Captive Hearts Page 24

  Katherine turned and scrambled toward the bedside table for the flintlock. She came up short as he grabbed the back of her gown and spun her around slamming her against a bed post. Her breath exploded from her with a whoosh, her side and shoulder numbed by the blow.

  She lashed out, her nails biting deep into Jaime’s face, drawing blood. He bellowed in pain and shoved her back. He punched her with a closed fist along the side of her head knocking her to the ground. Lights exploded across her vision. Weak, addled, her vision a blur, she rolled to her side and struggled to get her feet beneath her. “Ye’re goin’ ta die, bitch.” Jaime withdrew a blue ribbon from his pocket. He grasped the front of her gown and dragged her away from the bed. Flipping her face down, he straddled her back, pinning her to the floor. She blocked the ribbon with her hand as he looped it around her neck. The strand cut into her palm as he tightened it, pushing her knuckles into her throat, and making her gag. She rocked from side to side, fighting against the

  pressure of his weight. Her heartbeat drummed in her head. Black dots swam in her vision as the ribbon pressed into the sides of her neck. ****

  “The randy beast is more trouble than he’s worth,” William complained as they shut the stall door on Sultan.

  The big bay snorted and pawed at the straw beneath his feet. After all the trouble they had experienced getting him from the paddock to the inn, Matthew agreed. “He belongs to Katherine, and after everything else she’s lost, I’m determined that she won’t lose anything else she values.”

  The horse thrust his nose between them in an aggressive bid for attention and both men jerked back.

  Sultan neighed as though amused at their reaction.

  Matthew shook his head and patted the glossy neck. He spoke softly to the animal and the horse cocked his ears forward and focused his attention on Matthew. His eyes shined bright, intelligent.

  “If my hands were in better condition, I’d give him the ride he needs. Perhaps you might want to take on that detail, William.”

  “Yes, sir. After I’ve cleared the dust I’ve eaten all the way back from the Ansley’s meadow from my throat.” Matthew grinned. The man had been more than helpful in finding facilities for the horses and buying feed and straw for them. They had had a productive afternoon.

  “I’ll buy you a pint for your trouble and treat the men as well. They’ve more than earned it this afternoon.” William nodded in agreement. “They’ll let you, I’m sure, and be grateful for it.”

  The two men left the stables and walked around to the front of the inn. The common room had cleared considerably since the noon hour. The desultory sound of the two bar maids’ voices as they took the men’s orders, carried into the entrance hall.

  Matthew tossed a small pouch of coins to William.

  “See everyone gets a pint and order me one as well and I’ll join you. I want to check on Katherine.” He climbed the stairs, his steps eager. He had been dogged by worry all afternoon though he had left her

  locked in the room with Jess posted at the door. The longer they were away, the more anxious he became lest Katherine grow restless and want to leave the room. He began to relax when all remained quiet as he reached the landing that ran along the second floor. He turned the corner toward the back of the house.

  Jess’s lean figure came into view. He sat slumped in his seat, his head resting on his chest. A discarded metal pan and teacup were stacked next to his chair. Anger had Matthew’s pace quickening. He had trusted the man to remain alert while guarding his wife and he had fallen asleep at his post. He grasped the man’s shoulder to shake him awake. The body slumped sideways out of the chair and fell to the floor. Blood ran in a thin line down his temple and cheek.

  “Katherine,” Matthew breathed her name for he hadn’t the air to shout as he leaped over the prostrate figure and shoved against the door. The portal swung back hitting the wall with a bang. His momentum carrying him into the room, he tripped over a woman’s body on the floor and braced a hand on the floor to catch his balance.

  Jaime Stone straddled Katherine’s hips as he pulled on a blue ribbon laced around her throat like the reins of a horse. The muscles stood out in his forearms as he stretched her neck back. Her face was a deep reddish color from the strain, and Matthew thought her neck might snap in two.

  He launched himself at the man knocking him over and forcing his face into the floor. He pounded his bandaged fist into Jaime’s back. The man twisted beneath him nearly succeeding in throwing him off. They rolled together into the table. Plates and cutlery scattered across the floor as a leg gave way beneath their combined weight and the tabletop crashed to the floor narrowly missing both of their heads.

  Jaime punched upward, landing a glancing blow to Matthew’s chin. His head snapped back, but he punched back, connecting a solid blow to the other man’s mouth.

  His lip split and blood ballooned down his chin. The ribbon still clenched in Jaime’s fist trailed around his arm as he locked his fingers around Matthew’s throat and

  squeezed. Matthew pounded him in the face repeatedly then twisted away, breaking the man’s hold.

  Matthew braced his foot on the floor and attempted to rise. Jaime swung around, one of the knives from their noon meal clenched in his fist. He thrust forward and Matthew staggered backward over one of the table legs and went down flat on his back. Jaime was on him in a second, thrusting downward. Matthew caught his wrist, holding off the blow. His grimace feral, the man spat blood in Matthew’s face and growled like a snarling wolf.

  He put all his weight behind the knife trying to force the blade downward. Matthew’s arm shook with the strain of resistance, his muscles aching.

  The loud report of a firearm’s discharge reverberated through the room accompanied by the thick smell of spent gunpowder. Jaime’s head jerked back. His surprised expression became obscured by the blood that blossomed out the hole in his forehead. His body went limp and he slumped forward. Matthew pushed him sideways and the man fell to the floor and rolled onto his back, his hand still gripping the knife. His brassy, green eyes gleamed in the dull light as they stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

  The pounding of running feet in the hallway seemed far away as Matthew shoved himself away from the body and half staggered to his feet. He wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of his coat and turned to look for Katherine. She stared past him at the body on the floor as she lowered the flintlock to her side, the barrel still smoking. Her eyes appeared black with shock as they rose to his face, and she took an unsteady step toward him. In three long strides, Matthew caught her against him, holding her tight as relief rushed through him, so intense he felt light-headed.

  William, his gun drawn, pushed inside the room followed by three others brandishing arms. They froze at the door taking in the scene. William stepped to the door to answer the shouted inquiries from the hallway. The three men who accompanied him circled Jaime Stone’s body, their expressions a mixture of satisfaction and morbid curiosity.

  Katherine coughed and pressed a protective hand to her throat as she drew in a deep breath. “The maid.” It

  was painful to watch her speak, but welcome to hear.

  He guided her to the bed and pressed her down on it.

  He kneeled by the woman and gently eased her onto her back. A huge purple bruise discolored her forehead and a good size knot protruded from it. She moaned and her features creased in pain as she started to regain consciousness.

  Jess staggered into the room, supported by a man on either side. His face looked pale and a thin stream of blood dripped from his chin. “Mrs. Hamilton, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

  She made a movement with her hand negating his apology. Matthew offered her a hand as she rose to her feet. A purplish bruise was forming on either side of her throat. It stood out in stark relief against the pale skin as she tipped her face upward to look at Matthew. “It is over.”

  To protect him, she had killed the only witness against Edward they might ever
have.

  “William.” Matthew turned to the man as he stood at the door.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get someone in here to see to this woman and start asking everyone you can if Jaime Stone was staying here and if he had any traveling companions. Don’t allow anyone to leave the inn until they’ve been questioned.

  And post someone at the stables so no one will be tempted to slip away.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “He had to be staying here to know you were still alive, Katherine. He’s been watching for an opportunity.” She nodded and bent to sooth the maid at her feet as she opened her eyes. The woman began to cry and touch her forehead.

  “Andy.” Matthew spoke to one of the men standing guard over Jaime Stone’s body.

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Go down and get some brandy and be quick about it.” Matthew bent to take the flintlock from Katherine’s grasp. She stared at the weapon as though surprised she held it. He squatted on the balls of his feet and grasped

  her jaw to capture her gaze with his. “It isn’t over, Katherine. We’re going to find out who’s behind all this, once and for all. We’re not leaving England until we do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Katherine eased the blood-smeared wrappings from around Matthew’s hand. The blisters had broken and the cloth had adhered to them making it difficult. She dipped a sponge in a basin of water and moistened the fabric to loosen it. Matthew shifted in his seat, his impatience palpable.

  “You could just jerk it loose and be done with it,” he said. She glanced up at him. “I suppose that would be a solution if it would not tear your skin away as well.” The words came easier, which was amazing considering the added trauma to her throat. The muscles felt sore each time she turned her head and she fought the urge to cough.

  “I need to be downstairs with the men, Katherine.”

  “I know. But, I need to see to your hands first.” He focused his attention on her. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes.” She wasn’t interested in how she felt, she just needed to touch him and know he was well. She peeled back the saturated fabric and lifted it away from his palm. The blisters had indeed broken and the skin had torn loose, leaving raw flesh exposed beneath. Areas had cracked and bled. She grimaced at the damage and, as gently as possible, bathed his hand and patted it dry.

  She stuck her finger in the concocted salve the innkeeper’s wife had given her, and spread a generous amount over the injuries. She placed a protective pad of fabric over his palm then started winding strips of fabric around his hand and between his fingers.

  She clipped the end of the strip and tied it securely in place. “Better?” she asked, looking up.

  “Yes.” His grudging admission made her smile.

  “Why is it men will suffer in silence rather than take the time to see to their injuries?” She motioned for him to

  extend the other hand.

  He shrugged. “I haven’t heard complaints from you either.” He placed his hand palm up on the table.

  She remained silent for a moment as she unwound the bandages. “I have had worse, just not quite so many at one time.”

  He ran his fingertips along her arm garnering her attention. She looked up and read the question in his face.

  “Your father?”

  She nodded. “He drank sometimes and became mean with it.”

  He frowned. “There is no excuse for it, Katherine.”

  “No there is not.”

  She finished cleaning and bandaging his hand, then rose to toss the dirty bandages into the fire.

  They both turned at a knock on the door. Matthew armed himself with a flintlock though it was awkward for him to fit his finger against the trigger. “Who is it?”

  “’Tis Garrett Drake, Captain Hamilton.” Drake’s cultured tones sounded muffled, but recognizable through the door.

  Matthew pointed the pistol toward the ceiling as he raised the wooden bar and opened the portal. She moved to stand beside him.

  Drake carried his cloak over his arm. Moisture glistened in the dark, wavy strands of his hair. “I was informed you had inquired about me earlier, but I was already out. I heard you had some trouble earlier this evening and have come to offer my assistance, should you or your wife need it.”

  “The trouble has been dealt with, Mr. Drake.” Matthew motioned for the man to enter. “A man knocked out one of my men and attacked one of the maids and Katherine. He was killed.”

  The man’s features went stiff. “Who was this man?

  Do you know?”

  “His name was Jaime Stone. He was wanted for the earlier attack and murder of Katherine’s family.” Drake frowned and nodded his head. “I see.” He coughed then cleared his throat. “I hope you weren’t badly hurt, Mrs. Hamilton.”

  “Not badly,” she answered.

  His brows rose at the hoarse sound of her voice, and his gaze focused on her throat. “It was close, I take it.” Katherine’s hand moved to her neck, and she touched the bruises there. “Yes, it was. Had Matthew not returned when he did, I would surely be dead.”

  “How fortunate you were in time, Captain. Is there anything I might do to assist either of you?”

  “No.” Matthew shook his head. “But thank you for the offer.”

  “Then I’ll leave you to recover.” Drake turned toward the door then looked over his shoulder. “Your hands. I heard they were injured in a fire.”

  “Yes, Summerhaven was burnt to the ground last night. The house was set ablaze by the man killed this evening.”

  “It would seem you are either very lucky or a very adept fighter to have survived both attacks.” He paused, waiting for a reply.

  “A bit of both,” Katherine said. Her gaze met Matthew’s. It was miraculous that he had found her in the dressing room during the fire. The timing of his return during the second attack was equally so.

  “I imagine Edward will not be pleased by the property loss. I believe he had hopes of selling the house and property.”

  “The land is still there.” Matthew shrugged, but his hand rested against her waist in silent support. “The house will have to be rebuilt.”

  “I suppose that can be left up to whoever buys the property.”

  Matthew nodded.

  “I will be leaving for London early tomorrow morning. If you should need me to transport Mrs.

  Hamilton there, while you finish your business here, I am at your service.”

  She placed a hand on Matthew’s arm, not liking the idea, and his attention swung to her for a moment, then back to Drake. He inclined his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I prefer to keep Katherine with me. After nearly losing her twice, I’d feel more comfortable keeping her close at hand.”

  Drake nodded. “I understand.” He tipped his head to

  Katherine. “Should you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call on me.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Drake,” Katherine murmured.

  Matthew closed the door behind him and slipped an arm around Katherine’s waist. She rested lightly against him and pressed her cheek against his chest. “Mr. Drake’s eyes are a most unusual green, don’t you think?”

  “I’m not in the habit of noticing other men’s eyes, Katherine.”

  She laughed at his tone. “They’re like cat’s eyes, green with gold flecks. They make me feel uncomfortable when he looks at me.” She shivered feeling a chill and pressed closer.

  He tipped her face up to him, a thoughtful frown drawing his brows together. He brushed her mouth with his own. When he smoothed the hair back from her face she winced. She remained still as Matthew explored the area and found the knot there.

  “We are a pair, Mrs. Hamilton. ’Twould do us both good to lock ourselves away for about a week and allow all the bumps, bruises, burns, and other marks a chance to heal.”

  She smiled. “Yes, it would.”

  “My mother used to kiss our injuries better. When we both feel up to it,
we’ll have to see if that truly works.” His devilish smile eased her anxiety and brought another smile to her lips.

  “I must go down and speak to William, but I’ll not be long.”

  She was learning, once he had something on his mind, little could distract him. In that, they were very much alike.

  ****

  Katherine woke with a start, her heart racing. She reached out to the space beside her to find Matthew gone, the sheets beside her still warm. She sat up in a rush, alarmed, and looked around the room. Firelight touched on the surface of the two chairs that sat before it, the table against one wall and the washstand. A movement at the window caught her attention. She drew a relieved breath as Matthew stepped out of the shadows. His long easy stride brought him back to the bed.

  A tremor of reaction shook her. “What is it?”

  “Nothing, sweetheart.” The lean line of his hip and the muscular shape of his thigh were etched by the firelight as he shucked the breeches he had donned and slipped beneath the covers.

  “Are your hands troubling you?”

  “A bit.” He drew her against his side.

  She found a familiar place to rest her head in the curve of his shoulder and pressed close. “I can change the dressings.”

  “Shhh. In the morning before we leave.” His lips brushed her forehead.

  The tension slowly drained from her body, and she closed her eyes. The steady even beat of his heart lulled her. “You could tell me what you are waiting for.” She sensed his smile though she couldn’t see it.

  “Nothing. My thoughts are a bit restless after such a day.” She ran a soothing hand over his chest, the texture of the hair there rough against her palm. She knew he was disappointed, as was she, they had not found anyone in the inn associated with Jaime Stone.

  “What will we do, Matthew?” she asked on a sigh.

  His arm tightened around her. “They will be found.”

  “There’s so little time. Lord Rudman—”