Chapter 37

37

Fingers gripping the decorative stone frame above the window, Philip pushed off the side of the tower with his legs, then crashed through the glass feet first. The moment his body hit the floor, he launched up into a crouch, grabbing the weapons he’d tucked into his belt. Hatchet in one hand, billhook in the other. He scanned the room, trying to make sense of the erupting chaos. A howl of pain drew his attention to a table on his right, where Letty had just stabbed her knife into a large man’s thigh.

She ran around the table, heading for a display of small swords on the far wall. “Save Grandmother!”

Philip sprang upward and pivoted to the left, spying Leah Radcliffe jumping atop an ornately carved bed and flinging herself onto the back of a familiar-looking man pressing a rag against Flora Anderson’s face.

Not wanting to risk hitting one of the women, he kept hold of his weapons and charged the bed. He dropped the billhook on the floor at the side of the bed and swiped the rag away from Flora’s face. She sputtered and coughed. He moved to help her sit up, but a crash drew his attention to the foot of the bed, where a man with bushy sideburns and skewed spectacles had knocked a porcelain washbasin to the floor as he fought to rid himself of Leah Radcliffe.

With a roar, he slammed himself backward into the wall, smashing her against the stone and finally breaking her hold. He flung her off, throwing her into a spinning wheel. The wheel splintered at the force of her collision, but it was the gun the man pulled from his coat and aimed at her chest that galvanized Philip into action.

He flung the hatchet. The blade sank into the man’s shoulder. The man screamed. The gun fired. Wide. It fired wide—thank God—pinging off the stone to the left of his intended target. Philip scrambled across the bed and tackled the man, knocking the gun from his weakened grasp as the man crumpled. He whimpered but offered no resistance as Philip’s punch rammed into his jaw and rendered him unconscious. As Philip watched for signs of a further threat, recognition dawned. Elmer Davis. The annoying salesman that dogged Philip’s every move in his search for Letty. He must have doubled back and uncovered Flora’s location after Philip and Letty left for Houston.

“Drake, no!” Leah Radcliffe’s anguished shout brought Philip’s head around.

He yanked the hatchet from Davis’s shoulder just as he used to yank his ax from the woodpile back on the family farm and spun to face the next threat. Only it wasn’t Letty’s mother in danger, but Letty herself.

“If you had just died in that fire fifteen years ago like you were supposed to, none of this would have happened.” Drake Radcliffe, blood darkening his trouser leg, grunted as he forced Letty’s neck into the guillotine.

Philip’s blood turned to ice as time itself seemed to freeze. In a heartbeat, he absorbed the scene. Letty’s belly pinned against the bench, Drake’s knee on her back. Her arms braced against the frame as she desperately tried to pull away from the locking mechanism that would secure her head in place. Drake’s hand full of her beautiful auburn hair, yanking her neck across the opening.

One truth pounded in Philip’s head. He’d not be able to get to her in time. Even as he leapt forward to circle the bed, Drake snapped the upper head bar in place, straightened, and grabbed the trigger rope to hoist the blade to the top of the structure.

Killing Drake would release the rope and kill Letty. Philip’s gaze shifted to a different target. One much narrower and more difficult to hit. He adjusted his path, widening his circle as he ran instead of charging Drake head on.

Just like all those times Dad and I threw axes at the knothole on the old oak back home.

Only it was nothing like that.

Guide my hand , he prayed as he drew back his arm and let the hatchet fly.

Drake released the rope.

A woman screamed.

Steel buried itself into wood a heartbeat before steel clanged against steel.

Philip didn’t stop to admire the hatchet embedded in the guillotine frame less than a foot from the top of the mechanism or sigh in relief that the severing blade’s descent had been successfully blocked. No, he charged Drake Radcliffe and tackled him to the ground. The man kicked and writhed as he called curses down on Philip’s head and managed to land a lucky blow when his knee collided with Philip’s chin. The shock of the hit caused Philip’s grip to slacken momentarily, allowing Drake to slither through his hands. Philip grabbed for the man’s legs and dug his thumb into the bloody gash on his wounded thigh. Drake shouted and twisted to escape the pain. Philip used his momentum against him, flipped him onto his back, and pounced atop his chest. Ignoring the glancing blows of Drake’s fists bouncing off his arms and shoulders, Philip grabbed the front of Drake’s shirt and lifted his head off the floor. He smashed his fist into Drake’s jaw so hard, he threw himself forward in the process. He reared back, ready to punch again, but there was no need. The older man was out cold.

Philip craned his neck around, Letty’s name falling from his lips, but he needn’t have worried. Her mother had tied off the trigger rope and was unfastening the wooden collar. A moment later, Letty was free of the vile machine, and Philip took his first full breath since crashing through the window.

Mother and daughter wept in each other’s arms while Philip dragged Drake’s prone form over to the pillory so proudly on display in the corner. After locking the man’s head and arms in place, Philip pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and tied it around the wound in Radcliffe’s leg. Heaven knew the man didn’t deserve such treatment, but Philip administered aid anyway. There’d been enough execution attempts in this room already.

As Philip moved to the bed to check on Flora and release her from her bonds, a pounding sounded against the chamber door. Fearing a wave of Drake’s men intended to break through the portal, Philip shouted for the women to take cover, claimed Davis’s fallen gun, and braced himself for war.

“Leah?” A muffled voice called through the door. “Leah, it’s Stefan. I’ve got two dozen men from the oil mill with me. They’ve disabled the guards and are holding them until Sheriff Erichson arrives. You hear that, Drake? It’s over!”

Lowering his gun and shooting a prayer of gratitude heavenward, Philip stepped forward and unbolted the door.

“You’re right, Anderson,” Philip said as he opened the door. “It is over.”

A handful of men ran into the room, eager to assist in dragging the guilty parties downstairs. Stefan rushed to his mother’s side and tended to her while Leah Radcliffe reassured her loyal employees that she was well. She clung to Letty all the while, understandably loath to let her go.

Letty’s hair was a tangled mess, tear streaks stained her cheeks, and her dress sported rips in several places, but she was alive. Philip’s chest swelled with gratitude. Their gazes met through the throng of people, and Philip caught her mouthed, Thank you . He tipped an invisible hat and bowed to her, the smile that stretched across her face pinching his heart.

The danger plaguing her truly was over, but so was Philip’s excuse to remain by her side. The time had come to step away from the woman he loved, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to do it.

****

It took a few hours to get everything settled with the sheriff, the lawyers, and the Pinkerton office, but Philip gladly handled the details in order to spare Letty and her mother the grueling questions and inquiries. They had enough on their plate taking care of Letty’s grandmother. When Philip arrived at the house, Carter informed him that the physician had visited and declared Mrs. Anderson as feisty as ever, though he did prescribe no excitement or strenuous activity for the next few weeks.

Philip left Steele in the capable hands of the stable master and made his way to the house. He had a promise to keep, one that had his heart pounding with equals parts dread and hope.

Standing in front of the door, he pulled his hat off and fiddled with the brim as he summoned and discarded idea after idea regarding how to say what needed to be said. As he mentally wadded up idea number seven, the door opened on its own.

Fellows stood on the other side, a bland look on his face. “I thought the knocker might be broken.”

Heat crept up Philip’s neck. “Thanks. No telling how long I mighta stood there stewing in my own thoughts.”

Fellows opened the door wide and showed him in. Strange to fall back on customary manners when yesterday he’d had a gunfight with a would-be assassin in this very entry hall. The butler took Philip’s hat and hung it on the hall tree, then gestured for Philip to follow him to the sitting room.

“She’s been waiting for your arrival.”

Philip’s brow creased. “Mrs. Radcliffe?”

“No, sir. Miss Scarlett awaits your visit. Along with Mrs. Krouse as a chaperone, of course.” Fellows glanced over his shoulder. “She tends to doze off whenever she’s not bustling about the kitchen, though, so you’ll have some manner of privacy.”

Surprise must have shown on Philip’s face for the butler nearly smiled. “Any man capable of slaying the dragon of Radcliffe Shipping deserves a private moment with his lady.”

Oh, how he wished she was his lady. But then, that was why he was here, wasn’t it? To plant seeds and pray they grew into future happiness.

As Fellows opened the door to the sitting room, a strange familiarity hit him. Walking into this room to meet Leah Radcliffe for the first time, to hear her story, and take on her case. When he entered this time, however, a different redheaded woman rose from the blue settee to greet him. Only she didn’t wait for him to come to her. She ran to him, wrapped her arms about his middle, and pressed her face against his chest.

Had any torture ever been so sweet? It didn’t matter that they had an audience of servants discreetly looking at carpets and knitting needles, Philip folded his arms around Letty and bent his cheek until it rested atop her hair.

Man, but it felt good to hold her. Not only to reassure himself that she was indeed alive and well, but to tantalize himself with the dream that she might one day be his.

“Thank you, Philip.” She loosened her embrace and tipped her head back until he could look directly into those mesmerizing hazel eyes. “You saved us. All of us.”

He basked in her adoration, even as he warned himself not to get so lost in being her hero that he forgot to be her friend.

His arms unwound themselves from her back as he retreated a step and edged toward the sitting area. “Carter and Rusty saved me first.” His fingers slid down her arm until they snagged on hers. It seemed neither of them were ready to let go completely. “But I think we both know who really deserves the credit.”

Letty followed him to the settee and lowered herself to the cushion, tightening her hold on his hand to ensure he didn’t wander off. Biting back a smile, he acquiesced and sat beside her. Even let her hold his hand hostage without making a single escape attempt.

She squeezed his fingers, her face so earnest it made his pulse throb. “I’ve sent up so many prayers of thanksgiving in the last few hours, I’m sure I’ve made quite a mess of the holy throne room.”

His smile tugged free of its confines. “Somehow I don’t think the Almighty will mind that particular mess.”

They both grew silent, the only sound in the room the quiet clinking of Mrs. Krouse’s knitting needles in the far corner of the room.

Philip searched for the right words, but every phrase that entered his mind felt wrong.

Beside him, Letty sighed, and her shoulders dipped. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

Philip closed his eyes for a second, his heart aching at her forlorn acceptance. His need to assuage that pain overrode his need to find the right words. “I am, but not because I don’t want to stay.”

She turned to face him, her face brightening just a bit. “Do you have a new assignment?”

How easy it would be to use work as an excuse, but she deserved his full honesty. He shook his head. “No, though I imagine I’ll have one soon enough. I’m leaving because I want to give you time to discover who you are as Scarlett Radcliffe, heir to the Radcliffe fortune.”

Her face scrunched up in a frown that he might have found adorable if it hadn’t been aimed in his direction. “I know who I am, Philip. What name I go by doesn’t matter. The size of my bank account doesn’t matter, either. At least it shouldn’t. Not to the man I love. The man who I believe loves me.”

Hearing her declaration, even when said in frustration, made his heart soar. He lifted her hand from the sofa cushion and wrapped his other hand on top of where their fingers laced together. “I do love you, Letty. And I don’t care two figs about your money. I never have. What I care about is not taking advantage of your innocence and trapping you in a relationship you might later regret because you never had the chance to meet other men or experience life as one of Houston’s elite. There is another world out there that is vastly different from what you experienced on your grandmother’s homestead. One filled with advantages and opportunities you’ve never imagined. You might find that it fulfills something in you that life with a simple man could never accomplish. I don’t want to rob you of that.”

She stiffened and pulled her hand from his. “Just because I’ve lived most of my life in seclusion doesn’t mean I’m na?ve. Nor am I flighty. Do you really think that if I committed myself to you, I’d look twice at another man? When I give my heart, I give it completely, Philip, and I’ve already given it to you.”

Tears misted her eyes, and his chest felt as if Radcliffe’s guillotine had just sliced through it.

“Sweetheart, no. I don’t doubt your loyalty for a second. It’s one of the things I love most about you. I trust you completely, and there are only about ten people in this world that I can say that about, and more than half are related to me.”

Hope sparked in her eyes again, burning away some of the hurt and giving him the courage to continue.

“You are a rare treasure, Letty.” He gently reclaimed her hand, breathing easier when she offered no resistance. “I know that because I’ve seen what this world has to offer, and in my eyes, none of it can hold a candle to you. I want you to have the same chance to make an informed decision. To see what the world has to offer before making a choice with lifelong consequences.”

Something shifted in her gaze. “You’re afraid that Scarlett Radcliffe won’t love you the way Letty Hood does.”

The starkness of the statement cut through his altruistic motives to uncover a seed of truth beneath his good intentions. He dipped his head, staring at their hands instead of her face.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He sighed softly, then forced himself to meet her gaze. “Money changes people, Letty. And while I don’t believe it will change your character or your heart, there is a chance it will change your priorities. Wealth comes with a lot of power and responsibility.” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and smiled. “I have no doubt that you are going to do amazing things with what you’ve been given. You will bless countless lives, just as your mother has done. But like your mother, you might find that in order to do the most good, you have to let go of things you love.”

Let go of him.

Her posture straightened, but not with the stiffness he’d noticed earlier. She didn’t pull away from him. In fact, she leaned closer.

“How long?” she asked.

Philip struggled to make sense of the question. “What?”

“How long do I need to live as Scarlett Radcliffe before you’ll trust that my mind won’t be swayed?”

He swallowed. He should probably say a year, but he just couldn’t make those words form on his tongue. “Six months?”

She gave a sharp nod. “Done. But you can’t leave me high and dry. I’ve been abandoned by people I love before, and even knowing they had good reasons didn’t make it easier. It left me doubting my worth and their affection. I don’t want that to happen to us. So I’ll agree to take six months to figure out what it means to be the Radcliffe heiress as long as you write to me once a week and stop by to see me at least once a month.”

“Done.” He’d seriously doubted his ability to stay away from her for an entire month anyway. “Any other conditions?”

“Just one.” She glanced away from him. “Mrs. Krouse? Would you please fetch my shawl? I’ll be seeing Mr. Carmichael off in a moment, and I’d like to have my wrap.”

The knitting needles stopped their quiet clinking. The housekeeper rose and bobbed a curtsy. “Right away, miss.” Her eyes twinkled with delight, though they narrowed as she focused on him. “I’ll be back in just a moment. ”

Philip’s collar suddenly felt tight. What was Letty about?

She didn’t make him wait long. “A kiss,” she blurted the moment the housekeeper exited the room. Red instantly suffused her cheeks at the words, but she held her ground and tilted her chin in a stubborn line. “The only way for a princess to know if she’s found her true love is through a kiss. Scarlett’s been asleep for fifteen years. I need to know if you can awaken her, or if I should search for someone else.”

As in, kiss someone else? His jaw clenched as the idea scraped against his skin like a rusty razor. Yes, he’d just been advocating for her to see what other men had to offer so that she could make an informed decision on who might be best for her. But that wasn’t supposed to include kissing!

Philip lifted a hand to her face. If she wanted to be kissed, he’d kiss her with every ounce of his soul.

He held her gaze, pulling back the curtain that had been hiding the depth of his passion and desire so she could see the intensity of his love. Her eyes widened slightly, and her mouth parted on a small indrawn breath. His focus dropped to her lips, and his heart pounded so hard he became light-headed.

A hunger built in him, obliterating his need to prove himself worthy and leaving only a need to meld his heart with hers. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to hers. A tender touch. Soft. Barely there. Just enough to set his lips to tingling with the desire for more. So he tasted her again, curling his fingers around her nape to draw her closer.

A tiny purr rumbled in her throat, heating his blood. He brought his second hand up and cupped her cheek, deepening their kiss until he could feel her kissing him back. The princess had been fully awakened. But so had he. His senses pulsed with awareness, with sensitivity. Taste, touch, smell, and sound—everything heightened and attuned entirely to her. Man alive, but she was sweet. He crossed his mouth over hers again and again. His chest swelled with a love he’d never known. Protective. Passionate. Possessive. He’d been a fool to think he could ever give her up. They belonged together. Forever.

Loud, clomping footsteps echoed in the hall. The sound caused Letty to jump and brought Philip back to reality. He ended the kiss but held her close for one precious heartbeat longer. His forehead pressed against hers as their unsteady breaths mingled in the charged air between them.

“I love you, Letty.”

He prayed his love would be enough.