Heirs of Acadia - 03 - The Noble Fugitive (33 page)

“With my life.”

The way he said that, with an intensity rising from the uttermost depths of his being, caused her to shiver anew. This time for a reason she could not fathom. “Have you thought more of what we spoke yesterday?”

“Much of the night.”

“Did you pray?”

“I fell asleep on my knees.”

“I . . .” She stopped, not from hesitation over what she wished to say. Instead, she simply wanted to study this good man. The light she found within those dark eyes touched her at the very core of her being.

“Speak your peace, lass.”

“I prayed as well. Mostly I prayed over my sins and faults. But I asked God for guidance.”

“Did He answer you?”

“Not in words, no. But I feel that the answer is there just the same. Do you understand me?”

He nodded. “So very well indeed.”

“I do not know much of this cause. But I know I want to help these good people. And if they think my poor drawings
can make a difference, then I should not question them. I should give them all that I can.”

Falconer took his time in responding. “Your drawings are not poor.”

“Will you help me in this, John Falconer?”

He sighed long and sad. “When you are so brave, how can I be otherwise?”

She was not feeling the least bit brave, she wanted to tell him. The plan he had suggested filled her with fear. But she could look into his face and trust the strength she saw. He would be strong for her.

Falconer stood in the lee of the stables, Serafina’s closeness more than a mere physical presence. “You don’t have to do this, lass,” he said again.

Once more Serafina wore the drab dress of a house servant. Yet not even the rough gray weave could dim her beauty. “I have asked you to call me by my name.”

“Serafina,” he said, his heart lurching at the sound. “You’ve been through so much. This is—”

“Important,” she finished the sentence differently than he had intended. “I understand.”

He shook his head at the risk they were taking, but he had not been able to think of an alternative. “I will protect you.”

Her smiles were growing somewhat more assured and lasting a trace longer. “Of that I am certain, John Falconer.”

Daniel appeared around the far corner and hissed, “He’s coming.”

“And the others?”

“In position.”

“Off with the scarf,” Falconer said. “But only if you’re certain this is what . . .”

Serafina released the scarf and shook her hair free to blow in the wind. She gave him a final look, then hefted her basket and stepped into view.

Daniel slipped up beside Falconer. “If a lass that pretty were to look at me the way she just looked at you, I’d be crowing.”

Falconer was too worried to respond. Though they were fifty leagues and more from the sea, the wind and darkening sky indicated a deepwater storm, a tempest that would have them pushing hard away from shore. The whitecaps would tear from the waves and blow as hard as falling rain. When the sky and the sea melded into one gray and ominous sheet, a sailor sought safety by turning away from the shore’s teeth. Yet here he was, casting this fragile creature into the maws of danger.

Daniel carried a coil of rope slung over one shoulder. “The lass is a brave one, I’ll give you that,” he said.

Falconer shuddered. He had borne many tragedies, but were harm to come to this one on his watch, he would be ready for the grave.

Daniel risked a quick glance around the corner. “Here he comes.”

“Get back.” Falconer lowered himself until he was flat on the muddy earth. He handed Daniel his hat and extended himself inch by inch.

Serafina had walked in the rain across the open ground from the stables to the kitchen and now emerged bearing a basket with dinner for the Powers family. The yard had been emptied of any others by the storm. Serafina’s scarf dangled from her neck. Her damp hair lay close to her head now, making her seem even more vulnerable. Carefully she picked her way along the muddy path, her focus intent upon the next step. She was playing her part well.

The two observers could see the young lord loitering in the rear doorway of the great house, watching Serafina as he would a helpless prey.

Falconer’s heart was in his throat as he saw Serafina squinting against the blowing rain and now searching in every direction. The kitchen door was shut against the storm. The
wind whistled and howled so it was doubtful she would be heard if she screamed.

She attempted to hurry toward the older wing, but her skirt was heavy with mud and rain, and she tripped and nearly went down. She gave a little cry, and the sound cut through Falconer like a dagger. He started to rise. But Daniel nudged him with his boot and hissed, “Not yet.”

Drescott descended the rear steps, his wet riding boots gleaming. Serafina stopped, obviously trembling. The young lord started forward, circling around so that he stood directly in her path, blocking her from safety.

Serafina dropped the basket, snatched up her skirts, and ran.

Drescott laughed. In the lashing rain it sounded to Falconer’s ear like a beast of prey. The young lord started after her. Serafina risked one glance behind and ran the harder.

Daniel’s hand gripped Falconer’s arm as he moved into a crouch, keeping him from leaping forward as Drescott raced by. The two of them were locked in shadows and remained unseen as Drescott pelted after the servant girl.

As the distance grew between the pair and the house, they heard Drescott call, “Wait, little one. I have something for you.”

“Now,” Daniel said, and released Falconer’s arm.

They ran low to the ground, keeping to what cover there was. But there was no need for caution. Drescott ran like a hound on the scent, his attention focused on the fleeing prey.

The storm-whipped rain felt like wet hands gripping Falconer and holding him back. The path was so slippery Falconer endured a nightmare’s run, struggling hard and making little progress.

He stripped off his coat and threw it to the sodden earth. Ahead, the pair of them disappeared into the forest. “Faster!”

Daniel slipped and almost went down. Falconer grabbed the larger man and kept him upright. But when he turned
his attention back to the way ahead, the forest showed him a blank and forbidding face.

Falconer pulled ahead of Daniel as he raced through the first fringe of undergrowth. Once inside the woods he could move more easily, racing with a hunter’s ease. He leaped over the low tangle of roots and bushes, keeping one or both arms outstretched ahead to shield his face.

Then he stopped. Daniel crashed up behind him and halted as well. Falconer cast about in a growing panic. He could see nothing. No sign anyone had passed this way.

Daniel opened his mouth as though in a silent roar, breathing as silently as Falconer. They held themselves utterly still.

Nothing.

Falconer wrested the pistol from his belt. He took a deep breath, ready to shout with all his might and release a volley. Which would have made their plans all for naught. Yet anything was better than bringing harm to the lass.

Then they heard her. Not a scream. More a high-pitched protest. Falconer squinted and searched. She seemed both close and far away. The sound seemed to have come from a dozen different directions.

But Daniel was more accustomed to forest hunting. He pointed to their right. “There!”

Falconer soon left his companion well behind. He scarcely seemed to touch the earth.

Then he saw her.

Drescott had her pinned to a tree. He held one hand over her mouth. He spoke to her, his lips up close to her ear while he smiled.

Falconer was running so hard he plucked the man away from Serafina as though Drescott were utterly weightless. Falconer’s drive carried the two of them back a dozen paces. Falconer did not so much take aim for the oak as allow them to be halted by it.

He hammered the younger man against the trunk with such force all the air left Drescott’s body in one long whoosh.
Falconer did not allow himself to strike him. If he did, he would have killed him with the first blow. And he had vowed never to take another’s life ever again. So he simply held Drescott there, ramming him bodily into the trunk. Drescott’s eyes bulged with the strain of trying to refill his lungs with air.

Daniel raced up behind them and the three became locked in a fierce parody of a dance. Repeatedly Daniel murmured, “Ease up, Falconer. Ease up there.”

Falconer released the man and stepped back. Drescott dropped to his knees and wheezed in desperation.

Falconer turned to where Serafina stood, supporting herself with one hand upon her throat and another on the tree. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded without looking up. Falconer understood. She did not want to reveal the fear. He felt drenched by more rage, but not at Drescott. At himself. No matter how good his reasons might have been, he stood convicted by the fear that bowed Serafina over.

Falconer turned around. “Stand him up.”

Roughly Daniel lifted the young man and planted his back upon the tree.

Falconer took a step forward. But just one. He could not safely come any closer. “I told you what would happen if you didn’t leave the lass alone.”

Drescott raised his hands to his face and whimpered with very real fear. “She enticed me.”

Daniel growled somewhere deep in his throat.

“Daniel. The rope.”

Daniel slipped the coil off his shoulder. He looked up, selected a branch, and tossed over the rope. He handed one end to Falconer.

Falconer made sure he fashioned the noose where Drescott could observe him.

The young man’s eyes widened with the shock of understanding. “B-but that’s murder!”

“I’d wager you would not be missed.” Falconer tested the knots. “But then I’m not a betting man.”

“You-you can’t—”

“Tie his hands,” Falconer ordered.

Daniel drew a short cord from his pocket and made swift work of tying Drescott’s hands.

“I am Lord Drescott!”

Falconer handed the noose to Daniel. “That means utterly nothing to anyone here.”

“No! You mustn’t!”

“Why not?” Falconer watched as Daniel fitted the noose into place, sliced the knot down tight, and tugged the rope upward once. That testing pull was enough for the young man to shriek and for his legs to almost collapse. There was no pain, just the reality of what lay ahead. “Whatever could you offer me that would make me want to spare your wretched life?” Falconer demanded.

Frantically Drescott searched the forest. “Help! Someone! Save me!”

“We’re out of range,” Falconer said. “Which was what you had in mind all along, wasn’t it? Letting the lass run ahead until you knew the storm would mask any noise she made.”

“Help!”

“Hoist the man aloft, Daniel.”

“No! Wait!” As Daniel began pulling on the rope, the man’s voice rose a full two octaves. “I have information!”

“Do you now. That’s very interesting.” Falconer stayed Daniel with an upraised hand. “Because I have questions.”

“If I t-tell you what I know, will y-you spare me?”

“That depends very much on the quality of your information.” Falconer stepped forward. At this close range he knew Drescott could see what Falconer’s past had done to him. And just how close he was to that final door. “All right. Here’s my first question. Who sent the two attackers after us on Sunday?”

Drescott frantically scouted the forest. “Hold up there,”
Falconer warned. “Before you even think about telling me anything other than the truth, I want you to have a good look at the man holding both the rope and your life in his hands.”

Drescott glanced over at Daniel’s stone-hard face and shuddered a second time. “I let the attackers onto the estate.”

“That’s better.” Falconer took a step back. “Now then. Here’s the next question. And pay careful attention. I wasn’t on the path. The two girls were on a horse. I was in the forest. But the attackers still took aim. I saw them draw back their triggers. Which means they weren’t after just me. No, don’t look around. Keep your eyes on me. This is where your only hope lies. Who were they after?”

“The girl,” he whimpered.

Serafina gasped and started forward. Falconer halted her with an upraised hand. “You don’t mean the lass here, do you?” When Drescott did not respond, Falconer’s voice rapped out like a rifle shot. “Do you!”

“No.”

“That can’t be!” Serafina cried.

“But it is,” Falconer said. “I’ve spent a long night mulling this over, and it’s the only answer that makes sense.” He continued to Drescott, “Let me make it easy for you. They wanted to eliminate Gareth and Erica Powers. Keep them from their campaign against slavery. But they’ve stayed safe in the manor beyond the attackers’ reach. So they shifted targets. They reckoned doing harm to the child would most likely cripple the parents.”

Falconer stopped then. The storm tossed the boughs high overhead, roaring through the forest like a hungry beast. Rain hit the forest floor with constant drumbeats. The earth smelled sweet, the air held a gentle chill. There was no other sound but the frantic breaths of the man by the tree.

“Tell me what I need to know,” Falconer rasped out.