If He's Dangerous

by Hannah Howell

  “You have spied on us?”

  “Seen you, no more. Seen the meetings.” Leopold shrugged and grinned. “Could not see any more anyway as you always step behind that bloody huge oak tree.’” He quickly grew serious again. “I was not going to say anything for I have no claim to sainthood, but, curse it, she is a good woman and you are using her in a very shabby way. She has a grand heart and you obviously share a passion that must be as hot as blazes. And lest you have forgotten, she saved your bloody life!”

  “I know,” Argus said in a quiet voice, guilt a hard knot in his stomach. “I am not good enough for her.”

  “Bollocks. Because you are a knight and she is the daughter of a duke? Do you truly think that man would care? He would not and well you know it. You are hardly a poor man, either, so that cannot be it. She is not troubled by our gifts, either.”

  “Not ours, but a woman changes when her child has one, especially one of the stronger ones.”

  Leopold shook his head. “Argus, you must let go of the past. Have the recent marriages we have seen not shown you that we need not remain shackled by that ugly history? Mayhap we are the ones meant to break that tragic circle of bitterness and rejected children, we who can learn from the mistakes of our forefathers. Greville already has a child who shows signs of being the strongest healer born to our clan in generations, but the man could not love that boy more, nor our Alethea, his wife. Radmoor took in eleven of our children when he married our Penelope. Eleven. And he works hard to learn all he can so that he can help his own children as they grow and help the children Penelope brought with her. It is the same with Colinsmoor and our little Chloe.”

  “It is still early,” Argus said, only to have Leopold silence him with a quick slash of his hand.

  “You may knock me down afterward if it suits you, but I will have my say. God’s grace, Argus, I would give my eyeteeth to find a woman like Lorelei Sundun. Beautiful, clever, brave, loves children and her family, shows no fear of what we can do, and is obviously a passionate woman. She is risking everything important to a woman of her birthright by what she is doing with you. And if I could get a woman to look at me as she looks at you, I would be a happy man. If you were wise, you would shrug off the chains of the past, grab her, and run as fast as you can to the nearest vicar.”

  Leopold strode out of the room before Argus could respond, or knock him down. Argus could not believe how angry his cousin had been. He had always thought that Leopold was alone by choice as the man was, as he said, no saint, though he was no great rogue either. Now he had to wonder if Leopold wanted the same thing he did, a normal life with a loving wife and children, but had not been able to find a woman who would accept all that he was. Admittedly, Leopold’s ability to sense lies and half-truths was a difficult thing to live with, but he had all the other attributes women looked for in a husband.

  He dragged a hand through his hair. He was being besieged by his family, scolded on his behavior and how he was treating Lorelei, and lectured on his wrongheadedness concerning marriage. Even Olympia, who suffered as he had, scorned his opinion that he would only hurt Lorelei if he married her.

  Argus went to the window and stared blindly out in the direction the duke had taken the children. Again he thought on how that man had suffered two bad marriages and still enjoyed life. He had had one good one with Lorelei’s mother, yet the bitterness that should have bloomed in that last marriage was not there. And the poor man had stepped on that treadmill when he was still little more than a boy.

  While it was true that the duke did not have the curse each Wherlocke and Vaughn did, the many strange gifts that frightened people, he was a bit eccentric and clearly preferred his country life to the city, apparently a sore point with two of his wives. He also loved his children, who showed no scars from the loss of their mothers. It was something to consider, that perhaps he could build a good life with Lorelei as everyone suggested, just as the duke had built one with his second wife and overcome the bad ones that came before and after.

  But, the cold fear of watching Lorelei walk away was still there. He almost laughed, for that one thought told him he was past saving. It was no longer his wife walking away but Lorelei. It was no longer some faceless woman frightened by her own children, but Lorelei. His relatives did not understand, but then they had not seen his father on his knees crying like a broken-hearted child because his wife was unfaithful. They had not seen how his father had turned from a kind, smiling man to a sad and bitter recluse who had no interest in anything but waiting for the undertaker.

  The troubling thing was that he did not see himself being saved by leaving her. Argus had the feeling he would find himself in nearly as bad a shape as his father once his enemy was gone and he left Sundunmoor. If he was not allowing vanity to cloud his mind, making him see what he wanted to see, he would have to say that Lorelei cared for him, cared for him deeply. The question was no longer whether or not he could risk a marriage that might make both him and Lorelei miserable in the end, but whether he could leave her without at least taking a chance that they could have a good marriage.

  The sound of feet pounding down the stairs pulled him from his thoughts, and he rushed to the door of the parlor. Looking out, he saw Olympia pelting down the stairs, her skirts hiked up to her knees. Leopold and Iago appeared, drawn by the noise as he was.

  “Olympia, what is wrong?” he asked as she hit the hall floor hard and fast enough to slide by him.

  “The children. Something is threatening the children. How far away is that cursed pond?”

  “Not far,” Argus said, checking to be sure he still carried his pistol as he followed her out the door.

  He could hear Leopold and Iago following him. As they raced by the stable, Wynn and Todd joined them. No one asked any questions. Todd and Wynn just followed as the sturdy, well-trained guards they were, and the rest of them knew that it was useless to ask Olympia to tell them more. She was not a true seer, simply got an occasional glimpse of something. Despite that limitation she had never been wrong, and Argus fought down his fear for the children, all of them, but mostly his sons. Instinct told him they were the ones in the most danger.

  Roland sat on the bank of the pond, fishing rod in hand, and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his face. He occasionally glanced at the boys flanking him and Mr. Pendleton, idly noting that all but Mr. Pendleton looked content. It was a fine summer day, one that demanded people come outside and savor it. Mr. Pendleton was not one who much loved nature.

  After a long night of fretting, he had decided just to stand back, remain silent, and let his daughter and Wherlocke sort themselves out. Although he had lived through two miserable marriages and was still content with his life, he knew he did not have the problems Wherlocke and his family did. Not everyone was a rational person, one who thought things out and did not give in to superstition and fear. The man just had to open his eyes and see that Lorelei was one of those people who did think. It was somewhat insulting that the man could even consider that Lorelei would ever leave the man she married, especially when it was for love, or leave her own children, but he could understand the fear when he looked at the marital history of the family.

  It had also helped him to understand the man when he had allowed himself to think on his own two bad marriages. The first had actually been the worst, for he had been young, as virginal as his wife, and his first taste of passion, only his own unfortunately, had left him besotted with his bride. She had been disgusted and remained disgusted until she died. Childbirth had appalled her so much that she had never forgiven the children or him for putting her through such an ordeal. She had also thought him a fool for not using his title to its full advantage, not wielding his power over all, and even for treating his tenants and workers as if they were actually people. He still believed her worst sin was demanding that he dismiss Max because the man was, as far as she was concerned, acting far above his station.

  His third wife had expected him to become a Lo
ndon man. At first he had placated her and gone to the wretched city so that she could parade her title before all and spend enough to keep the city itself in clothes. She had whined a lot, too. Whined about his clothes, his books, his other children, the children she had to bear for him, and on and on until one day he had ceased to listen. The only good thing was that she had liked the bedding, but she had obviously liked it enough to try it with others. The final thin threads of their marriage had snapped when she had demanded they go to London and he had said no. Of course, he had said a lot of other things concerning her morals and spendthrift ways, but it was mostly his refusal to go to London or even fund her going on her own.

  One thing he had learned was that, although it had all been hard on the children, they had survived because they had had him and Max. They had been the anchors in the children’s lives. Roland was just wondering if he should share some of his thoughts with Sir Argus when a pale-faced Olwen leaping up at his side startled him.

  “We must go,” the boy said.

  The duke set his fishing rod aside and clasped the boy’s hands. Those small hands were like ice. When he looked into Olwen’s eyes he saw a look that was not focused, was set on something no one else could see. Roland could not completely repress a tingle of excitement, for he knew he was actually seeing one of the gifts all the Wherlockes and Vaughns had.

  “Why, Olwen?” he asked. “Why must we leave here?”

  “Danger comes.” Olwen’s eyes cleared and he stared at the duke in alarm. “Where is Darius?”

  Looking around, the duke realized that the boy had wandered off while he had been lost in his thoughts. A glance toward Mr. Pendleton revealed that man discussing the flow of the water in the spring-fed pond with the twins Axel and Wolfgang. Everyone was doing what they had come to the pond to do and no one had yet noticed that Darius had wandered away.

  “Pendleton!” he yelled as he leapt to his feet. “We are missing Darius.” To his credit the tutor was swiftly on his feet and looking around. “Stefan, do you have any idea where the boy may have wandered off to?”

  Stefan stood up and rubbed a hand over his hair. “He was talking about acorns earlier.”

  The duke looked toward the wood that surrounded nearly a third of the pond. “Did anyone see Darius wander off?” He frowned when only one child, his youngest, pointed to the wood, which was little help except in that it confirmed Stefan’s suspicions. “I want everyone to stay close to me, Pendleton, and Stefan. We are going to look for Darius.”

  They were only a few feet into the trees when a high-pitched cry echoed around them. The duke gave a sharp hand signal to Pendleton to stay with the children, pulled out the pistol he had begun to carry since Lady Olympia’s attack, and moved toward the sound. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Stefan moving along at his side, a large, lethal-looking knife in his hand. The boy glanced at him and cocked one brow up in a very adult gesture.

  “Cannot shoot,” he said in a near whisper.

  “Can you use that well?” the duke asked just as quietly.

  Stefan just smiled in a way Roland thought would put a chill down any miscreant’s spine. He turned his attention to finding out where Darius was. Then the air was filled with a litany of curses, many the duke was unfamiliar with. They were being shouted in both a child’s voice and a man’s.

  He paused as he caught sight of a horse, Stefan keeping pace with him, and then edged closer until he finally saw Darius. The child was being held in a big man’s arms and that man was very close to getting on his horse and riding away with the boy. Darius was putting up a furious fight but inflicting injuries that most likely only tried the man’s temper. What troubled the duke was that there was no way he could get a clear shot.

  A frontal assault, he decided and boldly stepped into the man’s view, Stefan right at his side. He noticed that the youth hid his knife down by his side. It occurred to the duke that Stefan might have lived somewhere that did not have the peace of Radmoor. He had what could be considered some of the skills of a London street tough.

  “Put the child down, sir,” said the duke. “I would prefer not to have to shoot you.” The brief flare of amusement on the man’s face was an insult, and the duke began to feel his rare but hot temper stir to life. “I will not ask again.”

  “You shoot at me and you could be hitting this lad,” said the man in a thick London accent. “Think you ought to be considering that.”

  “What I am considering is that you are kidnapping a child in my care and that cannot be allowed. I can see that you find me amusing for some reason but allow me to assure you that the dukes of Sundunmoor have always been expert marksmen.”

  “If you be the duke then this brat is nothing to you. He is one of them Wherlockes.”

  “That may be so, but he was still placed in my care. Now, I suggest you put him down.”

  The man gripped Darius so tightly with one arm the boy could barely breathe and aimed his pistol at the duke. “Never killed me a dook.”

  He tensed and Roland chanced a quick glance around to see why. His heart nearly stopped as he saw his children and Olwen encircling the area around the man and his mount. Pendleton was there, pale and sweating, but standing straight.

  “What did you do, dook, bring out the whole nursery?” the man snapped and held his gun against Darius’s head. “You want them to be seeing this lad’s head shot off? If not, best be telling them to get back.”

  The duke felt Stefan press up close behind him as if he was hiding in fear and the youth whispered, “I am going to get him to aim at me. Are you good enough and quick enough to shoot the bastard’s gun out of his hand or just his hand?”

  He nodded, unable to protest because the man was watching him closely. The duke did not want the youth to take a chance with his life, and not only because he had a mind quicker than any the duke had met in a long time. Sixteen was far too young to die of a bullet to the heart.

  “Now,” whispered Stefan and he leapt out from behind the duke, his huge knife readied to throw.

  The man holding Darius immediately swung his pistol around to aim it at Stefan. Silently praying that nothing went wrong, the duke aimed his pistol at the man’s wrist and fired. The scream that split the air made him wince. The man’s gun went off, but the shot went wild, spinning off into the air. Darius dropped to the ground the minute the man grabbed at his profusely bleeding wrist and scrambled away. His face twisted into a grimace of pain and fury that made him look less than human, the man then started to run. The moment his back was turned, Stefan threw his knife and it buried itself between the man’s shoulders, causing another scream to send the birds flying up in panic.

  “He is getting away,” said Darius and bolted after the man.

  All the other children followed Darius and the duke cursed. With Pendleton and Stefan running apace with him, the duke raced after the young army that had been loosed into the woods. His only comfort was the fact that the man no longer had a weapon, nor the strength to hold one.

  “Shots!” cried Olympia as she turned slightly toward the sound.

  “You stay here,” Argus ordered. “You have no weapon and we do not know what we are facing. Anyone comes thrashing through those trees, you hide.”

  He did not wait to see if she obeyed him but ran toward the sound of the shots, the other men right behind him. Then came the sound of a lot of people running toward them, the hoots and cries of children, and a soft low cursing of a man. Argus held up his hand and stopped, his relatives and Leopold’s men stepping up in line with him. When the big man stumbled out of the wood, he raised his pistol, but before he could fire it the man fell to his knees, sat there panting for a moment and then collapsed onto his face. Bursting out of the cover of the trees came Darius, Olwen, and half a dozen other children. Mr. Pendleton staggered to a halt, placed his hands on his knees and struggled to catch his breath as the duke and Stefan appeared, the duke still holding his pistol, which Argus suspected was now empty. He recogn
ized the large knife sticking out of the prone man’s back as Stefan’s.

  “Olympia,” he called and was not really surprised at how quickly she showed up as he had guessed she would stay close without getting in the way. “Please escort Mr. Pendleton and the duke’s children back to the house. Take Todd with you.”

  “It might be best if your sons go too,” the duke said quietly as he glanced at the man on the ground, “for I am not sure but we will have a dead man on our hands soon.”

  “Darius and Olwen spent their first years in a not so very fine part of London, Your Grace,” said Argus. “I fear the sight of the dead is nothing new to them.” He walked over to Stefan, who had removed his knife from the man’s back so that Leopold could turn him over. “That is Jones,” he said and looked at Stefan. “Chances of healing?”

  Stefan shook his head. “Mortal. Knife pierced a few important things, but the duke’s shot opened his wrist and the blood was pouring out. Steady stream of it as he ran, which just made it flow even faster.”

  Argus crouched down by the side of the man, whose eyes fluttered open. “Hello, Jones.”

  “Bastard,” Jones said. “Knew you was trouble first time I saw you.”

  “Where are Cornick and Tucker?”

  “Not peachin’ on ’em, so stop wasting my dying breath.”

  “Then answer this, who is the one giving Cornick orders and paying for this hunting of Wherlockes? Have you his name?”

  “Chuff something. Cornick just calls him Chuffy.” He glanced up at Stefan. “Good toss, lad. Spent some time in my city, I wager. And I demmed well misread the dook. Done in by bloody little nits.”

  Argus was surprised by how quickly and quietly the man died. He stood up and cursed softly. There had been no time to make him tell them more, to force him to tell where Cornick and Tucker were. The only good thing was that they now had only two men to worry about. The very fact that Cornick and these two men were the only ones hunting him, told Argus that Chuffy was not sending any help.