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Authors: Hannah Howell

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BOOK: If He's Dangerous
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Lorelei swallowed a moan as she slowly opened her eyes. Her attempt to escape while they were riding away from the village had earned her a vicious blow and she must have slipped into unconsciousness. Her head was pounding so hard she just wanted to curl up and cry. Her face was throbbing and she was sure it must look as colorful as Olympia's had a few days ago.
One look around was enough to tell her where she was. It was the cottage that belonged to Old James the woodcutter. She recognized the fireplace that was nearly as wide as the room itself and the aging deer-hide rug in front of it. She had not come to visit with her father for years, but she could still recall hearing her father teasing the older man about having a hanging offense on his floor. Even then she had known that Old James had not killed the animal, had just made good use of the dead animal he had found. If she remembered correctly, both her father and Old James had agreed that it had been some pack of dogs that had attacked the buck and, although it had escaped, its wounds had eventually killed it.
She could, however, vividly recall sitting on the floor counting the bite marks still visible on the hide and crying a little over the pain the creature must have suffered. Old James, despite her father's protest, had cut a piece off a branch of the animal's antlers that decorated the wall above that massive fireplace. As he and her father had talked, Old James had made her a pendant of it using a strip of blackened leather, hanging it around her neck when she and her father were ready to leave. In his gruff country voice James had told her to always remember that animals suffer, too, that they knew both pain and fear, but always fight to get up again and go on, just as that wounded buck had. A hard lesson to teach a child, but she still had that crude pendant and every time she saw it lying there amongst her jewels, she recalled the lesson of fight, fall, get up, and go on.
Tears stung her eyes, for she knew Old James would not be getting up and going on. Lorelei was certain these men had murdered the man—Old James would have told her father what was happening if he had gotten away. She wondered where his dog was. James had never been without a dog, always going to pick out the runt or ugly one of a litter when he needed a new dog.
They must have killed the poor animal, too,
she thought.
“Ah, awake now are you?” said Cornick, moving to stand over her where they had obviously simply tossed her onto the floor. “Allow me to help you to a seat.”
 
He grabbed her by the arm, yanked her to her feet, and dragged her over to a chair, shoving her down into it. Lorelei hid her wince over the pain flaring in her bound wrists when they hit the high back of the heavy wooden chair. “You killed James,” she said.
“James? Oh, that old man who lived here.” Cornick nodded. “We needed his house and he did not appear amenable to sharing. He is out in the wood now. Your lover will soon join him.”
Not even by the blink of an eye did Lorelei reveal her unease over the fact that Cornick knew about her and Argus, or had made a very astute guess. She prayed it was the latter. The mere thought that he or one of his brutes had seen her and Argus together made her want to vomit. For a moment she almost gave in to the urge as she eyed his boots but did not really wish to feel the weight of his fist again. She was conscious now and knew it was important that she remain so.
 
“You believe that Sir Argus will just walk into your grasp, do you?” she asked and knew he had heard the scorn in her voice by the way his eyes narrowed in anger.
“He will trade himself for you, and your loving father will finance my new life with his own money.”
“Why should Sir Argus return to your unloving care? And just why do you want him if you are set to run off to a new life?”
 
“Wherlocke ruined everything. We had a fine plan, but his stubborn refusal to give us what we wanted and then his escape were the beginning of my ruination. He will pay for that and your father will pay for helping him. But he did not help him as much as you did, hmmm?”
“I have no idea what you are referring to.” She winced when he grabbed hold of her long braid and pulled on it.
“You are the one who got him out of that house. I saw you. Only a glimpse, but that was enough. Saw that fine arse of yours and this long braid glinting red in the moonlight.”
“Mayhap the red was because you got some of Sir Argus's blood in your eye the last time you beat him. Ah, but you did not beat him, did you? You sat and watched while your henchmen did all the work.” She bit back a cry of pain when he pulled on her braid so hard tears stung her eyes.
“How did you know where he was? I am curious as to how I stepped wrong.”
“He told me.”
“Woman, I may have erred in how I played this game and how I secured my prisoner, but I am not an idiot.”
 
She knew the look she gave him clearly expressed her doubt for his fist clenched. She braced herself for a blow, but it did not come. “He
told
me. He appeared in my father's garden and told me of the trouble he was in. Do try to remember, sir, you are dealing with the Wherlockes and their kin.”
“But, if he could get out to tell you that he was in trouble, why did he not just leave, run for home?”
“He did not run
, sir.
He escaped. And his body was still held captive. He sent his spirit out to look for aid.”
Cornick cursed and tossed her braid aside. “Do not be foolish. No one can do such a thing.”
“I should not have thought so, but he did.” She shrugged, ignoring the tug of discomfort caused by having her hands bound behind her back for so long. “I suspect he puts himself into some sort of sleep and lets it go. This time it came to me. He told me he was your prisoner and asked me to send word to his family. I did send word but decided that he needed help immediately so I went looking for him myself. I am very good at finding things.”
“So you sent word to his family, and that is why this place fairly crawls with Wherlockes and Vaughns.”
Lorelei slowly shook her head, but even that added to the throbbing pain in it. Cornick obviously did not believe her. By the look in his eyes as she had told him her tale, he did not want to believe her. There was clearly a point where his fears and superstitions reared up their hoary little heads. She wondered if she could make use of that. Her father liked to say that, if a man allowed fear to control him, he became careless. A few tales about the Wherlockes should do it, and it might help the ones she knew were coming to rescue her. The Wherlockes did not like their secrets told, but she knew, whether she survived or not, these two men were doomed. Even if the miraculous happened and they escaped what was coming for them, her father, the Wherlockes, and the Vaughns would hunt them and put them down like the rabid dogs they were.
“Yes. There is the Lady Olympia, the woman your man tried to drag off. She can go to a place, any place, and see what happened there, read the memory of the event and the people involved as if it was a book. Then, of course, there is the young boy your other man tried to steal. That is Darius and he can see what they call auras, the light and color that surrounds us all but most people cannot see. I suspect yours and Tucker's would be a bit murky. Then there is Lord Sir Leopold and he can tell when a person is lying. You, sir, would probably exhaust him. Then there is the boy who put a knife in the back of your man Jones, a youth of sixteen who is a wondrous healer and, obviously, very skilled with a knife. It is even whispered that the head of that large family, the young Duke of Elderwood, can see right into a man's heart and mind and take out any information he wants.”
“Shut her up,” snarled Tucker.
“If you are made so uneasy by the gifts the Wherlockes have, why were you so determined to steal one?” she asked.
“It is no
gift
Wherlocke has, but a skill. Just a skill.”
“You delude yourself, sir, or you did not take the time to study the man you imprisoned, study him and his family. They do their very best to hold fast to their secrets, as they have been forced to by the ignorance and fear of people, but there is a lot of information on them if one but looks for it. They have more gifts than you can possibly imagine and they will bring every one they have when they come after you for hurting Sir Argus. Now or later.”
“You will be quiet now,” said Cornick, clenching and unclenching his fists as he glared at her. “The only ones coming here to try and save you are Wherlocke and your father. I will get that bastard, get that money, and leave.”
Lorelei noticed that he did not say what would happen to her or her father. She suspected he thought he could just kill them and walk away. For a moment, she thought of explaining to the fool that neither her nor Argus's family would ever allow Cornick to escape justice. Instinct told her that the man would never understand, never believe her. He probably thought some heir would actually be pleased to be rid of the man standing between him and the title, as was the case with others of her class, and would just let the scandal fade away along with the man who helped to make him a duke.
 
“They should be here soon,” said Tucker. “Think they will really come unarmed?”
“Of course they will,” said Cornick. “They are honorable gentlemen.”
Lorelei did not think she had ever heard those words said so disparagingly.
“That does not mean they will not have one tucked away on their persons somewhere though,” Cornick continued. “But we shall have ours primed, cocked, and ready. They will not be able to pull theirs out of whatever pocket they have stuck it before they are shot dead.”
 
“Have you ever seen Sir Argus or my father draw a pistol?” she asked.
“Woman, Tucker and I will already have our guns aimed at them. We can pull the trigger before they can even reach for their pistols. And I do not concern myself with the duke. Everyone knows he just stays here in the country with his books, breeding like a rabbit. He is no threat. Sir Argus may be, but he will still be at a grave disadvantage. You see, he will be bleeding on the ground before he can even get his finger on the trigger.”
“So confident,” she murmured. “Mayhap they will just shoot you because they know you have no intention of honoring the deal you brokered.”
“Not with you still in my grasp and standing in front of me.”
 
There was really no arguing that, but Lorelei just shrugged, the hint of disdain in the gesture plainly irritating the man. And, despite how good her father was with a pistol, Cornick had some right to his arrogance. There would be that one step farther her father and Argus would have to go before they could shoot their pistols.
“You have no intention of letting any of us walk away from this, do you?”
“You think me no gentleman, that I cannot honor a deal made? They are bringing money and Sir Argus has agreed to take your place as my prisoner. Why should I change such a fine bargain?”
“I have no idea. Actually, I do not believe you ever made the bargain. You just presented it. You sent my father the very demand he expected, knew he would accept, for what choice did he truly have, and never once had any intention of honoring it. Have you considered what will happen if you kill a duke of the realm?”
 
“Oh, there will be a great scandal, I am certain.”
That answered her question nicely, she thought, for he had just admitted to his plans to kill the two men coming to rescue her. Lorelei was certain her father and Argus would be aware of the treachery Cornick might try. Fear for her father and Argus was a hard knot in her stomach, but she refused to let Cornick think, for even a moment, that she doubted her father's or Argus's ability to escape or punish him. She would act as arrogant about his coming downfall as he did about his coming success and pray he was not the one who won that battle.
Cornick took out his watch and looked at it, smiling faintly. “They should be here soon. I suspect a duke is a man who will be punctual. Soon I will be a rich man.”
The glance Tucker sent Cornick's way told Lorelei that there was a very good chance Cornick would not live to enjoy the money. Of course, there was a very good chance that it would be Tucker who died, assuming either man survived the confrontation with her father. It was always said that there was no honor amongst thieves. That look Tucker had given his compatriot rather confirmed it.
But, neither of them would have the chance to fight over the money, she told herself firmly. Lorelei refused to let her belief in that waver. Her father might be a very honorable man indeed, but he was far from stupid. He would not honor that agreement any more than Cornick planned to. He would come, he would bring the money and Argus, but she would wager he brought every Wherlocke and Vaughn as well, perhaps even a few of the men from Sundunmoor. Cornick was in for a surprise. Lorelei strongly hoped it was a fatal one.
Chapter 17
The stench of death seeped into the air as Argus and the duke moved silently through the wood toward the woodcutter's cottage. For a moment he hesitated, knowing what was ahead, and not wanting to see it, but then he stiffened his backbone and went on. He grimaced when he found the body of what had once been a man. There had been no attempt to protect his corpse from the scavengers that had obviously found him.
“Ah, damn me, poor Old James,” said the duke in a soft voice as he stepped up beside Argus. “The bastards could not even be bothered to protect him from the animals. Old James always feared dying in the woods he so loved and becoming no more than a meal for the carrion. I ought to shoot those men squatting in his cottage just for this alone.” He sighed. “I will miss our chess games.”
Argus patted the duke on the back and then began moving again. He had not known James but could understand the grief and anger the duke suffered. He had felt its like before. This had been a useless, callous murder of an old man. Cornick and his men had wanted the cottage to hide in so they had killed an old man and thrown him aside like scraps from the table.
 
It was difficult to hold fast to the stealthy approach. Argus wanted to race to the cottage, kick in the door, and kill both men with his bare hands. The still-sane part of him, the one not driven nearly mad with fear for Lorelei, knew that would be an insane thing to do and would only get him and Lorelei killed. Or, Argus knew, he easily could find himself lying there, bleeding to death, while everyone else rushed in to save his lover. It would undoubtedly look very heroic, he mused, but it would be idiotic.
Once the small cottage was in clear view, the trees thinning out so that the rest of the distance to the building consisted of wide-open space, Argus halted and the duke moved to stand beside him. One more step and both of them would be visible to anyone watching from the cottage. Argus could see his family, mere shadowy forms in the dappled shade of the trees, ready to slip up behind Cornick while he and the duke held the man's attention. There was still a lot of room for disaster to move in, but Argus was as confident of success as he could ever be when Lorelei's life was at stake.
 
“I pray I was right to say that the man will not kill us immediately,” the duke murmured.
“It would greatly surprise me if you proved to be wrong. From what I have observed in the last few hours, our military lost a fine general when you became the heir to a dukedom.” He almost smiled when he saw the light hint of a blush tint the man's cheeks.
“It was planned that I would go into the military, but I am not sure I have the strength for such a life. The strategy is something I can do and enjoy, but I fear my soul, even my mind, would shatter after seeing so many men die. I do not think I would look at the dead and see only brave soldiers who honorably died for king and country.”
Argus looked at the man and slowly nodded. “No, mayhap not. You would see sons lost, orphaned children, and the like. Such heart is not a bad thing.”
The duke shrugged. “I am what I am.” He looked at his watch and then tucked it back into the pocket of his waistcoat. “Best we begin the play. The ease with which that man kills the innocent makes me think it very important that we do not make him wait. And you need not worry that I will see him or his man as someone's son or father. I see both men as naught but vermin that the world will be well rid of. I do not suppose you could use your gift on these men.”
 
“If they have not used the protections they devised when I was their prisoner, I will do so and this will be over quickly and cleanly. At least it will if neither of them are as resistant as others I have met recently. Unfortunately, despite his desperation and the crazed way he has been acting, I believe he will recall what it is I can do. So he and his man will don the protection of tinted spectacles to deaden the power of my gaze and put enough linen in their ears to mute the sound of my voice.”
“A shame, for you are right. If they did not, this could all be over quickly. You could just tell them to toss aside their weapons and surrender. Now, it shall be a struggle to keep his attention on us and keep him from shooting any of us until the others can slip up behind him.”
There was no argument to make to that statement so Argus simply started walking. He surreptitiously studied the duke as they made their way down a small hill, out of the trees, and into the open, for the man looked a lot different from how he usually did. At the moment, Roland Sundun looked every inch the duke. Between Max and the duke's valet, they had dressed the man with a rich yet subtle elegance that Cornick would recognize right away. All in black save for the crisp white of his shirt and cravat, a faint rim of lace around his wrists appearing at the edge of his coat sleeves, and very subdued silver embroidery on his waistcoat. For once the man's hair was neat, tied back into a precise queue. Argus suddenly realized that the duke was still young enough to be considered a prime marriage prospect, his lean muscular form and handsome looks making him even more so. If the man ever came to London, matchmaking mothers would mob him, especially when it was discovered how rich he was.
Shaking aside that idle thought, Argus studied the cottage they walked toward. Small, sturdy, and well maintained, it was a very fine residence for a woodcutter and his family. The duke treated his people well.
The face in the window to the right of the door was easily recognizable as Tucker's. Argus suspected Cornick was standing back until he was certain it was safe. Cornick was deadly, possessing a cold, murderous heart, but he was also very protective of his person, to a point that bordered closely on cowardice.
“Cornick!” he yelled as he and the duke stopped a few yards from the door.
His body tensed, prepared for a bullet to slam into him, and Argus made certain that his body was placed a little ahead of, and in front of, the duke, ignoring the man's grumbling over such protection. Argus did not believe Cornick would just shoot them, take the money, and run, however. Cornick would want to savor his perceived victory, to boast and strut before them, letting them know that he had power over them. However, Cornick was also desperate and trapped. Argus was counting on the man not knowing just how completely trapped he was.
 
 
Lorelei felt as if her heart had just leapt up into her throat when she heard Argus's voice. She could not see out the front window because Tucker's bulk blocked her view, but she was certain Argus was standing out there in front of the house, in the open, a ready and easy target. Guilt soured her stomach, for this was all her fault. She did not know just how she could have refused the baker's plea for help, but she should have taken more guards with her, enough to stop Cornick and Tucker from taking her.
Then her hopes for a rescue were pushed aside by her fear for her father and her lover. She did want to get home safely, but not at the cost of either of their lives. That would be too high a price to pay.
“They be here,” said Tucker. “Both the duke and that bastard Wherlocke. Got a nice fat bag with them, too.”
“My money,” said Cornick and rubbed his hands together. “How very nice.” He looked at Lorelei. “You must be so comforted by this touching evidence of their concern for you.”
“I will be comforted, sir, when I see your body on the ground with a bullet between your eyes.”
“Tsk. Such a crude thing for the daughter of a duke to say,” he said absently, revealing that she was no longer of any interest to him. “I wonder just how long I should make them wait. They need to be made to see who is in charge here, of course, but I do not want them to think I have decided to surrender or something equally as foolish.”
“Take your time, enjoy the last few moments of your miserable life. Perhaps you should even consider taking this time to try to atone for all your sins. It might delay the devil from pulling you into hell the moment your body hits the ground. Lord Uppington sees a lot of spirits and he claims the ones that belong to the devil rarely linger after death, for the devil is not a patient man.” She was pleased to see that both Cornick and Tucker were a little pale. “Some atonement now might give your black souls time to hide.”
She forced herself not to flinch when Cornick abruptly bent down and brought his face very close to hers. He was not a particularly handsome man but not unhandsome, either. He could easily disappear into a crowd. She wondered if that was one reason he had become the man he now was. Being ignored or forgotten could twist a man. Why Cornick was what he was did not really matter much, she decided. No matter what her fate, his was written in stone. He would die. There was some comfort to find in that knowledge.
“You will regret those words and soon,” he hissed at her. “Death can come easy or hard.” He smiled. “Or it can come later, right after Tucker and I cease to enjoy your many charms. It will be a long ocean voyage we will be taking and a little womanly comfort might be nice. And I am sure Tucker would gladly slit your tongue if you were slow to learn to shut up when told to.”
 
The thought of Tucker and Cornick dragging her along with them as they fled the country, forcing her into their beds before they killed her, was terrifying, but Lorelei fought to hide that fear. Cornick was a man who would sniff it out and use it against her. Cruel men such as he was had a true skill at that. It was, in its way, a power of sorts, but she would not allow him to weaken her with his threats. And his threat of rape could be ignored, for she would never allow it. If she could not escape, she would find a way to hurl herself into the water once the ship was out to sea.
“Do you know, I have never understood people who think threatening or hurting ones weaker than themselves is justifiable in any way?” she said, showing him that she knew exactly what game he was playing. “You gain no true power and you certainly gain no respect. The only ones you can truly make fear you are the ones who are weak, or some who are too witless to see what you really are, or utter cowards. Anyone with wit and a spine could beat you. Ah, but I forget. Those are the ones you tie up. Silly me.”
Lorelei wondered why he did not hit her. It was obvious that he wanted to and he had not hesitated to do so when she had tried to escape. That could be it, she thought as she watched him bring his fury under control. Cornick needed a real threat to himself or his plans before he could physically strike out. He could shoot people without any hesitation, but actually beating on them with his hands caused him to hesitate. Perhaps he feared getting blood on his fine clothes, she mused. Or ruining his fine manicure.
It made no sense, but she was glad of that hesitancy. She did not wish to be knocked unconscious again, not when her father and Argus were both in danger and she had no idea what their plan was. Lorelei wanted to be fully aware and ready to do whatever she could to help so that they could all get out of this alive. It might be best if she curbed her sharp tongue, but something about Cornick made her every word come out razor sharp. His grand plans to murder people who had never done anything to him were part of what so infuriated her.
“You do not understand who you are dealing with, bitch,” he snapped.
“No,” she said quietly, never taking her gaze from his face, “I do not. You obviously have money enough to buy yourself fine clothes and have had an education, so why are you doing this? Why steal a man and beat him senseless regularly in a vain attempt to steal his God-given gift? Why do something so certain to get yourself hanged?” She nodded at Tucker. “He I can understand as he has probably done enough to get himself hanged a dozen times, so there was no added risk to this for him. But you are the son of a gentleman, are you not?”
He brushed off his coat and stood up straight. “Of course I am, but I am only the youngest son of a minor baron. I had to work for my coin like some commoner. Uncle thought himself so benevolent when he got me a job in the government. As a lowly clerk! I worked there for years and never got anywhere, was never made anything more than the clerk I started as. They never even noticed the work I did, not even my uncle. Then I was offered a chance to finally rise up in the ranks, to join with a man destined to gain some real power. A lot of power. And money. Wherlocke has destroyed that chance, but you, and your father, will ensure that I do not have to retire from the field as a beggar.”
Cornick grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. “You will not retire from the field, you fool,” she snapped. “You will be buried in it.”
Out of the corner of her eye Lorelei could see through the small window at the side of the house, and caught a glimpse of movement. There was a plan, she thought with a surge of hope that made her momentarily light-headed, and she became determined to keep Tucker and Cornick's attention fixed on her. She would not be surprised if her father and Argus intended to do the same. If they were truly hoping the others could sneak up behind Cornick and Tucker as she, her father, and Argus kept the men's attention on them, it could prove to be a risky plan. Lorelei prayed hard that it would work.
“Cornick!” bellowed Argus again. “Do we meet now or have you changed your mind?”
BOOK: If He's Dangerous
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