Page 3 of The Duke’s Man-At-Arms (The Duke’s Guard #11)

O ’Malley found Leach loitering in Covent Garden. The dark walk wasn’t a worry this time of day, though after dusk, it would be. He rode toward the big man, noting the purple bruise along his jaw. Leach’s size alone would be an open invitation to all comers that he was ready to brawl. It appeared as if someone recently accepted that invitation.

Leach nodded as O’Malley approached. “I was about to come looking for you.”

O’Malley dismounted. “What have ye heard?”

Leach motioned for O’Malley to follow him. They walked a distance away from those strolling along the paths. “The angel’s guard was fighting off three men, just two steps away from her, when she was struck from behind.”

O’Malley’s gut iced over. He curled his hands into tight fists, as the need to physically release the anger and frustration inside of him was a living, breathing thing. “Is that all ye heard?”

“Aye.”

Urgency had him by the bollocks. “Someone must have seen something. Was she hoisted over a man’s shoulder? Across a horse? Tossed into a carriage?”

“A lead pipe to her guard’s temple dazed him. He didn’t know she’d been struck, too, until he regained his senses and found her gone.”

O’Malley nodded. “Did anyone summon the Watch?”

“Nay.”

“Bloody hell! I need more than that to go on.”

“I have put the word out. Should hear something in a few hours.”

O’Malley wondered what else had happened to her. A head injury could be lethal, if it went unchecked. Was she concussed? Was her head split open and bleeding? Did she need threads to close the wound? Impatience surged through him. Where in the bloody hell was she?

“It’ll take longer to find out more information because of who she is.”

“Aye, though I hate to agree with ye, and bloody hell don’t like it.” O’Malley met Leach’s steady gaze. “Ye know how to get word to me.”

“Are you headed to the docks next?”

“Aye. Garahan’s in the stews.”

The large hand on O’Malley’s shoulder snapped him back to the present. “I’ve already alerted eyes and ears near the Saracen’s Head.”

The inn was near Newgate. O’Malley’s dark thoughts cleared at the news. He hadn’t even considered that whoever had taken the angel would whisk her out of London. “Ye’re one step ahead of me. Faith, I’m grateful for it. Thank ye.”

“I’ll never be able to repay yerself, nor Garahan, for putting in a good word for me with your man with the runners.”

“Ye won’t be falsely accused again, Leach. Ye have me word.”

“I’ll let you know what I hear from the coaching inn.”

They parted, and O’Malley mounted his horse, heading in the direction of the docks. He knew his way in and around the newer warehouses that had been built, as well as the older buildings—a few of which were derelict, left standing. He hoped to run into O’Shaughnessy, one of Garahan’s contacts there. If he did not find the man, he would make his way over to the Prospect of Whitby pub. O’Shaughnessy enjoyed bare-knuckle fighting, and preferred to engage in it when there was coin to be earned. He could find both there.

“Ye’re either lost, or have shite for brains!” a deep voice challenged from behind as he arrived at the docks.

Relief filled O’Malley as he turned around. “I’m glad I found ye, O’Shaughnessy.”

The man motioned for O’Malley to dismount and walk beside him. “Bad business, someone snatching the angel right off the street.”

O’Malley knew the Irishman tended to be long-winded. He ignored the need clawing at his insides and asked, “What can ye tell me?”

“Nothing concrete, just whispers that I heard early this morning.”

O’Malley was tempted to reach out, grab the man by the throat, and demand he spit out what he knew, but held on to his control. “Whatever it is could lead us to the angel.”

“’Twas a fair lass who confirmed the whisper as we were…” O’Shaughnessy paused and smiled. “Well now, I won’t be telling tales. The lass favors me among her regulars, as I treat her like a lady.”

O’Malley knew a few of the bits o’ muslin who plied their trade near the docks. Some had hearts of gold… The others, he couldn’t trust. “What did the lass have to say?”

“She was afraid.”

“Has someone injured her? Get the description,” O’Malley told him. “I’ll take care of the bloody bugger!”

O’Shaughnessy’s eyes lit from within as he slowly smiled. “It does me heart good to know that you’d offer to defend her honor. She was not injured, but I told her she needed to go into hiding until this blows over. I fear for her safety when words gets out that there is a witness, as ye know it will.”

O’Malley sensed that whatever O’Shaughnessy’s friend heard could be tied to Michaela’s disappearance. “Tell me.”

“’Twas an hour or so before I arrived to see her that she witnessed a toff’s carriage pulled by a beautiful pair of grays—her words—slowing down by the alleyway. A tall man dressed like he had no business being on the docks stepped out of the carriage with a rolled-up rug on his shoulder.”

O’Malley controlled the need to pound something—nay, some one . “Rug?”

“Aye. The lass said she’s seen the like a time or two before. And same as before, she heard a muffled cry for help when the man headed down a nearby alley.”

O’Malley’s reaction was volatile, but he controlled it. He would not break his vow to the duke. He would injure—but not kill—whomever they fought against. “What else did yer lass say?”

“The toff had only been gone for about a quarter of an hour when he returned to his carriage—without the rug—and rode off.”

“Can ye take me to the alleyway?”

O’Shaughnessy nodded. “There’s a gang that has been known to frequent the area around that alley. Ye may want Garahan with ye.”

He had to find Michaela…now! “If there’s a chance the angel is being held in one of the buildings in that alley, I’m not waiting for Garahan!”

“I’ll get word to Garahan for ye, then,” O’Shaughnessy promised. “Follow me.”

The two men made their way past the newer section of the docks to the older, where O’Shaughnessy had been hours earlier. “This was where she saw the coach.”

“Did it have any distinct markings? A crest?”

“Nay. ’Twas black, well sprung. The coachman’s livery was dark blue…no fancy trim.”

“Indistinguishable,” O’Malley muttered, wishing there had at least been markings on the carriage—it would be easier to trace.

O’Shaughnessy nodded. “Ye’ll want to leave yer horse out here.”

“Me gelding comes with me. I may need to leave quickly.”

“This way.” O’Shaughnessy passed the first alley and stopped at the entrance to the next. After scanning the length and breadth of it, he entered. “I searched earlier, but did not notice a sign that any of the buildings were occupied.”

“They would be smart enough to cover their tracks and not leave any outward sign that he’d dropped off his… rug .”

“I’ll leave ye to explore while I send one of me friends in search of Garahan.” O’Shaughnessy looked over his shoulder and warned, “Watch yer back.”

O’Malley nodded and began a systematic search of the buildings. Most of them appeared vacant. He tried windows and doors, entering one building at a time. The ones with upper levels, but missing stairs, were the quickest to rule out. Finally he stood in front of the last building. There was something different about it. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the sense that it was not empty filled him.

Not wasting any time, he slipped in through a broken window and felt a sharp jab where a shard of glass cut through his coat into his side. Ignoring it, he dropped to the floor in a crouch, slowly straightened, and cautiously crossed the threshold into the hallway. An odd sound had him freezing. Cocking his head to one side, he cupped a hand to his ear and listened. It sounded like someone was tapping…rapidly. He walked past a series of open doors toward the back of the building, where the sound grew louder. Less like tapping now, but he couldn’t quite place it.

The last door on the right was closed. He touched the doorknob, and the sound stopped abruptly, quickly followed by a barely audible gasp. He turned the knob, but it was locked. Before he could ask whoever was inside to step away from the door, a shaky voice rasped, “I will never change my mind!”

He knew that husky voice! “Michaela, are ye hurt?”

“O’Malley, is it really you?” The shaky reply was music to his ears.

“Aye! Step away from the door, lass. I need to break it down.”

“I… I’m not near the door.”

He grunted in reply. “Now’s not the time to get yer gumption up and argue. Step back—”

“I can’t move. I’m sorry, Emmett.” Her voice broke. “I would if I could.”

“How close are ye to the door?”

“A few feet away.”

“Are ye in the middle of the room?”

“Nay, to the left of the door… Your right.”

“Cover yer head, lass!”

“I can’t.”

His blood ran cold. Someone had tied her up. “I’ll kill the bloody bugger! Close yer eyes, in case the door splinters.”

“They’re closed.”

“Don’t open them until I tell ye, Michaela.” O’Malley took two steps back and rammed the door with his shoulder. The lock held, but the middle of the door broke apart. His heart stuttered in his chest as he took in the sight of the woman he loved—aye, loved ! Rushing to Michaela, he knelt by her side and realized the odd sound he’d heard was her teeth chattering. “Open yer eyes, darling lass. Tell me where ye’re hurt.”

Thick, dark lashes fluttered open, revealing her pain-filled, pale green eyes. “The back of my head aches. I don’t remember, but I think someone must have struck me from behind. How did you find me? Where is Greenwood?”

“One thing at a time. I’m going to untie ye and wrap ye in me coat—ye’re chilled to the bone. ’Twas yer chattering teeth that led me to ye.”

He watched her gather her composure around her like a cloak. Brave lass. “I wouldn’t have clenched my jaw for so long, trying to be quiet, if I knew you were coming.”

“Ye know I will always come if ye need me.”

Her eyes held the soul-deep conviction he’d hoped to see. “Yes. It gave me strength.”

“How long have ye been here?”

She bit her bottom lip, hesitating, before answering, “Sometime yesterday. I watched the room grow light a few hours ago.”

“We’ll have to hurry. I’m not sure how much time we have before someone finds us.” He felt his gut clench at what he had to do. “I’ll apologize to ye now, lass. Yer shoulders and arms may feel sharp pain when I release yer bonds until yer muscles and tendons loosen, but ’twill be easier if ye can wrap yer arms around me neck when I carry ye out of here.”

Her hesitation was replaced by her determination. “Don’t worry about me, Emmett. I’m fine.”

She was in pain and trying to hide it. By God, she was an angel and a warrior! “The hell ye are…but ye will be.”

Tears welled up at the tone of his voice, but she blinked them back. “Do not yell at me.”

“God help me, lass, I didn’t mean to. Hold on now while I cut ye free.” He slipped the knife out of his boot and easily sliced through the ropes, carefully avoiding the bloody, torn skin. “Ah, lass, yer poor wrists.”

Arms freed, she clenched her jaw. He expected her to complain about the pain he knew she had to be experiencing. She surprised him yet again. “I did that to myself, trying to work the knot free.”

He slipped out of his frockcoat and gently massaged her shoulders before lifting her to a sitting position. “I’ll help ye with the sleeves.” As soon as he moved her arm, her sharp gasp of pain seared through him. “I’m sorry, lass. I hate hurting ye, but ’tis necessary. Ye feel cold as sleet, and we need to get ye warm.” He managed to get her arms in the sleeves. “Just another moment.” He wrapped his coat around her and brushed against her side. She gasped, and he cursed. “Ye didn’t tell me ye’d hurt yer ribs.”

“Didn’t hurt them,” she panted, trying to catch her breath. “Was kicked.”

“Someone kicked ye in the ribs? I’ll skin him alive!” O’Malley promised.

“Later. I’ll be fine. Please take me away from here before he comes back.”

Emmett noticed the tone of her voice changed, and suspicion took hold of him. “Ye know who did this to ye.”

She did not answer.

Anger such as he’d ever known shot from his gut to his head. “Ye’ll tell me his name—”

“Later,” she promised. “I don’t want to be here when he returns.”

“How do yer arms feel? Can ye move them?”

She closed her eyes, tried to do as he asked, and moaned.

“It’ll feel like ye’ve a fire in yer shoulders, but it will go away.” He moved closer and slipped an arm around her back, the other beneath her knees. “Wrap yer arms around me neck, Michaela. There’s a lass. That’s the way. I’ll take a closer look at yer head when we’re outside. The light is too dim in here.”

He lifted her and held her against his pounding heart. Feelings he must have been carrying, but ignoring, added to the overwhelming need to protect the woman in his arms. Bloodlust raged through him as he planned where he would start skinning whoever did this to his angel. They were going to die, slowly, painfully, for what they’d done to her.

Though she made no sound, he felt her trembling a heartbeat before she stiffened, fighting to conquer what he sensed she would consider a weakness. He promised, “I’ve got ye, lass. I won’t be letting ye go.”

“Thank you for coming for me, Emmett. I prayed you would.”

His heart filled and his head spun at her words. “I’m sorry that I didn’t know what happened until a little while ago.” He tried the back door. It wasn’t locked, so he opened it and glanced to the left and then the right before moving. “I would have been here sooner.”

“You’re here now.” She shifted and sucked in a breath, trying to cover her moan of pain. “That’s all that matters.”

He stepped outside with his precious burden. O’Shaughnessy had yet to return, so he started walking toward where he’d left his horse. “Try not to move or speak again until we tend to yer ribs. I don’t want them to poke—”

“Through a lung,” she interrupted. “I have tended to enough cracked and broken ribs to know the risks. I promise to be as still as I can.”

He gently brushed the tips of his fingers to the back of her head and found a huge lump, but it wasn’t bleeding. “We’ll need a poultice for that. ’Tis a good thing ye have a hard head, Michaela. Are ye seeing double?”

“It was blurry at first, but then it cleared.”

“Nausea?”

“I was nauseated last night, but it subsided.”

His horse watched him approach and whickered as if to ask what had kept him. O’Malley was relieved his gelding was in the same spot halfway down the alley. “I found her, laddie. Now then, I’ll need ye to carry us to the corner of Hart and Lumley.” Glancing at Michaela, he said, “I’m going to put ye in the saddle—can ye hold yerself up?”

She didn’t hesitate to answer, “Yes.”

O’Malley was gentle settling her on the back of his horse. He knew she suffered from sitting without his support, so he quickly leapt into the saddle. Pulling her onto his lap, he tucked his coat more firmly around her trembling body. “Try to hang on for a bit longer.”

O’Shaughnessy appeared a few minutes later and looked at the woman in O’Malley’s arms. “I’m sorry for the circumstances, but ’tis an honor to meet the angel of the streets.” He nodded to O’Malley. “I should hear from Garahan soon. Where should I tell him ye’ll be?”

“Tell him to meet me as planned.”

“Best go quickly now,” O’Shaughnessy said.

“Aye. Thank ye for yer help, O’Shaughnessy, and please thank yer friend. Let her know I wouldn’t have found the angel without her. If she decides she’s ready to make a change, ye let us know. We’ll help her.”

“Thank ye, O’Malley.”

“Is there a young woman who needs my help?” Michaela asked.

O’Malley was even more impressed by how quickly the lass ignored her injuries, as if she had a mere bump on the head instead of a possible concussion. Scraped wrists instead of bleeding. Ribs bruised instead of broken. His admiration grew, tangling with the depth of his feelings for her.

“We’ll speak of it later. ’Tis time to let someone take care of ye, lass.” He stared into her moss-green eyes and rasped, “Let it be me.”

O’Shaughnessy motioned for them to wait a moment while he checked to see that it was safe to leave the alley. “Rest now, miss. Ye’re in good hands.”

“Thank you, O’Shaughnessy,” Michaela replied. “Please tell your friend I have many connections and am certain I can be of help finding her a new—and safe—situation with honest people that I would trust with my life.”

The big man promised to pass on her message, thanked her, and said to O’Malley, “Best leave now, before things get busy around here.”

O’Malley nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”

Garahan’s contact waved and slipped into one of the buildings as they rode past. O’Malley pressed his lips to the top of Michaela’s head and urged, “Close yer eyes, darling lass. We’ll be there soon.”

“Emmett?”

“Aye?”

“Will there be a woman at the captain’s?”

“Aye, why?”

“I think he broke three of my ribs,” she whispered.

He clenched his jaw, then relaxed it to ask, “Is that what ye’re worrying over?” O’Malley could not believe it wasn’t the worry of a concussion or a rib piercing her lung. “Ye’re worried about yer modesty when I take care of yer ribs?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Ye must know I’d never willingly hurt ye, lass, and I’d never do anything to compromise yer reputation.” She relaxed against him, and he added, “Darby and Aimee live in Coventry’s building. Coventry’s wife Miranda will be there with their little daughter, Emma. One of the women will be there with ye to preserve yer modesty while I wrap yer ribs.”

When Michaela fell silent, he thought she’d fallen asleep, until he heard her rasp, “I no longer have a reputation to worry about.”

The impression that someone in the past had hurt Michaela resurfaced. The thought of a man violating the beautiful lass in his arms gutted him. She had the gift of healing, made it her mission to save others, was precious, stubborn, and brave. If it took the rest of his life, he planned to show the lass how much he valued her. How much he cared… More than cared.

Ye broke down the door to get to her! his heart reminded him. Bloody hell, don’t sugarcoat it. Admit it, ye eedjit! Ye’ve been intrigued with the lass since ye helped rescue James’s wife, Melinda. Yer interest stirred to the surface once more when ye heard the lass had been a witness to the murder of Aiden’s father-in-law. Ye were already half in love the her when ye went with Darby to rescue those five lasses, two of them no more than eight or ten summers, from the boarding house where Aimee had been held captive.

All right, I admit it…but I’m not halfway in love with the lass , his head told his heart.

Aye , his heart agreed, ye’re arse over head in love with her!