Chapter Twenty-Two
Pippa’s heart was in her throat, a dangerous place to be, as the blade in Grant Trentchester’s hand was pressed against it.
“You have caused enough trouble for me! Millie is like a meek and mild lamb, following you and listening to everything you tell her to do. This stops now!”
Spittle from Trentchester’s impassioned speech splattered on her forearm.
But she refused to let go of his wrist to wipe it off.
If she loosened her hold, she would feel the knife thrust deep, and the icy-cold blade would instantly be coated with her blood.
Drop by drop, her life would ebb, and with it her chance at happiness with Flaherty.
Dillon. His name was a prayer whispered in her heart. She dared not say it aloud for fear that Trentchester would go after Flaherty and take his life as well. Though Pippa did not want to spend eternity without him, she did not want Flaherty to die because of her foolishness.
Dear Father in Heaven, she should have listened and stayed put with the other women. Why did she always have to hurtle headlong into trouble? She’d been in more scrapes over the years than her older brother Miles—and he was the mischief maker.
The tip of the knife against her throat reminded her not to make any sudden moves. She wondered how long her strength would hold out. The only thing keeping the knife from plunging into her throat was the hold she had on her captor’s wrist.
“Don’t move, Pippa-lass. Drop the knife, Grant, or I’ll gut ye from neck to navel!”
Pippa gasped. Flaherty was here? How did he find her?
“Don’t move, lass.”
Fearing that she’d be the one gutted, she froze, while her mind reeled.
Her questions would have to wait. The knife lowered as Grant’s grip on her loosened.
She heard Winston shout a warning as she was flung toward the massive oak tree in front of them.
She had seconds to act, and used her forearms to guard her face before she felt the impact as she crashed into the tree.
Her arms ached and her forehead burned. The last thing she saw was blood dripping onto her arms. Her tortured mind heard Flaherty shouting her name a heartbeat before darkness claimed her.
*
“I’ve got Grant, Flaherty. Pippa needs help!” Roarke shouted. He disarmed his brother, sweeping his feet out from under him, then put his knee in the middle of his back. “You will pay for all you have done to Millie and Pippa.”
“You don’t have the resources I have—”
Roarke growled, “You have nothing! There are witnesses who will testify to your cruelty and attempts to steal my wife—my Millie! Damn you to hell!”
“It will be your word against mine. You’re just a lowly army captain, while I have connections within the military,”
“Viscount Palmerston of the War Office has a warrant out for your arrest, Grant,” Winston told him, as he helped Roarke restrain Trentchester.
“But I am a wealthy man of business,” Trentchester shouted, “My wife is an heiress who—”
“Your wife has sought sanctuary with her aunt and will be filing for divorce,” Roarke told his brother.
“You have not been especially clever, covering up your misdeeds, Grant, nor the extravagant baubles and houses let for your three mistresses. Those expenses, added to your attempts to steal my son the moment he was delivered, will keep you locked up for years.”
When his brother stopped struggling and lay still, Roarke called over his shoulder. “How is Pippa, Flaherty?”
“She’s unconscious. Her arms are scraped raw and bruised.
The left one badly—and the angle’s all wrong.
It may be broken.” Flaherty felt as if every ounce of air had left his lungs.
God, why could I not have arrived a few moments sooner?
Me wife has suffered enough, please let her regain consciousness so that I may tell her how much I love her?
“She must have struck her head when my brother flung her out of his way.”
Flaherty ripped off his cravat and dabbed at the steady trickle of blood from the cut high on her forehead.
With pressure, he was able to control the bleeding.
“’Tisn’t as deep as I feared. I’ll need to wrap it so I can carry her home.
We need to get her back to Summerfield Chase as quickly as possible. Tie up the bloody bugger!”
“No rope,” Roarke replied, pressing his knee harder against his brother’s back.
“Ye have a cravat,” Flaherty reminded him. “Use it!”
Roarke removed his cravat and tied Grant’s hands behind his back—as of this moment, he no longer had a brother. “Done!”
“I have a spare cravat in me pocket, but me hands are full. Winston, can ye retrieve it for me? I need to put Pippa’s arm in a sling before I lift her.”
“Go ahead,” Roarke told his friend. “I’ll lend a hand after I flip the prisoner onto his back.”
“Let him eat dirt!” Flaherty growled.
“Dear God, Pippa!” Winston rasped, “What happened?”
“Grant had a hold of her from behind, with his knife to her throat,” Flaherty explained.
“I convinced him to drop his weapon, but didn’t anticipate that he’d fling me wife against a tree!
He’ll pay for that.” Winston stalked over to where Flaherty cradled his wife to his chest. “The spare cravat’s in me left pocket. ”
Pippa’s brother retrieved the cravat from Flaherty’s pocket and said, “You love my sister.”
“With all me heart. We need to get her back as quickly as possible. Dr. Higgins will need to set her arm as quickly as possible. It’ll swell soon.”
Her brother winced. “We rode double to get here as fast as we could. Thank you for saving my sister’s life, Flaherty.”
“She’s the other half of me heart. I’d lay down me life for her.” When his wife stirred in his arms, he rasped, “Why did ye not stay put, lass?”
“I could not take the chance that he’d try to take Millie and Roarke’s babe.” Pippa slowly opened her eyes and grimaced. “Everything hurts.”
Flaherty brushed a kiss to her cheek and shifted the cravat around her head until he was satisfied it would stanch the blood.
“Aye, lass, not that ye deserve to feel pain, but mayhap it’ll keep ye from running off, when ye should be telling yer husband there’s trouble and leave it to him to deal with. ”
Pippa struggled to lift her one arm and realized it was being held immobile. She looked up and gasped. “Winston? Why are you here, and what are you doing with that cravat?”
Her brother quickly fashioned a triangle out of the cloth and handed it to Flaherty.
“Obliged, colonel. Hold still, lass, and while ye are, answer me question. Why did ye not stay put?”
Flaherty felt the cool touch of her small hand on his jaw and glanced down into tired blue-gray eyes shadowed with pain. “I did it for Millie. She’s the sister I never had. Not that I do not love my brothers, but a sister is different.”
“I know it, lass, as I’ve had occasion to watch more than one of me cousin’s wives form an attachment to their sisters-in-law.
I’ve yet to meet me brother’s wives, but I’m certain they’ll be like sisters to us in no time, like Caro and Prudence have become.
None of them have been close friends as long as yerself and Millie. ”
Winston nodded. “You’re right, Flaherty. They are sisters in all but blood.” He held out his hands. “Here, I’ll hold my sister while you mount.”
“No need—I can do both.” Before Winston or Roarke could stop him, Flaherty slung a leg over his horse and settled on its back with Pippa safely tucked against his heart.
Once she was securely on his lap, he nodded to her brother.
“If ye could cart the refuse back to Summerfield Chase, I’d be obliged.
Ye can use this.” He reached into the leather sack slung over his horse in front of the saddle and pulled out a length of rope.
“I keep varying lengths of rope handy, as well as cravats, which are more useful to manacle hands. Ye never know when ye’ll need a good, sturdy length of rope.
Tie it to the bugger’s hands and make him walk back alongside yer horse. ”
Winston did as Flaherty suggested.
Glancing down at his wife, Flaherty whispered, “Close yer eyes, lass, and rest yer head on me. I’ve got ye, and I’m never letting ye out of me sight again!”
Winston was tying the rope around Trentchester and paused. “That sounded like a threat, Flaherty.”
“And so ’tis, but I’d never raise a hand to me wife.”
Roarke shoved Winston out of his way. “Let me tie it.”
Winston stalked over to Flaherty. “Just what did you mean by not letting her out of yer sight?”
“If ye’ve been promoted to the level of colonel without knowing what that means, I’ll lose all faith in the army.”
Roarke laughed. “You’re an Irishman.”
“That I am,” Flaherty said, with an upward tilt of his chin. “And yer point would be?”
Roarke snickered. “You probably do not have any faith in the royal army to begin with.”
Flaherty nearly choked on his laughter. “Well now, I knew ye had a good brain inside that thick head of yers. Faith, but I like ye, Roarke.”
The small hand cupping his cheek had Flaherty looking down into his wife’s bruised face. “Are ye all right, lass?”
“Just what did you mean by that comment, husband?”
“I’m thinking the knock to yer head rattled yer brains if ye’re asking me that.”
She poked him in the cheek. “Well?”
He chuckled as he captured her finger and brought it to his lips to kiss the tip. In a low voice that only she could hear, he whispered, “After ye heal, I intend to keep ye tucked away in our cottage wearing only a smile.”
Her gasp was a mixture of shock and curiosity. “And my chemise.”
He shook his head. “Ye won’t be needing one, as I’ll be keeping ye in me bed until I’m certain me seed has taken hold. It’s going to be a joy to watch ye grow round with our babe, lass.”
Pippa licked her lips, and Flaherty gave in to the overwhelming need to kiss her. Gently. Reverently. “Promise me ye’ll not run off again without telling me, or one of me cousins, where ye’re headed?”
“I promise.”
“And that ye’ll give meself and me cousins the opportunity to do what we pledged.”
“To protect Millie and her babe with your lives?”
“Aye, that, of course, but the other half of that vow…to protect ye with our lives, mo chroí, mo ghrá. Never forget that ye’re me heart and me love, lass.”
But Pippa didn’t not answer right away. Flaherty glanced down and noticed the soft smile tilting her lips upward as she drifted off to sleep.
His wife was brave, loyal, and courageous.
She’d make a fine addition to the growing ranks of strong women who had been beaten down by life, but not conquered by it.
The women who’d married his brothers and cousins.
Aye, his wife would give him strong, sturdy sons who would learn to fight alongside himself and his cousins, continuing their legacy, serving the next Duke of Wyndmere.
He was smiling as he rode toward Summerfield Chase. Home to the cottage they would now have all to themselves—Millie would no doubt be leaving with her husband, who was on leave until further notice. But he would wait to share that news with Pippa until after she had rested.
As they rode toward home, Flaherty sent up a prayer of thanks to God for the courageous and beautiful woman who soon would be the mother of his sons.