by Darcy Burke
Even from her distance, she could see the men were related. The angles on their faces were too similar not to be. Then it hit her. She had seen these men before, spoken with them. They were the same men that night in the Buckshead Inn when she was serving. She had met her blackmailers, and never knew. A chill slid down her back and her stomach wretched. How could she have not realized? However, she knew there would have been no way for her to know that night. They didn't give anything away.
She would have liked to wait a bit longer to listen to their argument, but since she was alone and no one knew what she was about, it was not prudent to anger them further by appearing late. Taking a steadying breath and holding her head high, she rose from her crouch and stepped into the clearing. Both men turned in her direction. Their expressions were so sinister that she wanted to turn and run. they were so sinister. Instead, she lifted her chin a notch and continued deeper into the clearing.
♥♥♥
Devon sat crouched to the south of the little cottage, hidden by a large group of blown down trees. Thankfully, he had not been late. After leaving the bakery, he proceeded to where he hoped to intercept Clive on his way here. He would have liked to hear what news he was able to dig up on his tenant visits. He must have been held up. Devon abandoned hope of meeting Clive and headed to the meeting spot. He hoped his friend would appear, as he wasn't sure if he would need assistance. Now, he watched as two ruffians arrived on horseback and made their way to the clearing. His suspicions were correct. These two were not of good breeding. They were dressed poorly with the look of bitter anger on their drawn features.
How could Ella have been so foolhardy to agree to meet in such a secluded place alone? Once she was back, safe in London, he would have to have a talk with his independent wife about when it is prudent to allow a man to handle a situation.
A noise to his right gained his attention. The darkness had taken over, but the denseness of the forest was still darker, leaving him to search the shadows. Clive came, none too late, bending low to remain unseen.
"Where have you been?" Devon hissed low at his friend.
"Sorry," Clive whispered with a slight grimace letting Devon know he hadn't meant to be tardy. "My last stop was the Vicar's house."
"Well, what did you find out?" Devon asked still whispering but instilling his restraint.
"It will take too long and now really isn't the time. Later, back at the manor." Clive responded settling more into the blow down of trees that Devon had chosen as their look out spot. Devon wanted to argue. Clive knew something he could tell, but now wasn't the time. Devon ground his teeth. He had no choice, but to sit back, watch and wait.
Just as he stopped glowering at Clive, he turned to see Ella make her entrance. She looked all of the Viscountess that she was. His wife was the bravest woman he knew. Watching the scene unfold, he tried to envision one of his female acquaintances doing the same. Not one would be able to do what Ella could. From the moment she entered his study on the night she proposed they marry, and then fake her death, his life had been forever changed.
Despite his admiration for her tenacity, Devon would prefer her to be safe right now. To their benefit, she kept her distance, so both parties were forced to raise their voices.
"I am here. I assume you gentlemen are the ones attempting to empty my pockets. I don't have much time before I am missed, so let us get this over with." The two men stood, their heads bent together discussing something.
"You are not in charge here, so shut yer mouth! We're gettin' sick of ye choosin' when to follow directions!" The taller man shouted.
"Ye are jus' as uppity as yer mum!"
"My mother? What do you know of my mother?" She shouted back to the shorter man. Devon thought he heard her voice catch.
The taller man laughed. "We didn't think ye knew. We weren't sure that is, but now–"
"Tell me!" Ella hissed.
"I'm not surprised that yer mum never told ye she was a murderin', whore." The shorter of the two beamed. Devon wanted at that moment not to be eavesdropping. He felt unease settle in his stomach. This was going to be very private, and perhaps Ella wouldn't want to share it with him, but he was stuck now. He had to be there in order to protect her. Whatever this was, they would deal with it later, once she was safe. He did look away to afford her that amount of privacy, however small.
♥♥♥
Ella stood, unable to breathe. The copse began to sway, or was it her. She couldn't faint. She needed to stay clear-headed. Her mother a murderer? Her mother who was afraid of the wind. They couldn't be speaking of her mother. She was a child of twelve when she passed, but she even remembered the woman being timid and retiring every time her father had visitors. It wasn't possible. And well, as for her mother being a harlot, that was just absurd. She was the most virtuous woman Ella ever knew. In fact, she felt on many occasions that her own behavior would have been looked down upon by her mother for being too overbearing and free minded.
"What's the matter, sweetie, your mum's sins weighing on ye?" teased the shorter one, Ella was beginning to realize he was the angrier of the two which could make him more dangerous.
She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of watching her deny the allegations. "I have no idea what you are talking about. If you can't produce any more in the way of facts than an accusation, I am afraid this meeting is over," she answered back. She could tell her cold tone took them a bit by surprise.
"Ye, want facts, Missy? I'll give ye facts!" she had decided not to anger them, but as usual, she spoke before she thought. The one in charge shook from his rage as he pointed a finger at her. The darkness was overwhelming them, and now, she could see only their forms, not their expressions. "Yer mum killed our brother. How is that by way of a fact? She allowed him to court her. She flirted with him. Led him to thinkin' she wanted more, and then just as he made her his, she killed him." She heard the years of hatred drip from every word. She was beginning to piece together a scenario. One that she wasn't going to be happy with, she was sure.
The taller man continued when the shorter one seemed too overcome with anger to finish the story. Now the darkness had turned the men into outlines and the cottage was gone to her. "After, our Pa wanted justice. He was the oldest son. She was just a female. But, she had convinced her Pa, 'The Lord', she hadn't meant to. Well, her being a 'Lady' made it so. She was married off, and sent away."
Ella heard the snap of a twig at the same moment she felt the arm around her neck. The shorter one was on her. Being just taller than she was, he had the advantage. She felt more than heard his hot, gin filled breath against her ear from the roaring she was hearing in her head as she struggled. "Aren't ye going to say 'ello to yer old uncle?" he hissed.
"No!" The word was ripped from her throat before she knew what was happening. She felt vomit filling her throat, but swallowed hard to clear her head. His grip tightened as he turned to drag her back to the other man. She couldn't let him do it. She could only think of Maddie. She wouldn't allow Maddie to grow up without her mother.
Digging in her heels, she began to fight. He had her by the throat, leaving her arms free. She began throwing her elbows into his ribs with all the force she could muster. She thought she heard a groan and a thud from behind her, but she couldn't be sure. Her captor was grunting and swearing so loudly that she could just be hearing him. Ella connected with a tender spot and he let her go, cursing violently. She didn't wait to try to escape, but it wasn't quick enough.
He grabbed her long hair that had fallen from the struggle and yanked hard. The pain sent bright lights dancing in front of her eyes. She thought she heard it rip from her scalp. The force pulled her back, but it wasn't hard enough to send her to the ground. Instead, Ella turned to face her assailant and was greeted with the back of his hand. Before she recovered, she heard her assailant being overtaken by someone or something. The moonless night did not allow her to see anything but large shapes. She turned to see where her other assailant was,
but couldn't spot him. What she did see was a large mound on the ground. Whoever this was, he must have gotten him while she and the shorter one were struggling. Still a bit dizzy from the blow to her face, she tried to make out who was winning. Then she thought about who this might be. She was thankful, but what if it was just a passerby seeing the chance to have a stab at her as well? She took the opportunity, before she had more to deal with and ran as fast as she could into the darkness of the forest. If the stranger killed them, life would get better in quick fashion, but if he didn't— well, she was sure life could get worse. Much worse.
Devon watched as Ella streaked into the woods and out of sight. His fisted hand itched to deliver another blow to the bloody man who dared harm Ella. Had they not slipped away in the darkness and confusion, Devon could have ended this once and for all. Life, however, he was finding, wasn't as tidy as one would hope when his wife was involved.
"Blast!" Clive rounded the cottage panting. "They had horses. At least I know they were not headed in the direction of the village. They headed south."
Devon stood in silence, looking at the spot where Ella had vanished. His blood boiled with anger for the man who touched her. He was certain at that moment that he would have killed him had he been given the chance, so filled with rage over her potential danger that he could taste it.
"Devon? Did you hear me?" Clive asked, walking closer so Devon could see his disheveled appearance. "I said—"
"Yes, I heard. They went south." Devon interrupted Clive. "Well, was it true?" He continued to ask without removing his eyes from the now empty woods. "Are those men Ella's uncles? Did her mother kill their brother?"
"Well, the generalities of it are I suspect, yes," Clive answered without his customary good humor. "I think the Vicar and his wife may have a more objective version. Let's get the horses and I can fill you in."
Turning, Devon fell in beside Clive as they made their way to the woods and their horses. Neither man spoke. It unsettled him to have Clive so quiet, but it did make the gravity of their situation clearer. Now, how should he proceed? The decisions now would be more complicated. His hand throbbed from the one solid hit he managed to land on Ella's attacker and now his temple began to throb. He would get no sleep this night. He sighed.
Once mounted and heading for the road, Clive filled him in. "The vicar and his wife remember the situation differently. The man in question had an unhealthy interest in the daughter of the Lord, especially being just a farmer's son. He had been removed from the property on more than one occasion because of his unwanted advances." Devon did not like where he knew this story was going. "They remember Ella's mother as a shy, quiet little thing who would never have made advances. After the incident, the boy's family did demand compensation and retribution for their loss, but were turned away because in the Lord's eyes, his daughter had been defiled and abused against her will. It wasn't long after that before Lord Bowen-Thorn was summoned. He had shown interest in her dowry and it was assumed that an early pregnancy would not hinder his enthusiasm. There were threats made and it was decided moving to London would guarantee her safety. Devon, I am afraid their end game is to kill her and Maddie for her mother's sins."
"I am certain of it," Devon replied tightly. He had lost her once because of their parent's bad choices and behavior, he would not risk that a second time.
Everything about Ella's life clicked into place in that instant. Bowen-Thorn had married an already pregnant wife to gain the fortune, which once gone, he would have no need for his wife. Devon assumed the poor woman was so traumatized by her rape that she would not be intimate with her new husband, so he was left with raising a daughter that didn't belong to him and was of lowly birth, with no chance of begetting an heir. It by no means excused his behavior toward Ella, but it did explain it.
"I don't suppose you have a brilliant plan to rid the Scottish countryside of those curs?" Clive quipped as they reached the main road leading back to Aires Meade. "I believe I won't sleep a wink knowing they are wandering about. I am sure we haven't scared them off for long."
Clive's words only substantiated his own thoughts. His need to make sure Ella was safe surged. As the two men rode on, his instincts turned him toward the village instead of the manor. Devon needed only to look at Clive.
"I will not wait up, but do not expect there to be any brandy left in my study upon your arrival."
"Fair enough. Send someone to find Eric and bring him up to snuff with the latest happenings." And he was off.
♥♥♥
She had told him she was going to visit an elderly friend. He would not be overstepping his rights to feel the need to see that she made it home. He wanted nothing more than to enter that blasted bakery, yelling at her foolishness for trotting off alone in a secluded wood, to meet with the very blackmailers who are threatening to harm her and her family.
His family!
Unfortunately, the fear of losing her again was strong enough to turn his words sour on his tongue. He was a coward. If he went to White's and told the gentlemen of his acquaintance that he was afraid of losing his wife if he became too overbearing, he would be a laughing stock. Unless those men also loved their wives as much as he was beginning to fear he loved his.
Riding on the dark road, he had nothing to divert his thoughts. They kept going back to the moment he realized that man was going to hurt her. Clive couldn't have stopped him had he tried. If he was trying to keep his control, it died a tragic death when Ella's cry of pain was wrested from her. One minute he was crouched in the forest, the next he was shoving Ella out of the way as he threw the hardest punch he could into his target's jaw.
What if Ella had recognized him? Could she have?
He hadn't thought of it when he went to her rescue, and he would have to admit, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself had it been in the height of the afternoon. Well, if she knew who it was, then he would just have to pay the consequences. Her life was more important than having her next to him every night. He had lived thinking her dead for four years. Neither, choice was the one he wanted, but having the choice, he knew he would choose her alive hating him to her dead. The dim lights of the Inn were approaching to the right. He guessed he would just have to go to the bakery and see her reaction. He preferred being a coward, truth be told, at least where Ella was involved.
Passing the Inn, he heard the loud boisterous voices of the men. He was learning that unlike London, Scotland was in general, a happy place. Perhaps it was more the people than the location, but he didn't think so. He idly wondered what it was about Scotland he hadn't liked before this journey. Around the corner, the bakery stood dark and quiet. There were no candles in the main shop and none shone from the upper floor. Devon turned his horse down an ally and around to the back. As he suspected, a soft glow from the kitchen radiated into the chill of the night.
Devon dismounted, and to his surprise, his mount ambled over to the tree where Devon had been watching the goings on for days at the bakery when not with Maddie or Ella. If his horse knew the routine, perhaps he was a bit too obvious. He followed the horse and tied it. Once done, he turned toward the back door. He decided to knock and see where Ella took the conversation. He would be able to gain knowledge from her reaction— or so he hoped.
He had seen her run from the woods, he knew she headed here, but when no one answered the door right away, fear swelled like the tide. What if she was hurt more than he thought? What if they circled around on a path neither he nor Clive knew? What if she fell? What if...? He rapped again, louder this time. Just as he was about to pound on the door with both fists, it opened.
"Devon, what are you doing here?" Ella asked, surprise evident on her face.
Devon couldn't answer right away. He was too busy calming his scattered nerves. She was all right. She was standing in the doorway, not in a broken heap on the forest floor. He fought the urge to reach out and touch her cheek. As he searched her face for signs of bruises or scrapes, he saw what he
thought was relief wash over her features, but as soon as he saw it, it was gone. He bit back a smile.
He bowed. "I kept thinking about you wandering in the woods alone and needed to see for myself that you had returned unharmed."
"Returned?" She asked with nervousness in her voice, perhaps forgetting her earlier story.
"Yes, you did go to visit your elderly friend, did you not?" He asked.
"Oh, yes I did. And as you can see, I returned hale and healthy." Ella said, still not inviting him in.
"I am relieved. I could not have found my bed tonight without knowing you as well had found yours safely." Devon was rewarded with a pretty blush. "May I come in? It seems very foolish to have ridden from the manor just to exchange two sentences. Perhaps we could sit and talk." He watched as she tried to decide. He knew when he had won.
"Fine, just be very quiet. Penny and Maddie are asleep." She stepped back for him to enter. As she did, he noticed it. She wasn't putting any pressure on her left foot.
He made his way to the fire and made to warm his hands. He watched from the corner of his eye and as he thought, she had been injured. She was able to make two steps before it gave out. He reached out and caught her before she hit the floor. Her pain visible in her face, which now in the light, was beginning to show the swelling and bruising from where she was backhanded.
"Good God, woman, what happened?" He said, his concern clear in his voice.
"I— I twisted it on a root. It was dark when I came back from—from my visit. I didn't see it until it was too late," she explained.
Devon scooped her up and sat with her on his lap on the low bench close by. "Does it hurt to move?"
"Not over much, mostly just when I put pressure on it."
Her body warm and alive felt so good that Devon was having trouble following the thread of the conversation. He wanted to sit with her by the fire, curled in each other's arms forever. She smelled of wood smoke and wind, and of Ella. He inhaled to take in as much as possible. His arms tightened around her and he inhaled again. Her quiet cough brought him back to his senses.
