Chapter Eight #3
The knife pricked against her shoulder—the kidnapper was tall, or she would have felt it nearer her waist. He urged her into the enclosed staircase.
In that moment she fervently prayed to Roarke’s namesake—his father—and to the archangels: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Uriel.
Surely her prayer would be heard by those fierce warrior guardian angels!
Her mum had told her that the angels carried huge swords in the battle to defeat Lucifer and the powers of evil.
Partway down the stairs, her gown slipped from her hand, and she nearly lost her footing.
Tucking Roarke tight against her, she curled herself around him, prepared to fall.
At the last moment, she was saved by the kidnapper, whose huge hand clamped on one shoulder.
A heartbeat later, she felt the painful reminder—the tip of the blade—that she was under his control.
But Pippa refused to let him get away with stealing her best friend’s babe!
She shifted to loosen his hold on her, and the blade sliced through the fabric of her gown, into her shoulder.
Shock had her gasping for breath, while the pain intensified when he yanked the knife out of her.
“You’d best watch your step,” he warned, “unless you’d rather I gut you now.”
She managed to catch her breath, and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. It took the rest of her reserves of strength to say, “I… I’ll be careful.”
They reached the bottom of the steps, but she couldn’t reach for the door without dropping her precious burden. “I can’t open it. The babe… My shoulder…”
He shoved her aside. “I’ll open it!”
Pippa felt another shaft of agony and the warmth of her blood where he pressed against the wound. She fought to hold on to consciousness as he shoved the door open.
Her captor cursed as he was yanked off his feet and hauled through the doorway.
“Bloody hell! Curtis? Hang on to the bleeding bugger, Garahan, while I grab hold of the babe and the lass!”
Flaherty’s voice sounded farther away. He wouldn’t just leave. Would he? “Flaherty, please don’t leave us.”
“Ah, lass, I’ll not be leaving ye in this lifetime.” Hands tried to dislodge the babe from her arms, but she’d managed to tighten her grip.
“No! You cannot have him.” Her strength was ebbing along with her grip. She sank to her knees and cried out, “Millie!”
“Where is she?” she heard her friend ask. “Where’s Pippa?”
Flaherty knelt by Pippa’s side. “Here now, lass. Let me have Roarke—he’s wanting his ma.”
“Pippa! It’s Millie. Thank God he’s safe. You can let go now.”
At the sound of Millie’s voice, Pippa let Flaherty take the babe from her.
“Thank you, Lord,” Millie rasped. “And you too, Pippa!”
“Phineas and Percy helped.” It was a chore for Pippa to speak. Her head swam, and her stomach churned. “Don’t feel good.”
“Dear Lord,” Millie cried out, “is that blood? Flaherty, Pippa’s bleeding!”
*
Flaherty felt the warmth of the lass’s blood where he’d touched her upper back and fought the urge to roar in anger.
The blackguard would pay for stabbing Pippa!
He lifted his gaze from the woman in his arms and met Garahan’s.
The anger in his cousin’s eyes settled his own, allowing Flaherty to question the footman who been hired by the baron six months ago, thinking it would be a comfort to Percy and Phineas to see a familiar face among the staff.
He struggled against Garahan’s hold, but was unable to break it.
“If ye cooperate and tell us how you know about Pippa, Millie, and her babe, we might ask the constable to go easy on ye.”
Curtis shrugged.
“Did Trentchester hire ye?”
“Thinks he knows everything,” the footman scoffed. “My cousin and I had a plan to blackmail him.” He glared and Flaherty and Garahan. “Would have worked too, if not for the squire’s brats and that meddling woman!”
“As God is me witness,” Flaherty growled, “whatever ye did to the lass, ye’ll suffer threefold.”
“Ye’re a traitor,” Garahan murmured. “And ye planned to double-cross the man who hired ye.”
“Trentchester didn’t hire me—my cousin works for him and has been robbing him blind for the past few months, while the man was busy planning to get his hands on that babe!”
Flaherty had to ask, “Does the squire have anything to do with this?”
“Another toff who thinks he’s smarter than those of us who shine his shoes.”
“Ye’re no smarter that Trentchester or the squire,” Garahan murmured.
“Ye’ll pay the price for kidnapping Millie’s babe, and the attempted murder of Baron Stanhope’s daughter.”
Garahan cracked his knuckles. “Before we turn ye over to the constable, we’ll be teaching what it means to honor a vow.”
The man stilled, but to his credit, did not quail.
Flaherty touched his right hand to his heart, leaving a bloody handprint that he’d swear he could feel, but it wouldn’t show against the black.
No matter—he’d felt the warmth of the lass’s blood, and knew that Garahan saw and recognized his gesture.
“We’ll need Mrs. Green and Mrs. Chauncey’s help. Someone has to fetch Dr. Higgins.”
“Aye, Dillon.”
“And get that bloody blackguard out of me sight before I rip his heart out!”
“Done!” Garahan dragged the would-be kidnapper down the hallway.
“Lass, can ye hear me? The blood has spread from yer shoulder near to yer waist. Tell me where he stabbed ye, so I can stop the bleeding!”
Praise be to God and all his angels, she was still conscious.
“Left shoulder. Hurts…” Speaking must have been more than she could handle.
Fear’s sharp talons grabbed hold of Flaherty as she went limp in his arms. He yanked the two spare cravats out of his coat pocket, folded them, and pressed them to her shoulder.
Her weak cry told him she wasn’t unconscious—yet—just dazed with pain from her wound.
The twins rushed to his side, each boy placing a hand on one of Flaherty’s shoulders. “Is she hurt bad?” Percy asked.
“Bad enough,” Flaherty answered honestly.
“I wanted to stand at her side and fight,” Phineas whispered. “She told me to go for help…I should have stayed, as neither one of us trusted Curtis—but he said he’d…”
Flaherty looked at Phineas. “A man of honor knows fear isn’t the way to earn a man’s—nor lad’s—trust. We know what’s in yer hearts, lads. Ye saved yer cousin, and then the baroness, a few months ago.”
“But it was our father—”
“Ye’re not responsible for the actions of yer da, nor yer ma.
Remember that.” Flaherty pulled one foot out from beneath him, and the boys dropped their hands as Flaherty levered himself to his feet.
“Ye two brave lads best come with me. Ye can tell me the rest of what ye know later. I need to carry the lass down to the healing room.”
“By the pantry,” Percy said.
“Aye, lad. Open the staircase door,” Flaherty ordered him. “Quick, now.”
Percy did as Flaherty asked and clattered down the staircase with Phineas hot on his heels.
Unease settled into the marrow of Flaherty’s bones.
He could still lose the lass. If not from blood loss, infection.
He needed to see the blade the bastard used on Pippa.
He doubted Curtis had had the time to wipe it clean, but what was more of a worry was whether it was rusted.
The bloody blackguard—Squire Honeycutt’s former servant—had obviously threatened the two lads into silence during the few months he’d been a part of the baron’s staff. Garahan would want to take a sizeable piece out of the man. Flaherty would let him have a turn…after he beat the truth out of him.
When they reached the bottom, he sent the footman standing guard by the rear entrance to tell Garahan he needed to see the blackguard’s blade.
“We spread a clean bed linen on the cot,” Phineas said as Flaherty carried Pippa into the room.
“Mrs. Green already put two pitchers of water on the long table over there,” Percy added.
“Good lads.” Flaherty carefully laid the lass on her side, but when she started to slump over onto her back, he shifted her until she lay on her stomach. “Bring a handful of those linen squares here, lads. We need to keep pressure on her wound.”
Percy’s eyes filled, and a tear escaped Phineas’s guard, as they handed him a few of the cloths. Ignoring the sight of her blood on his hands, Flaherty shook his head. “I’ve got the order all wrong, lads. One of ye fetch the large bowl from the sideboard. Hurry now.”
“Why?” Percy asked.
Frustration filled him. He wanted to be two places at once. Here with the lass, putting pressure on her wound—and in the outbuilding beating the shite out of the footman who’d stabbed her, thinking he could steal Millie’s babe!
“Hold the bowl still. I need to put the sodden cloths in the bowl. There’s a lad, Percy. Don’t be afraid, and don’t be touching the blood now.”
“You are,” Phineas reminded him.
“That I am, but I’ll be washing up soon.
” Flaherty nodded to Phineas. “I’ll take those cloths now.
Thank ye, lads. Ye’ve done a grand job.” Their worry washed over him, adding to his, but Flaherty dug deeper to find his own calm.
“I’ve handled wounds like this more than once.
Don’t worry about Pippa—’tis the loose weave of the fabric of her gown that allowed the blood to spread so far so fast. She’ll recover and be just as feisty as she was before. ”
“Promise?” Percy asked.
“On your honor?” Phineas added.
“On me honor, lads.” Footsteps hurrying down the hall had Flaherty thanking the boys. “If ever I need help catching another kidnapper, the two of ye will be the first I enlist. I’m in yer debt.”
Phineas nodded. “Can both my brother and I can ask a special favor of you?”
“Aye, lads—later, though.”
“Anything?” Percy asked.
“Ye have me word”—Flaherty saw Phineas open his mouth, and knew what lad would ask—“of honor.”
The boys hesitated when Mrs. Green asked them to go and wash their hands in the alcove off the kitchen. “We have to tell Pippa something first,” Phineas said.
“It’s important,” Percy added.
“Very well, but hurry,” the cook said. “Miss Pippa needs that wound cleaned!”
Flaherty’s heart filled with pride as first Phineas and then Percy quietly approached the lass, whispered something, and kissed the top of her head. “We’re trusting you to protect her for us, Flaherty,” Phineas said.
“It’s me duty and me pleasure, lads.” Their worry was a living, breathing thing, and Flaherty wanted the brave lads to remember their part in the rescue.
He reminded them that without their help, there was no telling how far away the blackguard would have gotten with the babe and Pippa.
What was more, they’d identified the kidnapper and his connection to the man Millie and Pippa feared enough to risk both Millie and her babe’s lives on their desperate journey to the Borderlands.
Before Mrs. Green ushered them out of the room, they approached him.
Flaherty thanked them again, pleased that they’d finally begun to trust that Flaherty knew what he was talking about, and that Pippa would recover.
He said to them, “I could use yer help in the personal matter that involves the lass. Can I count on ye?”
“Yes!” Percy said.
“Depends on what it is,” Phineas replied.
Flaherty studied the young boy’s expression before adding, “’Tis important to the lass’s future and me own.”
Phineas finally answered, “Then you can count on me, too.”
“I’ve asked the lass to marry me, but she said she’s thinking about it. Will the both of ye put in a good word for me for the next fortnight—or however long it takes her to heal and say yes?”
The two grinned. “Every day!” Percy repeated.
“For a fortnight,” Phineas said. “I think she’s sweet on you.”
“Do ye now?”
“Boys!” Mrs. Chauncey entered the room and motioned to the twins. “Beth is in the kitchen ready to help you wash up before you have your tea and cake.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Chauncey! Bye, Flaherty!” the twins chorused, then departed.
Mrs. Green sighed. “They mean well and are good boys.”
“We have them to thank for noticing the footman on the nursery floor. They’re heroes and deserve more than tea and cake.”
“And I have just the thing in mind,” the baron said from where he stood in the doorway.
“So ye heard?”
The baron nodded. “I trust you were going to fill me in.”
“Aye, after Pippa’s been tended to.” Flaherty waited a moment, then asked, “What kind of a surprise do ye have in mind for the twins?”
“A surprise of the four-legged variety—Phoebe and I discussed giving each of them a pony with Prudence, who thought it was a wonderful idea.” Sensing the tension in the room, Summerfield asked, “How bad is it?”
“’Tisn’t good, but I won’t know how deep she’s been stabbed until Mrs. Green lends a hand with cleansing the wound.”
The cook frowned at Flaherty. “You will not be in here while I do,” she told him. “It would not be proper—I need to expose her back.”
“As she’s going to be me wife, it is proper,” Flaherty insisted.
“That’s wonderful,” Mrs. Green said.
The baron smiled, and asked, “When did she accept your offer of marriage?”
Flaherty shrugged. “As soon as she wakes up.”