Earl of Kendal, page 13
“You’re mine.” His breath was sour as it washed against her face. “You are my prize.”
She kept her eyes locked on his watery gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “I’m already wed to Kendal.”
“Whatever has been done in this heathen country can be undone in London.” He leaned toward her, so his face was nearly touching hers. “You will be my wife.”
“Never.”
His hand drew back and flew across her face. Pain exploded at the side of her cheek, and her head snapped hard to the right. She gasped at the offense.
All the time they had been in the carriage, she had thought he would never strike her. She understood now what a naïve thought that had been.
For the first time, there was a very real element of danger.
“Rider,” a voice outside the carriage announced.
Sophia straightened in her seat, invigorated with hope. Kendal had found her.
Mongerton grimaced and looked out the window. She tried to follow suit, but he shoved her back to block her view, making her sit down hard in her seat.
But she didn’t need to see the man riding toward them to confirm it was Kendal. The curse Mongerton issued was proof enough.
He rapped on the cabin ceiling. “You know what to do.”
His words made Sophia’s blood go cold. As did the way that he curled his lips into a malicious grin. “If you were so easily able to marry in this wild land, so too can you be easily widowed. Men accidentally die all the time, even earls.”
“No,” she whispered.
A rider flew by the window, going in the opposite direction. Toward Kendal.
“So if you did indeed already marry him as you claim…” Mongerton turned from the window and pulled the curtain shut. “It appears you are about to become a widow.”
No sooner had he said the words than the deafening bang sounded—the report of a gun being fired.
That had been bloody close.
Kendal rode hard toward the man who had aimed the pistol at him. Thank God the things were notoriously inaccurate shots, especially on horseback. But it did confirm exactly what he suspected: Sophia was in that carriage.
Determination burned through him like fire.
He would save her. No matter what it took.
The blighter who’d fired on him rounded again, his gun now useless after its discharge. Still, his empty pistol could still be used as a weapon, its weight perfect for bludgeoning.
All Kendal was armed with was his wits. He’d left with such haste that he hadn’t thought to gather any weapons beforehand. However, after years of running whisky, he was quite resourceful.
The man came at him with the pistol cocked back in his hand to strike at Kendal.
Which was why Kendal ran directly into it.
His heart slammed in his chest, not with fear, but with the importance of succeeding. As the cur brought down the weapon, Kendal ducked to the side and reached out, grabbing and savagely tugging the weapon from the bastard’s hand. It fell into the grass with a thunk.
The man jerked in surprise.
Which was why the tactic worked so well. No one expected their victim to charge into the attack.
Kendal dropped to the ground and hastily scooped up the heavy gun.
Mongerton’s lackey turned back toward him again, still on his horse. And no doubt assuming he had the advantage.
The assailant rode at full tilt toward Kendal. The earth thundered with the hoofbeats coming directly at him. The rider was moving, and Kendal was not, meaning Kendal would have the advantage of good aim.
He waited until his attacker was nearly upon him, then took careful aim. The horse was almost in front of him now, its chest filling his vision.
It was in that last, critical moment that Kendal released the gun, sending it sailing toward the man’s head. Quick as lightning, Kendal dashed from the horse’s path and tucked his legs toward his torso as he fell to clear himself from those hooves that could cause so much damage. He watched, his body tense, as his assailant fell from the horse like a sack of barley.
Kendal scrambled to his feet and raced over to where the man lay still. After retrieving the empty pistol, Kendal checked the unconscious man, confirming he was still alive. There were no additional weapons on him, save a few bullets and some gunpowder to reload the pistol.
The seconds it took to ready the gun were precious but necessary. Kendal couldn’t go up against Mongerton unarmed again. He swatted the horse on the rump, sending it running in the opposite direction, away from the man who would use it to chase Kendal, and mounted his own steed.
Distant billows of dust kicked up on the open road indicated that the carriage was still close enough to reach. Kendal leaned low on his horse and encouraged the beast into a hard gallop.
The carriage came into view quickly, and yet another man on horseback charged toward Kendal. Except this time, he was ready. He aimed the gun toward his opponent and fired without hesitation. They were close enough that his aim was true, striking the bastard in the shoulder.
It wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt like the very devil, and keep him from climbing back on his horse.
Wild desperation raged in Kendal. Sophia was in that carriage, only a stone’s throw away. And yet still in danger.
Galloping once more, he focused his efforts this time toward the driver. He aimed his pistol, which the man did not know wasn’t loaded. What he did most likely know was that his comrade had just been shot, and Kendal was the victor.
As Kendal hoped, the driver jerked the horses to a stop and put his hands up.
“I have no need for you.” Kendal indicated the open road behind them with his pistol.
The man needed no further encouragement and leapt from his seat and sprinted in the opposite direction in one simultaneous move. Leaving only Mongerton to contend with.
Kendal wished he had more gunpowder to refill his pistol. No doubt, the other man was armed.
All at once, the carriage jostled violently, and a distinctly feminine voice cried out.
His heart stopped mid-beat as everything in him went cold.
Sophia.
16
Mongerton crushed his weight against Sophia in an attempt to block her blows. She shoved at him with enough effort that her breath grunted out between her clenched teeth.
Kendal was out there. Alive.
She’d heard his voice.
The rock was still locked in her fist. The one pressed against his soft stomach.
She tried to pull back to free it, but he grabbed onto her wrist with one hand and held her into place.
“If he thinks to have you, he’s a damn fool.” Mongerton’s other hand locked around the back of the neck, his squeeze painful. “I’ll never let you go.”
If nothing else, his new hold on her eased his stomach, liberating her hand. She unfurled her fist and drew the rock down hard on his head.
Mongerton lifted his palm to his scalp with a pained grunt. That was when she did it—when she slid her hand against his fleshy body and freed the dagger from his possession.
The door flew open, and there was Kendal, his face a mask of rage. He punched an arm into the cabin and yanked Mongerton by the cravat, dragging him from the carriage. But not before Mongerton caught her hair, yanking her along with them.
They tumbled out of the small door in a heap that sent Sophia sprawling. She tightened her hold on the dagger as she fell, determined to ensure it didn’t slip from her grasp.
She straightened as Kendal launched himself at Mongerton with the butt of a pistol.
“Run, Sophia,” Kendal ground out as her captor leapt out of the way. “Take my horse and go.”
Go?
Was he mad?
She wouldn’t leave him. Mongerton didn’t fight fair. She would never leave Kendal at his mercy.
Especially not when she was armed and could help.
The two wrestled in the dirt, flipping and grunting with such fervor that it was almost impossible to tell one from the other. Abruptly they stopped with Mongerton on Kendal’s chest and the pistol pointed at his face.
“No!” The word screamed from her mouth as everything seemed to freeze.
That gun aimed at Kendal, ready to snuff out his life forever. Him, lying unmoving beneath its threat.
And her. With a dagger in her hand.
She had no idea what she was doing, but she ran at Mongerton with the weapon, plunging it into his back. The blade sank through flesh and bone with surprising ease.
He stiffened with a cry of pain, and the heavy pistol landed on the grass with a thunk.
Hot blood welled up from the wound, soaking his shirt and her hand. She jerked back in horror.
The knife came out with a sickeningly wet, sucking sound.
Her fingers released their grip on the handle, and the blade dropped to the ground, glistening with blood. She had done that. To another person.
To save Kendal.
She looked up to find him rolling Mongerton onto his side. The man was groaning in agony, his face a deep, purple red.
“W…will he die?” she stammered.
“No.” Kendal handed her the gun he’d scooped from where it fell. In one smooth move, he uncurled the cravat from Mr. Mongerton’s neck and pressed the wad of lengthy fabric to the wound at his back.
The older man grimaced.
“He will require a physician,” Kendal said. “How are you?”
She recalled how the blade had passed into his body, any catch giving way easily with the pressure. What had she sliced into?
She shuddered. “I’m fine.”
Kendal helped heft Mongerton’s bulk upright. The man shot Sophia a hateful stare. “You stabbed me,” he grated out through clenched teeth.
Sophia’s disgust dissipated, replaced instead with ire. He had meant to kill Kendal, to force her to marry him. “I would do it again,” she said vehemently.
“I demand restitution.” Mongerton jerked back from Kendal with a wince and staggered. “And all the money your father owes me.”
“You’ll receive the care of a physician and a meeting with a magistrate,” Kendal said dryly as he reached out to steady him. “If I were you, I’d save my strength for the bumpy ride ahead.”
The other man paled slightly. Kendal guided him toward the carriage, this time without being subjected to complaining and only a weak, unbalanced resistance as he forced Mongerton inside.
Once the other man was closed within the cabin, Kendal rushed to Sophia and gently cupped her face in his hands. “Did he hurt you?” His gaze lowered to her torn skirt. “It isn’t too late to kill him.”
She turned her head slightly so he wouldn’t see the splotch of red where he’d struck her. After all, it was such a minor thing by comparison of what could have happened. “He didn’t hurt me. You arrived, and…” Tears welled in her eyes. The weight of the gun remained in her hand and the dagger was still at her feet, shimmering with blood.
Kendal wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in the familiar spicy scent of him and offering comfort that settled deep into her soul.
“You did well, my love.” He leaned back and tilted her face up toward his. “I should have known you would be so brave.” He grinned. “I don’t even think you needed me.”
She gave a weak chuckle. “It was good to see you, regardless.”
He winked and picked up the dagger, pausing to clean it before tucking it into his jacket pocket, then led her to the driver’s seat. “To think I doubted you could actually start distilling whisky on your own in Scotland.”
She allowed him to help her climb onto the hard bench. “And now?”
“Now I think I’d feel bad for the excisemen.” He sat down beside her, lifted the reins and encouraged the horses to turn around. “I daresay, I never thought I’d imagine such a thing.”
Sophia braced herself as the carriage lurched forward, taking them back to Glasgow. “Perhaps it’s quite fortunate for them that I’ve altered my course.”
“Have you?”
“You know I have.” She slid a glance at him and found him grinning at her.
“Perhaps I want to hear you say it.”
“That I wish to marry you instead of engaging in illicit dealings?”
“Precisely.” He curled his free arm around her, drawing her closer to him. Perhaps it was the wind playing tricks on her, but she almost thought she heard him say, “And that we can find love.”
It was most likely the wind.
But she sincerely hoped it was not.
Kendal had two purposes for seeking out a physician in Glasgow. The first was to ensure Mongerton would live, not only to pay the price of his crime but also so that Sophia wouldn’t be burdened with his miserable death on her conscience. The second was for Kendal to assure himself that she was indeed fine.
She was. Thanks be to God. Or Kendal would have needed to finish the job with Mongerton that Sophia had started.
Once assurances were in place that Mongerton would live and be seen to by the authorities, Kendal and Sophia escaped to their room where they were finally, blessedly, alone.
Only then did he allow himself to realize the severity of what could have happened. If Kendal had not caught them in time, Mongerton would most certainly have forced Sophia into marriage. No doubt with the use of her own father as bait. Or perhaps her siblings in some way.
Regardless, Kendal could scarcely stand the idea of her suffering in such a fashion any more than he could the idea of her belonging to another man. Especially one she did not want.
He pulled her into his arms and held her there for a long moment before kissing her deeply, claiming her. She returned his kiss with a fire that matched his own as if needing to confirm for herself that they were both safe.
Desperate with need, they stumbled toward the wall, where he lifted her skirts as her thighs came up around his waist. While their couplings before had been slow and sensual, this was hard and fast, both needing comfort, reassurance.
Their cries rose up in unison until they slid down together, languid with the aftereffects of their passion.
Kendal brushed a loose tendril of honey-colored hair from Sophia’s face.
She smiled up at him with flushed cheeks. “Are we still to be wed today?”
“If so, I must say we’ve gone about it in quite the opposite fashion once more.” He let his fingertip drift lazily over her collarbone.
“The consummation can still follow.” She grinned. “Again.”
His blood immediately went hot. “You wicked woman.”
“So says the wicked earl.”
Ah yes, there was that. Obviously, his membership would need to be forfeited now. Not that he had any complaints. He liked the men well enough, of course, seeing most of them as brothers.
But Lady Sophia Stopford, soon-to-be Sophia Merrick, Lady Kendal—oh yes, she was entirely worth it.
“Shall we go marry, my love?” he asked.
“Yes.” She beamed up at him.
He straightened and pulled her to her feet. “The priest said he’d be at the kirk all day.”
“Then let us go sooner rather than later.”
And after a quick freshening up and straightening their rumpled clothes—Sophia’s requiring several stitches to be right and tight once more—they did exactly that. They arrived at the kirk as presentable as was possible after traveling and nearly dying, all in one day.
The ceremony was swift as they made their vows to one another, each speaking from the depth of their soul as they were joined together forever in spirit as they already were in body. Once they were pronounced married as attested to by the two witnesses who had once helped Kendal sneak whisky from Scotland to England, Kendal drew Sophia toward him and kissed his lovely wife.
He grinned down at her. “You have made me want everything I never thought to need, Lady Kendal.”
Sophia beamed with delight. “As you have done with me, Adolphus.”
He grimaced at the use of his Christian name and led her from the cool, quiet kirk. “Is that entirely necessary?”
“Oh, it most certainly is.” She put her hand on her hip. “In fact, how could you not tell me your name was Adolphus?”
“You never asked,” he said dryly.
“Well, I think it is a fine name.” Her hand slid into his. “For a fine man.” She repeated his name again, saying it slow and sweet, “Adolphus.”
Never had he thought of his name as being anything other than dastardly. But never had he heard it on her lips. Never had he considered himself a fine man, either.
His heart thrummed for this woman who had so set his preconceived notions on its ear and made him want to be the man she saw him as.
“What is it?” she asked, evidently sensing the change in him. “Do you honestly hate your name that much?”
He shook his head. It wasn’t his name, though he would still never forgive his mother for it any more than he would her other transgressions.
The words he wanted to say to Sophia were on the tip of his tongue, near the edge of a vulnerability that should scare him.
Live your life.
They stopped before the carriage that would take them back to the hotel. Not the dismal one where the innkeeper had allowed Sophia to be snatched from him after a few glittered coins were tossed his way. But to a finer establishment, one befitting an earl and his new countess.
“I love you, Sophia,” he said.
She blinked up at him, her blue eyes widening. “You do?”
He reached up and stroked his hand down her soft cheek. “I know I did not come after you of my own volition but doing so has altered my life in the most wonderfully unexpected way. You’ve shown this boring, stodgy earl how to enjoy life. To open my heart.”
“Boring, indeed.” Her eyes sparkled, and she put her hand over his chest, directly over his heart, which belonged entirely to her. “I love you too.”
Her gaze met his. “You’ve shown me that I’m not losing my life by marrying but am enhancing it in ways I never thought possible. I love you…” She gave him a coy look, “Adolphus.”
