by Laura Landon
Not just to build the fake monument and its deceptive graves, but to build the planked stairway hidden beneath.
Barnaby’s heart raced. It was possible that he’d found an opening that led to Radburn’s hidden storehouse of explosives. It was possible that he’d located what he’d been sent here to find. And that it may just be a larger operation than any of them had anticipated.
He braced his hand against the earthen wall and took a step down. Then a second step. As he lowered himself to take a third step, his heightened senses alerted him to the sound of rushing footsteps, and he turned.
Every instinct for survival told him to get back to the top. Having his adversary loom over him put him at a huge disadvantage.
Barnaby pulled out the knife he had in his jacket and slashed through the air. He didn’t penetrate anything solid, but forced his attacker to take several steps back. He took advantage of the separation to leap back into the open, where he was on the same footing as his opponent.
His assailant was a large man, tall and bulky; but his size worked to his disadvantage. His movements were slow and cumbersome. Barnaby hoped he would be an easy adversary, but the fellow made up for his lack of speed with brute strength.
Barnaby handily evaded the burly oaf’s first lunge. At his second lunge, Barnaby countered the attack. He sprang toward his enemy, and this time his knife hit muscled flesh, and his attacker growled like a wounded animal.
Barnaby hoped the wound he’d inflicted was severe enough that their battle would end quickly. But he wasn’t so fortunate. The hulking man lunged toward Barnaby again, exhibiting more speed than Barnaby would have thought someone so large could manage.
Barnaby turned, but not fast enough. Nor far enough. The man’s arm slashed out, and the knife Barnaby thought he’d knocked to the ground sliced through the air. The blade made contact and sent a burning pain ripping through Barnaby’s shoulder.
He was injured badly enough that if he didn’t end this fight soon, he would lose. He shifted his knife to his uninjured hand and dove toward the enemy.
The man didn’t expect his advance and dodged clumsily. His foot caught on the roll of grass, and with a bellow, he plunged into the hole. His body rebounded with a sickening crack on the plank stairway, and in a moment there was nothing but silence.
Barnaby sank to his knees and gasped for air. When he could breathe, he half crawled down the dark steps to where his attacker lay on the first landing. He needed to make sure the man was dead. Relief came in waves when he located him in the pitch dark and discovered that he was still as stone. If it weren’t for the stab wound, anyone would think he had merely taken a fatal misstep.
Barnaby retrieved a small hand shovel from his pack. It didn’t take much to make it look as if the fellow had fallen on his own shovel blade. It would have to do.
Quickly, he made a visual sweep of the surrounding area. He couldn’t stay here. It wouldn’t be long before another of Radburn’s men came, and Barnaby wouldn’t have the strength to fight off the next attacker.
He crawled back up the steps and staggered to his feet. Someone would eventually find the body, but hopefully not for a while. He needed to buy as much time as he could. Whoever found the body would certainly be curious as to why the brute had opened the hidden stairway. But hopefully there would be no evidence of a second person’s presence.
Barnaby gathered his tools and lantern in the dark and went for his horse. He cursed the bloody animal as it shied away each time he clumsily tried to secure the tools with just one arm.
At last he gave up and carried the burlap bag of tools to the cliff’s edge and pitched them over the side to be lost in the crashing waves below.
When every trace of his presence was removed, Barnaby hoisted himself onto his horse and made his way back to the house. The best he could do was press a scrap of leather against his shoulder and pray the bleeding had stopped. The last thing he needed was to leave a trail of blood for Radburn to follow. Or, worse yet, lose consciousness before he reached his room.
Except he knew he couldn’t go to his room. There was no one there to help him.
. . .
Millicent had tossed and turned for hours, unable to go to sleep. How could she sleep when Barnaby had disappeared? How could she sleep when she didn’t know if he was safe, or lying dead somewhere in the dark?
She held her breath again and listened. Not a sound except the constant settling of a house several hundred years old. She listened again, then threw her covers back and got to her feet.
She refused to open the door and look down the hall. She would not give in to the impulse to go to his room to check if he’d returned without knocking on her door. If he had, she’d be sure to give him a piece of her mind in the morning.
Not that she could have slept anyway. Not after the night she had, suffering Radburn’s company for hours in a ballroom full of people who disapproved of her very presence there.
Millicent’s skin still crawled from his touch, and her temper was still on edge from the way Radburn had paraded her through the ballroom, as if she were some priceless jewel on display.
Even her friends and neighbors who’d come to celebrate her good fortune seemed to have changed their minds by the end of the evening. And the disappointment on the faces of the three men who’d been her father’s closest friends was even more distressing. Oh, how she wanted to pull them aside and tell them that everything they thought about her was a lie.
Her mother’s beautiful face appeared before her, and, without bidding them, tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She thought of Polly’s energy and exuberance for life. Knowing that her sister would never experience so many of life’s choicest moments ripped Millicent’s heart from her breast.
And perhaps most painful of all was the loss of her brother. She and Thomas had always been close. No doubt because it had just been the two of them for so long before Polly was born. Or maybe because he had always looked out for her—always been there when she needed him.
She closed her eyes and envisioned his handsome face. He never lacked for female admirers. Never had a shortage of—
Millicent rose from the chair where she was sitting and listened. The sound was faint, but definite. Quiet footsteps in the hall. She waited for the soft knock at her door, but instead of a rap, the knob turned.
She reached for the blanket she’d tossed over her knees and held it up to cover herself. Surely Radburn wouldn’t dare come to her at this hour.
Millicent took a step back and watched the door open.
The intruder barely took one step into the room before Millicent realized it was Barnaby. And he was hurt.
She muffled her gasp, then rushed to help him enter. She didn’t speak until the door was securely closed behind him.
She rushed to him and wrapped her arm around his waist to steady him. “How badly are you hurt?” she whispered as she led him to a chair.
“The bleeding’s stopped. I think.”
Millicent removed the leather scrap he’d been pressing against his shoulder, then turned up a lamp and brought it close so she could see for herself how badly he was injured.
She removed his jacket, then opened his shirt and exposed the wound. “Knife?”
He nodded.
Millicent brought over a basin of water and a cloth and began cleaning his wound. “This needs to be sewn. I’ll wake Sophie and she can help me.”
Barnaby dropped his head back against the cushion, sitting slightly sideways to keep his bloody arm away from the elegant brocade upholstery, and closed his eyes. A knot tightened in Millicent’s chest when she thought of how much more severe his wound could have been. How close he’d come to dying.
She brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and cupped her palm to his cheek. His eyes opened and their gazes locked.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. He lifted his hand and placed his palm over her hand. He refused to sever their connection.
Her heart inc
reased its erratic rhythm, racing faster with each second his hand remained atop hers. The intensity in his gaze spoke volumes, but Millicent couldn’t allow herself to utter the thoughts welling inside her.
“Get out of your coat and shirt, and I’ll get rid of them.”
He complied, wincing against the pain of shedding the clothes. “Damn,” he grunted. “I liked that coat.”
“I’ll go for Sophie,” she whispered, ignoring his humor as she tucked a towel around his injured arm. “We need to get you sewn up.
Millicent hurried silently to the adjoining room where Sophie slept. Although she tried to convince herself that she hadn’t lost her heart to a man who might get himself killed, she knew she had. Just as she knew another part of her heart would die if she lost him.
She entered Sophie’s room and stood in the darkness for a moment. To tell the truth, she wasn’t sure how much of her heart she had left.
Chapter 10
Barnaby opened his eyes enough to focus on the chair near Millicent’s bed. He knew he’d find her there. It’s where he’d found her each night when he’d first been wounded and she’d taken care of him at Will and Sophie’s home. It was as if his life had come full circle. He owed her so much.
He moved his shoulder and winced at the pain. He’d suffered worse injuries, but this one was severe enough that it wouldn’t let him forget it anytime soon.
He shifted enough to see out the window. The sky was still black. He sighed in relief. He would need to leave Millicent’s room before the staff stirred. For certain, before the housemaid came to light the fire in the hearth. He couldn’t risk anyone discovering him in her room.
”You didn’t sleep long,” Millicent said. She sat forward in her chair and reached for a glass of water, then brought it to his lips.
“Thank you,” he said, when he’d quenched his thirst.
She sat back in her chair and tucked her knees to her chest.
Barnaby looked at how relaxed she seemed. It was as though she were able to forget they were in the middle of a dangerous mission. Her bravery spoke volumes.
He thought back to the doubts he’d had when he first realized she was to be his partner on this mission instead of Will.
“Tell me what happened,” she whispered.
Barnaby pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “I made it to the markers Radburn erected for your family. I exposed the door over your sister’s grave and opened it.”
“What did you find?”
“Stairs. It’s just as we thought. The monument is a decoy to hide an underground warehouse. I’m sure that’s where Radburn has the explosives hidden.”
“It only makes sense. Why else would he put the memorial for my family that close to the cliffs?” She lowered her feet to the floor so their knees were almost touching and dropped her hands to her lap. “Go on.”
“I’d only taken a few steps down when I heard footsteps running up behind me. It was one of Radburn’s men. I tried to fight him off, but he had me at a disadvantage.”
“Did he get a good look at you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She paused. His meaning was clear. “What did you do with the body?”
“He broke his neck. I left him in a heap.”
“Won’t they wonder what he was up to?”
“I’m sure they will.” Barnaby smiled.
“Then you’ll have to stay away from there for a while.”
Barnaby closed his eyes and breathed a sigh. “They’ll double the guards, I expect. I’ll spend my time searching the passageways hidden behind the walls in the rooms downstairs.”
“What do you think you’ll find?”
“I don’t know. Another hidden staircase?” Barnaby smiled, then hesitated, not wanting to ask the questions nagging at him. But he couldn’t put off asking any longer. “How was your evening? Did Radburn make it too unbearable for you?”
“I managed. We danced several sets. That occupied him for a while.”
“But not the entire evening.”
“No. He asked me to walk in the garden.”
“Is that all you did? Just walk?”
Millicent rose from her chair and separated herself from him to stand at the window. She looked out into the darkness and kept her back to him.
A knot clenched in his midsection. He knew how uncomfortable it was for her to be with Radburn, but that was what her role entailed.
The amount of time she stood without moving told him how distasteful it had been for her.
“He’s aware of how little I care for him.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“He accused me of being cold.”
“You need to remind him that you have recently suffered a great loss. It will take time to recover from losing your entire family.”
“He knows it’s more than that. He could tell when he tried to kiss me and I turned away from him.”
There was nothing Barnaby could say. He sat on the edge of Millicent’s bed with his hands clenched in anger. Radburn had tried to kiss her. Yet what had he expected the man would do? He believed they were betrothed, after all.
“The sky is getting lighter,” she said after a long while. “Are you steady enough to make it to your room?”
“Yes.”
Millicent reached to help him to his feet, but he held up a hand. “It’s just a scratch.”
“A scratch, you say?” Millicent chuckled. “Tell me that when you come back to Sophie to have those twenty stitches removed.”
Barnaby raised his eyebrows as if impressed with his own ability to sustain a twenty-stitch wound. Millicent swatted his good arm and walked with him to the door.
“I’ll try to keep Radburn occupied today. Get as much rest as you can, and remember to use that liniment Sophie put in your pocket. We only have a few more days to find and get rid of the ammunition, and you’re going to need that arm.”
He nodded, then opened the door and slipped out. He knew what she meant. They only had a few more days before she would have to marry the Earl of Radburn.
. . .
Millicent sat beside Lord Radburn as their one-horse cabriolet traveled the well-worn paths of Westview Park. They’d agreed from the outset that on such a beautiful day they should make their tour with the bonnet down.
To her good fortune he’d said yes when she’d asked if he could spend the day with her. She professed a fond desire to tour the estate with the objective of investigating sites that might be suitable for a dower house. It was all she could think of to give Barnaby time to recover. Her fiancé seemed both pleased and unsettled that she would think of providing a future home for his mother.
As distasteful as it was to spend the day with the man she disliked with such intensity, she planned to take the opportunity to find out more about him, and in turn, try to discover anything that might be useful with regard to the explosives he intended to sell to the feckless Italian warmonger.
“I can’t help but feel you are nervous around me, Millicent. Is there a reason for your anxiety?”
Millicent’s fingers tightened around the parasol she held to shield her from the sun’s rays. Her first instinct was to lie, but she knew Radburn would see through her falsehoods. “It’s not that I’m nervous, Marcus. It’s only that . . . that . . . there are times when I doubt that my father would approve of our marriage.”
His hesitation told her more than she wanted to know. He tensed beside her, and she knew she’d put him on the defensive.
“Then perhaps we should discuss the basis for your concerns.”
“I’m not sure that will help.”
Radburn pulled the carriage to a halt beneath the shade of a grove of trees and turned toward her. “I am, Millicent. I feel it’s the only way for us to proceed.”
Millicent folded her parasol and dropped her hands to her lap. She couldn’t look at him, so she lowered her gaze to her clenched fingers.
“I’ve wanted
to explain my relationship with your father,” he said, “but the time was never right. Especially after his tragic death.”
“Did you see my father the night he died?”
His gaze hardened, and the expression on his face froze. “What are you implying, Millicent?”
She turned toward him with the most innocent expression she could muster. “I’m not implying anything, Marcus. I’m simply asking if you saw my father the day of his death.”
The expression on Radburn’s face was tinged with anger. And guilt. If Millicent had a weapon on her, she would have pulled it out and stabbed it into his cold, hard heart.
Instead, she forced herself to breathe as calmly as possible as she waited for him to confirm every evil deed she’d suspected he’d done.
“Actually, I did happen to see him.”
“What reason did you have for going to him?”
He turned and focused his steel-gray gaze on her. “You, of course. I went to see him to ask permission to court you.”
“What did he say?”
“That he was delighted.”
Liar!
“He told me he could think of no one he would rather consider as your husband.”
Liar!
“He said that you were visiting friends at the moment, but you would return shortly. He gave his permission for me to call on you as soon as you returned to Cliffside. I’m just thankful that you weren’t there when the fire destroyed your home, or you would have perished, too.” He paused to reach for her hand and held it. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you.”
The knot that seemed to live beneath her heart these days gave an angry pinch.
He turned toward her and placed his hands on her shoulders. With a gentle caress, he turned her toward him.
He was going to kiss her. Millicent knew it with every part of her body. He was going to kiss her, and she had to allow it. What reason could she give for refusing him? Especially after last night. Especially after he’d already accused her of rejecting his advances.
He lowered his gaze to her lips.
She tried to prepare herself for the unwelcome intimacy. She closed her eyes and pictured Barnaby next to her. She imagined Barnaby’s arms holding her, his mouth pressed against hers. She tried to recall the last time Barnaby had kissed her: how it had felt, how her body had reacted, how she had wished his kisses would never end. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t convince herself that Marcus was Barnaby.
