Prince of Ravenscar (Sherbrooke Brides 11) - Page 91

Another man yelled, “She’s only a woman, get ’er, ye fools.”

But Roxanne didn’t go easily. Her fingernails scored down a man’s face, she managed to kick one man in the groin, and he dropped to his knees, groaning and holding himself. One of them clouted her in the jaw, and she went spinning to the ground, only to be caught by another man and thrown over his shoulder. Before she passed out, she heard one of the men say, “Wot were she doin’ wit’ this bloody duke’s son? Ain’t she supposed to be wi’ the prince?”

Another man said, his voice sharp, clear, his English excellent, “I don’t know. Make sure the bloody duke’s son is still breathing. I don’t want him dead.”

“Aye, he’s breathin’ nice ’n strong.”

“Good. Let’s go, lads. I want to be off the moment she wakes up.”

Roxanne thought the man’s voice sounded familiar to her, but she didn’t know, nor did it matter now, nothing mattered. She knew nothing more.

60

The gunfire abruptly stopped.

Julian lightly patted Sophie’s cheek. “I’m going to see if I can make out anything in the darkness. Don’t move, Sophie.”

“Not this time,” she said, and stood beside him.

He gave her a look that didn’t sway her at all. He was looking at his future, and he couldn’t help it, he both grinned and cursed. “At least stay behind me.” Julian eased out through the pile of branches that covered the cave entrance. He listened, didn’t hear anything. She came up to stand beside him. “Do you believe your men are all right?”

“They rowed back to the ship. Those are the standing orders. Since we don’t hear any more gunfire, no shouting, I think they made their escape.”

“Let’s go see. I want to make sure Roxanne and Devlin are all right. What if the excisemen got them, Julian?”

He had no answer to that. He didn’t want to put her in any more danger, but he knew a set jaw when he saw one. He took her hand and led her through the woods, staying close to the river’s edge. They didn’t see anyone—no excisemen, no smugglers, no Devlin or Roxanne. When they reached the beach, Julian could make out the boat in the distance nearly back to his ship. His men and goods were safe.

Sophie said, “Where are Roxanne and Devlin?”

Julian didn’t answer. He didn’t like this, didn’t like it at all.

They found Devlin unconscious on the path leading up the cliff. There was no sign of Roxanne.

61

THREE HOURS LATER, NEAR DAWN

Devlin wasn’t about to move. He knew if he did, his brain would fall out of his head, roll about on the ground, and he’d be dead, naught but an empty husk. On the other hand, his suffering would be over.

Slowly, the pounding hammer began to lighten, thank the munificent Lord. A memory came into his head—a long-ago night at Oxford when a group of friends had drunk six bottles of French brandy stolen from one of their father’s wine cellars. He’d awakened by himself the next morning in an alley, the agony in his head unbearable. That day he’d sworn never to drink himself insensible again, and he hadn’t.

He hadn’t broken his vow, had he? He hadn’t gotten drunk; surely he wasn’t that great a fool. He didn’t want to open his eyes, knew it would bring him low. He couldn’t remember what happened, couldn’t—dear God, Roxanne.

His eyes flew open to see Julian leaning over him, Dr. Crutchfield at his side, Sophie standing at the foot of his bed, her hair tangled around her face, her face haloed by candlelight. “Devlin, thank goodness you’re awake. Where’s Roxanne?”

“Roxanne.” Devlin could only manage a whisper, and even that hurt.

“You’ve a grand lump on your head, my lord. Hold yourself still, that’s right. The pain will ease. I’ll give you some laudanum as soon as you can tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”

Devlin counted twelve fingers.

“Not quite yet,” said Dr. Crutchfield. “Keep yourself awake, my lord. Your brains are still a bit scrambled.”

Julian said, voice pitched low, “Do you remember what happened, Devlin?”

Devlin started to say no, but then everything came rushing back. “The boat came in. I told your head man where to find the cave, and they were off. I remember your head man, Jake, said he didn’t like the way things smelled. I suppose he somehow sensed danger? Still, they left, and Roxanne and I went back up the cliff path. Then there was gunfire and three men came out of nowhere. One of them struck me down.” He closed his eyes, felt curses fall out of his mouth. “Dear sweet Lord in Heaven, I don’t know what happened to Roxanne.”

Sophie said, “They took her. Richard hired them to take her. But how did he know where you would be? Who betrayed us?”

Tags: Catherine Coulter Sherbrooke Brides Historical
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