Chapter 18
“M
y god,” Charlotte said after a few seconds of stunned silence. “I knew he was a bad man, but this-this is pure evil! Kenny, what are we going to do?” Her expression was a mixture of astonishment, fear and fury.
Kenneth thumped the desk with his fist so hard that the teacup and inkwell standing on it rattled. His face was crimson with rage. He looked at his wife, and for a moment his expression softened for a split second before he said, “You are not going anywhere near him.”
Charlotte leaned forward and took his hand. “We will have to give this some thought, Kenny,” she said, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible. “Laura will have to be rescued somehow, I cannot have her death on my conscience.”
Kenneth picked up her hand and kissed it, looking lovingly into her eyes.
“Sweetheart,” he said, with infinite gentleness.
“There is nothing to think about. If Laura dies it will be on Crowley’s head, not yours, and I am not putting you in danger, especially not now.
” He looked down to where Charlotte had unconsciously laid a protective hand across her stomach.
“But I brought him here,” Charlotte reminded him. “He would never have bothered us if it had not been for me.”
Kenneth stood up and drew Charlotte to her feet, then placed a soft kiss on her lips. “This is not your fault, Lottie,” he murmured. “He is an evil monster and I think he is insane. You are not to go anywhere near him, do you hear me?”
“I do,” Charlotte replied, nodding, but her face was troubled. “But what about Laura? I know him, Kenny. He said he will kill her if things don’t go his way, and he will do it. He is a ruthless bastard, I would put nothing past him. Please, we cannot let Laura be his next victim.”
Kenneth drew her into his arms. “Trust me.” His voice was gentle and infinitely loving.
“If he lays a finger on her I promise you it will be the last thing he ever does. I dealt with him once and I will deal with him again, but this time he will not escape justice. There is a dungeon with his name on it, but I would rather he did not set his filthy feet here in our home again. I want to make sure he goes to a place where he will never bother us again. That place is called hell.”
Charlotte sighed. “I trust you,” she told him, cupping his face in her hands and placing a soft kiss on his lips. “But please don’t put yourself in harm’s way.” She took his big hand and laid it on her still-flat stomach. “We both need you and love you.”
Kenneth smiled at her tenderly, his heart swelling with so much love for her that it shone out of his eyes. “And I love both of you, and that is why we have to take care of this problem, Lottie.”
He looked at Nicholas, who was standing by the window, lost in thought. In fact he was making plans, but he gave nothing away to Kenneth.
“Stay here and look after Lottie, Nick,” Kenneth ordered, and his mouth twisted in a wry smile. “I know how well you guard ladies. I am going to lead the patrol today.”
He walked over to his friend and put a hand on his shoulder, and the two men looked into each other’s eyes in a moment of understanding. “I know how you feel about her, Nick, no matter what she’s done. I will do my best to get her back safely.”
Nicholas nodded. “I know,” he said. “Excuse me. I need to go see Andrew.”
A few moments later, Charlotte followed Nicholas to the nursery. She found him seated by the baby’s crib, holding him in his arms and singing a lullaby to him in his low baritone voice.
There was something very touching about the sight of the big strong man cradling the tiny infant. Charlotte watched them, amazed by the unfamiliar tenderness in the normally rough, masculine and military Nicholas Munro.
This was true love, not the same kind that she felt for Kenneth, but the fierce protective sort that would make this father kill or die for his son. It was the same kind of feeling that she already had for the child she was carrying in her womb, and it warmed her heart to see it in Nicholas.
Presently, he looked up, and Charlotte smiled at both of them. “Fatherhood suits you, Nick,” she said softly as she sat down beside them. “It has brought out a side of you I have never seen before—a very good and loving side.”
Nicholas smiled but did not take his eyes off the sleeping face of little Andrew. “I would do anything for him,” he said tenderly. “Anything.”
“I know.” Charlotte looked into his face and said, “Andrew will need a mother, Nick. Laura might not have given birth to him, but she loves him, and she is not a murderer, as Percy Crowley claims.”
Nicholas met her gaze with a deep frown. “And how do you know that?”
“Because I know them both,” she replied.
“I know that Laura is a good person who had to make hard choices, and Crowley is an evil swine who will use any means, fair or foul, to get what he wants. He is lying, Nick. Lying is as natural as breathing to him. Laura is not a killer, and you know that deep in your heart, but you have not come to terms with it yet. She might have lied to us, but it was to protect the baby and bring him to the one person she knows will care for him better than anyone else—his father. Whatever happened to his mother, Laura was not to blame.”
Charlotte leaned over to kiss Andrew’s soft cheek, then lingered for a moment to look down into his tiny face before patting Nicholas’s shoulder and turning to leave, closing the door quietly behind her.
Maisie entered a moment later and Nicholas excused himself. Deep inside he knew that what Charlotte had said was true, and he felt ashamed that he had chosen to take Crowley’s word over hers.
He sighed as he moved out into the courtyard, where, to his surprise, he saw Charlotte riding through the gates alone. Immediately he realised where she was going—to meet Crowley.
Damn it all! Why had she not listened to Kenneth?
Yet he knew why, and he had to follow her, because he would do anything to save Laura, the woman he loved, even if it involved the loss of his own life.
When Kenneth read the letter from Percival Crowley, it had not taken Charlotte more than a moment to decide what to do—she would go to him to try to rescue Laura.
She knew that it was a dangerous mission, but she had no choice, she could not let Laura die for her.
However, she told no one, certain that her husband would forbid it in no uncertain terms. She was afraid—who would not be?
But there was no alternative, and she took the precaution of packing a lethally sharp dagger into her pocket.
At the very last moment she almost changed her mind, asking herself why she was doing something so foolhardy.
However, she knew that Crowley was obsessed with her, and that obsession could lead to Laura’s death.
She simply could not have that on her conscience, so she forced herself to do what she deemed necessary and resolutely tried to force her fear to the back of her mind.
Charlotte knew where he would be—a clearing in the forest just outside the village where he had once brought her to impress her with his archery skills.
He had often mentioned it in conversation, and somehow she knew he would have camped there.
It was isolated, quiet, and made a perfect hiding place.
As Charlotte drew near the meeting place, she felt her heart begin to thud furiously with fear as she remembered Percival Crowley’s dark eyes and the sheer malice that filled them when something displeased him.
‘What the hell am I doing?’ Charlotte thought suddenly. ‘I must be mad!’ But it was too late to change her mind as the object of her thoughts suddenly stepped in front of her out of the trees, pushing Laura in front of him so hard that she tumbled to the ground with a terrified scream.
He grinned at Charlotte as he put one foot on the small of Laura’s back to stop her from getting to her feet again, then said, “Well, Lottie! How good to see you again!”
Charlotte dismounted from her horse and stood looking down at Laura, horrified, enraged, but not surprised at the way she was being treated.
At that moment she wished she had a sword and the strength to use it, because she would have taken great delight in shoving it into the vicious monster’s heart!
She moved forward to help Laura up, but Percival Crowley stood in front of her, his arms folded, a sickeningly triumphant expression on his face.
“Come with me, Lottie,” he demanded.
“No.” The word was as firm and solid as a stone and hit Crowley with as much force as if she had thrown it at him. His face took on a thunderous frown.
“This is not a request,” he said, nudging Laura with his foot.
“I said no, Percy,” Charlotte replied firmly, thinking of the dagger in her pocket. Could she rush him? Stab him? She looked down at Laura, whose face was streaked with tears; her eyes were pleading with Charlotte for help.
“You have humiliated me once too often, Lottie,” Crowley growled. “You will come with me now… or else.” He glanced meaningfully at Laura.
Charlotte drew out the dagger. “I will fight you till my last breath,” she said grimly. Her fear had suddenly been replaced by absolute fury. “You will never take me alive!”
At the sight of the weapon, Crowley threw back his head and laughed heartily.
“Lottie, are you serious?” he asked scornfully.
“I thought you were an intelligent woman!” With one swift movement, he drew his sword and held it a few inches away from Laura’s face.
“Besides, I have something else that might change your mind.” He gave her a gleeful smile and nodded towards the trees behind her, and Charlotte turned to see Crowley’s men hauling a struggling man, his hands bound in front of him, towards them.
“Nick!” she cried out in complete shock and terror.
He met her gaze, but he did not look fearful.
No, he was furious looking at Laura pressed to the ground, and it showed in the way he was trying to kick and even bite at his captors, and use even his hands as a club to beat them with.
He was bigger than any of them, but it was three to one, and he was outnumbered.
Laura tried to look up at his name, struggling to turn her head against Crowley’s boot.
Percival Crowley was still laughing when Nicholas was brought to him, but stopped a moment later when he spat in his face.
He swiped the back of his hand across his cheek in disgust, then smiled at him with malicious anticipation.
Then he said in a voice that almost throbbed with dark glee: “How nice of you to join us, Captain. I should tell you that Lady Laura did not kill Mairi. Do you know who did it?”
Nicholas shook his head and growled: “No, but I expect you are going to tell me.”
“I killed her myself.” Crowley said, smiling maliciously. “She was sick anyway, so I did her a favour and put a little something in her drink to help her on her way. It was an act of mercy, really.”
The words were uttered with such pride and self-conceit that a wave of rage swept over Nicholas, and it lent him the strength to wrench himself out of the clutches of the men who were holding him.
Nicholas let out an almighty roar and threw himself at Crowley, who stepped backwards at the same moment as he drew a gun from a holster that was hidden under his jacket.
There was a loud bang that was drowned out by the sound of Laura’s and Charlotte’s screams as Nicholas fell to the ground at Crowley’s feet.
“You bastard!” Laura screamed, jumping to her feet. At that moment all hell broke loose.