Chapter 16
Alistair leaned low over the neck of his horse, urging the animal into a desperate pace.
The wind cut against his face, the pounding of hooves a thunderous echo in his ears.
They had been riding for hours with no sign of Lady Cosima’s coach, and the gnawing dread in his chest grew sharper with every passing mile.
He cast a glance at Lord Rupert, noting the grim determination etched across his features.
Neither of them would yield, not while Jane’s safety hung in the balance.
Please let me not be too late.
That thought burned through him, spurring him to dig his heels harder, even as he felt the strain in his horse beneath him. His own muscles ached, his body screaming for rest, but his heart knew no such weakness. If Jane had been taken—if she had been harmed—he would never forgive himself.
At last, rounding a bend in the road, he spotted a coach standing still in the lane. His heart lurched as his eyes fell upon a slight, familiar figure—Lady Cosima. Relief and dread tangled within him. He reined in hard, the horse skidding to a halt.
“Where is Lady Jane?” he called out.
A look of relief softened Lady Cosima’s anxious features. “Adam took her. You must get her back.”
Her brother. Of course. Alistair’s jaw tightened, rage sparking through his veins. “For what purpose?”
“He means to force her to marry the duke.”
The words struck like a blade. That blasted duke again. He turned his gaze back down the road, fury rising in his chest. “How long ago?”
“Not long,” Lady Cosima said quickly. “If you ride hard, you can still overtake them.”
Rupert shifted beside him. “I am not certain our horses can endure much more. We have driven them near to exhaustion.”
“They will rest when Jane is safe,” Alistair snapped, already spurring his mount forward. His horse stumbled slightly before catching rhythm again. He muttered a brief apology under his breath, but there was no other choice.
Behind him, Lady Cosima’s urgent cry rang out. “Go, my lord—please!”
He did not need to be told twice. He and Rupert pressed on, the pounding of hooves carrying them across the country road. And then—they saw it. A black coach, rattling at breakneck speed.
Rupert pulled his pistol and urged his horse close to the driver. The driver’s alarmed shout split the air—“Highwaymen!”—and the coach lurched to a slower pace before halting altogether.
Turning his attention to the two guards on the back of the coach, Alistair ordered, “Drop your pistols.”
The men quickly obliged, and Alistair dismounted his horse to collect their pistols, tucking them into his waistband.
The door creaked open, and Lord Barkley’s smug face appeared. “What is the meaning of this?”
Alistair’s blood boiled. He leveled his pistol at the man. “Unhand your sister!”
Barkley only laughed, infuriatingly calm. “I’ve no intention of releasing her. You’ll have to shoot me first.”
“I can arrange that,” Alistair said, cocking the hammer back.
“Alistair!” Jane’s voice cried, desperate yet unbroken. His heart squeezed painfully at the sound. She appeared in the doorway, struggling to get free. Barkley yanked her back by the arm.
“If you fire, you risk hitting Jane,” Barkley taunted.
Alistair narrowed his eyes, his voice a growl. “Are you such a coward that you must hide behind your sister?”
Barkley sneered. “Call it what you like, but we are at an impasse.” His tone shifted, sly and vile. “Let me take Jane to the duke, and I’ll cut you in. Five thousand pounds for your troubles.”
“Am I to assume the duke is paying for her hand?”
“Genius, is it not? The duke gets his duchess. We get paid and we get to keep Jane’s dowry. A win-win.” Barkley’s smirk was unrepentant, as though he had made a brilliant bargain.
“You sold your own sister,” Alistair said, disgust coating each syllable. “As though she were cattle.”
Barkley shrugged indifferently. “What else is she good for?”
Before Alistair could speak, Rupert muttered, “Just shoot him.”
But Barkley shoved Jane forward like a shield. “Go on, then. If you shoot me, you’ll strike her first.”
Rupert steadied his aim on his other arm. “I can still put a ball in him.”
“No,” Alistair said. His eyes never left Jane. I will not risk her.
In the next breath, Jane acted. With sudden fierceness, she drove her elbow into Barkley’s gut and flung herself out of the coach. Alistair surged forward even as Rupert fired. Barkley screamed as the ball tore through his shoulder, blood blooming across his shirt.
“You shot me!” Barkley cried.
“You’ll live,” Rupert replied without a flicker of sympathy.
With his pistol still raised, Alistair hurried over to Jane. His eyes scoured her for injury. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, though her trembling voice betrayed her fear. “No—I’m fine.”
Every instinct in him screamed to pull her into his arms, to hold her and never let go, but there was still danger. He turned his pistol back on Barkley. “If you so much as look at your sister again, I will kill you.”
“What am I to tell the duke?” Barkley gasped, clutching his bleeding shoulder.
Alistair’s lip curled. “Tell him you grew a conscience.”
“Jane,” Barkley pleaded, desperation breaking through. “Think of what you’re refusing—power, wealth, a duchess’s crown!”
Jane’s chin lifted. “I don’t want it. I never did. And I never want to see you again.”
Her brother’s face twisted in rage. “If you walk away, Father and I are ruined. Is that truly what you want for us?”
She met his gaze without flinching. “Goodbye, Adam.”
Barkley shifted as though to follow, but Alistair’s pistol snapped higher. “Stay where you are. Another step, and I’ll end you. I am not so merciful as Rupert.”
“Then go!” Barkley spat. “You are both dead to me!”
Alistair ignored him. He extended his hand to Jane, his voice gentler now. “We’ll have to ride together until we reach Lady Cosima’s coach.”
“I have no objections,” she responded.
He lifted her into the saddle before mounting behind her. The moment she leaned back against him, Alistair’s arms tightened instinctively. She fit there—as though she had always belonged.
They rode through the countryside until Lady Cosima’s coach came into view. The older woman gasped, relief flooding her face.
“Jane!” she cried, rushing forward as soon as Alistair dismounted and helped Jane down. The two women embraced tightly, and Lady Cosima clung to her niece as though she would never let go again.
Tears glimmered in Lady Cosima’s eyes as she looked at Alistair. “Thank you, my lord. Thank you.”
He inclined his head, swallowing down the storm of emotions still raging inside him. “It was my honor.”
Rupert dismounted with a wry grin. “I have been waiting for the chance to shoot Barkley for quite some time. Today, fortune smiled on me.”
“I wish I’d had the opportunity as well,” Alistair muttered under his breath.
“The day is still young,” Rupert quipped.
Lady Cosima, still holding Jane close, finally drew back and composed herself. “We shall be on our way to my country estate.”
Alistair stiffened. Not if I can help it.
He reached into his coat and withdrew the folded sheet Rupert had passed him earlier.
“About that—I do not believe it is safe for you to return there.” He extended the paper towards her.
“This was taken from one of our attackers’ lodgings. Is this the layout of your estate?”
Lady Cosima accepted the paper and unfolded it. The blood drained from her face. “It is.” Her wide eyes lifted to his. “Where did you get this?”
“Rupert found it,” Alistair explained grimly. “If they have your plans in hand, then your estate is no refuge. I think the safest place for you—for all of you—is my townhouse in London.”
“Absolutely not!” Lady Cosima exclaimed.
Rupert bobbed his head in agreement with Alistair. “I must agree with Lord Alcott, my lady. He is one of the finest soldiers I have ever known. He will keep you safe, and if it eases your mind, I shall remain there as well until this danger has passed.”
Lady Cosima frowned, clearly torn. “I do not know. If word got out… Jane could be ruined.”
“No one will know,” Alistair said firmly.
He leaned forward, meeting her gaze with the unflinching steadiness that had carried him through battlefields.
“My household is loyal. I shall make it clear that if anyone so much as breathes a word of your presence, they will be dismissed without reference. Discretion will be absolute.”
Lady Cosima’s sharp eyes narrowed, the lines of her mouth pursing in doubt. “Did you not almost die at the hands of one of your servants?”
Alistair stiffened, but before he could reply, Rupert gave a dry laugh, as though the matter were far less grave than it was. “He was a recent hire,” he interjected.
Looking unimpressed, Lady Cosima asked, “Is it truly a time for jokes, young man?” she asked, turning to her niece. “What do you think, Jane?”
Jane pressed her lips together, considering, then said, “I think we should accept Lord Alcott’s offer. I would feel much safer knowing he was there to protect us, especially after he just saved my life.”
Her words struck Alistair in a place he had not realized was vulnerable. That she trusted him—not merely tolerated his company, but actively wanted it—meant more than he could say.
“And me,” Rupert added with mock injury, a smile tugging at his lips. “Did you forget that I saved you as well?”
Jane’s shoulders relaxed as she allowed herself a small smile. “I did not, my lord. Thank you.”
The levity lifted some of the tension from the air, and Alistair seized upon it. Clasping his hands together, he said, “Then it is settled. We shall return to my townhouse until such time as it is safe for you to depart elsewhere.”
Lady Cosima sighed. “Very well. But let it be known I go under protest.”
“Duly noted,” Alistair replied. “Might we ride in the coach with you? Our horses have been pressed near their limits.”