Page 24 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl (Marriage Mart Scandals #2)

Emmeline stifled a scream and shuffled backwards where she sat on the floor. Ambrose’s gaze glittered with malice as he beheld her.

“You,” he hissed. “You escaped and told him. You told him, didn’t you?” The gun moved, pointing at her. She shut her eyes, heart pounding. It was one thing to escape from him, but another thing entirely to be face-to-face with her own death. A tear of pure terror ran down her cheek and she stifled a sob.

“Leave her!” Andrew shouted. Before she could stop him, Andrew pushed in front of her, blocking the gun.

Ambrose’s glare focused on Andrew instead. “You think you can have everything. I’m older by four years. It is my right, not yours!” His dark eyes burned with anger. “Had my father been the eldest, just as I am, I would be the earl, and you a baron.” Rage made his aim waver, the pistol pointing briefly at the roof. “You would never even have known about the treasure without me! It was Father’s quest, and mine. You think you can waltz in at the last minute and take it from me, but it is mine.”

Emmeline looked into his eyes and could not see any rationality there. His hate and envy had deprived him of his senses. She inched backwards, willing Andrew to follow her. They had to get away.

“Andrew,” she whispered.

“I am going to shoot you first,” Ambrose informed Andrew. “Then your new countess. Fine fellow you are, that you can’t even protect her.”

Emmeline tensed as Andrew drew a breath. She thought for a second that he was going to rush at his cousin, but he remained still. Ambrose was aiming the pistol wildly again, and she looked around, desperate to do something.

“You’re about to go and join Grandfather,” Ambrose informed Andrew and took aim. A wild idea came to Emmeline, and she reached for the chest, tugging it a few inches across the wet, muddy floor towards her.

“I’ll cast it into the river,” she shouted as Ambrose whipped round to face her.

“You...” Ambrose snarled. He pointed the gun at her where she crouched on the floor, and she screamed, but in that moment, Andrew moved. He launched himself at Ambrose. The gun fired, but the aim was wild, and it struck a roof beam. Emmeline screamed and ran at the two men as they grappled on the floor. Andrew was trying to grab the gun and Ambrose was struggling upright. With a roar of rage, he twisted out from under Andrew and struck out at him with the handle of the pistol. Emmeline screamed.

“Andrew!”

Ambrose whirled around to face her, and Emmeline froze as he aimed the pistol at her. Her mind went through rapid calculations. While many pistols could only house one shot and needed to be reloaded every time, this pistol was double-barreled. Emmeline stared at the two dark mouths of the gun and fought to stay upright. Her legs were shaking, as though they would soon cease to hold her weight. Ambrose was glaring at her with hate.

“Fine. You first, and then I’ll beat Andrew to death,” he snarled. He was about to take aim, but the sound of a horse, neighing, and a man’s voice shouting, made him turn wildly to the door.

“Town Watch!” The man shouted. “Lay down your arms.”

Ambrose kept hold of his gun, but the door shuddered and buckled, and a man walked in, carrying a heavy double-barreled rifle.

“Drop the pistol,” he demanded of Ambrose. Emmeline’s legs gave way. She collapsed on the floor and Andrew, with a small cry of alarm, ran to her and wrapped his arms tight around her.

“Emmeline,” he whispered. “My dearest.”

“Andrew,” she said softly, and she shut her eyes for a moment. Relief made the last of her strength drain out of her and she lay where she was, too tired to move or even to think clearly. Her mind heard the word “dearest” and focused on it, holding onto it in the chaos like a raft in raging water.

Andrew wrapped her tight in his arms, holding her close. His embrace muffled the words in the room, and she leaned against his warm chest, listening distantly to the watchmen who were marching into the room.

She heard a noise as though something had been dropped into the mud. She assumed it was Ambrose dropping his pistol because the watchman spoke again.

“Right. Now, over here.”

She heard Ambrose walking across to the door and then the room was filled with the sound of booted feet as watchmen walked in. She heard a man approach them, and then she heard Andrew let out a delighted cry.

“Neville! You came with them. ”

“Of course I did,” a man answered. Emmeline opened her eyes and looked up, recognising the dark-haired, slim-faced man who she had seen at the wedding. He was grinning brightly at Andrew, who struggled to his feet.

“Thank you, old chap,” Andrew said in a strained voice. “You saved us.”

Neville grinned. “Nothing to it, old fellow. You sent a message to me, after all. I’m just grateful we arrived on time. That horse of mine needs a mountain of bran mash. He ran so hard to get to Rilendale and then out here.”

Andrew laughed. Emmeline, relief making her weak, laughed too. Neville gazed down at her. She was huddled on the floor, the greatcoat still around her shoulders. His eyes widened.

“My lady!” He looked at Andrew. “We’d best get back to the manor, old chap. Lady Rilendale looks sorely tried.”

“I will escort her to the manor directly,” Andrew said a little touchily. Emmeline wanted to smile.

“I’d say you can borrow my horse, but the poor fellow is exhausted. I’m going to stay with the Watch and then walk him back to the manor.”

“Of course,” Andrew murmured. “Stable him here as long as he needs it.”

“I shall do,” Neville said with a grin. Emmeline struggled to her feet and Andrew held out a hand to help her. Neville’s gaze was soft as he looked at them.

“Get yourselves back to the manor,” he said gently. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

“We will. Thank you,” Andrew murmured.

Emmeline clung to his arm, and they walked slowly to the door. She could feel that Andrew was exhausted, every step an effort for them both. She held tightly onto his arm—she was almost dropping—and they walked slowly into the cold night air.

“Just a few hundred paces to the manor,” Andrew assured her gently. Emmeline giggled.

“I suppose after all that, it should seem easy.” She was laughing, a little wildly. It was because of the relief, she knew. Andrew smiled at her.

“Quite so,” he agreed. “Let’s go.”

They walked across the log bridge and Emmeline amazed herself by not falling in. She was exhausted, and the steps down the path blurred together, her sight wavering and her mind blurring in and out of consciousness as they walked through the darkened grounds towards the manor.

“I forgot to ask Neville to bring the box,” Andrew said with a grin as they reached the back door through which they had exited.

Emmeline laughed. “It would seem a pity just to leave it there. After all that,” she added with a shaky chuckle.

Andrew opened the door and they half-fell into the house.

“My lord!” Mr Pearson declared as they stumbled into the hallway. Andrew lifted his gaze.

“Please have a bath drawn for Lady Rilendale,” he said firmly, his frosty dignity settling like a cloak around him. “And some hot tea sent up for us both.”

“At once, my lord,” the butler stammered. We must look a mess, Emmeline thought wearily. Andrew’s white shirt was caked in mud, face bruised, and she was still clinging onto his coat, her skirt in tatters and dirt-stained around her legs.

“Go and rest, my dear,” Andrew murmured. He sounded exhausted. “I’ll come and join you in the drawing room once you’ve bathed.”

“But...” Emmeline stammered. Now that they were safe in the house, questions flooded her mind. “But where did the Watch come from? And Neville...” She trailed off. It all seemed so strange.

“I sent for Neville before we left,” Andrew informed her gently. “I knew that we’d be in danger. I sent a swift rider to his home, asking him to summon the Watch and ride to the manor. I also asked him to keep an eye out for Ambrose and Lydia and said they might know where we were. Lydia must have led him to us.”

“Where is she?” Emmeline murmured, shivering. Her focus on Ambrose had been so great that she had forgotten all about the other of Andrew’s relatives. Lydia was possibly even more lethal than Ambrose was.

“I noticed one of the Watchmen was standing guard over someone outside the door. I can only assume it was her,” Andrew answered.

“I didn’t even notice them,” Emmeline answered. If Lydia had been lurking there with a weapon, she would not have noticed her either.

“Shh. It’s all well,” Andrew told her gently. “We’re safe. Go upstairs now, my dear. The bath will arrive shortly.”

“And you?” Emmeline breathed. The gentle tone and terms of endearment were melting her heart. She recalled the tender embrace they had shared and part of her longed to kiss him again, while the rest of her ached for a bath and warmth.

“I will also bathe,” he said softly. “And then I’ll join you in the drawing room. I think tea and cake are in order.”

“Tea, certainly,” Emmeline said with a giggle. The thought of a cup of tea was bliss. It was exactly what she needed.

She went upstairs and waited for a bath to be drawn for her.

After half an hour of soaking in the warm, lavender-scented water, some of the horrors of the ordeal had worn off and her thoughts were clear again. She wrapped her satin dressing gown around herself and rang the bell to summon Rebecca, her maid.

“A clean dress, please, Rebecca and if you could arrange my hair?” Her long red hair had long ago come loose from its style and hung in disarray around her shoulders.

“At once, my lady.”

When she was dressed in a green evening dress and her hair was decently arranged, she slipped into the drawing room, clean silk slippers on her feet. She went to join Andrew on the chaise-longue, and he held her close, wrapping her tightly in his arms.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked her gently. She nodded, nestling close against him. With his arms wrapped tight around her, she was safe and warm and the need to sleep fought with her longing to kiss him.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Much better.”

“You are so brave, my darling,” he said softly, his resonant voice burring in his chest where she rested her head.

“I did nothing,” she murmured. “You are brave.” She would always remember how he had run at Ambrose, blocking the shot, and fighting to grab the gun. She had thought he would be killed, and terror had filled her.

“You saved me,” he said gently, stroking her hair. His touch kindled a longing like a fire inside her, making her body ache.

“You saved me,” she reminded him, her gaze holding his.

He chuckled. “Well, then. I think we can say we’re even.”

“Quite so,” she agreed.

He laughed and then his expression became serious as he gazed into her eyes. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he said slowly. “I was terrified. I realised that I have never even told you the truth of my heart. I love you, Emmeline. I love you more than I have words to express. Your courage, your fire, your humour, your wit...I love every part of you. I will always love you, forever.”

Emmeline gazed into his blue eyes, her heart melting with love.

“I love you, too, Andrew,” she murmured. “I love your bravery and courage, your intelligence, your humour...I love your maddening aloofness, too.” She grinned. He laughed. “I love every part of you, now and always. Forever.”

Andrew blinked, his eyes damp. Her own gaze was blurring with tears. He bent closer, wiping the tears that fell down her cheek with his finger.

“I love you,” he repeated, his voice low and steady, as though the words were the anchor of his very being. Leaning closer, he pressed his lips to hers with a soft, heartfelt tenderness. Emmeline’s eyes fluttered shut, and she melted into his embrace. His arms wrapped around her, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. The kiss was slow and full of meaning, a silent promise shared in the quiet stillness around them.