Yanked around by Hollingsby’s grip, the blade slipped from Elyse’s hand as she fought to escape. Pulling away, and twisting her arm as she did, she felt rather than saw the blur of Brace’s arm go past her eyes.
She heard, as did everyone else in the chamber, the sound of Brace’s fist meeting Hollingsby’s jaw. An instant later, she was free.
The jar of his blow raced along his arm. Even before Hollingsby hit the floor, Brace caught him and hauled him to his feet. Without a second thought, he drew his arm back and let go with another blow. This time the sound was louder than the first.
Brace released Hollingsby’s shirt, and the earl crumpled to the floor, a shapeless lump. Only then did he turn to look at Elyse.
She gazed up at him, tears welling in her eyes. “You’re safe now, my love,” he said as she went to him. Then, with one arm around Elyse’s narrow waist, he looked at the acting governor.
“Excellency, whatever claim these people have pleaded to you is false. They have taken Lady Louden against her will.”
“How dare you break into these chambers? How dare you strike a nobleman? Who are you to speak such slanderous things!” he demanded, looking at the scandalous scene between Brace and Elyse Louden.
Elizabeth Sorrel, her face drawn into an ugly mask of hatred, knew exactly whom he must be. “The man is obviously in consort with her. Denham, I believe is his name. A debtor. Can you not see how unstable she is, accepting his touch so willingly? We saved her just in time.”
Albright looked back at Brace, and then nodded his head. “You are Charles Denham’s son?”
“I am,” Brace said.
“I command you to release Lady Louden. And you,” he shouted at Will, pointing a shaky index finger at him, “put down that weapon instantly.”
Will smiled and looked at Brace. “Does he think we’re stupid?”
The governor’s face flushed. “By what rights do you dare interfere with the governor’s business?”
“By the right of decency!” Brace stated. Releasing Elyse’s waist, Brace started toward the governor. Halfway there, he stopped, his arm sweeping out to encompass the Sorrels. “These people have conspired to steal the estate of the Earl of Chatsworth.”
“Lies!” Elizabeth cried desperately. “You have all the proof you need in your hands, Excellency. Would you take the word of such lowborn scum over ours?”
“Have your companion put down his weapon. You are under arrest, Denham. Submit now and don’t make matters worse,” the acting governor bluffed.
Brace was surprised that Albright was standing up to him. He had thought the man would cave in under the threat of violence. Brace shook his head, a slow smile spreading across his face as the acting governor continued to speak.
“You are a fool, Denham! Do you not think that I don’t know who you are? Do you think that because of an inheritance from the earl, it makes you our equal? Did you think that by buying land and starting a plantation you can rise above your station? Worse, you are using a simple-minded woman, a noblewoman, to try to rise higher. You are the son of a debtor, nothing more. And now you are a criminal in your own right.”
“I think not, Excellency.” Brace glanced at Elyse and saw her eyes filled with love, even after Albright’s damning words.
“Get out!” the governor ordered. “Let us finish the Crown’s business. Arrest them!” Albright shouted.
“Hold!” Brace called. The guards did not move, for neither wanted to take the ball Will would fire. “If it is the Crown’s business,” Brace said in a level voice, “then I must insist on witnessing it. If it is the underhanded dealing that I know it to be, then it is my duty to stop it.”
“Your duty? Who do you think you are?”
“Go on! But be warned, if you are in league with these three, you, too, will pay for what is happening to Lady Louden.”
“Are you threatening me?” Albright demanded.
Brace smiled again. When he spoke, his eyes narrowed dangerously, and his voice was as cold as steel. “No, Excellency, you have my word that what I speak is not threat but a promise.”
“And one that shall put you into prison!”
Behind him, Brace heard more guards come to the door. Turning, he saw a full dozen men fill the doorway, their muskets all held at the ready. Yet, Brace was certain they wouldn’t fire for fear of hitting Albright and the others.
Brace looked at the governor. “Finish this…business. You are well protected now.”
Albright glanced at Brace. “I will not conduct business with weapons threatening my men!”
Suddenly, Brace no longer wanted to play this game. Turning to the Sorrels, he stared at them until Carl broke his gaze, but Elizabeth’s hatred was so strong that it made her stand up to him.
“It’s over, Lady Sorrel. End this insanity before you lose everything, including your freedom.”
Elizabeth refused to speak to him. Instead, she looked at the governor. “Order your men to take him away!”
Brace kept his eyes locked on Elizabeth’s, although he spoke to Albright. “That would be an even bigger mistake than what you are doing now, Excellency. My imprisonment,” he said in a loud enough voice for everyone to hear, “would bring your head to the king’s feet.”
Elizabeth laughed wildly. “Do you hear him? He thinks he is of the blood! Arrest him!” she screamed. As she spoke, Carl Sorrel, his features twisted with rage, charged at Brace.
Brace sidestepped the fat man and, without exerting himself, pushed Elizabeth’s off-balanced husband to his knees.
“Enough!” Brace shouted. Turning, he strode to the governor’s desk. Albright stiffened; his hands trembled visibly.
“Stop him!” he ordered the two clerks who had been silently watching everything, taking it all in so they might tell the tale to all who would listen later on. Neither man moved.
When Brace reached the desk, he stared directly into the governor’s eyes. “This will be your last chance,” he said in a low voice. “Rescind the orders you have just issued, and place those three under arrest.”
“You’re mad! You cannot threaten the acting governor and expect to get away with it,” Albright stated, drawing some degree of courage from himself.
“No, Excellency, far from it.” With that, he reached into his jacket and withdrew several sheets of paper. “I would suggest you read these very, very carefully. They will make the difference between your being accused as an accomplice, or looked upon as an honest man.”
Albright, puzzled by the statement, and sensing a vastly different undertone to Brace’s words, took the papers. He studied them, his eyes rising every few lines to look at Brace.
When he finished, Brace held out his hand. The governor stared at the signet ring and slowly nodded. “My lord,” he said, his voice obsequiously ingratiating.
Rising slowly, the acting governor came around the desk and stood next to Brace. He looked directly at the captain of the guard. “Everything is under control,” he said. “There has been a mistake. This man is not a criminal, he is…he is the Duke of Wadworth, a…a member of the Royal Family.”
Brace heard the shocked intake of breath as he stared at the Sorrels. “Have them placed under arrest. Him, too,” Brace ordered, pointing to the unmoving form of Hollingsby.
“Yes, my lord,” Albright said.
“The charges will be abduction and murder.”
“Yes, my lord,” Albright repeated.
“Excellency, the affidavits, when are they dated?”
Albright’s face showed puzzlement. He turned to the clerk. “March fifteen and sixteen of ’37,” the clerk responded.
“For your edification, Excellency, and for evidence in the trials of the Sorrels, Lady Louden was aboard the ship Brittania on those dates, as well as on the date of the high judge’s warrant. Therefore, these documents must be forgeries. I’m sure the high judge will disavow them.”
Albright looked at Brace, and did not miss the full meaning of his word
s. Although the seal affixed to the high judge’s document was authentic, Albright knew that under the circumstances, the high judge would disavow any knowledge of the warrant.
“Take them!” Albright ordered when Will McClintock lowered his musket.
Smiling at Elyse, who gazed at him with wonder, Brace went toward her. As the guards approached her aunt and uncle, she realized her nightmare was over. With her heart beating fast, and her love for Brace swirling through her, she took her first step toward him.
Just when she was within arm’s reach of Brace, and one guard grasped Elizabeth Sorrel’s arm, Carl Sorrel let out an anguished growl. Her uncle dove to the floor and rolled behind Brace, moving faster than she’d ever seen him move. When he gained his feet, the dagger that Hollingsby had torn from her hand earlier was in his fist as he charged Brace.
Time stopped. She saw every line on Brace’s face, and saw, too, the love he had for her, while her uncle charged toward them, his arm upraised and ready to strike. “No!” she screamed.
She tried to push Brace out of the way, willing her strength to hold as she forced Brace sideways. Before she could move him, the shattering explosion of a musket ripped through the chamber. Carl Sorrel froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. He shook his head slowly, denying what had happened. The dagger fell from his hand, his eyes glazed over, and he dropped lifeless to the floor.
Brace turned to Will who was lowering the musket.
Then Elyse was in Brace’s arms, feeling his strength, his life, and his love. She stared at his face, taking in every line, every plane, and every inch of his face, and knew they would be together, always.
From the Author
Dear Reader,
Thank you for taking the time to read Silver Moon. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated.
Thank you,
Monica Barrie
Click here to review Silver Moon
Important Links
eMail: [email protected]
Website: http://www.monicabarrie.com
Amazon.com Author’s page: http://bit.ly/MonicaBarrie
FaceBook: http://www.facebook.com/monicabarrie.author
About the Author
Monica Barrie is a multi-published author of contemporary and historical romances. She is also geriatric social worker, wife, and mother. She lives in New York with her husband David Wind, a multi published author himself.
Monica is also re-releasing many of her Contemporary and Historical romance novels.
~~~~
For more information about Monica Barrie, please visit www.monicabarrie.com
Currently Available Novels
Historical Romances
Alana
Gentle Fury
Run On The Wind
Silver Moon
Coming Soon
Turquoise Sky
Available Contemporary Romances
Cry Mercy, Cry Love
Silken Threads
Lovegames
A Perfect Vision
A SPECIAL PREVIEW
RUN ON THE WIND
By Monica Barrie
PART I
The Idaho Territory, Wyoming
June, 1867
One
Placing a small, booted foot into the leather stirrup, Lara Dowley grasped the pommel of the saddle and swung her light body up. Pausing birdlike above the ground, Lara’s ice-blue eyes surveyed the land. The golden morning sun flowed down and across the lush green valley, sitting like an oasis surrounded by almost barren terrain. With a slight flaring of her nostrils, Lara picked up the scent of pine, sage, juniper, and wildflower. Her sigh of pleasure spoke more than words, as she began to complete her upward movement.
“Lara!” came her stepfather’s loud bellow.
With a tinge of apprehension, Lara brought her slim body back to the ground. She had hoped to be gone before he’d finished his breakfast. She turned to him, certain of what was about to happen.
“How often must I tell you that a lady does not dress like that?” Martin Dowley admonished when he completed his walk from the covered veranda of the too-large house. Although only a few hundred feet from the stables, he was breathing hard and sweating. Martin Dowley was fifty-two, with a balding pate covered by a succession of different hats. His face had a mean look, and his body shape was more that of an egg than a man.
“Father, I’m going for a ride, not a social,” Lara reminded him. Seeing the hardening set of his small mouth and the narrowing of his dark eyes, Lara reacted angrily. “I am not your property!” she spat.
“In that you are wrong, young lady. You most certainly are my property. You are bought and paid for, and I have the papers to prove it,” Dowley replied with a grotesque smile. “Now, damn it, girl, you’ll do exactly what I tell you. Look at yourself. Wearing buckskins and a man’s shirt. You should be ashamed! I am!”
“Am I to ride through the sage with a dress and petticoats?” Lara asked sarcastically, fighting back the tears his taunting reminder of her adoption summoned.
“No. You may take the carriage, or ride our property like a woman, with a woman’s saddle and a proper riding dress. You’re indecent the way you are.”
“Indecent? I’m indecent?” Lara cried her incredulous reaction to her father’s hurting words. “At least all I do is ride in pants. I don’t force women to travel across the country to chase my ambitions. I don’t push people beyond their capabilities. I don’t drive people to their deaths.” Lara’s twenty-year-old eyes turned cold, her entire frame tensing with anger.
Suddenly, Lara realized just how far she had overstepped her bounds. Watching her father’s face turn a dark shade of red, she mounted the roan mare and, using her heels, commanded the horse to move.
“Never—never speak to me like that!” Martin Dowley ran after the burgundy-haired woman. “Come back here this minute!”
Ignoring his shouts, Lara forced the mare to a gallop in an effort to put her father, and their home, behind her. Through the rich green valley, and then over the small hills that led toward the Wind River, Lara sped to freedom from prying eyes. The breeze tossed the heavy mass of her hair about as her buckskin-covered legs molded to the horse’s flanks.
The smooth movements of the roan’s muscles, rippling against her thighs gave Lara a sense of oneness with the large animal. She tried to block out all thought as she concentrated on the horse’s gait, the wind in her face, and the warm sun above her.
Lara’s mind was in a rage; her heart beat too fast. The rising heat of the day and the heat of her anger made the young woman perspire freely. Rivulets of moisture ran between the valley of her breasts, and the cooling effect of the perspiration beading on her brow, was cooling as it mixed with the rushing air.
“Father!” Lara spat out the word as if it were a curse. She couldn’t help the anger and the sadness that gripped her and spun her thoughts in a circle, reminding her of how much she wished she had known her real father and not this fat obscenity of a stepfather, who demanded so much but was unwilling to give anything in return. Not the miserable man who had forced her to leave Pennsylvania; to leave her friends, and to leave the man she had planned to marry.
Lara’s light blue eyes misted as she thought about Jason Grumman. They had grown up together. The Grumman family, who were Quakers, had owned a fine business and a house near her own. Jason and Lara had pledged an undying love for each other when she was forced to move west. She made him promise to wait for her. One way or another, they would be reunited.
Was it only yesterday that the letter came? It seemed like years to her. She had slept fitfully last night, dreaming of Jason, and of what she had read in the letter. Amelia Forman, her friend in Philadelphia, wrote to her with the worst news Lara had received since arriving in the Idaho territories. Jason Grumman had married another. Although she spent a miserable night, when the sun rose, the pain of his treachery
dimmed, and the reality of her situation entered Lara’s thoughts. Now she was alone, forced to face her future as a grown woman.
As she dressed, Lara looked at the soft globe of the rising sun with a new sense of understanding and forgave Jason. Perhaps she had always known that he would not come for her because he could not leave his family.
How she hated Martin Dowley! How she despised the man who forced her to give up every dream she had ever built. Lara loathed her stepfather even more for making her realize Jason’s weakness. Just thinking of Martin Dowley made her angrier.
As the horse raced along, the lush and green foliage became sparse. The changing land was the warning signal for Lara to turn back from the untamed wilderness of the Wind River Mountains, but it went unnoticed by her misted eyes and enraged mind as she continued her own inward journey.
Lara had never known her natural father. He’d died two months before she was born. Eleven months after Lara’s birth, her mother had married Martin Dowley. Kristen Fairwald had agreed to this marriage because she believed she and her baby daughter needed the protection and security of a man of Martin Dowley’s stature. A rich and seemingly noble man.
That rich and noble man turned her mother’s life into a living hell. He was demanding, self-seeking, and bigoted. Martin Dowley had treated her mother, and Lara, like chattel, to be used when deemed necessary and forgotten until needed again. Dowley had killed his wife. Not physically, but through years of mental torture, blaming the loss of his fortune on her. Then the unanswered question of how he had regained his wealth, combined with their move to the Idaho territory, had brought Kristen Fairwald to death’s door. The trip was hard, even for people such as them, who had the means to afford more comfort.
Silver Moon Page 20
