The Bodyguard (24 page)

“Wharton?” Mr. Ambleside said in a hushed voice.

“No, that was not it. Aha! Wheaton. Alex Wheaton.”

Mr. Ambleside caught sight of the arrested expression on his own face in the gilded mirror beside the door. A stranger named Alex Wheaton. A duke named Alastair Wharton. Was it merely coincidence? He did not think so. A disguise, then. The duke must have survived. That he had not come directly to Blackthorne Hall must mean he was suspicious of the welcome he would receive.

The quiver that ran through Mr. Ambleside left him feeling more alive than afraid. So. His quarry had escaped.

The hunt was on again.

If Kitt had known how desperately ill Alex would become, she might not have been so willing to disappear with him. His fever worsened, and the things he said in his delirium only confirmed her belief that he was the Duke of Blackthorne.

He spoke of racing curricles. And Oxford. Of his
town house in London. And his beloved Blackthorne Abbey. Of falling in love. And being frightened the lady would not accept him. Of his brother’s betrayal. And his daughters, Regina and Rebecca, whom he loved, but from whom he was estranged. It had all poured out of him, the entire history of a man’s life.

She wished he had remained mute. At least then she could have held on more tightly to her resentment for all the dastardly duke had done. It was not so easy to hate a man who revealed himself to be a vulnerable lover. Not so easy to hate a man who cried over his brother’s betrayal, who adored his children, who had learned to despise his wife, but had nevertheless grieved her death.

There was a great deal more to Alex Wheaton than she had ever imagined. There was a great deal more to the Duke of Blackthorne as well. She could not believe that the mere loss of his memory had changed the duke into an entirely different person. Which meant that when she had been with Alex, she had been with the duke.

It was impossible to reconcile the two men.

It was Blackthorne who had sent Leith away to his death. Blackthorne who had mercilessly raised the rents thrice over the past year. And she did not doubt he had come to Scotland originally, as her father had predicted, to dissuade her from pursuing her claim for Blackthorne Hall in the courts.

How could she have learned to care for such a man? How could she have fallen a little in love with him?

It would have been easier if she did not have all those memories of Alex touching her … kissing her … protecting her with his own body. It would have been easier if she had not been forced to lay hands on him, to touch every part of his muscular frame with a cool, damp cloth to bring down his fever. The attraction was there, as much as she wished it were not.

On their tenth day in the cave, Alex’s fever had been so fierce, she had been certain he would die. She had not been able to rid herself of the bond of desperation that gripped her chest, the knot of despair that made her throat ache, the tears that fell hot upon her cheeks. Or the guilt of caring so much for the man who was responsible for doing so much harm to her people.

She convinced herself there was an explanation for everything, an excuse for the duke’s dastardly behavior, some miracle that would prove Alex innocent of all the cruel deeds Blackthorne had committed. She clung to that hope like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood.

She would have gone mad without Laddie’s presence. The boy made the hour-long walk up into the mountains every night after his work for the earl was done. He had held her hand during those long, early morning hours when Alex gasped for breath, when she was certain each one would be his last.

“Talk to me, Laddie,” she had pleaded.

“The Runner searching for the duke has been at Blackthorne Hall for two full weeks but is no closer to
finding Blackthorne. He’s searched the neighborhood twice over and has asked a lot of questions about Alex.”

“Do you think he suspects Alex is the duke?”

“I dinna know. But no one helped him, ye may be sure of that. An Englishman and a man of the law—’twas a combination no one could like,” he said with a grin.

“I suppose not. How long is he likely to keep looking?”

“I heard he’s giving up the search,” Laddie said. “That’s he’s to go back to London within the week.”

“Any word on Patrick Simpson?”

“Only that he and his family got to the coast and took ship for America.”

Kitt sighed with relief. “One thing went right, at least.”

“The soldiers havna given up searching for him. They suspect it was some of his clansmen who broke him out of jail, but everyone was in the fields working the next morning, so who could they blame?” He grinned and said, “It seems the culprits had their faces concealed, and the two drunken soldiers canna agree whether it was two men or two dozen that attacked them.”

“The soldiers didna think it suspicious that I was missing from home?”

“Ye’re a woman, milady. No female person would be involved in such a raid.”

Kitt smiled ruefully, though a moment before she would have sworn it was impossible to smile.

“The soldiers have also been watching to see if anyone has money to spend,” Laddie added with a twinkle in his eye.

“Why is that?”

“They’re looking for the mysterious burglar who emptied the duke’s coffers at Blackthorne Hall.”

“He could surely spare what we took,” Kitt said.

“So you and Alex did do it!” the boy crowed. “I thought as much.”

Kitt was mortified that she had given them away. Too tired to guard her tongue, she was surely at the boy’s mercy now, with him an employee of the earl and freely coming and going.

“Mr. Ambleside has offered a reward for information leading to the capture of the thief.”

“If you try to collect it, Laddie,” she said in direst tones, “I’ll come back and haunt you—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt ye, milady, but I canna believe ye think so little of me. I’d cut off my arm before I’d do anything to harm ye. I’ve no reason to love the English,” he said bitterly. “My own father was English and—But that is a story for another day,” he said. “Dinna fash yerself. ’Twill all come right again. Watch and see. Alex will live. He’s too strong to die.”

Laddie was proved right. But it was almost three weeks before Alex was himself again and another week beyond that before Kitt felt he was strong enough to endure an interrogation. By then, she didn’t think she could wait another moment to ask the questions that had been simmering inside her. But wait she did.

She awoke one morning to find Alex sitting up on the pallet she had made for him on the cave floor. It was the first time he had woken before her. She hurried over to crouch beside him. “Can you manage? Do you need help?”

He took the hand she offered to steady himself and carefully sat up, leaning his newly healed back against the stone wall of the cave.

“I must confess I’m a little dizzy, but I feel almost like my old self. How long was I unwell?”

“A long time. You had a fever for nearly three weeks.”

He lifted the blanket that covered him and looked beneath it. “Have you been my nurse all this time?”

Kitt felt herself flushing. He was naked now and had been for most of that time, and yes, she was intimately acquainted with every part of his body. “Laddie helped me.”

He gently brushed one of her rosy cheeks with his knuckles. “Thank you, Kitt.”

“ ’Tis Lady—”

He shot her a devilish grin. “Surely, after this, we can dispense with such formality.”

Kitt rose and stepped away from his touch. She did not want to be charmed by him. Not when she still had so many questions for him. “You’re not really Alex Wheaton, are you?” she blurted.

“Did I say something while I was out of my head that suggested to you that I am someone other than who I said I am.”

“You said a great deal.”

His eyes looked troubled. “Then you are in a better position to know my identity than I am. I must confess, I dinna know who I am, exactly.”

Kitt frowned. “How can you not know who you are?”

His eyes remained locked on hers. “I canna remember,” he said simply. “I woke up on the rocks along the coast the day before I met you, with no memory of my past.”

If it was true, it explained a great deal that had previously mystified Kitt. No duke would willingly spend the night on a bed of straw or take the job of bodyguard when his only wages were a roof over his head and food to fill his belly. Unless he did not
know
he was a duke.

But Alex
had
known who he was. She had asked him, and he had plainly told her
“I am Blackthorne.”

Except he had been delirious with fever at the time. Was it possible he could have spilled so much information about himself while he was delirious and yet not remember any of it now? Surely he was pretending ignorance.

But she could think of no purpose it would serve. Why would he take such a chance with his life? Surely if he had known he was Blackthorne he would have demanded the services of a proper English doctor.

Which meant it was entirely possible Alex was the Duke of Blackthorne. And that he had lost his memory when he’d been beaten.

Tell him, Kitt. Admit the truth now, before you make the situation any worse than it already is
.

“Alex, I …” She wanted to confess her deceit. She wanted to tell him who she suspected he was. But there was too much at stake. What if, when his memory returned, he was not Alex, but that unscrupulous Blackthorne bastard?

“What have I told you about myself?” Alex said. “I have a great many holes in my memory.”

“I know you’re an Englishman.”

“Uh-oh. So I’m one of the enemy. I suppose I can give up this Scots accent, then.”

“I dinna think that’s such a good idea, Alex. Ian and Fletcher and Duncan and the rest willna understand my having an Englishman as a bodyguard. I think you must keep it for a while yet. I mean, so long as you are my
gille-coise
.”

“If you think I should, then of course I will. Did you learn anything more about me?”

He looked anxious, worried. She was afraid to tell him too much. “What do you remember about yourself?”

He frowned. “Not much. Except I know I must have been to Blackthorne Hall as a child.”

“Why do you say that?”

“When we were stealing from the duke, we passed by a closed door in the upstairs hallway, and I knew what was behind it. I suppose I must have been acquainted with the duke as a child.”

“Why did you not go straight to Blackthorne Hall and present yourself to Mr. Ambleside?” she asked.

“I considered doing that, but I wasna sure whether I would be welcome there.” He hesitated again, then added, “When I woke up on shore, I’d been stripped and my hands were bound. It seemed to me someone did not want me coming out of the sea. I wasna sure who I could trust.”

Kitt stared at Alex with wide eyes. She had seen the marks on his wrists, she simply had not realized the significance of them.
Someone had tried to murder the duke!
Whom had he offended? Who would benefit most from his death?

Certainly the duke was not on good terms with his brother, Lord Marcus. And Lord Marcus had sent a Bow Street Runner to search high and low for any sign of Blackthorne … so he could finish the job?

Kitt once again opened her mouth to tell Alex who she believed he was and the danger she believed he was in but closed it again. According to Moira, if Alex had already begun to remember his previous life, it was likely the rest would come to him sooner or later. Before it did, she had an unexpected opportunity.

She could fulfill her promise to her father to trick Blackthorne into a handfast marriage and get herself with child. She had thought long and hard about whether she ought to go through with her father’s scheme. But nothing had changed, so far as she could see. The castle and the land still belonged to Blackthorne, and having
Blackthorne’s son was a more certain way to regain it than relying on the courts.

On the other hand, everything had changed, because she knew the man she was about to deceive. And liked him. She might even have fallen in love with him if the circumstances had been different. And she knew that when he found out, Alex would not only be angry, he would be deeply hurt by her dishonesty.

But she did not believe she had any choice.

She knew Alex found her attractive. At the moment, he was even grateful to her for saving his life. Oh, yes. It would be quite possible to get him to couple with her while he was still unaware that he was Blackthorne.

And to be honest, she desired him as much as she believed he desired her. She could honestly give herself to him in exchange for the seed she would take from him. Perhaps it was not a fair exchange, but it was all she could offer.

Alex caught her staring at him and asked, “Is there something else I should know?”

She took a deep breath and let it out. “I
…
You … You had a wife,” she said at last. “She died.”

When she saw the pain in his eyes, Kitt was sorry she had mentioned his wife. She was playing with fire to tell him even that much. The more she told him, the more he would want to know. He was not a stupid man. If she told him too much, he might figure it all out more quickly. And then …

Kitt did not let herself dwell on what would happen when Alex regained his memory and learned what she
had done. By then, if she were lucky, his bairn would already be growing inside her. She would lose Alex, but she would have the child who would be the salvation of her people.

“Halloooo!”

Kitt jumped up when she heard the call from the mouth of the cave. It wasn’t Laddie, because they had worked out a signal between them. She kicked out the fire and blew out the lantern that sat on the small table nearby. “Shh!” she warned Alex. “Be still. It may be a shepherd has stumbled upon the cave accidentally.”

Or it might be the soldiers, who had caught up to them at last.

Kitt’s mind was racing to figure out how she could keep the soldiers from entering the cave and discovering Alex. It would seem odd for her to be there by herself, but perhaps she could say she had retreated to the cave on the anniversary of some special date.