Graham stripped off his shirt and boots. Charlotte’s breath caught. He was so magnificent. She would never tire of looking at him.
His lips came down on hers and he began to undo the buttons of her dress. “I can’t be slow,” he ground out.
“Yes,” she said as she hiked up her dress, wiggling underneath him.
Graham growled at the sensation and entered her quickly. Their lovemaking was desperate and filled with the pain of potential loss but the pleasure of love.
When it was done, Graham snuggled her close. “We can’t stay for long. The others will worry and we should get back before the night settles in too thickly.”
Charlotte nodded. She wanted to treasure these stolen moments for a few more minutes before they returned to the reality of the fight ahead. She wasn’t sure when they would have another like it.
Graham sat up and started putting on his clothes while Charlotte adjusted her clothing back into place. Graham smoothed her hair and then took her hand to lead her back to camp.
“Charlotte. We are together in this.” He turned to look at his wife, holding her other hand.
“Yes.” She smiled brilliantly at him. She was glad they were now on the same page.
“When the real fight comes, you must hide away while I fight.”
“No.” The smile died on her face as she refused.
Graham pulled her in his arms. “Listen. You could be carrying my child. You will have to protect that life for us. We are together but our roles are different.”
Charlotte’s mouth hung open. That part of marriage hadn’t even occurred to her. She placed her hand on her belly.
Graham put his hand on top of hers. “Promise me you will hide.”
She nodded but didn’t verbally agree. She had to think this all over.
Graham seemed to take that as an assent and put his arm around her as they went back to camp.
Throughout the next morning, goods were moved from the wagons to the ship and when the tide was ready, the group began the two hour sea journey to Workington.
From there, wagons were quickly procured and by nightfall the group was moving up the drive of Harlington Manor.
This time Graham took the lead on his own horse with Charlotte seated in front of him. Will, Ewan, Tom and Nick fanned out just behind them.
Lord Fairfield stood on the balcony with another man next to him watching their ascent up the driveway.
Charlotte started when she saw the man next to Graham’s father. “It is my father.” Her breath seemed to catch in her throat.
She felt every muscle in Graham tense. “Bloody bullocks,” he mumbled under his breath but he kept the horse moving up the drive.
The two elders made their way out the large front doors and Ewan moved next to Charlotte and Graham.
The smile that split Lord Fairfield’s face was that of undeniable joy. “My sons, you have all returned.”
The Duke of Norfolk looked less amused. He scowled at all of them. “Cousin Ewan, I am overjoyed to see you have joined my daughter.” His steely gaze moved to Graham. “The tale that Lord Fairfield has told me is preposterous to say the least. In addition, while you are a perfectly acceptable chaperone, this man has my daughter in his arms on his horse.”
“Papa,” Charlotte began.
He held up his hand. “Not one word. I knew it was folly to send you on this journey. Whatever possessed me to assent, I cannot begin to recall, but you will return immediately home. We leave first thing in the morning.”
“Phillip.” Ewan got down from his horse and addressed his cousin, the duke, directly. “Charlotte cannot return home tomorrow.”
“Do not tell me what to do with my own daughter.” The duke’s voice rang with authority.
“Phillip, I have married them.” Ewan stood straighter, not backing down from the other man’s look of outrage.
“Explain yourself.” The duke’s nose was now inches from his cousins.
“Inside,” Ewan growled back.
“Cousin Phillip,” Little Ewan called from the back of the group. He jumped off his horse and bounded towards his elder cousin.
“Ewan,” the boy’s father bit sharply to the boy. “That is not how you speak to your elders.”
“Sorry Papa.” The boy halted and dropped into a bow. “Your Grace.”
Lord Beaumont ever so slightly jerked his head in acknowledgement and the boy took that as a sign to continue.
“I have seen Charlotte’s kidnapping in my dreams.” Ewan smiled at his elder cousin.
The duke turned to leave.
“I can show it to you,” Ewan volunteered.
“What?” the duke spluttered.
“If you just hold my hand, you can see it also.” The boy closed his eyes and held out his hands to his great cousin.
The duke hesitated for a few moments and then he reached for the boy’s small hands. A cry erupted from his lips and he jumped back.
“Sorcery,” the duke whispered under his breath.
“Yes, Your Grace. It is sorcery. I don’t know how I came to have it. Papa says that it is from your uncle,” the boy said.
“Uncle Ulrich.” The Duke of Norfolk spoke more to himself than anyone else.
Little Ewan smiled. “That’s right. But the marquess has it too. Only he is terrible and Graham and Charlotte’s baby will have it as well. It runs in the family I guess.”
“Baby?” Charlotte, Graham and her father seemed to say all at the same time.
Baron Fairfield stepped forward. “You must be famished after such a long journey. Let us go inside where we can talk. Come. Everyone.” He ushered the group through the great doors.
Phillip Beaumont listened as first Charlotte, then Graham, and finally Ewan told their part of the great adventure they had been on. Others gasped and once even clapped, when Graham told of how their ship had gone down. A hush fell over the room when Ewan told of how his son had seen the marquess’ death and it was Graham’s sword that delivered the blow.
Phillip’s voice held little emotion as he turned to the child. “Do you know when his death occurs?”
The boy shook his head. “No.”
“Do you know where?” the duke pressed on.
“Here,” the boy said softly. “That is why we have come. Even I have a small part to play.”
“I have little choice but to believe all that you have said. Graham, if everything I have heard is true, then you deserve the heart and hand of my daughter. Ewan will see to the introductions into society and I will see to your title.” The duke stood and reached his hand out to his daughter, pulling her into a hug.
“Title?” Graham asked, genuinely mystified.
For the first time the duke broke a small grin as he spoke. “The Prince Regent will surely grant you a title for what you have done. Besides, it would be fitting for you to have a title prior to becoming a duke.”
“A duke?” Graham looked more frightened in that moment than he had while battling an army of men.
“You married the future Duchess of Norfolk. Upon my death, you will become the next duke. Will, I know you already have a title but it will be elevated. Perhaps an earl? We will also grant you funds to set your land right. Nick and Tom will each receive titles and land of their own.” The duke touched his daughter’s cheek.
“But Your Grace, we only wanted to save Charlotte. We do not require reward. Even marrying Charlotte, I only did because…” Phillip stopped Graham.
“I am Phillip. You are my son-in-law now, use my Christian name. Charlotte is the apple of the Prince Regent’s eye, and mine. He would not let these deeds go unrewarded. It is curious how your skills lent themselves perfectly to Charlotte’s rescue. I’ve never seen the like.”
“I have said the same many times. It almost seems as though fate is on our side.” Graham hugged Charlotte, kissing the top of her head. “Now we must plan for the final piece in Charlotte’s rescue.”
STEALING A LADY’S HEART
&n
bsp; CHAPTER TWELVE
Long into the night, they planned for the marquess’ attack. The bay willow branches were piled into the storeroom in the basement. Charlotte would sit amongst them with Will outside her door.
Charlotte had protested at first. “We said together. We will not be together if I am stuffed in the basement.”
“Charlotte, Little Ewan has told you there is a baby. Your job is to keep that baby safe. That means hiding where the marquess can’t find you.”
“I don’t agree that I should guard her. You will need me with you.” Will shoved his bow in the air to prove his point.
“If something happens to me, I need you to stand between her and the marquess.” Graham grasped his brother’s hand and Will gave one single nod before they shook on their agreement.
Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears. It had been a long day and she was exhausted. “I don’t want to talk about anything happening to Graham anymore.” A tear spilled down her cheek.
“You need some sleep.” Graham held his wife in his arms.
“We all do.” Baron Fairfield rang for the servants to usher their guests up to their beds.
Harlington Manor quickly filled with the stillness of sleep as the exhausted occupants tried to rest up for the hammer that would surely fall.
But barely an hour had passed when Little Ewan awoke with a loud cry. “He’s coming. Ring the bell, he’s coming!”
Lord MacPherson jumped out of bed, and threw open his door. “He comes.” His voice boomed through the empty corridor.
Graham reacted first and threw off the covers, sprinting towards the door. He rang the servants’ bell then strapped on his sword. He turned to see Charlotte scramble out of the covers. Her feet hit the floor and then she stood staring at him with gigantic eyes.
Will dashed into the room. Graham crossed back across the floor in two strides to reach his wife’s side. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed Charlotte hard on the lips, trying to drink in every last detail of her face before Will grabbed her hand. “Take care of my heart,” he said to his brother.
“Take care of mine,” she called back as she and Will disappeared around the door.
Graham stood for one second looking at the spot where Charlotte had just stood. Then, sword in hand, he headed for the door.
Nick and Tom were already in the great hall when Graham walked in. Then Ewan joined them. The four men did not speak a word but strode out the giant doors to meet the Marquess of Huntly. His father, the duke, little Ewan and Lady MacPherson, waited in the great hall.
The moon cast a dim light on the front drive as Graham peered into the trees. He couldn’t see or hear anything unusual. The wind blew softly as the warm summer night hummed around them. Graham raised his sword as his eyes scanned in every direction.
The breeze stilled and, as if on cue, the crickets ceased their chirping. The whole night became deadly quiet. Graham tensed his body as he peered even harder into the night.
A cloud crossed the moon. Graham gritted his teeth. His hands tightened around the hilt of his sword.
A cry split the air as twenty men poured out of the trees and ran directly at the house. Graham stepped one foot back for leverage and then hurtled himself towards the advancing line.
The men careened towards each other. Graham’s sword swung back slightly for more power in the forward swing. Suddenly the still night changed and a fierce gust of wind swirled around Graham. Two men who had been running directly at him were knocked off course. Graham stood unharmed while fighting broke out all around him.
He spun on his heel and, amidst the crowd of men, the marquess suddenly appeared. The other man’s eyes swept the crowd of men. They stopped when they met Graham’s. Graham’s insides tightened as he tensed for the fight. Graham bowed slightly to his adversary as the marquess turned to greet him.
Graham assessed the man in front of him. Long black hair was pulled into a pony tail. A hawkish nose protruded out over thin, hard lips. The marquess seemed to be sizing him up as well.
“How did you manipulate the wind?” the marquess asked, sneering at Graham. Swords clanked around them but Graham paid them no mind.
Graham would not share that he had no control over the elements. Instead he asked a question of his own. “How did you find us in the forest?”
The marquess was silent for a moment. “I sense no magic in you and yet you have foiled me up to this point. I want to know how you did it. I want to know how an ordinary man has escaped me.”
“Maybe I’m not ordinary.” Graham shrugged. His insides were churning but he kept his exterior a mask of calm.
“No matter, my future wife will tell me,” the marquess taunted as he advanced a step.
“My wife will tell you nothing,” Graham softly stated.
The marquess stopped. His lip curled into a sneer. “Your wife?”
“Yes, my wife.” Graham smiled coldly. He knew he was goading the marquess. He wanted the other man angry. Angry men made mistakes.
“I will kill you slowly,” the marquess charged. From his billowing cape he drew a sword. It looked to be made of gold with several jewels at the hilt. He raised the sword swinging straight for Graham but Tom ran in from the side and jumped in front of the Marquess. He attempted to block the swing.
Tom’s sword shattered in his hands and his cry wrenched through the night as he fell to the ground. He rolled away as Nick stepped up and attempted to stab at the marquess. His sword almost bounced off the marquess’ stomach and the marquess grabbed Nick by the throat, tossing him to the side. Graham looked at both of his brothers. They weren’t seriously injured. The marquess clearly had some power to protect himself. Like little Ewan with the visions.
“Your swords cannot penetrate me and your weapons will not stand against mine. You have lost already.” The marquess let a cold peal of laughter bubble from his lips.
Graham only smiled back. The grin on the marquess’ lips seemed to die. “You are not afraid enough,” the marquess grit out.
Graham cocked an eyebrow taunting the other man. “I have two older brothers. Intimidation is not something I bend to.”
“I have seen what your brothers can do. They cannot stand against me. You should be afraid of me.” The marquess swung his sword high and tried to crash it down on Graham. Graham stepped back and raised his sword to block. Triumph gleamed in the marquess’ eyes. He expected Graham’s sword to shatter but as the two swords met, a resounding clank filled the air. Both swords stopped dead. They were evenly matched.
“That is not possible!” the marquess burst out as he swung his sword again and again at Graham. Graham fended off each one. “You don’t have the magic, you shouldn’t be able to match me.”
“But I can,” Graham growled as he took a swing at the marquess, who had to sidestep. It was Graham who was leading the attack now. They moved about the grounds dodging other men as they went. Out of the corner of Graham’s eye, he saw the double doors of the main entrance open. His father, the duke and little Ewan stepped out.
Graham blocked a thrust from the marquess and then pierced the other man’s shoulder with his sword. The marquess cried out with pain and rage and doubled his attacks. Graham fought each of them off.
The marquess was sweating and he swayed slightly on his feet. Graham attacked again but the marquess fought him off. The marquess yelled and two other men attacked Graham as the marquess retreated behind a line of his men.
Two more men joined the fight against Graham. He bested them but it took a great deal of his strength. He was gasping for breath but he turned back to his real adversary. He wouldn’t give up now.
The marquess watched from a distance. Just as Graham killed the last man he saw the marquess’ eyes fell on little Ewan. “Well hello.” He stared at the boy. Then he headed straight for the child.
“No!” Graham heard Charlotte’s cry from the doorway as she raced toward them.
“Don’t, Charlotte.” Graham forced his legs to mo
ve forward as he ran towards his wife.
The marquess saw her too and changed directions to head straight for her. Graham pushed himself harder. The marquess was going to beat him. He would take Charlotte. Graham gasped for air as he pushed himself harder. Charlotte raced for him.
The marquess was winning. If he got to her first his men could close ranks around them and the marquess could take her. He wouldn’t be able to climb through the window to save her this time.
He pushed himself faster using every ounce of strength he had.
Graham and Charlotte met just in front of the marquess. “Kill him!” Charlotte screamed as the marquess bore down on them.
Graham attempted to thrust his sword but his arms were weak. The marquess laughed maniacally as he raised his own sword above his head.
Charlotte grasped the hilt of Graham’s sword with Graham. “Together,” she yelled. The two of them thrust the sword into the marquess’ chest.
He fell to the ground a look of shock and horror on his face. Graham and Charlotte clutched each other as the marquess gasped for breath.
An orb of light seemed to rise from out of the wound. It was a beautiful pearl color that shone in the darkness.
“It is his magic.” Little Ewan came up next to them. “Don’t be afraid. It won’t hurt you.”
The ball moved towards them. It danced around Little Ewan. The boy laughed delightedly. “I have magic already.”
The ball bounced slightly like it was laughing along with the boy. Then it moved towards Graham. It danced around him for a second zipping this way and that. Then, it moved to Charlotte. It floated just in front of her as if it were greeting her.
“Hello,” she said with a smile.
“No,” the marquess whispered, grimacing in pain.
The ball of light quivered at the marquess’ words and then floated down to Charlotte’s stomach. It pressed itself against her abdomen and seemed to sink inside of her.
“What just happened?” she yelped in fear.
“Your child will have magic like mine. But do not worry. He will be a great force of good.” Little Ewan smiled. Then, he looked at the marquess. “Do you want me to heal you?”
Once Upon A Regency Page 97
