Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

The moon was only half full overhead, but as the Viscount and Viscountess Marston skirted the shadows, they were grateful it was not brighter. Rowan felt immensely conspicuous, dressed all in black like a brigand from a salacious novel. Samira was worse, her hair all pulled up into a cap, her body squeezed into Joel’s old clothes, the closest they had to anything that fit her. Everything pinched or bulged in odd places on her body, and the too-long pants were shoved into high, shiny riding boots. The fit was all wrong, with the backside stretched taut across her round, perfect rump that looked like a ripe apple. It would have been a rather erotic image, with Samira’s legs outlined and the shape of her buttocks displayed by the tightness of the trousers, if it had not been a literal life and death situation. But Rowan filed away the image for later, nonetheless. Samira was practically drowning in the black shirt, exposing the dark flesh of her neck in a confusingly thrilling way. Never in life had Rowan thought men’s clothes could be attractive, but the juxtaposition of them on Samira’s womanly frame, knowing what he did about how she felt and tasted beneath that ridiculous attire, was driving him halfway to mad.

He thanked God that Samira couldn’t hear his thoughts. She was focused on her sister, as of course she should be. And Rowan was, too. He knew how dangerous the Earl was, and if he had Evangelina, it was only a matter of time before things reached a dire state. Zeke was clearly shaken as well, enough to suggest racing across the countryside in pursuit of his abducted bride, and what was more, to actually do it. Zeke had a lot of romantic notions, but Rowan had never seen him take action in such a way. It was jarring, and it made Rowan nervous. He wanted to get to the bottom of this and get his family back together, hale and whole, as soon as possible. Which was why it was so damnably inconvenient that he couldn’t stop staring at his wife’s shapely buttocks and thighs as she strode ahead of him through the night.

“Just up here,” Samira said, tossing the words over her shoulder.

Rowan didn’t mind taking up the path behind her. There were more dangers from the back, so he was glad to have her there. And Samira was plainly on a mission. It reminded him of when they’d gone to steal back Callista’s letters from the Earl; Samira had led and Rowan had followed. He recalled a bit of untimely attraction then too, and an interlude in a closet. Well, he couldn’t help it if her immense competence and her tendency to boss him around drove him wild for her.

They rounded the corner and onto the correct street. Rowan glanced around them, but other than a few people some distance away, the street was deserted. That was good. They reached the Earl’s house and stole around to the side they wanted, where his office was located. The alley was empty, thankfully, and the streets were mostly quiet. Samira turned to him, and he caught a flash of determination in her eyes.

“Boost me up,” she jerked her chin toward the second story window.

He snorted. “Are you insane? I’ll climb up.”

Samira rolled her eyes, braced one hand on his shoulder, and lifted her foot. “Don’t be stupid. You can launch me up, I’ll open the window, then I can help haul you in. How am I to get up there if you go first?”

Grudgingly, Rowan dropped to his knees before her. “Done this a lot then have you?”

Her eyes sparkled down at him. “What, did you think this was my first time?”

Rowan let out a breathless sound that was almost a laugh, and he was thrilled to see a flash of Samira’s teeth. She was taking it remarkably well. Having something to do, a goal in mind, seemed to be a very clear help to her. She would never be a woman who sat idly by and let others take care of things for her. It was what he loved and feared most about her.

“Ready,” she pronounced.

Rowan formed a cup with his hands. If she was carrying his child, and he was almost sure she was, Rowan could not have chosen a better mother for his offspring. Samira was a force of nature in all the best ways, powerful and beautiful, but unlike the heavens and the skies, she would never be distant, never be beyond reach. She was like a rainstorm, with thunder and lightning that inspired awe at the raw power of her, but that gave water and rain, a bounty that grew the crops and renewed the land. She would do the same for him, for their family. Samira would raise children with all the love and devotion he had ever seen, and it would be a thing to behold. Rowan’s heart surged with pride as she steadied herself against his shoulder.

“This is the most ridiculous thing we’ve ever done,” Rowan said as Samira stuck a boot against his interlocking fingers.

“I doubt that highly,” Samira said as Rowan shifted his feet to get his balance right. “You strike me as someone who did a great many foolish things as a lad.”

He stood up slowly, keeping his balance and hers in a delicate union that reminded him of lovemaking. But then, when he had his hands on Samira, everything reminded him at least a little of lovemaking. Rowan rose fully up, leaning against the wall as she found her handhold on the windowsill.

“Zeke and I did once steal a bottle of our father’s whisky and sneak into the botanical gardens,” Rowan said.

“Sound romantic,” Samira braced a knee on the ledge above them, and for a breathless moment, was half-suspended in midair as she brought her other leg to join the first. It was not a long fall if she did lose her grip, but Rowan didn’t want her falling any distance at all.

“It could be with the right person,” he watched Samira carefully as she pulled a set of tools from her pocket. “I’ll take you sometime.”

“That sounds lovely,” Samira said, her expression shifting, her tongue peeking out from between her lips, as she tried to get it just right as she fiddled with the window.

Rowan smiled a little as metal tools glinted in the moonlight. It was his favorite present he’d gotten her, the glorious lockpicking set that was hand crafted and engraved with her initials. He wanted her to know that, while she didn’t need to do what she had done before to survive, to keep her family alive and safe, he was proud of her for what she’d done, what she was capable of. And in moments like this, when lives hung in the balance, Rowan was inordinately glad he did not have a conventional wife. Hell, he was always glad he didn’t, but it became painfully obvious how beneficial that was as she  sprung the latch with ease.

“Got it,” she whispered down.

Rowan glanced around them again, remembering that he ought to have been playing the role of lookout. “You’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” she called softly down before she  slid open the window, conversation ceasing.

Samira peered inside, then Rowan watched her slip down to the dark interior. His heart clenched when she disappeared, his breath heavy in his chest, a thumping panic rollicking through him. A few moments later, her head poked out again.

“All clear,” Samira said.

With a huff, Rowan vaulted up, digging his boot against the brick to help him, and clasped his hands on the sill, hauling himself up and in, with Samira grabbing fistfulls of his coat to help him along. They tumbled backward into the room, trying to make as little noise as possible, but they not precisely silent.

“Shh,” she hissed to him.

He narrowed his eyes at her, which probably wasn’t very effective when he was sprawled on his backside after a less than graceful entry. “Let’s just get going.”

Samira sprang easily to her feet and extended a hand to him. God, was he starting to get old? What was he going to do when he turned thirty? Their hands clasped and she hauled him up. Samira’s eyes cast about the room as Rowan’s own adjusted, and at nearly the same moment, their gazes shifted and settled on the safe.

“Here we are,” Samira whispered, walking over to it.

“How confident are you?” he asked, hating the question.

“It doesn’t look too difficult. Give me an hour and I should have it,” said Samira, digging into her pockets and producing a different kit that Rowan thought he likely didn’t want to know the contents of. “Search the rest of the room while I’m at it. I can’t imagine he leaves anything too incriminating just lying around, but we did find Callista’s blackmail in a drawer with a measly lock as security.”

Rowan breathed deeply, surveying the room. “I’ll take the room apart.”

Samira nodded and each began their work. Samira’s fingers shook slightly as she examined her tools, trying to recall all she’d learned. She’d been doing quite well keeping thoughts of Evangelina and her imminent danger to the background of her mind, but they were starting to rear up again. She couldn’t panic now, not when she needed to be calm and methodical. Horitius’s deep, comforting baritone came back to her, and suddenly, she was back in his little curio shop, a young girl of sixteen trying to figure out what she was supposed to do with herself.

It started with locks he sold, simple ones, that he explained to Samira how they worked when she asked after purchasing one. The man had been mostly blind when Samira had met him, and by the time he was teaching her to crack safes three years later, his sight had entirely left him. Still, he could picture and describe the inner workings of any lock so well that Samira had learned them nearly as well herself. Now, she practically summoned him to her mind, letting his advice come back to her. She felt the lock, how it moved, how it reacted. It was a bit touchy, so she had to be gentle, to coax it.

Somewhere along the way, Samira lost track of time. She didn’t see it as a fight, but as a puzzle. It wanted to be solved, wanted to spring free and give up its secrets, she just had to find the right combination to convince it she was worthy. Her heart started to kick up as she knew she was close. Samira could feel Rowan watching her as she clicked the last few intervals, and she was impossibly glad he was watching her for this. Even if Rowan didn’t understand all that went into such a thing, he understood her, and he was proud of her. Samira let out her breath in a slow, even exhale, and turned the dial the last click. With the apparatus at her ear, she heard the tumblers fall and the lock spring free. Her heart stopped as she turned the handle and felt the latch give.

“I’ve got it!” she hissed.

Rowan sprang to her side as she yanked the small door open.

“You are remarkable,” Rowan breathed, standing shoulder-to-shoulder as he peered into the safe, stacked with valuables, papers, and money.

Rowan grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her to him in a rough kiss, utterly incapable of doing anything else at the moment. It blotted out everything else, like an eclipse of her entire being, and Samira reveled in it for the brief, heady moment of oblivion his touch brought. When Rowan broke the kiss that left them both panting, he pressed his forehead to hers.

“We’ll get her back,” said Rowan softly. “And we’ll destroy him forever with what we find in here.”

Samira set her jaw, nodding softly so that his head bobbed with hers. Then they turned and began removing papers, shoving aside the money that was enough to have changed Samira’s entire life mere months ago. Samira had used to dream of a chance like this, to get into so much cash that she could take unseen, to utterly alter the path of her family’s lives forever. But now, Samira hardly even noticed the bills as she shoved them out of the way in favor of what she was really after. It didn’t matter now, she’d already had that great change, and it came in a far better way than a wad of bills. It came as her knight, her Rowan. She could only pray that Ezekiel found in himself for Evangelina what Rowan had discovered for Samira.

“Anything nefarious will help,” said Rowan as the pair of them poured over every document. “But of course anything about your sister…”

“He’s hiding funds from the Crown,” said Samira as she scanned a ledger she opened.

Rowan snorted. “Every aristocrat does that.”

She lifted her gaze. “Do you do that?”

“Yes,” he answered, not even bothering to look up.

“Good, bastards,” she returned her eyes to the books and kept looking.

“Now I see why you and Callista got along so well from the start,” observed Rowan. “Remember, you’re a Viscountess now. If they start guillotining people in the town square, we’re all going to have a problem.”

“Yes well, let’s focus on one at a time,” said Samira flatly as she set the ledger aside. “But fraud to the Crown might be something we can use, even if it’s not enough to fully destroy him.”

Rowan nodded, picking up another ledger as Samira traded out for a stack of bills of sale. They kept looking for several minutes, scanning and reading. Samira was starting to grow restless, frustrated, when she pulled herself back a little. They would be there all night if they were just rifling through blindly, and they, not to mention Evangelina, didn’t have that kind of time.

Samira remembered the advice of her mentor. “You always have to be looking for the thing that’s out of place. What doesn’t fit? What’s the crack? That’s where you find your chance.”

Rifling quickly through the papers, Samira caught sight of a bundled stack of correspondence. Her brow furrowed; there were only a few sorts of letters someone kept locked away, and Samira seriously doubted the Earl of Claymore was penning salacious love letters to anyone. Samira grabbed the stack of letters and shuffled through them.

“Here’s something,” cried Samira. “Correspondence between the Earl and some Scottish shipping magnate.”

She opened the letter and read to herself, then added aloud. “This has to be something; they’re speaking about transporting goods, but it’s very cagey. Sounds more like a person as the cargo than anything else.”

Rowan snatched another from the pile and began pouring over the words. “I think this one talks about Eva! They’re meeting across the border to have an ‘exchange of goods’ with a ‘permanent union’ of their interests. My word, for an enormous sum!”

Samira peered over Rowan’s shoulder. “The man must be desperate.”

Rowan worked his jaw. “Desperate enough to ignore vows and laws and marry a girl who is already wed?”

Samira pursed her lips. “I don’t know.”

Rowan rubbed her back softly. “Their marriage would never hold up in court. There were plenty of witnesses to Ezekiel and Evangelina’s wedding, so we will get her back. Hope will not be lost, my love. It might just take a bit of time, if this goes through.”

Samira’s lip quivered. “And what will she suffer in that time, Rowan?”

“Zeke will get her back, Samira,” Rowan whispered.

Samira just nodded. “Come on, there must be something else, something worse. Something that could be treasonous. I won’t feel safe until he’s dead.”

Rowan felt his belly clench. He looked at his wife and knew that he had to make sure they were safe. They could manufacture proof of treason if they didn’t find any, but if nothing else worked, Rowan would do what he knew he should have from the night he’d found the man with Callista, since the whole blackmail scheme had started. The man had to die, and if he showed his face in London again, Rowan would make sure he did.

The fourth inn that Zeke and Nathaniel stopped at bore as little fruit as the first three. Lord Cartwright and the Lieutenant rode ahead to the next, and they were headed on to catch up with them in a few miles. Zeke was trying very hard not to get frustrated or feel discouraged, but the night wore on and on until it was full dark. The path was a bit harder to navigate through this section as the moon was far from full and the darkness of the country so far from the city was tangible. Zeke was hardly a city man, having grown up a large portion of his life at their country seat of Courtnay Park, but even then, the village was close by. This truly felt like the country, far from anything until they actually stumbled upon the next dwelling. He and Lord Blake took the chance to walk the horses on a particularly narrow stretch of road that wound around the side of a small hill. If they didn’t find any sign at the next inn, they would have to rest for the night. And Zeke didn’t like the idea of having to do that as it would mean leaving Evangelina overnight in the clutches of her captor.

“How do you know Lord Montgomery?” asked Nathaniel Blake conversationally.

Zeke looked at him, wondering what prompted the question. To get Zeke’s mind off the task at hand, he supposed, make the slow going seem less arduous, he realized, and Zeke appreciated the gesture. Nathaniel could feel Zeke’s nervous energy; so could his horse. Zeke was never the greatest rider, but Bacchus, his mount, had always been a steady companion. That night, he was as antsy as his master.

“We found ourselves in mutual commiseration when we preferred the arts to sport and our fathers were disappointed,” Zeke ducked under a branch as they came up upon it.

Nataniel put his hand on the branch and shoved it out of the way for himself. “I see. So this is not exactly where you are most comfortable?”

“I can sit a horse and ride across the countryside,” said Zeke, a bit defensively. “But, no, chasing down villains to try and rescue the damsel in distress was never the role in which I would have cast myself.”

“What role do you prefer?” Nathaniel asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” sighed Zeke. “I have always been happy as the second son, with no responsibilities beyond pleasing myself and developing my craft.”

“Craft?” Nathaniel questioned.

“Painting, mostly, drawing, more sculpting now since I’ve recently taken it up,” Zeke explained. “All I ever wanted was to pursue that, to grow in it, and to spend all the other hours having fun in whatever debauchery I could discover.”

Nathaniel nodded. “A good life, I’d imagine. I’m my father’s bastard, so my life is similarly bent, though I have not a great talent like art to give my life purpose.”

Zeke appreciated that the man listened easily, and asked good, engaging questions. It did in fact make the miles they had to walk the horses go faster.

“How long have you known Lord Cartwright?” asked Zeke, reciprocating the question.

“Feels like my whole life,” said Nathaniel. “We’ve been best friends since our school days. Neither of us have brothers, therefore we are that to each other.”

“A chosen family,” Zeke nodded.

“You have such friends?” Nathaniel asked.

Zeke thought of Andrew, who was a friend, but not a brother. No, he realized, he didn’t have such friends. He had his family.

“I have Rowan and Joel, who are brothers to me by blood and by love,” said Zeke. “And the rest of my family, sisters, my mother, who I adore.”

“And your wife?” prodded Nathaniel.

Zeke sucked in a breath. He had been trying very hard not to think of Evangelina on this journey. She was the ultimate goal, the thing that undergirded every breath he took, every step on his path, but it turned him inside out to think of what she might be suffering. And the idea that he might not find her at all, that he could already be too late? It was unthinkable.

“We’ve only been married for three days,” he said quietly.

“Yet you’re tearing across the countryside in the middle of the night, at very great risk to your own personal safety if the Earl’s motives are what you believe they are,” Nathaniel observed.

Zeke bristled. “It is what any husband would do.”

Nathaniel laughed almost bitterly. “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

“Are you married?” Zeke asked.

“God no,” said Nathaniel. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

“I thought the same,” said Zeke. “I thought I wasn’t good enough to be a husband, that I didn’t have what it took to commit, to be there for someone in the way she would need.”

Nathaniel’s eye roll was practically audible from his perch. “And let me guess; you met the perfect woman, fell madly in love, and now all your fears are allayed. You would move mountains for this woman, with every confidence you bound into your future together.”

Zeke looked at him. “Absolutely not. I am bloody terrified. I offered her my hand to try and save her, and I’ve mucked up nearly every interaction with her since that moment except perhaps once when I didn’t do much talking because I was kissing her instead. I’m a disaster as a husband. The one thing I was supposed to be in her life, the protector her from the man who was trying to hurt her, I have utterly failed at.”

“Oh,” said Nathaniel quietly.

“But I’m going to keep trying,” Zeke shrugged helplessly. “Because what else can I do?”

“You could stay at home and let others take care of it for you,” said Nathaniel softly. “That’s what many would do. That’s what my father would do.”

Zeke rubbed his chin. “I care about her, a great deal, in fact, but she’s family, not just to me but to everyone in our clan. Her sister is my brother’s wife.”

“If you say so,” Nathaniel said dismissively.

Zeke urged the horse forward. “We’ve tarried long enough. Let’s go.”

And they tore forth across the landscape toward their next destination.