Chapter 17 #2
Rafael cocked his head to listen. Over the faint swirl of eddying river, he heard the slipping and sliding of footsteps.
Taking a firm hold of the hound’s collar, he started forward, a swift, silent predator, stalking his prey.
Picking his way over the rough ground, he kept to the higher ground, and at the next small bend, he spotted Matherton and Kyra walking along the narrow path at the river’s edge.
Slowly, slowly, he crept closer—close enough to overhear what was being said.
With his hair in disarray and his bedraggled evening clothes spattered with mud, Matherton looked like a demon just dragged up from some underworld cesspool. His mood was apparently equally foul, for he was in the midst of needling Kyra about her fateful accident..
“Ah, this stretch of riverbank brings back memories, does it not? If you hadn’t been so reckless, I’d be well-settled in an advantageous marriage, and enjoying all the special favors that go along with being the son-in-law of a duke.” A pause. “You caused me a great deal of trouble.”
When Kyra didn’t answer him, he added, “And let’s not forget that your dear sister Lexy would be alive.”
The last comment finally goaded Kyra into replying. “You aren’t fit to speak her name.”
“Aren’t I?” A dappling of moonlight illuminated his nasty sneer. “I have no doubt that I could have seduced her too. That was my plan you know—to woo her secretly after we were wed. The idea of deflowering the pair of you was . . . exciting. But then, you went and ruined it all.”
Rage boiled through Rafael’s blood on hearing the cruel taunt, then turned to an ice-cold calm. He crept up close behind them, then rose from a half crouch. “Just as I shall ruin this cowardly abduction.”
The sound of Rafael’s voice was like a blade of pure light piercing the blackness of her captor’s malevolence. As Matherton whirled around, surprise loosened his grip for an instant, allowing Kyra to twist free.
He lunged to recapture her, only to be knocked backward by a hard punch to the face.
“My nose!” he howled as blood streamed down his chin. “You’ve broken my nose!”
“Yes, and I intend to break every bone in your miserable body,” answered Rafael. He caught Kyra as she swayed and steadied her with a quick hug. “Are you alright, my love?” he asked. “If this miscreant has harmed you in any way, I shall also break his worthless neck.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered, reveling in the feel of his warm, solid body. Nothing could harm her now. “With your arms around me, I could face Lucifer and a legion of dark devils.”
His lips touched her brow. “You won’t ever have to face devils or demons again.”
Wiping the blood from his face, Matherton scrabbled back a step, a mingling of bullying bravado and fear contorting his features. He whipped out a concealed knife from inside his coat. “Stay back,” he blustered in a shrill voice. “Or I’ll slash your neck from ear to ear.”
“Not bloody likely.” Rafael released his hold and angled his body to shield her. “Fancy yourself a warrior, Matherton? Well, let’s see who has more expertise with a blade. Just a word of fair warning—point that at me and it will end up rammed down your gullet.”
Matherton retreated again, waving the weapon wildly through the air. Darting a nervous glance at the dark silhouette of the bridge, he replied, “Bloody Hell, you want damaged goods? Very well, you can have her. There are plenty of other plump pigeons to pluck.”
“Not for you,” said Rafael calmly. “Your days as a predator are over.”
“I am a titled English lord, and you are a half-breed nobody,” shouted Matherton. He added a harsh laugh. “Kyra is a ruined lady, shunned by Society. Whose story do you think will be believed?”
“Lord Olivito has the most noble blood from both Spain and England running through his veins,” countered Kyra. “While you have polluted any claim to honor with your evil.”
Matherton’s foul oath was cut off by Hero’s snapping growl. Teeth bared, the hound slowly stalked closer
The knife flashed up, and with a grunt, Matherton swung a vicious blow?—
BANG!
Kyra flinched, but in the momentary flare of gunpowder sparks she saw the weapon fly out of her former fiancé’s hand.
Raphael lowered his pocket pistol and let it drop to the ground. “There—we’re now both unarmed. Shall we go mano a mano as real men do?”
Clutching his hand, which had been nicked by the bullet, Matherton began babbling a mad mix of invectives and threats. “You’ll both pay for this! I’ll see you disgraced! I have powerful friends.”
“You have nothing, save a list of sordid sins. Whatever influence you once wielded, it is over.”
“No! No!” As he screamed, Matherton was crabbing toward the river and the grassy verge on the far side of the bridge, where his carriage was poised for flight. Boots slipping and sliding over the damp slope, he had just reached the path when Hero suddenly took off after him.
In a blur of starlit grey, the hound leaped, teeth gnashing, paws flailing. The impact sent them both flying into the water.
“Hero!” cried Kyra and started forward.
“Have no fear.” Rafael eased her back with a gruff chuckle. “I am quite confident our amigo will come to no harm.”
Sure enough, after a frenzy of thrashing and bubbling, the hound swam back to the near bank and clawed his way back up to the path. Clamped in his jaws was a mass of sodden fabric.
As for Matherton, he splashed through the far shallows and fell to his knees in the mud, exhausted and fighting for breath around his sobs of rage. The moon broke free from the scudding clouds, and for a moment the silver light shone bright on his naked arse.
“How apt—you are stripped of your lies, and your perfidy is now bared for all to see!” called Rafael.
“Listen, and listen carefully, Matherton. You will get in your carriage and fly to the coast, where you will embark on the first ship leaving for the Continent. I own all your debts, and if you are still on English soil at dawn, I will have you arrested and thrown into debtor’s prison.
If you ever set foot back in England, you will be thrown into debtor’s prison. Do you understand me?”
“But I can’t go to a strange country. With no money, no friends, no entrée into society, my future prospect will be ruined!”
Rafael’s face looked as if it had been chiseled out of granite. “Precisely.”
Kyra couldn’t summon up a twinge of pity for her former fiancé. A man that rotten to the core deserved none.
“You are wasting precious time, Matherton,” added Rafael. “The clock is ticking.”
Dragging himself to his feet, he yanked his shirttails and coat down to cover his nakedness and hurriedly limped off.
Woof. A shower of muddy river water dampened Kyra’s gown as Hero shook himself vigorously and dropped Matherton’s torn trousers at her feet with a happy canine smile.
Rafael chuckled. “I think my amigo may have won the honors tonight for his prowess in battle.”
“I think,” said Kyra, “you are both the most wonderful heroes in the world.”
Woof.
He tipped up her chin. This time, his embrace was long and leisurely.
“Nothing is sweeter than your kiss,” she said as their lips feathered apart.
“Not even my chocolate confections?” he asked with a zephyr-soft laugh.
“No,” she said decisively. “Not even chocolate.”
“I shall not argue the point.” Twining his fingers with hers, he glanced up at the sky. “But much as I would like to prolong our intimacies, we had better return to the Manor. It’s getting close to midnight, and I have been promised a special waltz.”