Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone Sheriff\The Gentleman Rogue\Never Trust a Rebel (54 page)

She broke off as the coach lurched suddenly. It came to a halt amid shouts from outside and the sudden explosion of the guard's blunderbuss. Drew quickly pulled Elyse away from the window.

‘Get back!'

He looked out. A group of horsemen stood across the road in front of the post-chaise, their faces shrouded in black mufflers and each one of them brandishing a long-nosed pistol. Two of the men rode up to the door, one calling out in a rough voice, ‘Ho, you there! Step out where we can see you. And be quick about it.'

Drew weighed up the odds and decided there was nothing to do but obey. With a curt word to Elyse to remain in the coach he opened the door and jumped down. He could see only four horse-riders. A glance at the box showed that the coachman and guard were sitting with their hands clapped to their heads. Of the blunderbuss there was no sign, but since it had already been discharged he could look for no assistance there. Drew was wearing his sword and had his own pistol in his pocket, but the riders were all armed and one bullet against four—the odds were too great. As least for the moment.

He heard a rustle of skirts and Elyse was beside him. Confound it, why had she not stayed in the carriage out of sight? Quickly he addressed the rider nearest to him, the one who had ordered them out of the carriage.

‘My purse is a fat one. Take it and leave us to continue on our way.'

‘Your purse?' the fellow seemed a little nonplussed by Drew's words, then he gave a laugh. ‘Ah, of course, yes, I want yer purse, master. Throw it over, but carefully. The others are watching ye, so no tricks!'

Slowly Drew reached into his pocket and pulled out his purse. It was galling to give away his money and if he had been alone he might have put up a fight, but with Elyse at his side he dare not take the risk. He tossed the purse at the rider, who caught it deftly and stowed it away inside his coat.

‘That is all we have,' said Drew. ‘Kindly let us resume our journey.'

‘Not so fast, sirrah. The lady can return to the carriage, but you will stay where you are.'

Elyse stepped a little closer to Drew.

‘I'll not go without you,' she muttered.

The man brought his horse even closer and waved his pistol.

‘Get in the carriage, mistress, if you know what's good for you.'

‘No.'

Her resolute refusal seemed to throw him. His hands tightened on the reins and his horse jibbed and sidled restlessly.

‘Get in or by heaven I'll put you in myself,' he blustered.

Drew stepped in front of Elyse.

‘I don't think so,' he said, pulling out his own pistol. ‘Keep your distance!'

Then everything happened at once.

The fellow raised his arm to fire but Drew was quicker.

The man yelped as Drew's bullet grazed his hand and he dropped his weapon, exclaiming in an altered voice, ‘Devil take it, he's winged me.'

From the corner of her eye Elyse saw the carriage jerk forward as the horses shied at the sudden noise. The coachman cried out in alarm.

‘No pops—you promised there'd be no shooting.'

Even as he spoke a second retort sounded and Elyse saw the flash of the explosion. It came from a pistol carried by one of the men blocking the road. Drew staggered back against her and she screamed. She took his arm and began to back away, thinking to drag him into the carriage. The horses were moving restlessly as they approached but instead of reining them in the coachman whipped them up and drove off, unhindered by his erstwhile assailants. Elyse was so shocked that for a moment she could not move but stared in dismay as the coach disappeared around a bend in the road.

‘Oh, d-devil t-t-take it, the fat's in the fire now!' cried one of the riders.

They appeared as stunned as Elyse by the events and were grouped together, circling uncertainly. Drew caught her hand and began to run towards the trees.

‘Quickly, this way!'

They plunged into the undergrowth. Elyse tried desperately to hold her skirts away from the brambles that snatched at them as they pushed their way between the bushes. The road was soon lost to sight. The trees grew thickly all around them, their branches and leaves matted overhead to form a thick roof so that they were moving through semi-darkness. Elyse was so frightened she could hear nothing but her own heart thudding and the crash and rustle of their flight.

At last Drew stopped.

‘Listen,' he gasped, ‘can you hear anything? Are we being followed?'

She strained her ears, listening for the sound of pursuit, but all she could hear was her own and Drew's ragged breathing.

‘No I think not.'

He sank down against a tree trunk and Elyse gave a soft gasp. ‘Drew, your arm! You are wounded.'

He looked down at the dark stain spreading over his sleeve.

‘No time for that now, let us move on.'

He tried to rise but Elyse pushed him back again.

‘We are not going anywhere until I see how badly you are hurt.'

She dropped down beside him and began to remove his coat, ignoring his protests.

‘Damme, woman, are you trying to kill me?'

‘I am very sorry if it hurts,' she said contritely. ‘I am being as gentle as I can.'

She eased his coat off the injured arm to reveal the bloodied shirtsleeve. Elyse bit her lip. This was no time for missish nerves, she must work quickly. She tore away the sleeve and used it to wipe off the blood as best she could, then she pulled off her muslin neckerchief and folded it into a pad that she pressed against the wound.

‘I th-think the bullet must still be in there,' she told him. ‘If you can hold this in place I will find something to bind it up until we can find a surgeon.'

He did as she bade him, saying with a faint laugh, ‘How do you know so much about doctoring?'

‘One of our footmen was involved in a brawl and the doctor needed assistance. Excuse me.' She turned away from him.

‘What are you doing?'

‘Removing one of my petticoats.'

With her back to Drew she lifted her skirts and tugged at one of the sets of strings beneath. The layer that came away was her newest embroidered underskirt but it could not be helped. She stepped out of it and began to tear it into strips. It took all her effort to rip the fine linen but fear gave her an added strength. When she turned back she noted that although Drew still held the pad in place, his eyes were closed and he was alarmingly pale. Silently she knelt beside him and began to wrap the bandage around his arm, noting when he removed his fingers that tiny red stains were already blooming on the pad. She bound it tightly, praying that it would be enough to prevent him losing too much more blood.

At last it was done and she sat back, regarding him anxiously. She was somewhat reassured when he opened his eyes.

‘Are you badly hurt, Drew?' she asked him. ‘I will try to fetch some help—'

‘No, you cannot go alone. Stay with me, I can walk.' He struggled to his feet and she helped him to put his undamaged arm into the sleeve of his coat, pulling it loosely over his other shoulder and trying not to look at the black stain on the empty sleeve. When it was done he leaned against the tree trunk.

‘If only I wasn't so dashed dizzy.'

‘You will have to lean on me,' she said. ‘I only hope we do not have to go too far, for the daylight is fading very quickly.'

‘No, there is a house very close.' He nodded. ‘This way.'

‘But there is no path—'

‘There is, trust me.'

He took her hand and began to push through the dense undergrowth. They had only gone a few yards when they reached a path. Drew staggered and Elyse quickly moved beside him, pulling his good arm across her shoulders.

‘Which way?' she asked.

They set off in the direction of his nod. The track was just wide enough for the two of them, although Drew's unsteady steps made their progress erratic. It was growing dark when the path brought them out on a leafy carriageway and a short distance ahead Elyse could see a pair or ornate metal gates set into a high stone wall.

‘Thank heaven,' She glanced at Drew, aware that his arm across her shoulders felt considerably heavier. ‘You know this house?'

‘Yes, it is Hartcombe.'

She helped him to the gates. They were closed and stiff with lack of use but she managed to push one open sufficiently for them to slip inside. The gravel drive was strewn with weeds and the bushes rearing up on either side looked formless and overgrown in the gathering dusk. However, ahead of them she could see the outline of a low, rambling building and a dim glow of light shone from the windows. Two shallow steps led up to a solid door. She grasped the knocker and rapped loudly.

There was no immediate response and she was about to knock again when she heard the faint sounds of movement within. There was the scrape of bolts, the door opened and an old man appeared bearing a lantern in one gnarled hand. Elyse almost collapsed under the weight of Drew's arm as he pushed himself a little more upright.

‘Good evening, Father.'

Chapter Five

T
he old man stood in the doorway and raised the lantern. Its rays illuminated his face and Elyse thought she could see a vague resemblance to Drew in his hawk-like features. A thick mane of white hair hung like a ghostly halo about his head. Not by the flicker of an eyelid did he show he had heard Drew's greeting. He glowered at them.

‘What do you mean, bothering good men like this? Go knock at the back door and the cook might find some scraps for thee.'

He thinks we are beggars.

Elyse could not blame him. In the gloom he would not see Drew's injury, only their dishevelled appearance. Drew gave a short, ragged laugh.

‘A poor welcome for your son.'

Only then did Elyse see a shadow cross the old man's face. Pain? Sorrow? Revulsion?

‘I have no son. Get thee gone from here.'

‘Please,' Elyse begged him. ‘He has been shot. We cannot go any further.'

The old man stared at her for a long, agonising moment, then with a shrug he stood aside for them to enter.

‘Very well, bind him up then be on your way.'

* * *

It was dark inside the house for no lights burned other than the lamp carried by their host, but when her eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom Elyse could see that they were in a large hall. There was no fire burning in the huge fireplace but at least they were out of the damp night air. With no guidance from their host and Drew leaning heavily against her, Elyse had no idea if more comfortable rooms lay beyond the hall so she guided Drew across to an armchair beside the empty fireplace. He sank into the chair and put his head back, eyes closed. Even in the dim light of the lantern she could see that the binding she had tied around his arm was now dark with blood.

‘He needs a doctor,' she said. ‘Can you summon one?'

‘No.' Her shocked gaze made the old man explain, albeit reluctantly. ‘There is only Mrs Parfitt in the kitchens and my manservant has gone out and taken the only horse.'

Elyse wanted to scream at his lack of co-operation but that would not help Drew. If no one else would take charge, then it was up to her to do so. Resolutely she removed her cloak and looked about her.

‘Then we must do what we can.' She dragged a small table across and placed it beside Drew's chair. ‘I need more light, and water and cloths.' When he did not respond she said sharply, ‘Can you ask your serving woman to fetch them, or must I seek them out myself?'

After placing his lantern on the table the old man went off and Elyse set about unwrapping the sodden bandages from Drew's arm. His eyes flickered open.

‘You show scant respect for my parent, my dear.'

‘Is he your parent? If so, he is a most unnatural one.'

‘He has cause.' He raised his head and looked past her at the sound of hasty footsteps approaching. A large woman came into the room carrying a bowl and jug.

‘Sir Edward said there was a gennleman here needin' attention.' She bustled up to the table, casting one searching look at Drew before putting down the bowl and proceeding to fill it with water from the jug. ‘Here.' She pulled the cloth from her shoulder and handed it to Elyse. ‘Let me fetch more light and then I will help you.'

Elyse felt her fear and anxiety easing at the sound of a friendly voice. The woman moved with surprising speed and efficiency, bringing a lighted candelabra to the table and fetching cloths and bandages. Between them they cleaned Drew's arm and dressed it, then the woman went off to prepare bedrooms, but not before she had provided a glass of brandy for Drew and a cup of fruit cordial for Elyse.

‘Thank heavens Mrs Parfitt was here,' murmured Drew, fortified by the brandy. ‘I feared we should be sleeping under the stars tonight.'

‘We may still be,' murmured Elyse as the sound of raised voices came floating into the hall.

She put down her glass as the old man stormed back into the hall, Mrs Parfitt following behind him, puffing hard but addressing her master.

‘Sir Edward, he has a bullet in his arm. We must send Jed to fetch Dr Hall in the morning. I pray you do not be too hasty—'

‘Hasty? I vowed I would never have that traitor in my house again.' Sir Edward surged forwards, glaring at Drew. ‘Well, sirrah? I have done my Christian duty and dressed your wounds but you shall not sleep under my roof again, by God, sir, you shall not.'

Elyse moved closer to Drew's chair as if to protect him but that only brought her to the old man's attention.

‘You and your doxy can leave my house this minute.'

Elyse reeled from the fury she heard in those words, but Drew put out his good hand and caught her fingers, steadying her. He said coldly, ‘This lady is my ward, sir. I will thank you to remember that. We were attacked on the road nearby and only the direst necessity brought me to your door.'

‘I can believe that,' stormed Sir Edward. ‘But I care not what has happened to you, nor who this woman might be. I want you both gone, immediately.'

Elyse almost quailed beneath the violence of his attack, and if she had been alone she would have fled the house and braved the terrors of the darkness outside, but one glance at Drew's pale and haggard face gave her the courage to speak up.

‘Mr Bastion needs a surgeon to remove the bullet from his arm.'

The old man's lip curled. ‘Bastion is it? More like Bast—'

‘Sir Edward!' The housekeeper's shocked interjection cut him off.

‘I could hardly travel under my real name,' said Drew bitterly.

‘Well, you will find Dr Hall in the village, where he has always been.'

Mrs Parfitt threw up her hands.

‘Good heavens, Sir Edward, that's two miles hence. You surely wouldn't expect him to walk there tonight?'

‘I expect him to leave my house, and take the woman with him.'

Drew dropped Elyse's hand so he could push himself to his feet.

He said coldly, ‘Send me away if you must, sir, but I am under an obligation to deliver this young lady to her fiancé. With a bullet in my arm, my purse gone and our carriage stolen I cannot now fulfil that task. I beg you, as a gentleman, to offer protection to the lady and see her safe to Bath.'

‘I'll be damned if I will—' the old man declared wrathfully.

‘Drew!' Elyse cried out as he swayed and fell back into his chair.

‘Oh dear, oh Lord.' Mrs Parfitt came bustling up. ‘He has fainted clean away. P'raps it's for the best, for we can get him into bed without causing him any more pain.' She ignored the growl of protest from her master. ‘I've prepared a bed for him just across the passage, so the best thing would be to carry him in the chair. Pity there ain't more staff to help us but we'll have to manage. Sir Edward, now, if you will take the legs, then I am sure the young lady and I can manage to carry the top, if we tip it back like so...'

Elyse wondered how the master of the house would respond to being ordered about by his housekeeper, but she could only be thankful when he merely followed instructions. It was impossible to tell from his scowling countenance if he was at all concerned for his son.

It was a struggle, because both the chair and Drew were heavy, but somehow they carried their burden across the hall and through the passage to the small chamber where Mrs Parfitt had made up the bed. By the time they had lifted Drew on to the mattress they were all puffing heavily.

‘Well, that's a good job jobbed,' panted Mrs Parfitt. ‘I thank 'ee, Sir Edward. If you'd like to go and sit down in the parlour I'll be bringing your supper for you in a trice. Now miss.' She turned back to Elyse. ‘You and I had better get the young master out of his clothes before he comes to his senses.'

Elyse swallowed. She had never undressed a man before and was sure Aunt Matthews would consider it most improper. But there was no one else to do it, and she could not leave the housekeeper to manage alone. She moved to the head of the bed and began to untie Drew's neckcloth.

The old man stood watching her but she ignored him and after a moment he went out, closing the door behind him with a snap.

‘You mustn't mind the master, my dear,' said Mrs Parfitt. ‘He has very few visitors nowadays and has forgotten how to go on.'

Elyse considered the old man's behaviour sprang more from animosity than a lack of manners, but she thought it best not to say so. She also made a decision at that moment. She would not leave Drew alone in this house. It was inconceivable she would abandon him to such an unnatural parent. She realised no one at Hartcombe knew her name and resolved that she would keep her identity a secret. That way Sir Edward would not be able to force her to leave, unless he cast her out on to the street, and somehow she did not think he would go quite that far. She hoped he would not.

Elyse cleared her throat and asked the housekeeper if she had known Sir Edward a long time.

‘Oh, that I have, my dear. I started as a maid when Sir Edward's father was alive and worked my way up to housekeeper. They was happy days, and I had a house full of staff, too. Now I'm cook, housekeeper and maid of all work, but I couldn't leave. I've been part o' this family for nigh on forty year and as long as Sir Edward needs me I'll be here.'

‘And is he really Mr Bastion's—this man's father? I am sorry, that is the only name I have for him.'

‘Castlemain,' said the housekeeper. ‘That's his real name.' She smiled fondly at the unconscious figure on the bed. ‘Andrew Castlemain, and wasn't he always a rascal? Oh dear, oh Lord, yes. I saw 'twas Master Andrew as soon as I comed in, for all the master said it was merely
some gennleman
with a bullet in his arm. And Dr Hall will recognise him, too, as like as not, since he has known the young master since he was a boy, but we need not worry about that, for
he
won't tell anyone.'

‘And does that matter?' asked Elyse. She had unbuttoned Drew's shirt and was busy easing him out of it, trying not to notice the hard contours of his chest nor the crisp dark hairs that shadowed it. This was no time to be distracted.

Mrs Parfitt stood back and placed her hands on her hips.

‘Matter? Of course it matters, my dear. Why, if he's discovered he'll be dragged off to Lunnon and hanged as a traitor.'

‘Oh.' Elyse leaned against the bed as the room began to swim. She stared down at Drew, studying his lean, handsome face. She could believe him an adventurer, even a rake, but a traitor? ‘Surely not.'

‘Aye, 'tis all too true, my dear,' affirmed Mrs Parfitt as she rolled down Drew's stockings. ‘He got himself mixed up in the 'forty-five and ended up with a price on his head.'

Elyse pressed her hands together. How much he had risked to come to England. And how much more so to escort her to Bath, so close to his old home. What if he were recognised and arrested? Suddenly it was not an unconscious man lying before her on the bed, but a corpse.

‘He must not die because of me,' she whispered.

Mrs Parfitt chuckled, misunderstanding. ‘Oh, Lord, no, he won't
die
. Strong as an ox, is Master Andrew. Dr Hall will have the bullet out in a trice in the morning, then a few days' rest and he will be right as a trivet. Now, if you'll give me a hand to get him out of his breeches we can tuck him up in bed...'

* * *

‘There, all done now.'

Mrs Parfitt gave the bedcovers a final twitch.

‘He looks peaceful enough, so now, miss, I'll take you to the parlour and you can dine with the master.'

‘I would rather sit here with Mr Bas—Mr Castlemain.'

Recalling Sir Edward's harsh words, Elyse had no wish to dine with her host. Mrs Parfitt was reluctant to leave her, saying that she would come and sit with the young master once she had finished in the kitchen, but Elyse was adamant and at last the housekeeper went off, promising to bring her a tray when dinner was ready.

‘And I'll make up a bed next door for you tonight, rather than one of the guest chambers. Then you can lie down when you wish and won't need me to show you to your room.'

The housekeeper hurried away and Elyse was alone with Drew. Calm settled over her, it felt like the first chance she had had to rest since they had left Marlborough. It was very quiet, the stillness almost unnatural as she pottered about. She collected up the clothes that were scattered over the floor and tidied the room, sending frequent, anxious looks towards the patient, who continued to sleep peacefully. Mrs Parfitt brought her dinner on a tray and came back some time later to collect the empty dishes. She glanced at the still form lying in the bed, touched his skin to ascertain there was no fever and after uttering a few reassuring words to Elyse she departed, promising to look in once more before she retired.

Alone again, Elyse pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat down, resting her arms on the edge of the bed and staring at Drew.

He was propped up on a mountain of pillows, still and unmoving save for the regular rise and fall of his chest. The bare skin of his head and shoulders looked dark against the white linen and he looked particularly boyish with his long dark hair flopping over his brow. But there was nothing boyish about his body. She had tried not to stare as she helped Mrs Parfitt to strip him, but it had been impossible to ignore the muscled limbs, broad shoulders and the flat, hard stomach. There were scars, too. Vivid lines inflicted by a sword or knife, and when she had lifted him she had felt ridged welts across his shoulders. From a flogging, perhaps? She looked now at his smooth, unlined face. What had he done for the past ten years, how had he lived?

You do not know me.

His words came back to her now as the shadows closed in and the candles guttered in their holders. She did not know him, but even if his heart was as black as sin and he had committed endless evil deeds, in his dealings with her he had been honest and honourable. He had risked his life for her sake.