Page 20 of How to Tempt An Earl (Wed Within a Year #2)

C eleste was gone. Not just gone—she’d left him . Kieran stood, rooted in place in the centre of her room, his mind unable to accept the evidence of his eyes. She must have left soon after their quarrel. He’d not dissuaded her. Her bed had not been slept in. Her russet gown lay spread atop it, her dressing table devoid of her personal effects. The miniature and the pearls were gone, as was the sea-glass necklace and the dagger. At least she had protection. There was some comfort in that. He wished she’d taken more. The Wrexham Imperial Topazes lay neatly in their velvet box. She could have lived a while on them.

Most telling of all was the scrap of paper atop her dressing table—the damn list. He knew what that list was to her—currency, her ability to pay her way. I always pay my debts. But now it was also symbolic of all she thought stood between them, the changes neither of them could make. She didn’t mean to come back.

He’d thought they were beyond such score-keeping and scale-balancing. There was no note, nothing. How had she left? Had she taken a horse? She was heading for the coast; he could follow her. His brain started functioning; he’d check at the stables. Or had she simply packed a bag and walked down the lime alley into the night? How far did she think she’d get in the dead of night? If she was on foot, he’d easily overtake her. There was hope in that.

He hoped she wasn’t lying on the side of the road with a twisted ankle or worse because she’d been foolish enough to set off in the dark. There were other questions too: why? Why had the woman he loved left him? But he knew why. She wanted her freedom and she thought the odds between them were insurmountable. There was no pleasant answer to that. Was his love not enough? His protection not enough? Was what he offered not enough?

Worse, he had to go downstairs and tell his brothers and then he had to go after her, assure himself that she was safe, get those answers and change her mind. She belonged here. She belonged with him.

Kieran found his brothers in the breakfast room, helping themselves to huge plates of eggs, fresh baked rolls and bracing mugs of steaming coffee after having been up all night. Caine looked at him as he entered, instantly concerned. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

‘Celeste is gone. She’s taken her things,’ Kieran managed in a steady voice. ‘She must have left before we set the sentries. I’m going out to look for her.’ He expected his brothers to say they’d come, too.

‘No.’ Caine shook his head fervently. ‘You cannot go out. Roan is likely out there somewhere. It is a miracle that we arrived before he did. I think it is only because he’s travelling by coach and we had the luxury of riding cross-country while he had to stick to roads. You cannot be out there, riding willy-nilly. You’d be easy pickings, especially distracted and distraught.’

Kieran balled his fists. That was not acceptable. ‘Am I to sit here and do nothing while Celeste is out there? If Roan is a danger to me, he is most certainly a danger to her. What if he finds her?’

Roan, who’d set her up and betrayed her; Roan, who’d meted out a punishment to her so humiliating she’d not told him what it was. Roan, who’d used her in despicable ways without a second thought. Ammon Vincent was also out there, waiting to claim his prize. Her dagger wouldn’t be enough if they found her.

Caine remained cool. ‘If Roan has her, we’ll know soon enough. He’ll want to use her to bargain with.’

‘And if she’s out there alone?’ Running into anonymity… The longer she had a head start, the harder it would be to find her. If she made the coast and found a ship, it would impossible.

‘Then you have to let her go. If she doesn’t want to be found, we have to honour that.’ Caine gestured to a seat at the table. ‘Sit down and eat. We’ve all had a long night full of unpleasantness. Hot food will help.’

* * *

The note came in the middle of Kieran’s third cup of coffee. He read it with growing grimness. The confrontation he’d known was coming had arrived. The Horsemen would face Roan…but now with the complication that Roan had Celeste. Roan wanted to meet. The note had come in her handwriting.

‘Why would he want to meet?’ Luce asked as the note was passed around. ‘You don’t actually believe he’ll give up Celeste, not when he’s come all this way to retrieve her?’

Kieran hadn’t quite worked that out for himself either, but neither was he inclined to overlook an opportunity to see Celeste and try and rescue her. ‘We can’t simply ignore this. She must be terrified.’ It was the things she’d left unsaid that haunted him now. Whether she wanted him or not, he would not leave her to that fate.

‘If you were Roan, what would you want?’ Kieran posed the question.

‘Safe passage?’ Caine offered. ‘That’s one thing he doesn’t have and perhaps we are in a position to give it to him.’

‘Revenge,’ Luce answered simply. ‘He wants revenge against her for selling his secrets, for running from him, making him look like a fool. If his ward can escape him, what does that say? He wants revenge against us for foiling his attempts at Wapping. He’s shown himself to be vindictive over and over. This is just more of the same. And he wants it to be painful. We have taken his freedom from him and we’ve injured his business, forcing him to rely on others. He wants to pay that back. He wants to take something of value from her and from us.’

‘Roan never gives anything up,’ Kieran mused out loud. ‘Perhaps he thinks he won’t have to. He wants us and he wants her. He’ll use her as lure to draw us out but will have no intentions of effecting any negotiation.’ Roan would mean to shoot on sight.

Caine nodded thoughtfully. ‘We’ll be ready too. We’ll go to his meeting, but only one of us will show themselves—the other two will stay out of sight. We’ll quietly take out any hidden gunmen so that the surprise will be on Roan.’

‘I’ll show myself. It will play into his hand in regard to Celeste.’ Kieran glanced at Luce. ‘Unless you’d rather do that? It will be a deadly day.’ Luce was the youngest, the one with the least experience of missions where letting one’s enemy live to tell about it was not an option.

‘This is for Stepan. I can do it,’ Luce assured him.

‘Then, if your horses are rested, we ride,’ Kieran said. ‘I know the place he means. It’s on the north-west corner of the estate. There’s an old gamekeeper’s cottage there.’ His blood was starting to hum with the anticipation of a mission, his unrest settling now that he had a sense of action.

Within twenty minutes, the horses were saddled: Tambor for him, Caine’s Argonaut and Luce’s Ulysses. Three black horses for three dark-haired brothers. He checked his pistol and slipped his knife into his boot before mounting. The brothers rode out, three abreast, all armed for war and blood.

At the north-west corner of the estate, Kieran gave the signal and the brothers split, Caine going left, Luce going right, to form a ring of surveillance and, if needed, a ring of death. Kieran rode to the hut.

‘Roan! I’m here!’ Kieran called out when he was a fair distance from the hut—close enough to be seen but not close enough to be shot at. He waited, Tambor stamping his feet impatiently and tossing his head. Even Tambor was ready for action.

There was no sound, no movement. Did Roan think he was going to fall for that and let curiosity get the better of him so that he’d dismount and approach the hut on foot? It was far easier to overpower a man on foot than a man on horseback. He would not give up the advantage so readily. He called out again—still no answer. He scanned the area around the hut, looking for signs that someone had been here or was still here. But there were none—no sign of horse droppings, no markings from a coach or wheels, no ash from a fire, no residue from a meal. No signs of life.

Kieran heard the shrill whistle of a starling—Caine’s sound—counted to five and smiled when it was answered by the fast-paced cheep of a garden warbler—Luce’s call. He’d taught him that when he was seven. A count of five later, Kieran added his own, the fluted sound of the song thrush. It was the call given to signal safety and that all was clear. Usually, it was a welcome sound. Today, it was a confusing one. This had not gone as expected. In fact, one might say it hadn’t ‘gone’ at all.

Kieran wheeled Tambor round and rode back to the pre-arranged rendezvous, his brothers already there. ‘No one?’ he asked Caine.

Caine shook his head. ‘No one and no sign of anyone having been there.’

Luce confirmed the same.

‘There’s been no one at the gamekeeper’s hut either.’ Kieran drew out a worried breath. ‘This feels wrong. We’ve missed something.’ More than that, he felt as if they’d played into Roan’s hands. ‘Why would he ask us to meet him here and then not show up?’

He exchanged a concerned glance with Caine, who said, ‘Because he wants to be elsewhere, and he can’t get there if we’re not here .’

‘Deflection. It’s a chess gambit.’ Luce spoke up. ‘You bait a trap for your opponent with a piece they want to take—really want to take—and it will draw them away from their usual territory, leaving it undefended for you to move in and put them in check.’

Kieran’s mind worked. Celeste was all he wanted, so what did Roan think he was drawing him away from?

Caine sniffed the air. ‘Do you smell that? It smells like smoke. Is anyone burning leaves today?’

Kieran smelled it too. ‘Not that I’m aware. We don’t have any burning scheduled.’

Then the pieces clicked into place. What had they said earlier? That Roan wanted to take from them the things they’d taken from him: his freedom, the things he valued. Kieran lifted his gaze to the sky and found it—the wisp of grey smoke—and his heart pounded. That was what Roan wanted—to draw them out away from the Hall so that he could get into the Hall!

‘Good God! The bastard is trying to burn my house down.’ And Celeste was with him. This was punishment—revenge against both of them. His thoughts went rampant with fear. He wheeled Tambor around in a circle but Caine grabbed his reins.

‘You cannot go tearing back there. He is calling you home with that smoke. He wants you to know he is there and he wants you to come charging in mad as hell. He’s not negotiating, Kieran. He is looking to shoot first and last. We must make sure he doesn’t get that chance. You have time. The house is brick and stone; it will burn slowly.’

‘But does she?’ Kieran breathed, exchanging a knowing look with his brother.

‘We can’t save her if we’re dead,’ Caine argued calmly. ‘Same plan as before. We’ll take out the snipers while you take out Roan.’

They rode hard then, Kieran in the lead, Tambor’s hooves thundering across the countryside, a single thought thundering through his head: let me be in time . This was the great fear of the Horsemen—that their weakness would be discovered and used against them. The choice not to marry had been their solution to that fear and it had worked, for a while. He would ride into hell for Celeste and he knew Roan was counting on that. He’d protect his home; Roan was counting on that as well. He simply couldn’t choose not to. It was not the Horseman’s way to let innocents suffer. A Horseman protected those he cared for. But it made family and home a vulnerability, one Kieran had not had to deal with until now. He bent low over Tambor’s neck, taking a country stile.

I am coming, Celeste.

* * *

‘Do you think he’ll come, Celeste? Were you charming enough?’ Roan tested the bonds around her wrists where they looped over a tall bed-post in one of Wrexham Hall’s many bedrooms. This one overlooked the front drive. ‘There, nice and tight. I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere soon. But you have a good view for our little pageant,’ Roan added conversationally.

‘He’ll recognise your handwriting, yes? I’d hate to go to all this effort and not have him appear. How embarrassing for you, too, when you thought that he loved you.’

Kieran did love her. It was why she’d left him. It would have made him weak, made him take chances. She didn’t want to be used against him and didn’t want to be the cause of his death. Love was scary. Freedom was easier, lonelier, safer.

Ammon Vincent entered the room, carrying a musket, and she paled, bargaining quickly. ‘I wrote the note; I dismissed the staff just as you asked,’ she reminded Roan through gritted teeth. She’d got them all to safety with her lies. They would not suffer for her. She’d not wanted to write that note. It would ensure Kieran walked into Roan’s web of diabolical revenge. Dismissing the staff had ensured their safety but it had also taken away any chance of an ally for herself or for Kieran. He would have only his brothers—three against however many men Roan had with him.

But, if there was to be a chance for her, she had to think of herself in these moments. ‘In exchange, you said—’

‘I know what I said.’ He gave a cold laugh and turned to Ammon. ‘She doesn’t want you to touch her. She’ll do just about anything to keep that from happening.’

‘Anything, boss?’ Ammon gave her a cruel look. ‘I bet I know one thing she won’t do.’

‘What’s that?’ Roan played along and her blood curdled.

‘Die—she won’t die. When it comes down to it, everyone has a price. Everyone wants to live.’ He smirked. ‘Isn’t that right, princess?’

She said nothing and Ammon shrugged. ‘Boss, let’s make a bet between you and me. I win, I get her. If you win—well, then I was just wrong. I think, if she has to choose between living or dying, choosing herself or her Horseman, she’ll choose living. She won’t die for him. I’m going to tie this musket to her side.’

He jabbed the gun into place, lashing it tight, the barrel poking into her flesh. He moved her bound hand into position over the trigger, the horror of his sick riddle filling her with cold dread. ‘It’s an old dilemma, but still an interesting one, isn’t it? She can see her Horseman ride up into our killing zone, where we will catch him and his brothers in a little cross-fire. She’ll see him well in advance though, and she could warn him with this musket. He’ll hear the shot soon enough to ride off and live to fight another day. I don’t think she’ll do it, though.’

Roan slapped his leg and laughed. ‘I like it. Weren’t you telling me just this morning, Celeste, you’d rather die than be Ammon’s whore? I guess that has been arranged.’ He tweaked her chin and pulled out his watch. ‘Ammon, have you started the fire?’

‘Yes, Parkhurst should be seeing the first signs of trouble about now.’ Ammon gave a grin that revealed holes where teeth had once been before they’d been lost in a fight. ‘I’ll go to work on the rest of it.’

Roan gave her a ruthless look. ‘Never say I don’t give people choices, my dear. There are a lot of ways to die today: musket ball, fire, smoke, broken heart… Choose one that suits you. It’s a shame to waste your beauty and your talents, but you’ve proven disloyal to me twice now, just like your father. He thought he could slip away to the Alps with you, so he had to die. Now I’ve come all this way to make you pay for your betrayal. Understand, it’s purely business. I can’t have people saying I’ve gone soft.’

She felt her gorge rise, emotions coming in waves: grief anew for her father, who had loved her and who had been trapped into a life of deceit by this man. Then the anger came. Roan had taken everything from her: her father, her freedom…and he’d take Kieran too, if she let him.

She tugged at her bonds, shaking the bed-post in her rage. ‘There is a special ring of hell for men like you.’ If she were free, she’d plunge her dagger deep into his heart. But her bonds held. If there was any plunging of knives to be done, it would be up to Kieran now.

He smirked. ‘I have no plans to find out today.’ He left her then. A few moments later, from her vantage-point, she saw him take up his position on the front lawn.

Celeste drew a shaky breath. She’d been a fool and she would die today for her mistake; that was a certainty, the only one she had. She was tied to a bed-post, a gun strapped to her side, in a house that was slowly burning down around her—a house in which she’d lived the best month of her life with the best man she’d ever known. That man had shown her true partnership and true courage—not because he’d killed two men in an alley for her but because he’d had the fortitude to re-examine his preconceived notions about love and marriage. He, too, had once believed those were things he could not embrace. Yet he had been compelled to take the leap and had held out his hand, waiting to help her across that same chasm.

She had hesitated in both word and deed. She’d not leapt when he’d asked her and she’d not spoken the words in her heart when she could have: I love you ; three simple words. Instead, she’d opted to give voice to doubt, to obstacles and to improbability when she should have chosen hope.

Now it was too late. There would be no more time for words, no more chances to say them. He would never know just how much he’d meant to her. What did her paltry sense of freedom mean beside the enormity of his love— their love? She would regret those hesitations for the short remains of her life.

If she was brave enough, she could save Kieran. If she was a coward, she’d see him shot down before her eyes on the lawn of the home he was making here and that would be her fault, because he would come for her, as undeserving as she was. There was no doubt in her mind about that. As long as the smoke didn’t get to her first.