The Bodyguard (36 page)

“Is anybody there? We are locked in the dungeon and cannot get out. Help, someone! We are locked—”

He lifted the lantern to the hole in the dungeon door and said, “I can hear you, Becky.”
I’m home. I love you both. I promise to be a better father. Please be all right!

“Father, is that you? You’re home? We are locked in!”

What if he had not hurried home? What if he had stopped to wait on his valet? They might have died of thirst. If memory served, the skeleton was still there. His father had said it had always been there, and he would not be the one to remove it. The twins must be terrified to be locked in with it.

“There is a key,” he replied in a choked voice. “I will be back with it shortly.” His knees threatened to buckle as he moved along the passageway to a crevice where a skeleton key hung on a hook. When at last he shoved the dungeon door open, he saw Regina lying on the floor with her head wrapped in what looked like a makeshift bandage, with Rebecca kneeling at her side.

For several moments he couldn’t speak past the constriction of fear in his throat. At last he managed to say, “Reggie, Becky, are you all right?”

“Reggie is hurt, Father. She fell and cut her head.”

He crossed hurriedly and sank down onto one knee
beside his injured daughter, setting the lamp where the circle of light lit both their faces. He was alarmed to feel the stickiness of blood in Regina’s hair.

“Who put this bandage on?” he asked.

“I did,” Becky said in a faint voice. “I tried to stop the bleeding.”

He lifted Reggie into his arms and pulled her against his breast. His eyes closed as he felt the warmth of her, smelled the lilac soap that both twins used. “Reggie,” he murmured.
Thank you, God
. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

He looked down at the second twin, the one who had always been afraid of blood, and said, “Thank you, Becky. I think your nursing may have saved your sister’s life.”

Alex’s vision was blurred with tears, but he reached out a hand to Becky and when she took it, he pulled her close, holding both girls snugly against him.

He wanted to tell them how much they meant to him. He wanted to tell them how much he loved them. He wanted to start over and be the kind of father he should have been from the very beginning. What should he say? How could he make them understand?

“Papa is home,” he said, his breath warm against Becky’s brow.

“I love you, Papa,” Becky whispered in his ear.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back.

Over the following year Alex dedicated himself to being a good father. And to prosecuting the Earl of
Carlisle in the House of Lords. He had to be content with punishing Carlisle, because despite the best efforts of the Bow Street Runners to locate him, it seemed Mr. Ambleside had disappeared from the face of the earth.

Alex was sitting in his carriage on the dock the day the Earl of Carlisle stood waiting in line to board a ship bound for Australia, chained hand and foot.

“You’ve convicted an innocent man,” Carlisle said. “You haven’t wanted to know the truth. You’ve believed what you wanted to believe.”

“I saw enough to convince me you’re guilty of attempted murder,” Alex said. “You deserve every year of the seven you’ve been sentenced to serve in bondage.”

“One day I’ll come back to England,” the young man vowed. “And when I do, I’ll ruin your life, as you’ve ruined mine!”

“You’ve no one to blame but yourself,” Alex said. “Take your punishment and learn from it.”

There was no time for more words. The line of chained men began to move up the gangplank. Carlisle refused to budge. “I’m a lord of the realm,” he cried out. “I don’t belong here!”

Alex winced as a cat-o’-nine was applied to the earl’s bare back.

Carlisle howled with pain.

“Shut yer trap,” the sailor with the cat ordered. “Unless ye want more.”

The earl looked at Blackthorne with hate-filled eyes.

“I’ll be back,” he cried, as he was inexorably pulled up the gangplank. “Seven years is not forever.”

The sailor laid on with the cat, and the earl screamed.

Alex tapped on the roof of his carriage, and it moved away before he lost his nerve and offered the man mercy.

“Maybe he’s right, Your Grace.”

Alex looked across the seat at Michael O’Malley. He had taken the boy into his home as a guest, insisting that Mick needed an education if he was to be of any use to him in the future. The boy had absorbed information the way a parched landscape drinks the rain. The thirteen-year-old had grown inches in the past year. With the fashionable clothing Alex had insisted on purchasing for him, and with his ability to mimic accents, he could easily pass for one of the Quality.

Alex had wanted to have Mick’s whole family as guests, but the boy had protested. “We’ll not be taking charity, Your Grace. I’ll agree to the schooling, because I can see I might be of more use to you as an educated employee, but positions must be found for Glenna and Corey and Egan.”

Alex’s offer of help had come too late to save Mick’s youngest sister, Blinne. She had been sold to persons unknown a week before Mick came to get her. Alex had hired the Runners to look for her, but he did not hold out much hope. He knew Mick blamed himself for not coming to her rescue sooner.

“I’m surprised at you, Mick,” Alex said. “How can you, of all people, take the earl’s side?”

“I think sometimes things are not always what they seem.”

Alex thought of Kitt’s protestations of love. Was that a case of things not being what they seemed? “I’m not mistaken about Carlisle.”

“A man’s life is at stake, Alex. Isn’t it worth at least investigating the possibility that the earl might be Mr. Ambleside’s innocent dupe, as he’s always claimed. Especially since Mr. Ambleside, who might have proved him innocent, has escaped entirely.”

“I’m not wrong. But I will follow up on the matter.” He couldn’t be wrong. Otherwise, he had ruined an innocent man’s life.

When Alex returned home with Mick, he found his brother and his brother’s new wife, Eliza, in the drawing room having tea.

“I cannot believe you could be so cruel as to send that poor young man to Australia,” Eliza said as she poured a cup of tea for Mick and handed it to him.

Alex slapped his gloves against his free hand. He was feeling too uncertain at the moment to accept such criticism gracefully. “He would have murdered me for a piece of property,” he snapped back.

“Are you certain he was guilty? He did not look like—”

“Looks can be deceiving.” Alex was in a position to know. Kitt had lied to him with eyes that promised love. “I don’t wish to discuss the matter further.”

“Very well,” Eliza said. “I will be glad to change the subject.”

Alex picked up the cup of tea Eliza had poured for him and lowered himself into a wing chair as far from Eliza Wharton as he could get. He had discovered the woman was a positive bulldog when she wanted something.

He had just taken a sip of tea when she said, “I thought I might invite your wife to come here to Blackthorne Abbey for a visit.”

Alex choked on his tea. After clearing his throat he replied, “I have no wife.”

“Have you repudiated your handfast wife then, Alex?” his brother asked.

“No.”

“Then you are still married,” Eliza pointed out. “Surely you must want to see your wife.”

“I have no desire at all to see her,” Alex said flatly.

“Is there any chance she might have been carrying your child when you left?” Eliza asked.

“None at—” Alex cut himself off. He had completely blocked out the memory of his last night in Scotland. It was entirely too painful. He had not believed Kitt when she said she loved him. Nor had he believed the other statement she had made.

The child is yours
.

Dear God. It had been more than nine months since he had left Scotland. Was it possible she had borne him a child? Surely she would have contacted him by now.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Alex said, standing abruptly and setting down his tea.

“Then I can invite your wife to visit, after all?” Eliza confirmed with a delighted smile.

“There’s no need to invite my wife to Blackthorne Abbey,” he said. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow to visit her in Scotland.”

The Duke of Blackthorne was back in Scotland.

The word had spread in angry whispers until it had finally reached Kitt’s ears.

She sat in her bedroom rocking the black-haired, gray-eyed child who nursed at her breast. Gareth was the one good thing that had come from her encounter with the duke. And now Blackthorne was determined to take him from her.

As he had taken her inheritance. He had spent a great deal of money making sure she lost her claim to Blackthorne Hall in court. And then offered her a way to have it back. All she had to do was give him her son. His son.

“Ye should leave here, I tell ye, and take Gareth with ye,” Moira advised as she swept a perfectly clean floor for the second time. “When the boy is grown will be soon enough to demand what his father owes him.”

“Mayhap by then Blackthorne will no longer wish to acknowledge him,” Kitt said quietly. “I think I must give him up to his father, Moira. It was why he was born, you know. To save us all.”

“Blackthorne will take him away,” Moira said. “He’ll be as English as Yorkshire pudding by the time ye set eyes on him again.”

“That’s a chance I’ll have to take.”

“What makes ye think the duke will keep his promise to give over the land and the castle?” Moira said.

“ ’Tis all to be written down in a contract,” Kitt said. “Gareth in exchange for—” Kitt’s throat choked closed, making it impossible to speak. It had a habit of doing that lately, whenever she contemplated the impossible conditions Blackthorne had laid down for acknowledging Gareth as his heir.

She swallowed down the painful constriction and tried again. “Gareth in exchange for everything Grandfather lost to the English at Culloden.”

“ ’Tis the work of the devil,” Moira muttered. “Whoever heard of selling bairns for—”

“Enough!” Kitt’s sharp voice frightened Gareth, who let out a wail. “There, there, my sweet,” Kitt cooed to him as she settled him on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for scaring you away from your supper.”

“When do you see Blackthorne again?” Moira asked.

“I’m to have supper with him tonight.”

“Will you take Gareth with you?”

“I must, since he’s not yet weaned.”

Moira snorted. “What’s the duke to say when you get up from the table to leave and feed your son?”

“You’re excused?” Kitt said wryly.

“ ’Tis no laughing matter, Kitty. Blackthorne means to break your heart and punish you for things you never did.”

“I lied to him, Moira. I deceived him.”

“You never lied about loving him,” Moira retorted.

Kitt laid her head back and rocked her son. “How could he believe that I loved him, when I lied to him about all else?”

“He should have known better,” Moira said. “He should have felt the truth in his heart.”

Kitt closed her eyes. “His first wife deceived him also, Moira. He did not trust his feelings.” Besides, how could Alex have known how much she loved him, when she had not known herself until he was gone? It was only then she had realized he was the other half of her.

Though Alex was lost to her forever, she had been willing to share their son. She had simply never imagined he would demand that Gareth live with him in England. It would be the death of her to give them both up.

Kitt turned her face and brushed her nose against Gareth’s fine baby hair, breathing in the sweet scent of him. She had labored a night and a day to bring forth Blackthorne’s heir. She had almost died. But the joy of having Gareth had been worth the pain. Love for
her son had filled the empty places inside her. Now Blackthorne wanted to take him from her.

Alex had said that he would send a carriage for her, and Kitt’s heart clutched when she heard the jingle of harness, the rattle of the carriage, and the clop of hooves coming up the lane.

“Dinna go!” Moira cried. “Dinna put yerself in the devil’s hands. Run away, my darling Kitty!”

Kitt knew Moira wanted to spare her the pain that lay ahead. But there was no way of avoiding what must be done. “I have no choice, Moira.”

“Ye always have a choice. Ye dinna have to do this. No one would blame ye if ye thumbed yer nose at him.”

“How can I watch my clansmen lose all they hold dear, while I keep my own child safe in my arms?” Kitt said. “Gareth will want for nothing with his father.”

“Except a mother’s love.”

“Please, Moira,” Kitt said, her voice breaking. “Dinna punish me so.”

“You could ask to go with yer son to England,” Moira said. “Have ye thought of that?”

To her shame, she had. “Alex says I am welcome to come and nurse the child.”

“Well, there’s yer answer then,” Moira said. “Dinna send yer son away with the duke. Go with him and make yerselves a family.”

Kitt gave a helpless laugh. “It isna so easy as you make it sound.”

“Why not?” Moira demanded. “Ye made him love ye once. Ye can do it again.”