Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

J im Tanner lingered in the alley just off Curzon Street, and bided his time. A blade lay in his palm, which he kept in the pocket of his long black coat, ready to sink it into the flesh of those pompous lords across the street if they interfered with his mission.

Soon, he promised himself.

His employer had urged him to wait, to snatch the girl without a fight. The order had been issued not out of any need to prevent violence, but to give Tanner time to get away before the alarm was raised. Bloodshed would shorten his exit strategy.

Blankenship was a fool to want nothing more than the little chit. The house he stared at now was probably filled with expensive items he could fetch a fair price for on Shoe Lane or Saffron Hill. The nouveau riche were only too happy to buy aristocratic items that would fool the ton into thinking they weren't the descendants of lower or middleclass men.

He'd been only too eager to steal the Parr girl away from Essex when Blankenship agreed to his hefty price. He knew what lay in store for the girl, but that wasn't his concern. This was a commission, nothing more.

Tanner's extensive connections reached from the sewers to the houses of power, from valets to night watchmen and toshers. Word had come almost immediately when Essex and his friends had arrived in London. The coach went straight to Curzon Street where Viscount Sheridan lived and the Parr girl hadn't left the house since she arrived.

From his spot in the alley, he had watched through one of the windows as the Parr girl quarreled with Essex. Unable to hear words, he read their body language, and it was clear enough that trouble brewed between the lovers.

Evening wore into night and shadows melded into black pools across Curzon Street. Tanner scanned the night sky, but clouds had blotted out the moon.

Tanner spat into the darkness of the alley. What woman was worth five hundred pounds, Tanner didn't know. The old man should have saved his money and bought a classy whore. But no, his employer wanted some innocent untrained lamb who would spend the whole night screaming in pain while Blankenship violated her. Pity. But again, not his concern.

He ran a hand through his hair and scowled. How would he get the girl out of the house with all of those men watching her every move? Jewelry, paintings, he'd even stolen a prized King Charles spaniel once. But a woman? With half a dozen guards? Tricky, but not impossible.

Tanner ducked back into the alley as he caught sight of a footman who left the side door of the townhouse to empty a bucket of dirty water by the gutter. The footman headed back inside.

Tanner escaped the shadows, flipped the handle of his blade, and cracked it over the footman's head.

The footman crumpled, bucket crashing into the marble floor just inside the doorway. Tanner grabbed the unconscious man's arms and dragged him behind a counter in the small entryway.

With the house dark, most of the other servants were no doubt asleep.

Tanner took the man's coat and pants—enough to avoid suspicion inside if seen at a distance. He stepped over the footman's body, leaving the man alive. He didn't kill servants. They too suffered under the oppression of the rich.

As he moved through the lushly decorated townhouse, his mood blackened further. A dark part of him would have been happy to slit every noble throat in this house, if he'd been paid for it.

He heard voices above him, and Tanner ducked beneath the main staircase.

"Is she finally asleep, Cedric?" a man asked.

"She cried herself to sleep, poor thing. I didn't know women were so full of tears. I thought she'd flood the upstairs rooms."

"She still won't agree to marry Godric? "

"No. She won't have him, or anyone else."

"Bloody hell. Is she daft?"

"Don't ask me to explain the workings of the female mind, Jonathan."

The first man sighed. "Where's Charles?"

"He's gone to catch a few hours sleep. Why don't you have a rest yourself? It's been a long day for all of us."

"You wouldn't mind? What about Blankenship?"

"Tomorrow we'll lead his lackeys all over London while those love birds get some sense beaten into them."

Tanner grinned. Good plan. Pity it was too late.

He heard only one pair of footsteps walk away and a door clicked open then shut. Tanner counted away a few minutes waiting for the second pair. Eventually he dug into his coat pocket for a spare coin. He flicked the shilling out away from him. It clinked loudly across the marble, rolling away from the stairs. The floor above him creaked, and he heard a grunt as the remaining guard resumed his position.

Tanner swore under his breath, seeking another coin. He threw it further out, and the clink resounded more deeply, almost to the point of an echo.

Someone rose, and came down the stairs, step by step.

Tanner waited in the shadows. The guard had only just reached the bottom when Tanner launched himself at the man.

But his adversary had quick reflexes. He spun as Tanner attacked.

Blood splattered as Tanner's blade slid across the man's arm .

Before the guard could shout, Tanner rammed his elbow into the his face. Blood dribbled down his face as he staggered back, fell and ceased to move.

Tanner considered finishing him off, but he couldn't waste time. He needed the girl.

Light on his feet, he sprinted up the stairs and eased the unguarded door open.

A young woman lay curled up on the bed, her knees tucked up under her chin. The curtains of the window were wide open, allowing a pale blanket of moonlight to cover her sleeping form. Her hair was loose and fanned out on her pillow. Tanner was not a man to ever think of heaven or angels, but this sweet creature was beautiful. No wonder the old fool wanted her so much.

He thought of his Lacy, of what it had been like before she'd been taken by his master. For one eternal second Tanner was tempted to take the girl and keep her for himself. He imagined her being grateful, rescued from two horrible fates. Would she feel the same as his Lacy had? But no. That was simply a fantasy. He needed the money she would bring, more than any illusions of love.

Tanner cleared his head as he stole up on the sleeping girl. He pocketed his bloody knife before he leaned down and scooped the girl up into his arms.

She shifted restlessly, murmuring to herself. "No more…please…no more."

Tanner breathed a sigh of relief when her dreams did not wake her. He didn't want her screaming or fighting. If she slept all the way down to his carriage, she'd be his easiest job yet. Far easier than the spaniel, his boots still had teeth marks on them.

He walked down the stairs, kicked the body of the man he'd attacked for good measure and proceeded out the door he came in. Once outside, he flagged down his hired carriage. The girl started to wake as the carriage rattled loudly up to them. Tanner told the coachman where to go as he hopped down and opened the carriage door. She finally awoke as Tanner dropped the girl onto the seat opposite him.

She gasped and scurried into the corner, putting as much distance between them as possible. "Who are you?"

He pulled his blade out of his pocket, leaned forward, and pointed it at her chest. Her pretty little eyes fixed on the blade's tip, still splashed in crimson. "I would say I'm your worst nightmare, but considering whom I'm taking you to—that wouldn't be entirely true."

He expected the girl to cry, to beg for her freedom, to bargain. She didn't. Slowly, she combed through the tangles in her hair with her fingers, fixed her dress and assumed a look of grace and dignity.

"Then you must be one of Blankenship's thugs."

"Thug, Madame? I am not some lowly cutpurse."

The woman shrugged. "You are no different than the others I've encountered."

Tanner was rattled by her tone. She seemed unconcerned, as though the abduction were commonplace. Such self-control. He didn't know whether to be impressed or concerned for her mental health, for clearly the woman was mad.

Emily focused on slow, steady breaths. She wouldn't scream if she kept calm.

She refused to think about how this man found her, or who he might have hurt in the process. If she knew she'd lose herself to her terror, and Blankenship would win. She forced herself to study the man, taking in his dark eyes, unkempt brown hair, footman's clothes and the sneer etched into his features.

He looked to be around thirty or so in years, and radiated with a survivor's sharpness, a razor's edge balance of sanity. This man was a professional, and dangerous.

Fear threatened to consume her, but unlike her first abduction, she had a better grasp of how to handle the situation. After her encounter with Evangeline she believed she could emulate the other woman's confidence and possibly act her way out of this peril. It was a chance if nothing else, one she had to take.

"Is he paying you well?" she asked.

The man nodded. "Five hundred pounds to deliver you to his doorstep."

Emily feigned surprise. "Only five hundred? He offered the last man he hired double that." The lie came easily as she tried to emulate Evangeline's imperious tone, albeit without the French accent.

"What last man? He never mentioned anyone else. "

"Of course he wouldn't. He killed that man to avoid payment." Emily plucked at her gown by her knees as though her words didn't concern her.

"You're lying!"

"Lie?" She met his gaze with innocence. "Why on earth would I lie? You'll deliver me regardless. I just thought I should warn you. He got blood everywhere, ruined my best muslin gown and it took simply ages for the man to die. I merely don't wish to witness such a thing again. It's unsettling and ruins my appetite." Emily's voice was almost flippant, as she pretended that she'd experienced gruesome murders with disturbing frequency.

It was useless to expect this man to let her go, but if he and Blankenship argued, then she might have a chance to escape.

The rest of the carriage ride passed in silence. The man studied Emily and she studied him back. The silent battle of wills ended when the carriage reached Blankenship's townhouse. He gripped her arm roughly, dragging her out of the carriage with such ferocity that she stumbled and fell against him. She had clearly struck a nerve.

Blankenship's ancient butler answered the door after her kidnapper beat it for what felt like several minutes. He pulled Emily into the hall and shouted for Blankenship.

The butler gave a heavy sigh and left.

Blankenship appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed and alert despite the late hour. His beady eyes rested on Emily's face then skimmed down her body. His whole air, from his eyes to the straightness of his spine, glittered with a malevolence that terrified Emily. It felt as though a thousand beetles scuttled over her skin.

"Well done, Mr. Tanner, well done. Did you have to kill anyone to get to her?" Blankenship didn't come down the stairs. He waited for her at the top, like some high and mighty sultan whose harem girl groveled before him.

Emily's nails dug painfully into her palms. Something inside her began to burn. She was tired of being at the mercy of others, especially a man who meant her harm. Tonight she would fight. He'd regret ever looking at her.

"Possibly one. I was in a hurry and murder was not my task."

Tanner's pronouncement made her heart stop beating. Possibly one? Which one? Dear God…her vision swam and she fought to stay on her feet.

"A pity, but it's true, murder carries its own complications." Blankenship smiled at Emily. "Bring her up to me." The smile lasted as her abductor dragged her up the stairs.

"On your knees, girl," Blankenship barked.

Emily glared and raised her chin.

Tanner gripped her shoulders from behind and shoved her downward. She fell onto her knees. Blankenship's eyes darkened.

"My, my Miss Parr, I quite like you on your knees." Blankenship reached down to stroke her hair with his fingertips. "Perhaps that is how we shall begin tonight?"

Emily wanted to hide her rage, but failed.

He jerked her chin up. "So defiant. I see the fire inside you. I will enjoy beating that rebelliousness out of your screaming body. I couldn't have your mother, but I will have you."

"My mother?" she choked out. What did her mother have to do with this?

"I suppose you wouldn't know," he mused. "I almost married her, but she chose that fool you called a father. She broke my heart and so I damaged their business. I hurt them in a thousand little ways, but never enough." He continued to study her as he talked, as though enjoying finally revealing his schemes.

"You ruined my parents?" She remembered the finances always being tight, and the whispered conversations between her parents. Blankenship had caused it.

"Not just them. Your uncle too, naturally. It was the only way I could get to you."

Stale cigar smoke and brandy wafted off him, in addition to his other unpleasant smells. His fingers dug deep into her face, nails leaving curved imprints. All this time, all the heartache she'd suffered…her parents had gotten onto that ship to go to America to try and restore their company and had died. Blankenship had killed her parents. If she'd had a gun at that moment, she would have shot the man between the eyes.

"Does my uncle know you've taken me?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"He no longer matters. You are mine, per his agreement, and as far as I am concerned his debts are settled." Blankenship turned her face to the side, as though admiring her profile, while he spoke to Tanner. "Have you ever seen anything so deliciously innocent? Look at those lips. "

"Yes, sir, she's a decent looking chit. But I'll have my money now, if it's all the same to you and be on my way." Tanner's eyes followed every move the other man made as though he didn't trust him. Good.

Blankenship released Emily's face and turned his fury onto Tanner. "In good time. The banks do not open till morning."

"Pay me or I take her back." Tanner latched a hand around Emily's right wrist, jerking her up to her feet, just as Blankenship coiled a hand around her throat. Both men tugged on her. Pain flashed through Emily's body and her vision blurred. Black spots dotting her eyes.

"You dare threaten me?" Blankenship, with surprising strength, flung Emily away. She stumbled, rolled and then crashed against the wall.

Stars burst behind her eyelids. The scene blurred as she tried to catch her breath. The two men grappled with each other. Emily tried to crawl away, but Tanner grabbed her by the back of her neck and once more put her between him and Blankenship. He withdrew his blade and pressed the tip of it into her neck. "One more step and I end her life."

Blankenship took another step. Emily winced, stifling a cry as the blade pinched deeper. "Be still," Tanner whispered in her ear.

"She doesn't matter to me! You want her? Take her."

"Five hundred pounds for something that doesn't matter? I suppose that might be true…if you had never intended to pay." Tanner took a step back from Emily, then shoved her forward towards Blankenship. Blankenship backhanded her across the cheek with whip-like fo rce and she fell to the floor, scrambling out of the way just in time as the two men dove towards each other. Tanner's blade fell during the scuffle as the men turned to beating each other with fists. Emily gathered her strength, biting back the tears as her fingers curled around the blade's worn wooden handle and she hastily got to her feet.

"Where do you think you're going?" Blankenship whirled on her, barely dodging a blow from Tanner.

Emily acted without thinking and slashed at him, the blade cutting across his chest. He bellowed like a wounded bear and lunged at her, prying the blade from her hands and with a devil's fire in his eyes plunged it high into her chest. Tanner shouted in a rage and kicked Blankenship from behind. "I didn't bring her to you so you could cut her to pieces! Our bargain is ended!"

Emily staggered, shocked by the pain, as the world spun and she lost her footing. She screamed in panic as she tripped backwards down the stairs. She fell, rolling down the stairs until she reached the cold marble at the bottom with a sickening thud.

Godric came out of Cedric's study shortly after the clock struck midnight. His temper had finally cooled, and he would speak to Emily. She didn't trust him to not control her. Her immediate safety had made him take measures he never would have in normal circumstances. Now that he understood that he could explain it so she could see it from his point of view. She was a little fool, his darling little fool, for thinking he didn't love her. Godric planned to spend the next few hours in her bed, proving just how foolish her fears were.

In the dim light that came in from the street he spied a crumpled body at the foot of the stairs. He froze. Had someone fallen? Cedric . His heart skipped a painful beat—blood coated his friend's body. Cedric groaned, moving a few inches. Godric ran over and helped his friend up. The man's nose was bloody and there was a deep gash along his arm. "What happened?"

"Attacked!" Cedric pointed a shaky hand towards Emily's room. The door was wide open.

"Help! Someone help!" Godric yelled.

Ashton and Jonathan were the first to arrive, pistols drawn.

"Get a doctor, Ash. Emily's been taken." Godric tore out the main door and into the street followed by Jonathan. A lone lamplighter rode to check on the next street lamp nearest them.

Godric ran up to him and grabbed the man's leg, dragging him to the ground. He gripped the saddle and pulled himself up on the man's horse.

"See that he's compensated, Jonathan," Godric shouted at his brother as he rode off into the night, straight for Blankenship's home. He was never more thankful that he'd asked Lucien and Ashton where the vile man lived.

Jabbing his heels into the horse's sides, he urged it go as fast as possible. He didn't care if he lamed the beast or it threw a shoe, only Emily mattered. How could he have left her alone? God, he couldn't let himself think of her being hurt, or worse.

When he reached Blankenship's townhouse, Godric launched himself off the horse and, through the open doorway, only to stumble upon a horrifying sight.

Blankenship, at the top of the stairs, plunging a knife into Emily's chest.

A footman took up the fight with Blankenship, but Godric could only watch helplessly as Emily staggered back, lost her footing on the stairs and…

Godric couldn't breathe, couldn't cry out. Terror immobilized him as his Emily tumbled down the stairs, bleeding. She didn't move. Blood oozed from her body, slowly pooling around her on the floor.

The footman had lost the upper hand, distracted by Godric in the open doorway. He screamed something about their agreement and threw himself at Blankenship bare handed, but Blankenship still had the blade. With one swift flick of his wrist he cut the footman's throat. The man fell to his knees, blood spurting down the front of his shirt and coat.

Godric found the ability to move and knelt down beside Emily, his own body trembling so violently he could no longer stand. He collapsed next to her before he gathered the strength to turn her onto her back.

His shaking fingers brushed over her cheeks. "Emily, sweetheart, please open your eyes." He pled with her like a dying man. "My last words to you were cruel and cold. I wish to God I could take them back." His insides churned, roiled, threatened to explode. Godric had to keep talking or he'd go mad with grief. "Why didn't you believe I loved you? You changed me, Emily. When I was with you, I didn't just want to be a better man. I was a better man because you were in my life. How will I endure without you?"

When his perished love did not answer, he buried his face in the soft groove of her neck, inhaling the flowery scent of her gleaming hair, and Godric, the Duke of Essex, wept. He wept for Emily, for the children they would never have, for the places he would never take her, and he wept for the pain of his own breaking heart.

"No! Dammit, no!" A cry disturbed his mourning, the sound a terrible keening that grated on his ears. It rose, fast and high from his throat, then faded, replaced by ragged breaths.

He kissed her lips, expecting the coppery taste of blood, but she was unbearably sweet, as though merely sleeping.

"Is she dead?" Blankenship's reedy voice echoed eerily down the stairs.

Godric's eyes flamed with tears; they spilled down his face as he brushed Emily's hair back from her face with shaky hands.

When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. "You've taken from me the one thing in this world I truly loved." The void in him grew to a dull blackening roar. Flashes of memories, glittering shards of momentary joy, pierced the swelling darkness. Emily's laugh, her shining eyes, exploring hands, whispers of her dreams and breathless words of love.

Never again.

Flames consumed him, enveloped him .

He set Emily down and stood at the bottom of the stairs to face Blankenship, then slowly walked up step by step.

"All of this work and I never even bedded her!" Blankenship hissed as he backed away. "You were a fool to take what was mine. She's dead because you abducted her." Blankenship moved back down the hall to a small side table. He tugged frantically at handle of the top drawer.

"She was never yours." Blankenship would die. It was as simple as that. His grief outweighed reason and numbed him to all except revenge.

The glint of silver caught his eye. A knife lay near the edge of the top stair, the blade gleaming red with blood. Godric grabbed it, only to hear the sound of a pistol cocked in front of him.

Godric found himself staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, and those beetle black eyes behind it reflected a heavy fear.

Blankenship had managed to retrieve a gun from the side table. "Don't even think about it."

Godric snarled and charged as the pistol shot wide. Their bodies collided against the railing. Blankenship flailed as the pistol fell onto the carpet between them. Godric wound one fist around the other man's neck while Blankenship clawed at his chest.

The man's heavy weight unbalanced their tangled bodies, and Godric fought to break free as they both started to fall, but it was too late.

They crashed down the stairs, grappling at each other until Godric landed on top of Blankenship at the bottom of the stairs, his knife stuck in his enemy's chest.

Panting for breath, both men locked gazes, hatred meeting hatred for one brief moment before the glint in Blankenship's eyes faded, giving way to darkness. Godric released his hold on the knife and rolled off the dead body.

Lucien and Ashton were at the door, their faces ashen.

"My God," Lucien breathed.

"She's gone," Godric's tone was hollow.

Ashton's hand flew to his heart. Lucien looked away.

Emily lay stretched out across the marble, pale blue slippers streaked with blood, and one limp, graceful hand caressed the floor by Godric.

Ashton leaned down to touch Godric's shoulder when Emily's index finger twitched against the marble floor. It had to be a death spasm. But…her fingers began to curl further, into a ball. "Godric, look!"

Godric, unable to see past the tears that clouded his eyes, tried to look up at his love. Emily's long lashes fluttered against her cheeks.

"She's alive!" Godric choked out in a mixture of terror and relief. She was still alive. "Quick, check her wound." Lucien knelt down near Emily's head and helped him. Lucien examined the wound carefully and sighed in relief.

"It's a muscle wound. There are no vital organs here." Lucien ripped off one of the sleeves of his shirt. With Godric's help, they bound the wound as tight as they could. "If we get her to a doctor she may yet live. "

"Is it safe to move her?" Godric asked Lucien.

"I believe so."

Godric carefully picked Emily up in his arms, and the three men walked out into the street. Jonathan arrived at that moment, with the constable and several Bow Street runners. Ashton remained behind to explain, while Lucien and Godric took Emily back to Cedric's house, to meet the doctor and pray that she survived.

Heaven. It was warm and light, the soft murmur of a low masculine voice spoke to her… No, read to her. The Iliad in Greek. She tried to open her mouth but nothing moved.

I want to see you, whoever you are.

Did she have a body?

She managed a small strangled whimper. The voice halted, then spoke, more eagerly.

"Emily." The voice sounded like Godric, but that made sense. Heaven was wherever he was. She tried to speak again, but only yielded another pathetic whimper.

"Shh. Rest, my darling. You've been through so much." A large hand clasped hers, its grip warm, strong, and perfect.

Lips brushed over her forehead, leaving a trail of tender fire in their wake. She forced her eyes open. Even though Godric's face was pale and his hair hung limp around it, he was still everything she'd wanted, craved. Loved. The sight of him. That was Heaven.

Emily's long lashes fanned as she squeezed his hand. She gave a weak smile. Godric choked back a sob, ghostly reflections of her own pain shimmered in his eyes.

"What happened?" She fought to sit up. Pain radiated into every point of her being, but the pain proved her life—her presence.

"You don't remember?" He squeezed her hand back. Godric sat on the edge of her bed.

"Stairs. I remember stairs?"

Godric's eyes shut at this.

"You fell."

Emily squeezed his hand again, unable to do more to comfort him. "And after?"

Godric looked at her and tucked a loose coil of her hair back behind her ear.

"Blankenship killed that other man, and then I killed Blankenship."

Emily breathed a sigh of relief, only to wince from the pain. She was free of the dark specter of Blankenship forever.

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"Cedric got a broken nose, and a gash in his arm, but he'll mend. He's more upset he can't ride or hunt for the next month." Godric chuckled.

Emily's shoulders sagged. She hadn't realized she'd been so tense.

"Emily, I had my solicitor look into the matter of your inheritance. There is the possibility that if you reached out to the trustee there might be a way to get your father's inheritance without marriage."

Emily bit her bottom lip. What did this mean? Did he want her to be free, or be free of her? In the darkness of her pain after she fell, she thought she heard him speak—declare his love. Had that been nothing more than a dying woman's dream?

Godric began again uncertainly. "Emily, I know you won't marry me. I know that. But I can't live one more day without you. All I ask is that wherever you go, whatever you do, let me come with you. We can travel the world. Whatever you want, it will be yours. I just wish to be with you." Godric moved closer, tightly clenching her hands. "I can't lose you. Not again."

"You would give up your place here?" she asked.

"Emily, for you I'd give up my soul."

"What if I want your heart?"

"It's already been stolen. You, my dear, are the better kidnapper."

Godric opened the bedroom door to find five chairs stationed in a semicircle outside, occupied by his friends and brother. They sat up as he stepped out into the hall.

"How is she?" asked Charles.

Godric shut the door behind him. "She woke for a few minutes but she's asleep again. Ash, can you track down the bishop?" His words turned the men's mood from relieved to anxious before he continued. "And see if we can still arrange for a ceremony in St. George's? She's agreed to marry me!"

His friends and brother all jumped up from their chairs, shouting and cheering, slapping him on the back. A month ago, a marriage among them would have seemed to be a death sentence, but this was the best news they'd ever had. Emily Parr would be a part of their lives now, and not one man would have it otherwise.

Horatia came out into the hallway, with a tray of food. None of them had eaten or slept before now. "You'll be waking the dead with your racket," she said with a disapproving glare.

"Congratulations. I knew you'd be the first to get leg shackled!" Charles joked.

What a fool he'd been. Love had found him, saved him, and he would never let her go.

"Well, don't just stand there, gentleman!" Horatia snapped at the men loitering about around her. "We have a wedding to plan! Ashton, you will arrange the church and the bishop. I'll see to Emily's wedding gown. Charles and Lucien, you must both get all of the families here for this. I want St. George's filled with our loved ones. Jonathan, you ought to go and fetch Penelope, as Emily misses her terribly.

"Cedric, you will make sure Emily's uncle gives his consent to the match. If he's very nice about it, you can even invite him." Horatia shooed the men away from the door so they wouldn't wake Emily.

Cedric looked confused as they left. "When did she become in charge?"

Once they were off Godric returned to Emily's bedside, taking her hand in his.

He rubbed his eyes and gazed down at his sleeping lover. He remembered the young woman on his bed with a dirt smudge on her nose and cheeks, the soaking wet Amazon on the bank of the lake breathing life into him, the woman who fought with words like a swordsman, yet melted in his arms, and the angel who forgave him, who promised she would always love him.

What twist of fate had led him to abduct Emily Parr that night?

He would never know the true depth of his luck in capturing her, this woman who captured him right back. He only knew he would never let her go.