Page 10 of The Rogue’s Embrace

"This could all end rather badly,"

said Stephen.

Sir Stephen always said the same thing right at the start of any dangerous encounter. It was his peculiar way of saying ‘take care and don't get killed' without actually having to give voice to his fears.

Lisandro checked his pistol for the fifth time, determined that he would not be the one on the wrong end of a gun. Glancing at his hands after he'd placed the weapon into its holster, he was relieved that they were steady and without any tremor. Cool heads were required for what lay in front of them tonight. Their lives, and the life of Maria de Elizondo Garza, depended on it.

The coach drew into the dark laneway at the rear of number nine Queen Anne Street and stopped. They waited in silence, ready for the signal.

When a loud rap came on the side of the coach, both men startled. Lisandro's pistol was immediately aimed toward the door.

It swung open and Augustus Jones appeared into the pale light. He looked to Stephen and then Lisandro. "Our men are in position across the road from the front of the house. As agreed, I will knock on the door while Harry and his men rush in from behind me."

He glanced at Lisandro's pistol and screwed up his face. "It goes without saying that I would rather not get shot by either of you two gentlemen this evening. So please take extra care if you decide to start firing."

Their plans didn't include having to shoot their way out of the house; the diversion at the front door would hopefully be enough for him and Stephen to be able to steal in and grab Maria. The sight of Stephen's powerful double-barreled flintlock did give him pause, but he knew the Englishman well enough to trust his instincts when it came to wielding weapons.

Lisandro pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and checked the time. It was almost eleven. Right on the hour, they would raid the house.

"Good luck. We shall rendezvous as soon as possible,"

said Stephen.

Gus closed the door and disappeared into the night.

Stephen leaned over and offered Lisandro his hand. "Los santos te protegen, my friend."

"Yes, and may the saints also protect you."

He followed Stephen out of the coach.

Earlier in the day, while the dog slept, Toby had climbed down from the tree next door and opened the gate to the rear yard. He had then closed it again and placed a stake in the ground in the laneway. From the house, the gate appeared to be shut fast, an illusion they all hoped would hold.

Reaching the break in the fence, Lisandro bent and withdrew the stake. The gate silently opened; they stepped inside.

The poor dog ambled slowly over to them and Stephen pulled out a sausage from his coat pocket. He handed it to the beast, who happily gulped it down.

"Off you go, lad,"

he whispered.

The bulldog wandered out the gate to where the driver of the getaway coach was waiting. He lifted the animal up into his arms and it happily settled on the seat next to him and went back to sleep. In the morning, the lucky dog would have a new home and all the sausages he could ever want.

Lisandro and Stephen hurried to the back door; a set of skeleton keys made short work of the lock. The door had just opened when a loud knock echoed in the front of the house. They quickly slipped inside and, after closing the door, hid themselves under the staircase.

"Yes, yes, wait a minute,"

grumbled Se?or Alba.

He made his way downstairs, followed by another man. Lisandro turned to Stephen and held up two fingers.

Only one unaccounted for.

He caught the click of multiple pistols being cocked just before the front door was opened. Whoever was at the door was going to be met with force.

In an instant, Stephen had stepped out and fired his pistol twice. The two men dropped to the floor.

The next few minutes were a flurry of activity. Lisandro raced for the stairs with Stephen and Gus close on his heels.

A figure appeared at the top of the first landing, brandishing a rifle. In a deft move worthy of a flamenco dancer, Lisandro leaned to the left as Gus raised his pistol and fired at the man's head. The shot went wide and Gus swore.

Lisandro moved into position and aimed his pistol. The bullet found its mark and a patch of red appeared in the middle of the other man's forehead. He dropped to his knees, the gun falling from his hands.

At the top of the stairs, Lisandro turned right while Stephen and Gus went left. Room after room revealed only vacant furniture, but when Lisandro's hand dropped onto the door handle of the final room, it stuck. Rummaging around in his coat pocket, he pulled out his own set of skeleton keys and slipped one into the lock.

Click.

The door opened, and he stepped into a dimly lit room. On a bed in the far corner lay a body, still, as if dead. His heart stopped for an instant. Was he too late? Had they killed her before answering the door?

When the body moaned and turned over, it was all he could do not to sink to his knees in prayer.

"Oh, gracias padre celestial,"

he whispered, and made the sign of the cross.

He hurried over to Maria, halting for a second when he caught sight of her face.

You are as beautiful as a I remember. Thank god you are still alive.

He bent and gently shook her by the shoulder.

"Maria de Elizondo Garza wake up. Maria, we are here to take you home," he said.

His pleas were in vain. She was either in a deep sleep or had been drugged. Lisandro assumed the latter.

Gus appeared in the room and came to the bedside. "At least one person is still alive in this house. I'm afraid you and Stephen are too handy with a pistol, and none of the kidnappers have survived."

It was a pity. Lisandro would have loved to spend some time with the late Se?or Alba and find out who had been the mastermind behind abducting Maria. Mister Wicker had probably been the one to collect the first ransom and give the second letter of demand to the priest in Bilbao, but from the indiscreet way the Englishman had behaved in the tavern at Zarautz, Lisandro had concluded he was likely only a middleman. Whoever had come up with the plan to kidnap Maria remained hidden.

Stephen entered the room. "The rest of the house is empty. Toby counted the numbers right."

He glanced at Maria and winced. "I assume she has been drugged once more."

Lisandro wrapped his arms around Maria's limp body and hauled her off the bed. Taking her right hand in his left, he draped it over his shoulder. Then, with his head under her armpit, he wrapped his arm around the curve of her knee. Lisandro squatted and Stephen helped to position Maria over the back of his shoulders. Gus stepped in and steadied things as Lisandro stood.

They headed for the stairs and slowly made their way down to the ground floor and out into the rear yard. Within minutes, they had Maria safely on board the coach and were on their way to Gracechurch Street.

Lisandro held her in his arms; between now and when he finally handed Maria back to her family, he intended to keep her with him at all times.

No one said a word. They had rescued Maria, but three men lay dead in the house at number nine Queen Anne Street. Any notion of celebrations was muted in light of those deaths.

They were close to St Paul's Cathedral when Maria finally stirred from her drug-induced slumber and stared up at him. Her eyes were glazed. "Please let me go,"

she pleaded, her voice slurred.

Lisandro brushed her hair back from her face and whispered softly, "Estas seguro conmigo."

She shook her head. "How can I be safe with you when you have stolen me from my family?"

"Maria, it's Lisandro de Aguirre. I have you and I will protect you."

She raised a hand and gave him a feeble punch on the arm. "You kidnapped me. You dirty lowborn bastardo."

And with that, her eyes rolled back in her head and she slipped into unconsciousness once more.

Stephen chuckled at him from across the carriage. "Oh dear, there goes any hope you might have had for her thinking you were a hero."

Lisandro took in the sleeping form of the woman he had just rescued.

It was going to be a long and difficult journey home.