The True One (One and Only Series Book 2)

by Samanthya Wyatt

  “I can handle Barincott.”

  She stood with her hands braced on her hips, determination in her beautiful, furious eyes. God, she was pretty. She probably could handle the bloody man. “Well, now you won’t have to.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He stepped to the sideboard and placed the cloth on its surface. “He won’t bother you any more now that he knows there is a man around. And you won’t have to put up with his constant pestering.”

  “You’ve only made things worse.”

  “The devil you say!”

  “You don’t know him.” Her eyes pleaded while she held her hands out to him. “He’ll dig until he finds out who you are. What if he locates the men who are after you?”

  Her words gave him a jolt. His gut revolted. Revenge. But not the shape he was in now. He needed to be stronger. And he couldn’t risk Jennifer being in the clutches of the Rajput prince.

  “Those men would have found me by now.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  True. He didn’t. But it had been months. From their conversations, he had traveled some distance before landing at her door. And the men who helped him escape covered their tracks.

  “Let’s just hope they are a long way from here and your neighbor doesn’t run into them. I have a feeling they don’t travel in the same circles.”

  “How can you joke about this?” She spun around and strode into the open room.

  “Believe me, I’m not joking,” he said as he followed.

  “This is serious. He’ll cause trouble. I know it.” A frown marred her pretty forehead. “He didn’t like the idea of you being here with me.”

  “If I were interested in becoming your next husband, I wouldn’t like the idea of another man in your house either.”

  She gave him a confusing look making him wonder if he’d just insulted her. What the hell had he said?

  “He’ll poke around. If that doesn’t work, he’ll do something else.” She picked up her pacing. “Barincott won’t let this go. He’ll . . . he’ll . . . I don’t know what he will do.”

  Stephen stepped in front of her bringing her to a sudden halt. “Don’t worry your pretty little head . . .” He reached for her.

  “Is that all you think about? Getting me into bed?” Her eyes flashed fire.

  He paused, his hands immobile very near where her long dark hair curved around one breast. “Now that you mention it . . .”

  “No.” She spun around. “You need to see reason. Barincott can be dangerous. He’ll be back.”

  “If he comes back, I’ll deal with him.” His voice rose as his irritation grew. Didn’t she have any faith in him?

  “What if he doesn’t come alone? What if he brings men and they take you? What if . . .?”

  “Shhhhh.” He slipped his arms around her and pulled her back to his chest. “Come here.” He placed his chin in the curve of her neck and cradled her in his arms. She fit so perfectly. He inhaled her sweet scent. She’d worn it since the night she’d worn the gown. A hint of the orient. God, he loved holding his angel like this.

  Suddenly, she spun around and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. “Stephen. I’m scared.”

  “Hey, now. I’ve got you.” He held her tight with one arm while the other caressed her silken hair. The curve of her head fit in the palm of his hand. His fingers grazed her neck through fine silky strands. She clutched him as if she’d never let him go. A thrill shot to the center of his chest creating a feeling like none he’d ever known.

  His ears prickled.

  Riders.

  “Jenny.”

  She must have heard it too, for she jerked back, her eyes locked with his.

  “He’s back.”

  “You go in there and shut the door.” He gave a nod toward the little room with the bed.

  She glared back at him refusing to move—just like he knew she would. He didn’t have the time or the patience.

  “I said go.” He shoved her inside giving her a threatening look, she dare not disobey.

  He slipped to the window. Men on horses. Barincott was nowhere in sight. A little too soon for him to take action, anyway.

  Stephen wished he had a weapon of some kind. He glanced over his shoulder to the closed door. For once the female best listen.

  Might as well get this over with.

  He opened the door cautiously and stepped outside.

  Chapter 15

  Stephen counted five men on horseback. Not more than he could handle, were he at full strength. Restless animals pranced. Nostrils flared and heavy breathing indicated the lot had been ridden hard. Ears back and eyes splayed wide, one horse jerked at his reins. The rider steadied the beast with gentle strokes and soothing words. The steed snorted and pawed one hoof on the ground.

  He studied the group, assessing each man one by one. No sudden movements or threats of any kind. By the look of their clothes, they could be Englishmen. But in his experience, he knew not to judge by looks. Although he did trust his instincts. And right now his gut did not forewarn danger.

  Still he had to tread carefully. First he’d present himself much stronger than he actually felt. Hell, he’d just gotten back on his feet.

  “We’re not here to cause trouble.” The man in front spoke, evidently the leader of the group. “We’re looking for a friend.”

  “Friend’s not here.” Stephen didn’t know who these men were, but when a group of men used the term friend, typically the opposite rang true.

  “In fact, our friend looks a lot like you.”

  Bloody hell. Every nerve stood to attention.

  “He’s about your height. Same color hair. Although you’re a lot thinner than I’d imagined.”

  Another rider spit a stream of juice to the ground. Stephen kept his gaze on the man speaking.

  “Course if our friend had a run-in with a certain Rajput chief, he more than likely lost some muscle. Would you be Captain Radbourn?”

  Confusion crowded his mind. But he couldn’t let down his guard. “Who wants to know?”

  “Don’t tell them who you are,” came a whisper from behind.

  Damn woman. He knew he should have locked her in.

  “Katherine sent us.”

  A blow hit his gut just as sure as if the man punched him. How the deuced hell did they know his sister?

  Or a lucky guess?

  “I know you have a lot of questions.” The leader spoke in a persuading voice, as if he knew he presented a threat. “You don’t need to worry. If you are Stephen, I’ve got a lot to tell you.” He leaned one arm on his saddle-horn, letting his words sink in.

  Being a fair judge of character, Stephen decided these men presented no danger, so he decided to listen. With the odds stacked against him, he didn’t have much choice.

  “We found the rebels who helped you escape. We’re not the enemy. Katherine is worried and has convinced Lord Whetherford you might be in trouble. Your uncle contemplated the same idea. We’re here to rescue you.”

  Katherine. If he knew his sister, she’d raised a ruckus until someone listened to her. Then she convinced Lord Whetherford, whoever the hell he was, to look for her brother. And his uncle? Where did he fit in all this? Stephen rolled his shoulders and released a heavy sigh.

  “You’ve found me. We can offer food and rest. There’s water close by for the horses.”

  “Thank you.” The leader nodded to the others and the men dismounted.

  While Stephen observed the men, Jennifer slipped beside him.

  “I’m Giles. This is George, Elms, Paddy.” He turned to his left. “And this is Nathaniel.” Each man gave a nod as his name was mentioned.

  “As you’ve guessed, I�
��m Stephen. This is Jennifer . . .” He hesitated while remembering Barincott had called her Mrs. Faircloth. “. . . Faircloth.”

  “Ma’am,” Giles said as he put his fingers to the brim of his hat.

  “If you are truly friends, then you are welcome in my home,” Jennifer said.

  “Much obliged, ma’am,” Nathaniel said and gave a blinding smile.

  “There is a path to the river, that way.” She gestured with her arm.

  “There’s a fenced area in the back,” Stephen said. “A small space for your gear. When you’re ready, come inside.”

  Giles handed Elms the reins to his horse. When Jennifer stepped inside her home, Stephen indicated for the leader to follow. He glanced over his shoulder. The rest of the riders disappeared around the side of the house.

  Stephen closed the door and faced the man equivalent to his towering height. “Now, Giles. Why don’t you tell me how you know my sister?”

  “Stephen, if the man is here to rescue you, you should be more gracious.”

  Stephen crossed his arms over his chest, while Giles’ gaze flicked from Jennifer to him. “Rescue me?”

  “Our mission was to find you and rescue you if necessary,” Giles said.

  “You still haven’t said how you know my sister.”

  His lips curved in a smile. “That’s a long story.”

  “Make it short,” Stephen said gruffly.

  “Might take some doing. May I have some water?”

  “Of course.” Jennifer dipped from the bucket she’d brought from the stream earlier.

  “Thank you.” Giles drank, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Before Morgan became the Earl of Whetherford, he and I traveled from one country to the next on special assignments. You know how gossip sweeps through the ton. Rumormongers spread word of Morgan’s past. Your sister heard the gossip and approached Whetherford asking for his help—to find you. He sent me. Is that short enough?”

  “Devil take her.” Stephen spouted. “Just like Kat to do something so foolish. And what of my uncle?”

  “I met with him. He assigned me the job.”

  “Then I shall thank my uncle for his intervention.”

  “I assured him I would find you.” A frown crossed his brow. “My only regret is that I did not discover your circumstances or your whereabouts sooner.”

  “No one knew I was in trouble.”

  “Your sister did.”

  “Kat.” Of course she would know. When he hadn’t come home, she must have guessed. She knew he’d never stay away from her for long. Just how long had it been? He’d lost track of time in hell’s pit.

  “Please, Mr. . . .” Jennifer hesitated.

  “Giles, ma’am.”

  “Mr. Giles. Please have a seat.”

  He gave a smile of admiration to Jennifer causing Stephen to narrow his eyes. He pulled out the opposite chair and lowered his frame.

  “How did you know where I’d gone?”

  “Thornton has some very influential friends. And I have my own contacts. My former . . . occupation . . . instilled a dedicated set of skills. I’ve not had much occasion to use them of late, but I haven’t forgotten what I learned.”

  Nor had he lived a life of constant peril, either, if Stephen had his guess. By his speech, he’d been educated, sounded like a blue-blood.

  “When the rebels told us . . .” Giles glanced at Jennifer in her rocker, “. . . what happened, we weren’t sure we’d find you alive.”

  “I’m stubborn.”

  A choking sound caused both men to look at Jennifer. When she recovered, she glared her rejoinder. “Well, you are.”

  Giles’ eyes glowed with appreciation and his lips turned up at the corners. Stephen wanted to wipe the approving grin right off his face. Preferably with his fist.

  “He nearly did die. And when we heard horses, I thought . . .” Jennifer faltered. She twisted her hands in her lap.

  Her words reminded him of another threat. “Barincott.”

  “He could still come back.” Anxiety bounced off her.

  Giles eyes grew hard and his jaw tightened. “What does she mean?”

  “Her blasted neighbor,” Stephen grunted and slapped his hand on his thigh. “He left a short while ago.”

  “My neighbor has been . . . uh . . .”

  “The man wants her. He saw me here, and Jennifer is afraid he’ll cause trouble. She thinks he will connect me with the prince.”

  “She may be right. The prince most likely has his scouts scouring the land, looking for information.”

  Jennifer’s gasp ripped through him.

  “They nearly killed him. If the prince finds him, he will finish what he started.”

  “Then time is of the essence.” With an abrupt movement, Giles stood. “We should leave. Now.”

  “I agree. Jennifer, pack some food.” Stephen placed both hands on the table and rose.

  She grabbed a linen sac and raced to the corner, filling it with whatever she could find. All he had was the clothes on his back, so he gathered any items he thought essential for the journey. Footsteps outside signaled the men had returned. Giles slipped out, making his men aware of their situation.

  Jennifer handed Stephen the bag. Her head down, she trembled.

  “Hey.” He placed the items on the table and when he pulled her, she came willingly into his arms. She snuggled into the curve of his neck. She fit so perfectly. He buried his face in her soft, silky hair. Mmmm. Sweet.

  “I’ve got you, Angel. You have nothing to fear.” His hands caressed her back, his fingers pressed into her flesh while he drew her tighter against his body. Awareness plucked his inner recesses. He’d wanted to console her, but one moment in his arms and he hungered for more than her kisses. Good God, he wanted to ravish her.

  “Let’s get going. We don’t want to be here when Barincott comes back.”

  “I’m not going.”

  He placed a finger under her chin and wrenched her gaze to his. He searched her eyes. “What did you say?”

  “I said, I . . . I’m not going.”

  “Jennifer. You must come with me. I’ll not leave you here alone.”

  “I’ve been on my own for quite some time.”

  “Are you daft, woman? Barincott will not rest until he finds out who I am. Then he’ll be back.”

  “I can handle him.”

  “Blast it, woman. If Barincott returns with the prince’s men, they will take you. He’s a cruel man. There’s no way in hell I’ll let that bloody bastard get his hands on you.”

  “You are not in charge of me. I’ll remind you, Stephan, I was the one who took care of you when you were weak and helpless. I can take care of myself. I will deal with him.”

  Stephen bent down, his nose nearly touching hers. “No you won’t because you’ll be gone.”

  “Now just a minute.” Her hands on his chest, she pushed away.

  “Bloody hell, woman.” His hands tightened, refusing to let her go. “If I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you every step, you will go with me.”

  “I will not.” She stamped her foot. This time, when she shoved, she broke free.

  How she reminded him of his little sister. Bottom lip distended in a stubborn pout. Hands on her hips like she wielded a weapon. Fire shooting from her eyes.

  He took a threatening step and heard snickers from behind.

  “Looks like you got your hands full there, Captain Radbourn. If what you say about this Barincott is true, we best not waste any time.”

  “See, Stephen? You must go.”

  “I’ll not be repeating myself.” The muscles in his cheeks tightened with each word, so much so, he thought his jaw would snap. “Pack or leave ev
erything behind. That’s the only choice I’ll give you.”

  When she opened her mouth, he’d had enough.

  “That’s it.”

  He lunged, but she quickly darted out of his reach. He stomped after her, mindful of the pain shooting through his ankles and up his legs. His steps slowed and his gait lightened, but he continued until he caught her, pinning her arms within his iron grip.

  “All right, all right.” She struggled unsuccessfully, to free herself. “Let me gather my things.”

  “Make it few. We travel light. And if you give me any grief . . .” his nose nearly touching hers with only a breath between them, he growled, “you’ll be riding up-side-down with only the clothes on your back.”

  “You made your point quite clear. Now get out of my way.”

  He graciously stepped back, and with a swing of his arm, he gallantly waved her forward, like any gentlemanly swain taking a knee at an elaborate ball.

  “We should leave before dark. The cover of night will aid in our ship not being seen. But first, we have to get there.” A grim line formed on Giles’ mouth.

  The resonance of his voice triggered something in Stephen’s brain. More of a quality, actually. Giles may be the leader of this bunch—and he definitely looked the part of a nomad—but his words and actions hinted in the region of autocratic, and not in the tyrannical sense. Giles had a certain air about him, an essence of power. Authority yes, but respectability as well.

  A man’s rightful claim to being a gentleman was not something one could inherit like a title.

  His father’s words. But Stephen’s dealings with the gentry instilled enough to know a gentleman of the upper-crust when he saw one. He also recognized a man who’d traveled down the devil’s road. Giles hid secrets. Since both images seem to fit him, Stephen had to wonder what hand fate had dealt the man.