ideas, Missy. You stay right where you are,” the bearded man said. Then his hands moved over the unconscious man, searching for a wound—jerking Kat out of a daze.

  “He’s hurt.”

  “I see that, girl.”

  “He was stabbed.”

  For a fraught moment, the man’s hateful glare landed on her. “By you?”

  Kat’s gasp sounded loud to her own ears. “No! By him.” She pointed at Augie.

  The younger man focused on the limp body. “Neck’s broke. Himself musta done it.” Then he moved to the other attacker on the ground. “This one’s still breathing.” He returned to the bearded man’s side, leaned down, and whispered, but Kat heard him.

  “She’s the one.”

  Fear rose in her throat suffocating her. What did he mean ‘she’s the one’?

  A shout sounded and Kat jerked up to find another man bearing down on them. Oh, God. She was alone. Would these men be any nobler than the first two? Panic set in. Gathering her skirts, she fled.

  Running footsteps sounded behind her. Blood pounded in her temples as if the mighty Thor did the hammering himself. Pain in her chest excruciating enough to bring her to her knees. Kat ran for her life.

  They followed.

  She had to get away.

  She picked her way through the maze of buildings and raced along a stone wall, searching for a place to hide. Her chest burned as her heart pumped, but she could not slow down.

  The crunching sound of pebbles rang in her ears, as loud as thunder cracked. Turning her head, she peeked over her shoulder for the two men. Her legs shaky, she jerked forward and sprinted around a corner. Gasping for breath and ignoring the pain in her side, she ran on . . . until her boot caught—

  The world abruptly went still.

  Her body moved slowly, as if she drifted above it, watching, waiting to hit the ground. Where were her arms? She tried to reach out, to break her fall. God, please. No. Don’t let me . . . her hip slammed . . . then her shoulder bounced, hitting the ground, knocking the breath from her lungs. She saw stars and waited for the world to right itself.

  My God!

  Get up, her mind screamed.

  She cocked her head, listening for sounds of the thugs behind her. An eternity later, she heard voices. Voices wafted far enough away to give her barely a moment of relief. They could find her any moment. Her leg muscles cramped, she struggled to her feet. With shaking hands, she pulled her cloak around her and clutched it tightly to her bosom. Gathering all the courage she could muster, she plunged onward.

  Crazed with fear, her chest rose and fell at a furious speed. She sucked air through her nose and willed her brain to function. Her steps forced, she made her way along the row of buildings lined down the road. As she rounded another corner she found a small passageway and slid into the space in the wall. She turned her head inward not daring to look back. Closing her eyes seemed foolish, but she did it anyway. She gulped a mouthful of air in fear they would hear her and find her safe haven. She tried to slow her racing heart while she strained for any sound that would tell her they’d gone. With her cheek plastered against the wall, she heard nothing but the thumping pulse-beat of blood pumping wildly through her veins. Kat prayed her pursuers could not hear her pounding heart.

  A hand came over her mouth startling a strangled cry, with no escape, from her throat. Desperate, her fingers clawed at the arm that confined her. Cold terror fell away, replaced by hot rage. Her muscles swelled with purpose and her mind vividly pictured her next course of action. Recalling her brother’s teachings, Kat bit her attacker’s hand. She ducked as she’d been taught, then aimed a violent knee at his ballocks.

  “Damn, Jeremy. The little wildcat’s trying to kill me. Grab her.”

  Jeremy jerked her arm with such force she thought he’d pulled it off. The other man grabbed her from behind and placed one hand around her throat. Tears threatened as the men overpowered her. Kat fought with every instinct for survival she possessed. She opened her mouth to scream.

  Sudden pain pierced her temple.

  Darkness descended, weighing her down, until . . . there was . . . nothingness.

  She dreamed of men’s voices. Floating in a cloudy haze, she could not open her eyes. Someone carried her. She was so sleepy. Or was she dreaming? She didn’t think so. Her limbs leaden, she could not move. Sleep. Blessed sleep.

  Lightning struck across the sky and thunder crac
ked, shattering the silence around her. She woke with a start. Voices shouted and she heard weeping. Climbing from her bed, she threw on a dressing gown and ran toward the sounds. She heard disorder and confusion among the staff. Katherine ran down the stairs and found her mother’s personal maid wailing, like the hounds of hell had found her. What is it? Where is mother? Silence filled the air and all eyes turned to her. She took a step backward as the woman ran toward her with outstretched arms. She pulled Kat tight against her bosom, cradling her while she moaned nonsense over and over. Kat pushed her away. She didn’t want to hear it. Not her parents. No. It wasn’t true. They were fine. Where were they? What was everyone looking at? No. Nooooo.

  She leaned over, grasping the reins and raced like the very wind, enlivened by the powerful strides. With a satisfied grin and words of praise, she urged the mare to a faster pace. Freedom. She was wild and free, as free as a fourteen-year-old could be. Her parents would be horrified . . .

  “Now, Kitten. You know a ship is no place for a young girl. I will take you to live with Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Albert.”

  He told her goodbye. He really is leaving without me. He’s walking out of my life. It was too soon after losing their parents. “I can’t lose you too. You can’t leave me here alone. It’s not fair. Don’t you want me?” Kats arms locked around him, tears streamed down her cheeks. She wouldn’t let him go. “Please don’t go. Please. Take me with you.” She’d do anything to stay with him. “Please, Stephen. Don’t do this.” She clung to him. He pried her fingers from the death grip she had on his shirt and forced her hands away. “Don’t leave me. No, Stephen. Nooooo.”

  Kat drifted, struggling to come out of the fog around her. Surely the haze would lift sometime. She struggled to open her eyes. Bright light made her squint and her temple throbbed like the very devil. With great effort, her lashes lifted while her eyes tried focusing on her surroundings. A bedchamber. A high bed, big enough to get lost in, with a mauve coverlet made of the finest silk.

  Struggling to sit, she rose slowly hoping to ease the hammering in her head and lowered her feet over the side. She placed a hand on each side of her body for balance—arms braced, her fingers clutched at the covering. Her hand weighed heavy as she smoothed the mass of hair out of her face. With the greatest effort, her leaden arms tried to wrap themselves about her torso.

  Blinking against the brightness, she went over what she could remember. She struggled to discern if the blurred images in her mind were real or simply dreams. Then the tormenting vision of a head rolling limply on a broken body hurtled reality right in her lap.

  Oh my God! What kind of nightmare am I in?

  She flexed her shaking fingers, then her arms and legs, trying to get the blood circulating through her lifeless limbs. The memory of a man’s hand over her mouth and the terror shooting through her entire body made her heart constrict as though a hand squeezed it. Moisture formed under tight lids as she fought the dark image forming in her mind. A cloud of despair made her want to weep in misery.

  No.

  Her fingers swiped at tears and she cursed, using words she’d heard from some of the men back home—when she wasn’t supposed to be listening. Crass as they may be, those very words seemed appropriate at this moment.

  Self-recrimination changed to utter confusion. Where was she?

  She’d been abducted, that was obvious. What did they want with her? She remembered the man’s words.

  She’s the one.

  Surely they could not believe she stabbed her rescuer. Apparently they did. But he saved her from those horrible ruffians. However, these men would not know that. If they thought she stabbed him, what would they do with her—to her? She prayed he had not died. Her only chance would be if he still lived.

  She ignored the murkiness in her brain and stood, finding her legs none too steady. She slipped to the door. With her hand on the knob, she leaned against the hard wood, and listened. Hearing nothing, she tried to open the door.

  Just as she’d thought.

  Locked.

  Blinking away her blurred vision, she inspected the bedchamber that—evidently for now—served as her prison.

  And what a prison. The luxuries around the room made it obvious the proprietor believed in solace. Colorful tapestries hung on the walls giving the room a welcoming warmth. Hand woven carpets covered the floor inviting and offering comfort. This room loomed much larger than her bedchamber at her aunt and uncle’s. Everything had been done in bold colors of dark pink and rich hues of gold. A large bed with four reeded posts held a canopy of shimmering silk draperies trimmed in the same brilliant colors.

  A set of matching mahogany tables adorned each side of the bed and a dressing table etched with deep carvings—such a beautiful creation the likes of which she’d never seen. The lovely mirrored vanity reflected bottles of perfume lined on top and other trinkets scattered about. To the side, a large stone hearth with a fire already burning. Two cozy high-backed chairs in the same rich colors faced the fire, with a round table between them holding a large vase with what looked like various freshly cut flowers. As she neared the table, she inhaled their fragrance—Honeysuckles, Lilies of the Valley and her favorite, Blue Cornflowers. Their sweet syrupy scent reminded her of home. Such an elegant room. She would never have expected her prison to be this grand. Kat closed her slackened jaw. Why would anyone put their captive in such lavish surroundings?

  Turning toward the massive side-table, she spotted a washing bowl of excellent porcelain, with a matching pitcher. After sponging her face, Kat reached for the dainty towel hanging on the silver rod. She touched the towel to her face.

  Heavy booted footsteps stopped on the other side of the door.

  She stood still, the cloth clenched in her fingers.

  A hard knock echoed.

  Chapter 4

  Kat’s heart thumped. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer. Before she could decide what to do, it opened slowly and a petite woman appeared. The maid stared agog, then dropped her gaze to the floor. The tray she carried had a tantalizing aroma that made Kat’s mouth water. When she realized the woman was leaving without saying a word, she jumped forward. “Wait.”

  The maid stopped but did not turn around.

  “Please,” Kat said.

  “Is the room not to your liking?” A loud voice came from the doorway.

  The girl scurried past the man at the door—the bearded man from the alley. His face dark as a thundercloud. So he brought her here. How long had she been asleep? Her head hurt. Had he struck her? Fear bordered on outrage. These scoundrels had acted without a care. Rash, callous, and malicious—if the pain in her head was anything to go by.

  Calm down. Take deep breaths.

  Cold eyes chilled her and he terrorized her with a frown. “I’m his lordship’s right hand man. I’m here to tell you to behave yourself.”

  “Now, George. Is that any way to speak to our guest?” An older gentleman stepped around George carrying a black bag like a doctor would own. “Pardon his manners. He was raised in a barn.”

  “Now listen here, Doc. She stabbed his lordship.”

  What? “I did not.”

  Doc’s brow rose to hide under a shock of blond hair. “Is that so?”

  “Of course it’s so,” the offensive George said.

  “No!”

  “Run along, George. I’ll deal with this.” With visible tightness, the man called Doc dismissed the other man.

  “What do you mean, run along?” George mumbled more words as Doc ushered him out the door.

  Doc had a kind, yet serious face. Evidently he did not hold her in contempt as the other man had. Not young, but not too old. A head full of blond hair hung in disarray about his shoulders. She elevated her chin as he studied her. “Well, well. A little more to the right and you�
��d have a shiner.”

  “What?” Kat’s hand flew to her temple. Which didn’t help at all. The spot beside her eye was slightly puffy and sore.

  “Yes. You have a kaleidoscope of colors there. Not as pretty as a rainbow, I’m afraid.”

  Everything came back in a flash. Her face heated as blood rushed to the surface. “Oh, dear.”

  “Yes. Oh, dear.” He placed his bag on the bed, his eyes glinting with conjecture. “Does it hurt?”

  If she were sporting a bruise, what did he think? Yet he had gentle eyes. She couldn’t understand her instant liking of this new man. Maybe he initiated biting wit as his physician’s bedside manner.

  If he is a doctor.

  She screwed up her face and spoke with sarcastic scorn. “It feels like someone hit me in the head.”

  Moments passed as he stared. The silence lengthened, and she became uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Nothing could be gained in angering her captor, but she couldn’t help herself. “Have you never seen a woman with a multihued face?”

  “You didn’t do it, did you?”

  Was he crazy? “Do what? Hit myself?”

  His expression never changed. “Stab him.”

  Oh. Did this Doc believe her or did he test her? She wished she knew. “No. I did not.” Surely he had to believe her. And if he were a doctor . . . “How is he?”

  He gentled his expression. “The fever is keeping him unconscious. However, he is a fighter.”

  “He certainly is.” She mumbled under her breath, “I’ve never seen the likes of him before.”

  Doc’s eyes narrowed, a sign he’d heard her. “What do you mean?”

  Kat shook her head back and forth while she searched for words to describe what she’d seen. “He moved faster than lightning flashes across the sky. He used his feet. He kicked and knocked one of the thugs out cold.” She once again saw her defender twisting Augie’s neck. Cold chills raced up her spine as a slight wave of nausea filled her stomach. “He . . . he . . .”