Mrs. Westland screeched and ran to the wall, grabbing two more swords. She called Simon’s name before throwing one to him. Simon gave an evil laugh as he forged toward Gabe, swinging his cutlass high in air. Mrs. Westland ran toward Monkey, slashing away.
As the cling of heavy metal filled the barn, Isabelle struggled to loosen the ropes at Marcus’ wrists. The tips of her fingers grew painful, but she kept on, using all her might to get them loose. Marcus finally yanked a hand free, which made it easier for him to break loose. He held her tight for a brief moment, then moved his hands over her face and down her shoulders.
“I came here to find you,” he said softly. “After I’d cancelled the meeting tonight, Mrs. Westland told me you were going to be here to support me.”
She nodded. “She convinced me to bring you, but when you weren’t at home, I figured I didn’t need to.” She sniffed. “Monkey told me he’d overheard Simon and a woman discussing a plan to kill you at the meeting. I knew I had to save you.”
He pulled her close for another hug, then kissed her soundly on the mouth. She answered back, but he withdrew again and turned to Monkey as he fought Mrs. Westland like a true highwayman.
“My love,” Marcus said, “you need to leave while we finish our business with these traitors.”
She shook her head, her heart wrenching as fear crawled through her. “No. The soldiers will surely arrest you all and hang you.”
He smiled and stroked her cheek. “I won’t let that happen. I have a beautiful wife who loves me, so there’s no reason for me to give up.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks as he pushed her away and turned toward the sword fight. Monkey called out to him and threw him a saber.
“Are you all right?” Marcus asked the boy.
Adam grinned as he came close to slicing Mrs. Westland’s arm. “I’ve got yer back covered, Cap’n.”
Isabelle’s body shook, and worry filled her, but she couldn’t leave. She had to know Marcus would not get injured. Silently, she prayed that her husband’s life would be spared. She glanced around the floor, wishing she knew where Simon had put her pistol.
* * * *
Dizziness flowed through Marcus’ head as he marched toward his friends. Whatever Simon had hit him with earlier to knock him out had left a nasty gash in his head. Weakness wasn’t an option. Especially now.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself to help his fellow crew members. Just as he reached Gabe, Simon cut his friend’s leg with a lucky slice. Gabe stumbled back clutching his wound as blood trickled between his fingers. Simon lifted his sword to finish the deed, but Marcus stepped between him and Gabe, blocking the blow.
Simon jumped back and held his ground, his gaze narrowed on Marcus. The room swam around him, and he blinked to gain his bearings. He must have strength. He’d come too far to lose, and now that he knew Isabelle loved him, he had to fight for their freedom.
With a shout, Simon attacked, making a horizontal cut through the air. Marcus blocked and footed around him, holding his opponent’s stare. Simon slashed again, but Marcus met the attack. Steal clanged loudly, and Marcus’ reactions timed perfectly with Simon’s.
From the corner of his eyes, he noted Mrs. Westland held her own with Monkey. Where were his other crew members? Yet it surprised him to see the young boy doing so well. At least Monkey kept her busy until Marcus could finish Simon.
Dizziness assailed Marcus again, and he cursed his inability to regain his strength quickly. Simon’s eerie laughter grated on his nerves.
“Captain Hawk, yer not goin’ to win.”
Marcus grinned. “Neither are you.”
“Oh, but I don’t have a head injury.” He plunged his sword forward.
Marcus blocked it with his saber and shook his head. “Then we fight until one of us surrenders.”
A blood-curtailing scream rented the air. Marcus’ heart stopped as he glanced at his wife. Her wide eyes were on Mrs. Westland and Monkey. Marcus glanced in his crew member’s direction just in time to see Mrs. Westland pull her sword out of Monkey’s shoulder as he crumbled to the ground.
Heart in his throat, Marcus focused back on Simon just as the fool lunged for his chest. Isabelle screamed again. Marcus jumped away, the blade barely nicking his shirt. Mrs. Westland laughed and joined the swordplay. Gabe limped toward Marcus, calling out his name before throwing another saber his way. Marcus caught it, wielding a weapon in both hands.
As he moved back and forth with Simon and Mrs. Westland, Isabelle’s growing sobs wrenched his heart as she knelt over Monkey, trying to stop the flow of blood from the lad’s body. Marcus had fought several men at once before, but never being dizzy with a head wound. He prayed he would stay strong for her.
He kept the pace and fought them off the best he could, but soon their blows became stronger and he retreated to the far end of the stable. Mrs. Westland plunged her cutlass and sliced his leg, thankfully not deep. This gave him room to grab her arm and throw her into Simon’s path before he fell to the floor. At the same time, the man lunged for Marcus but instead, the tip of Simon’s sword pierced Mrs. Westland’s heart.
The woman gasped and glanced down at the blade still protruding from her chest. Her hands shook as she tried to grasp the weapon, but crumbled to the ground in a dead heap. Simon yelled a curse and pulled the blade from her body. Blood dripped from the steal. Hatred blazed from his watery eyes as he directed them toward Marcus.
“Yer goin’ to die now!”
As he raised his saber toward Marcus’ chest, a gunshot rang through the barn. Simon jerked forward as a bloody hole formed in his head. The man sank to the ground, motionless.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Marcus allowed his weak limbs to fall at his side. Isabelle walked slowly into view, still holding the smoking pistol. She kept her gaze on Simon as lines of anger creased her face.
“No need to fear. He’s dead, my darling,” Marcus said, motioning her closer.
She raised her eyes to Marcus, dropped her weapon rushed to him. Taking him in her arms, she sobbed against his chest. Marcus looked across the room to see Gabe assisting Monkey as they limped toward Marcus.
“I tole ya I was watchin’ yer back,” Monkey said, “but yer wife found the pistol on the floor and shot Simon before I could.”
Marcus chuckled and gave Monkey a wink. “You’ll make a wonderful highwayman someday.”
Gabe’s leg was tied with a ripped piece of Isabelle’s cloak. His first mate nodded. “I think we should get out of here before the soldiers arrive.”
“Splendid idea.” Marcus struggled to stand as Isabelle assisted him.
“Marcus?” she asked. “I need you to know something.”
He stared into her eyes—eyes that showed her love. “What is it, my love?”
“I want you to continue to support the Sons Of Liberty. It’s a good cause, and helping them has made you a better man.”
Happiness burst through his body and he tightened his arm around her. “Thank you. Those words mean the world to me.”
Love grew in his chest as his friends helped him outside. This was his family, and would always be here for him. All that was missing was a few children.
He grinned. That would come later, to be sure.
Epilogue
Marcus held his wife as they cuddled on the couch, staring into the low burning fire in the hearth. Satisfaction settled deep within him, as always happened after they made love. She sighed and cuddled closer, her hand splaying over his chest. He lifted her fingers and kissed each one before settling her softness back on him.
“Marcus?”
“Yes, my love.”
“Are you planning to return as Captain Hawk anytime soon?”
He chuckled. “Not anytime soon, but I will eventually. The Sons Of Liberty need my skills more than anything now.”
“Why can’t someone else do it?”
“Well… I suppose I could retire and give the title of Captain Hawk to someone else. Perha
ps Gabe would make a great leader.”
“I think he would.” She smiled up at him.
“Why do you ask?”
“I want a baby.”
Groaning, he stroked her arm. “As do I.”
Her head rested on his shoulder, as she met his gaze. Her eyes twinkled in the soft light from the fire.
He brushed back a fallen piece of hair from her eyes. “Do you know how much I love you?”
“I hope so. I want it to be as much as I love you.”
“You have taken me on a one-way trip to heaven. Every time you smile, it’s so real I want to cry. None has ever loved me as much as you.”
Her gaze turned dark before she leaned in and kissed his lips. After another long kiss, he sighed deeply and tightened his arm around her, pulling her close. “It’s so hard to explain everything that I feel when I’m with you. Forgive me if I say the wrong things.”
She giggled. “You don’t.”
“No other woman has affected me like you have.” He kissed her lips.
Her face flamed with a blush. “I suppose that has never happened to you?”
“Not until meeting you. You have blessed me in so many ways.”
She grinned. “Good. I would like to keep it that way.”
“Forever, and always, my love.”
The End
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Teaser for Book #1 of my Heroic Rogues Series - “Take My Heart”…
Chapter One
New York, 1764
Her twin sister had gone mad.
Mercedes Maxwell stood on the steps of the Blackwood Asylum, unanswered questions pounding in her head. Periodic dementia…unresolved melancholy, the physician had written. It had to be a mistake.
Loathing the long wait for assistance, Mercedes shivered. Her cloak offered paltry protection against the January wind. The moon’s pale light shone on the dull, mahogany entryway. Shadows lurked all around and forced her to huddle closer to the scarred door. An owl’s soft hoot echoed through the nearby forest. The sound grated on her already frazzled nerves.
Mercedes knocked on the door, not once, but three times. Still no one answered. An abominable sting throbbed in her knuckles and she rubbed the ache. She glared at the twin doors’ warped, planks and powdery-orange rusted hinges. Craning her neck, she looked down the side of the building.
Perhaps there was another entrance? Had to be. Obviously, nobody cared to receive visitors at this one. She clutched her dress and lifted it to her ankles as she took the first step to descend the cracked steps, but the old door squeaked open. Swinging around, she faced the building once more. A stooped man peeked around the thick wood. He held up a lantern high, and the mellow light illuminated the deep creases in his face.
“May I be of some assistance?” he asked in a shrill voice.
She bundled her cloak around her throat and stepped closer. “I am Lady Maxwell. I received a letter from Dr. McClain concerning my sister, Katherine Braxton. Is the good physician here?”
The elderly man squinted. “I am McClain. I sent the letter.”
She raised her brows. “Where is your caretaker, sir?”
“We have but a small staff, my lady. Everyone does what they can.” He opened the door wider. “Please, follow me. I will take you to your sister.”
Mercedes stepped into the dark corridor and lowered the hood of her cape. Some of the stones on the wall were damp and moldy. The stench of unwashed bodies and urine filled her nostrils, curdling her stomach. She fished through her wrist-purse and pulled out her handkerchief, quickly pressing the rose-scented cloth to her nose. In haste, she hurried her step to catch up to the physician and followed him down the shadowed hall, the soles of her boots echoing with each foot-fall.
Each room she passed had bars on the small windows of the doors. People stood behind them, watching her with wide, glassy eyes, as if they looked right through her. Chills trickled down her spine. Were these patients dangerous? And why, pray, was her sister here?
Answers. She needed them soon or she’d be the one going insane.
The elderly man stopped in front of a door and withdrew a heavy set of iron keys fastened to his waist. When he inserted one into the lock, the other keys clinked together while he fumbled to open the door.
Mercedes lowered her handkerchief. “Excuse me, sir.” She spoke in soft tones, afraid her voice would carry through the halls. “But is a locked door necessary for my sister?”
The stern expression on the man’s face never wavered. His white, bushy brows pulled together in concern. “Aye.”
“May I ask why?”
“She is not well, Lady Maxwell. Locking the door is for her safety.”
Mercedes’ heart sank and she frowned. Could her sister be ailing as their father had? No, certainly not. Kat had never been ill a day in her life. Signs would have shown if her twin suffered the same malady as their father. The physician must be speaking of a different person altogether.
He pushed the door open, wide enough for her to enter. Mercedes straightened and took the lantern from his outstretched hand. With her chin held high, she proceeded into the room. Now was not the time to appear frightened even if her heart hammered so fast and hard she feared it would break a rib – or at least bruise one.
Through the curtain-free window, the quarter moon’s silver light cast shadows about the room. The only piece of furniture was a bed with a threadbare mattress. One worn brown blanket covered the feet of the figure on the bed curled on her side, staring toward the door.
Mercedes’ heart wrenched at the sight of her sibling. It had been two years since Kat had entered into a quick marriage to a man she’d barely met. Mercedes wanted to attend the marriage ceremony and meet her new brother-in-law, but she’d been in England visiting her in-laws, sharing their grief after the death of Mercedes’ husband.
The person Mercedes remembered while growing up looked nothing like the woman in this room. Matted black hair framed the woman’s face in wild disarray, and the gray of the hospital gown erased all color from her complexion. Dull eyes, dropped at half-mast, slowly lifted and met Mercedes’ gaze.
“I will be right outside if you need me,” the physician said before leaving.
The door slammed shut and Mercedes jumped. Forcing a smile, she lifted a hand to her chest to calm herself. “Oh, Kat, I came as soon as I heard you were here.”
Kat scooted up on the bed, pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t think Lord Maxwell would have allowed you to leave.” Her voice rasped.
Mercedes stepped into the room, closer to the bed. “Kat, Frederick died a month before you married Mr. Braxton. Do you not remember?”
Kat’s forehead creased, staring at an unknown spot on the bed. “Oh, yes. I remember now.”
“Kat, what has happened to you?”
Her sister tilted her head, and her gaze touched the wall behind Mercedes as if her sister struggled to see. “I could not take any more torment, so I left.”
“Torment? From whom?”
“From him.” Her sister clenched both fists as if ready to strike something. “My cursed husband.”
Mercedes rushed to the bed and clasped her sister’s hands. “Pray tell, what did he do?”
Kat’s stare finally turned on Mercedes. “All he wanted from me was a woman to do his bidding. He only wanted a mother to care for his children – not a wife to love and cherish. He treated me like a mere servant; nay, a miscreant.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Mercedes, he beat me when I did not instantly do his bidding.” She sniffed. “He mocked me in front of his friends.” More tears joined the others streaming down her face. “He did not care if his children disobeyed me. I could not control them. He made them hate me.”
Mercedes’ heart twi
sted and her mind scrambled for something encouraging to say. She realized she should have come straight home after her husband died instead of visiting his family in England. If Mercedes had returned home, perhaps she could have stopped her sister from marrying such an ungodly man.
She squeezed Kat’s frail fingers gently. “Kat? Why did you come here to New York? Why didn’t you stay in Philadelphia?”
Kat’s lips curled up into a smile. “A dear friend helped me, a minister from Philadelphia on his way to New York. He took pity on my plight and let me ride with him.”
“Why did you come to this kind of institution instead of to my home?”
“The minister insisted this would be the safest place, Mercy.”
“But Kat, why would a minister leave you in such a God-forsaken place?”
“He says I have melancholy. Dr. McClain agrees.”
Tears filled Mercedes’ eyes, but she forced herself to take control of her emotions. Her sister didn’t belong here, and Mercedes would not allow her to stay. She straightened her shoulders. “What do you want me to do? How can I get you out?”
Kat shook her head until her chin limply fell on her chest. She rested her forehead back on her knees. “They will not let me out until I am well.”
“I shall help you any way I can.” Mercedes lifted her sister’s chin and looked into her dazed eyes. “I want you well and away from this horrid place.”
“No. I cannot leave. If I do, I will have to go back to William.” Kat twisted a lock of matted hair around a finger. “Please Mercy, do not make me go back to him. If he discovers I have given him more bills to pay, my torture will only worsen.” She whined in a childish tone. “I would rather die here than endure the constant pain of being married to that monster.”
Mercedes touched her sister’s hand, stopping her from knotting her hair any further. “I shall get you out of this place. Staying in this hell-hole would cause any sane person to be melancholy. Not only that, I will hire the best physician in New York to care for you.”
Falling In Love Again (Heroic Rogues Series) Page 29
