by Sue London
No, she couldn't bear the thought of Gideon dying due to her inaction. The faces of the men here, some of them boys really, all showed a clear resolve. They were looking to her to lead them down to the beach and rescue the earl. Now was not a time to be frozen with indecision.
She caught the butler's eye. "Dibbs. Keep Mr. Gladstone contained until we return."
"Yes, my lady."
Her attention back on the volunteers, she spoke in a voice edged with steel, "This will be difficult and probably dangerous. But as we all know, it is something that his lordship would do for us so we cannot fail to do it for him." Her small speech was met with the ayes and nods she had been hoping for. Encouraged, she led the group out into the falling night. It had been over an hour since the earl had been taken and she could but hope that he was still alive.
Gideon awoke with the worst hangover of his life. He tried to put his hand to his aching head but couldn't move. Coming to his senses a bit more, he realized that his arms were secured behind his back and he was lying against a cold stone wall. The pain in his head was so severe that he felt like retching, but instead gritted his teeth and tried to get his bearings. There was dim light flickering from a lantern in another room. He heard the drip of water periodically and the murmur of voices at a distance. Gods, what was the last thing he remembered? Jack. His wife Jacqueline had been at breakfast and they had quarreled. Afterwards he had gone riding again to clear his head. Then what? He closed his eyes to concentrate. What happened next? He had ridden along the cliffs as they descended at the north end of his land. Boats. He had seen what looked like two crates down at the beach off the inlet. Then what? His concentration was broken by a voice rising high enough for him to hear.
"I don' plum care that he's Himself," a gruff voice growled. "As soon as they find that little rat Gladstone we'll be rid o' the both of 'em."
The second voice was more wheedling. "Gladstone went back to the manor sure as sure does. We'll have the sheriff down on us soon as anything."
"I done told ye not to worry about the sheriff!"
"I don' want no part in hushing the cull, er, I mean his lordship.”
Gideon knew that the two ruffians were discussing killing him. He struggled against the ropes on his arms but couldn’t work them loose. His wrists were raw and sticky with blood. If he wasn’t free and able to defend himself soon then this might all be over. He didn’t know how Philip figured into this, but could only hope the boy had made it back to Kellington.
"Ye fool," the gruff one continued, "ye hang just as sure whether you slip the knife or no. I'm done waitin', we need to move out. I'm gettin' that itchy feeling."
"Mr. Belfor, don' make me do it," the other voice whined.
A meaty smack echoed against the stone walls followed by a whimper. "Ye'll do as I tell ye and I want no guff from ye!"
Gideon peered through the dim light, trying to discern where the men were since their voices echoed on the stone walls. The rough walls, sea smell and dripping water made him think they must be in a cave along the cliffs but he didn't know one existed on his land. As he struggled against the ropes he saw the lantern light bobbing closer with heavy footsteps. Before the light could reach him he ceased his struggles and pretended to be unconscious. His hope now lay in surprise.
Chapter Thirty
Jack and the men mounted horses and raced across the Downs. The sun was setting at their backs and casting uneven shadows over the rolling hills, but she knew that this was no time to hesitate. She had been relieved and almost moved to tears to see Tyche among the horses from the stable and now, bent low over the mare's neck, urged her to fly over the tufted grasses. The men were spread out on both sides of her and difficult to see in the failing light of dusk. Now that they were putting her plan into action she worried whether she had made the right choices. Did she wait too long? Should they not have come at all? Would the plans work? Had she brought enough men? Would they all survive? She forced back her doubts and focused on keeping herself and Tyche safe on this pell-mell race. She heard a muffled shout from one of the men and turned her head. The winds were blowing hard, whipping words away from them as they tried to call to one another. Perhaps the difficulty in hearing would work in their favor when they had to approach the smugglers. For now the wind and sound of thudding hooves drowned out their voices. She saw that one of her men was waving a hand to the south and, after a moment, saw the lantern that had caught his attention. He held up three fingers and pointed to the light in the distance. Jack nodded, assuming that he proposed his team investigate. He and the two young footmen assigned to him split off from the main group and galloped towards the light.
Jack took the rest of the men to the cliffs. As they neared their destination her heart was beating painfully in her chest, her breath harsh and burning her throat. It worried her to think that they might be too late, that Gideon might have already been killed by the owlers.
Surely not. Surely the criminals would be too afraid of the penalty they would face. But as she looked out over the darkened landscape she reminded herself that with their smuggling and brutish ways they tempted death, even a hanging, every day. It would perhaps be a little thing to kill and dispose of a peer. But not just a peer. Giddy. Arrogant, complicated, and oddly sweet Giddy. She set her jaw as they began to pull up the horses at the path that Philip had said led down to the beach and cavern the owlers used as part of their smuggling operation. She had to believe that there was still time left and that they would succeed.
Using Philip's advice on where the owler sentries would be, Jack and her men left their horses ground tied and moved stealthily down toward the beach. It was a risk trusting the steward after his perfidy. The whole of this was a terrible risk. They couldn’t use a lantern to light their way, as Philip had said the ship would arrive after sunset to wait for a signal from shore. The moonlight barely highlighted the trail they needed to follow along the treacherous cliffs but they didn’t hesitate.
One of the older soldiers, Hammond, led his men forward with Jack’s group close behind. Shortly after Hammond rounded a rock outcropping, Jack heard a scuffle and muffled shout. By the time she came up with her men Hammond had the sentry down. Listening keenly she only heard the pounding surf on the night air. Most likely the guard's shout hadn't been noted. She let out a pent up breath. The first hurdle had been crossed. There would be at least four more men at the entrance to the cave. The plan was for Jack to target them with her arrows, then have her men rush any who remained in hopes of overwhelming them before they could call to the smugglers inside the cave or signal the boat. This seemed by far the riskiest part of the plan, but Jack knew that they needed to press forward and try to gain an advantage while they could. As they inched their way down the steep, uneven trail in the dark they heard the sound of skittering gravel and the occasional grunt when one of the men mis-stepped. A cold wind blew up from the sea to whip around them, at times pushing them forward and other times back. Jack stayed close to the cliff wall, and wasn't sure if the black void at the edge of path was more or less comforting than seeing how far they would fall if either the wind or an owler managed to send them off the side.
Finally gaining the beach, the group spread out in the pale light of the waning moon. Once they spotted the mouth of the cave, where the sentries stamped their feet and blew in their hands to ward off the chill oceanfront wind, Jack pulled her bow from her back and strung it. When her arrow was notched she nodded to her men to proceed. As they drew closer to the sentries she murmured a quick prayer and sent her arrows flying in quick succession. Three of the sentries were down before her men had to pounce, but the fourth sentry managed to cry out and dash back towards the cave. Hammond took him down with a brutal knock to the back of the head and her men pulled the bodies away from the entrance as planned. One man came trotting out from the cavern holding aloft a light to search for the sentries that should be at there, most likely having heard the cry but unsure of what it had meant. Jack wai
ted for a moment to make sure that he wasn't about to be joined by another then loosed an arrow. Rather than strike the man solidly in the chest it hit his shoulder, spinning him away and making him drop the lantern. Jack drew another arrow but the flare up of the spilled lantern oil flashed in her eyes and cast dancing black shadows against the stone. She heard the man yelling as he staggered back into the cavern and knew that they had no choice but to attack while they still had some surprise on their side. She threw down her bow and drew her sword for the run into the dark maw of the cave, her men close behind her. Within moments they were in the tight, echoing corridor carved into the rock face. As they rushed forward in the darkness Jack could hear the man she had hit with her arrow running ahead of them through the chamber, yelling "Attackers! Attackers!"
As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could see a dim light coming from the area ahead of her. She feared stumbling through the dark, twisting passage but her fear of what had become of Gideon was far greater. One of her men shouldered past her. She pushed herself to move more quickly before she was left at the rear of the attack. A dim lantern burned in a larger cavern just ahead. As they entered the larger area she saw two other dark openings gaped at the other end of the rounded stone chamber. The man she had shot was here, along with four other men. A blunderbuss was fired in the small space, felling one of her men and deafening her. She and her men rushed the owlers, swords flashing. One of the owlers, the best dressed of them, retreated behind the others. He had the discharged blunderbuss and his eyes darted as he considered his exits. Jack sidestepped the melee to work on cornering him. He edged towards one of the dark openings.
"Where is the earl?" Jack shouted. She could hardly hear herself between the ringing in her ears from the gunshot and the clash of steel from the fighting around her. The owler seemed to understand her, however, giving her a sadistic grin and drawing his finger across his throat. Jack felt her heart plummet and tears burned at the back of her eyes. She surged forward to slash at the man, closing the distance quickly with her long stride. She saw his hand come up, at first she thought in order to try to ward off her attack, but then she felt the grit and stinging in her eyes. She tried to keep them open, but a flood of tears started immediately and she couldn't see. She felt herself seized and a knife pressed into her throat.
The man holding her shouted, "Drop your weapons, what, or the bitch will get what's coming to her."
Jack heard the fighting slow and then swords hitting the ground. The man shook her. "Yours too, bitch, or you'll join Himself bleeding out on the floor."
It took her a moment, but she decided to drop the sword. It was doing her little use now.
"All right then," the man continued. "Seems as me and the lady will be making our way to the boat now. All of you back your way into that spot over there if you please."
Jack’s face was streaked with tears from the grit, from frustration, and from a welling sense of grief over losing the husband she was only beginning to know. Her men backed away from the owler. She realized that all of the tears were slowly but surely clearing her eyes as she could see the looks of concern and frustration clear on their faces. Of all the things they had considered and discussed, how to handle her being taken hostage hadn't been in their plan. But she would be damned if this scoundrel was going to abduct her and the potential future earl. She slipped a hand into her jacket and slowly drew her tiny, jeweled Spanish dagger from its sheath, silently thanking Sabre for the gift. She tried to remember what George had told her about how to strike vital organs but knew that the way she was being held severely limited what damage she could do. It seemed there were three potential options. Strike over her shoulder and into his neck, a wound that could bring a bloody death within minutes, but a risky attack since she couldn't see and the motion would most likely give him too much time to react. Strike into his thigh which could also bleed out within minutes but the vein was harder to get to. Or strike into the abdomen. Unlikely to cause immediate death, but would absolutely cause death within a few days. And this last attack would be the easiest of the three. The only complicating factor was that he could respond by slitting her throat.
Jack took a deep breath, wrapped both hands around the hilt, and plunged the dagger into his side with all the force she could muster. She heard him exhale with a shrieking gasp, taken completely by surprise. She yanked the small dagger to the side for the most damage she could inflict. Rather than plunge his blade into her he grabbed her by the throat and spun her around.
His eyes looked pitch black in the lantern light, wide with surprise and anger. "Bitch, I want you to see me killing you."
He was holding her throat so tightly that she couldn't breathe. She thought that her vision was going spotty when she saw a shadow behind him. The shadow brought a large rock down on the owler's head and after a spasmodic clenching of his hand the man released her as he fell to the ground. Jack coughed and choked, trying to breathe again after having her throat nearly crushed. Then the shadow moved forward and resolved into a familiar shape.
"Gideon?" she wheezed.
Stepping over the owler he swept her into a fierce hug. She held on just as tightly. After a few moments he stepped back and took her hands, frowning at the blood on them. "What are you doing here?"
"Saving you?" Her throat was still raw from her struggle with the owler and burned with her unexpressed fear for his safety. She wanted to stroke his face, his form, to reassure herself that he was really here and whole, but his grip on her hands kept her from moving. When she looked into his eyes in the dim light she saw the unusual expression she had noted before. The one she had seen the first time they had made love. Unguarded. Intense.
Behind her she could hear the men scuffling and a pained moan. "Oh!” she said, coming back to the moment. “Derek was shot." She hurried over to the young man, pulling Gideon behind her, and dropped to her knees while wiping her hands off with the sleeve of her linen shirt. Gideon crouched down as well and helped her turn him over. There was a great deal of blood but the young footman was still breathing shallowly.
Jack looked up at Gideon hopefully. "It looks like it's mostly in his shoulder. He could make it."
Gideon nodded and then took her hands again. "Jacqueline-"
"We need to get them to signal the ship."
He frowned. "We need to do what?"
"Get them to signal the ship. Otherwise the ship will get away." Jack looked down at their joined hands and saw that her own were shaking badly.
"Jacqueline,” he said, “I don't care about the ship."
"But then they might try to do this again."
"Let them try,” Gideon said, sounding more fierce. “We'll be on the lookout for it this time."
Jack looked over her shoulder and saw that Hammond had the remaining owlers contained. They had even trussed up the man Jack had fought, and Gideon had clubbed, in case he still had some life left in him. She felt the shaking spread to the rest of her frame with the relief that the worst seemed to be over.
She looked at Gideon again. "You're not allowed," she said, her voice breaking.
Gideon raised a brow.
"You're not allowed to get yourself captured again," she finished.
"I'll keep that in mind," he said drily.
She pulled her hands free of his to grab his neck and pull him down for her kiss. As she threaded her fingers into his hair he drew back with a sharp gasp. She looked at the dark stain on her hand in the flickering lamplight. "Is this your blood?"
Gideon was still wincing and probing gently at his head. "I imagine so."
She blinked, feeling the room slowly tilt. "Oh, that's not good," she said softly.
Chapter Thirty-One
Gideon managed to catch his wife before she toppled over. He wasn't sure whether to be scared that she had fainted again or relieved that she had some feminine weaknesses. Hearing her voice demanding to know where he was shortly after he had fought off his unwilling assassin had seemed a gods
end. But lurching into the dimly lit cavern to find her in the grip of the leader of the smuggling ring had easily taken ten years off his life. Lifting her gently from the floor he clasped her against his chest and stood up to look around at his men. His footman Hammond approached.
"My Lord," he said solemnly, "tis good to see you alive and well. My lady...?"
"She fainted. When she saw that I was bleeding." Gideon looked down at his wife and added wryly, "I can only hope that means she can never take after me with one of her blades."
Hammond smiled briefly. "She's a plucky one, that. And one of the best commanders I've served with here or on the Continent. Not many Captains could put together a rescue as quick."
"Yes, the countess is a woman of... unusual talents."
"With your leave, my lord, we'll stay in our teams with each team in charge of a prisoner or riding flank guard."
"I... yes, that would be fine."
"And the countess's men serving as your escorts."
"Yes, and those would be?"
Hammond waved two of the young and burly stable hands forward. They seemed uneasy but took positions to either side of him. It entertained Gideon that the little tyrant who lay swooned in his arms was still very much in charge by way of the polite but confidant Lieutenant that she had in Hammond. The earl decided to test whether he had any authority left whatsoever. "I don't think we should signal the ship."
"As you wish, my Lord," Hammond said. But there was enough relief in the man's voice that Gideon was sure he had also given exactly the order that had been hoped for.
His men made short work of cleaning up the cavern, carting out the wounded, and marching out the prisoners. As Gideon started up the path to the downs, still carrying Jack, he was becoming concerned that she hadn't roused yet. Their protective guards stayed close for the climb. Gideon thought that they took surreptitious peeks at Jack, as though to confirm for themselves that she was all right, but it was difficult to tell in the darkness. Halfway up he consoled himself that it was good his wife had fainted. He had been on the edge of promising her anything, everything, if she would just stay with him.
