38. Chapter 38 #2
“No. I do not think that is wise, Sterling,” Annabelle said in her most authoritative tone. “While I did relieve him of his pistol—”
“His pistol?” His semblance of calm vanished as flames practically shot from his eyes. She’d seen him vexed. Annoyed. Perplexed. Evidently, however, she’d never seen the man truly angry.
“Never mind that,” she said, rethinking her words. “Rather, you must understand he has not one, but two, burly looking men with him, one of whom is definitely the man who held me at gunpoint.”
“You don’t say?” A cold smile that held no mirth curved his mouth as he tugged his gloves tight, flexed his hands, then strode toward Zeus.
“Good.” she said, with a confidence she wasn’t actually feeling. “We’ll all return to the castle since you surely comprehend that this is a matter for the magistrate. Caroline and I will explain everything.”
“Will you?” In one graceful move, he swung up into the saddle.
“Please, brother. Leave this matter to the authorities,” Caroline pleaded.
He sent them each a cool smile. “Funny. I finally understand what drove Dillon all those years ago.” Smile vanishing, his gaze bounced between them. “I forbid either of you to follow me.”
In the next blink, he was riding hell for leather toward the shore.
Annabelle gazed at Caroline, arms spread wide in consternation.
“I don’t understand. What is he doing? And what was that nonsense about finally understanding Dillon’s behavior?
He can’t simply alter his entire belief system in one afternoon.
He’s adamantly opposed to risking his life over a mere insult. ”
“I think he understands that this was more than an insult.” Caroline’s worried gazed followed her brother. Then she looked at Annabelle. “I hate to say I told you so, especially at this juncture, but this more than proves my point.”
“Your point?”
“My brother loves you.”
She blinked. “You’re saying…you’re saying he’s purposely risking his life because he loves me?”
“Yes. Annabelle—wait. Where are you going?”
She was already scrabbling backwards down the steep hill. “I have to go to him,” she said. “You know I do. If anything happens to him, because of me…I couldn’t bear it. Take Daisy. Get help.”
“Annabelle, no. He forbid us to follow.”
She half laughed, half sobbed. “When did that ever stop me from doing anything I set my mind to?”
“Wait,” Caroline called. “Take Daisy. You’ll get there faster.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got the rifle. Now go.”
***
Annabelle reined Daisy in a short distance from the shoreline, approximating where she’d seen the coble earlier. She wanted to help Sterling, not distract him with worry over her safety. Nor did she want to alert Vane or his men to her presence.
The moment her boots touched the ground, she ran for all she was worth, nearly losing her footing several times as night had fallen and unseen stumps and roots threatened to upend her.
Finally, she reached the rocky, shifting sands marking the shoreline and stumbled to a halt, squinting against the glare of light coming from the sailing vessel, still moored a short way off.
Unfortunately, that told her the ship had not taken on its passengers.
There. A blurred mass, with its accompanying grunts, thuds and slaps of skin against skin told her she’d located her husband. She crept toward the mass and nearly tumbled headlong over a felled log.
No. Not a log. A man. She gasped, quickly covering her mouth. Relief surged through her when she saw it was not Sterling but one of Vane’s men who lay on the ground, unconscious.
She hurried around him.
She was nearly upon the two men locked in combat before she could make out the identity of the figures. Sterling and Grogan.
Her heart rose in her throat. Her husband was tall by anyone’s standards, and well-muscled, but Grogan’s height surpassed even his. And she already knew he was not opposed to murdering someone. Impotent fury filled her. To be here, but unable to do more than watch and pray and wait…
She did have that small pistol. Maybe, if she could get a clear shot…
She slipped her hand into her skirt pocket and grasped the cold metal. Then she circled the men, pistol held out before her, though her hands shook. Indeed, every part of her shook as fear, unlike anything she’d ever known, gripped her.
And not for herself. For Sterling. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t. Not now. She hadn’t even told him she loved him.
She stared in helpless horror as Grogan reared back and swung one heavy fist. It met Sterling’s jaw with a sickening thud. Certain it would take Sterling down, she choked back a whimper.
But Sterling merely shook off the blow.
Was it her imagination, or had he seen her? She couldn’t say for certain, but he fought with seemingly renewed strength, fists flying.
The big man’s arms dropped with the onslaught then his head snapped backward with the last punch. He tottered in place, then crumpled to the ground.
“Sterling,” she cried and took one leaping step toward him before an arm looped around her neck to haul her backward. In a split-second decision, she blindly tossed the pistol in Sterling’s direction.
“Vane, I warn you. Let her go, this instant,” Sterling ground out. He stood panting, legs planted, fists balled at his sides.
She could only make out part of his face, but what she saw horrified her. Her husband’s face was a mask of blood, bruises, and utter rage. It had to be sheer force of will alone keeping him upright.
“I can’t do that,” Vane said, shifting to drag her before him toward the water.
“You’re a mad man. Anyone can see that. I have no notion what she told you, but I assure you, she lied.
I-I’m going to swim out now, and board that ship, and I’m taking her with me.
Stay back, or I’ll drown her. I swear I will. ”
Sterling said nothing. He just stalked forward, a great, menacing, ball of fury.
“Stay back, I said.”
The water lapped at her boots and skirts as she attempted to dig in her heels. “I tossed a pistol,” she choked out.
Sterling met her gaze, or she thought he did. Thanks to the darkness and his bruises, she couldn’t be sure.
“I don’t need it,” he said in a voice like cut glass. He withdrew something from his waistband, and tossed it. It landed with a thump. “I had my own. I prefer to do this with my bare hands.”
Then he charged. Vane screamed, released her, and dove into the water.
She strove for the shore, water pulling at her skirts as Sterling surged past her, into the surf to pluck Vane out. Then he tossed him like so much litter into the foam-lined shore before leaping onto his prone body.
Horse hoofs pounded as horses and riders reached the end of the access road and dismounted.
“My lord,” one of them called. It was Chip. He ran toward Sterling, straddled atop Vane, landing punch after punch.
Mr Cogsworth crossed to Annabelle as another horse and rider appeared. Caroline this time riding another horse from Sterling’s stable.
Annabelle dimly noted alarm bells ringing in the distance.
Meanwhile Sterling’s assault continued though Chip was trying his best to stay him.
Despite Mr. Cogworth’s attempt to discourage her, Annabelle moved toward her husband. “Sterling. You must stop.” She touched his shoulder—and he froze, seeming to come out of whatever fugue state had him in its grip. Head swiveling, he looked at her, looked down at Vane, looked at Chip.
“Keep her safe?” he asked on a hoarse lisp.
“I will, my lord. Only let us get you back to the manse and see to your injuries.”
Torso wavering, he shook his head. “Can’t leave them. Must be charged.”
“The magistrate’s being summoned,” Caroline said drawing near. “Can’t you hear the bells? We’ll set men to guard them. And look, the sailing ship is lifting its sails. Come, Sterling, please.”
He shifted, then, reaching for Annabelle with both arms.
She went to him with no hesitation, helping him to his feet.
“Annabelle,” he breathed.
Her beautiful, strong husband looked to have beaten to a pulp. “Darling, what have they done to you? This is all my fault,” Annabelle choked.
Amazingly, he cupped her cheek with one sand-and-blood crusted hand. “No. It’s mine. I failed you.” He choked on the last, nearly breaking her heart.
She wrapped her arms around him as gently as she could. “No. You never could.”
“Annabelle?”
“Yes?”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Oh.” With no idea what to do next, she waved one hand behind him in a silent plea for help.
Chip and Cogsworth hurried over.
“Promise me one thing,” he said.
“Anything.”
“Don’t ever leave me. I’ll do better.”
She choked out a laugh that was half sob “Never.”
Chip and Cogsworth caught him as his legs went out from under him.