Sin With a Scoundrel (The Husband Hunters Club 4)

Her meaning was clear to him and despite seeing her hurt like this, Richard felt an overwhelming relief. He swayed and might have fallen, but Sir Henry’s shout reminded him that his night’s work was not finished.

“Richard!” Sir Henry repeated impatiently. “Little is getting away. I thought you’d made a vow to capture him?”

Richard gave Tina’s hands one last squeeze and turned to go, but Tina wouldn’t release him.

“I want to come,” she said frantically. “I need to come.”

He read her eyes, seeing the pain she’d suffered and, more, the desperate need she had to see his promise fulfilled. And then he did something totally unprofessional. Richard threw her up into the saddle, mounted himself, and, ignoring the shouts behind him, set off at a gallop toward the trees where Little had vanished.

At first he couldn’t see him, for although the moon had risen, it was still too dark among the trees. But just as he was considering returning for more men, they reached a clearing. “There!” Tina pointed, and he caught a glimpse of Little disappearing into the trees on the other side. Spurring his horse on, Tina’s arms around him, Richard made short work of reaching the spot.

Now that she saw how close these trees were growing together, Tina gasped and clung tighter in anticipation, but Richard wasn’t going to risk following on horseback. He drew his mount to a halt and jumped to the ground. Reaching up, he caught Tina, already scrambling down after him, and held her against him, feeling the rapid beat of her heart.

“You should stay here,” he said, his eyes d

ark and solemn in the faint light. “You know what sort of man he is.”

“That’s why I have to come with you,” she insisted. “We have to do this together. And then you will give up the Guardians.”

He smiled at the sound of her issuing orders, just like Sir Henry, but, inside, he agreed with her wholeheartedly. Richard was ready to give up his secret life and settle down.

“Show me the way then,” he said, and it was Tina who cautiously stepped into the trees.

The quiet was suffocating, but up ahead they could hear the crackling of running footsteps and once a faint cry, as if someone had fallen. John Little didn’t have much of a lead, and they quickened their pace as best they could.

Once Richard murmured, “Hush,” and drew her back against him, holding her still, listening. Her heart was thudding in her breast, and for a moment she couldn’t hear anything but the whoosh of her own blood, and then she did. Some movement close by, but it had slowed considerably.

Richard’s words were a breath in her ear. “I think he’s injured.”

Tina nodded to show she understood, and then they were moving forward again, guardedly, watchful for Little’s tricks. A moment later he came into sight, just ahead of them. He was stooped over, one hand clutched to his side, the other grasping at the passing tree trunks as if to hold himself upright.

“Little! Stop!”

Richard’s shouted order made him jump, and Tina could see his white face as he turned to stare back at them. He looked from side to side, as if searching for a way out, but there wasn’t one, and he must have known it, accepted it, because he stopped and waited for them to approach him.

“You recruit women in the Guardians now?” he mocked, his voice breathy and thin. “Why am I not surprised?”

“You’re injured, Mr. Little,” Tina said, taking a step forward.

He gave her a blank look and then glanced down at the hand he had clutched to his side. Tina saw to her horror that there was blood all over it.

“Sutton’s sister,” he croaked. “Attacked me when she saw her brother had been taken. The bread knife. She was preparing us some food. I had a boat ready, but we needed to wait for the tide,” he added, and gave a despairing cry, as if only just appreciating how close he’d been to escape.

“Mr. Little, you need a doctor.”

“Do I?” He looked down at his injury again and grimaced. “Perhaps it would be better if I died. I’m going to be hanged anyway. Aren’t I, Eversham?”

Richard met his gaze, his own sober. “Yes. You killed my brother in cold blood, Little; you must have known that one day I’d catch up with you.”

Little nodded, as if in acceptance of his sentence.

“Why did you do it?” Richard asked him, and he meant everything, all of it.

Little shrugged and grimaced with pain. “My father killed himself when I was a boy. Lost everything, though not for lack of trying. Some lord or other decided he wanted what we had and took it—he could, you know, the law is always on their side. My father committed suicide and left my mother and me to fend for ourselves. I always had great respect for the poor, the struggling disadvantaged, fighting against the wealthy and privileged. What would the world be like if it were controlled by the little man?” He gave a painful laugh at the pun. “Imagine, Eversham, if you and your friends had to scrape and bow to the laborers and farmers and bakers and butchers? I think it would be a better place, and I tried to make it happen.”

Richard looked skeptical. “Did you? With all your money you could have really helped those in need, but instead you persuaded them to riot, had them killed and sent to prison, and for what? For the sake of your own sense of superiority. To be pulling strings made you feel important. You didn’t care about the little man. My brother was a kind and generous person, loved by everyone who knew him, and you shot him in cold blood to save your own skin. Sorry, Little, I have no sympathy for you.”

Tina reached for Richard’s hand, squeezing it. Little’s expression was implacable, and Tina wondered if he found it impossible to understand any point of view but his own. And then with a gasp, his knees gave way, and he collapsed in a heap on the ground.