The Gift (Crown's Spies #3)

Caine grinned. "Who would have thought anyone would have him? Sara's as much in love with him as he is with her. Nathan's determined to start over," he added with a nod toward the papers.

"Ah, love in bloom," Sir Richards said. "Sara will certainly be pleased with his thoughtfulness. God knows she's deserving of some happiness. It was hard on her today. Why, the look on her face when the prince made mention of her mother nearly broke my heart, Caine, and I'm certainly not given to emotion as you well know. Lady Sara looked so frightened. I wanted to reach out to her, to pat her and tell her it would all wash out. I'm not usually so demonstrative, but I tell you I had to restrain myself from going over to her."

Caine looked bewildered. "I don't recall the prince mentioning Sara's mother."

"I believe both you and Nathan were out of the room at the time," Richards said. "Yes, that's right," he added with a nod. "Sara sat all alone. Nathan had gone to fetch some water for her."

"Sara isn't in the washroom," Nathan bellowed from the doorway. "Damn it, Richards, where'd you send her? Down the street, for God's sake?"

Caine stood up. "Nathan, we might have a problem." His voice was harsh from worry. "Sir Richards, tell us exactly what the prince said about Sara's mother."

The director was already pushing his chair back so that he could stand up. He wasn't certain what the danger was, but the scent was there, permeating the air.

"Winston demanded to know who told us about Grant. The prince told him it was his wife who gave us the name."

Both Nathan and Caine were already running out the door. "Surely Winston wouldn't dare touch his wife or his daughter," Sir Richards muttered as he chased after the two men. "You're thinking that's where Sara went, aren't you? Charles," he shouted over his shoulder, "bring the carriage around."

Nathan reached the ground level with Caine right on his heels when Sir Richards turned the corner of the landing above. "Nathan, you don't believe Winston is capable of hurting either his wife or his daughter."

Nathan threw the door open and ran out onto the sidewalk. "No," he shouted over his shoulder. "Winston won't touch them. He'll leave it to his brother to mete out the punishment. That's how the bastard operates. Damn it, Sara took your carriage, Caine. God, we've got to get to her before Henry does."

A hack was racing down the street. Nathan seized his opportunity. He wasn't about to wait for the director's carriage. He ran into the street, braced himself for the struggle, and grabbed the reins of the two horses.

He threw his shoulder into the side of the horse closer to him. Caine added his strength, and the vehicle came to a screeching stop.

The driver was thrown on top of the vehicle. He started shouting. The fare, a blond-headed young man with spectacles and a squint, stuck his head out the window to see what all the commotion was about just as Nathan pulled the door open. Before the man knew what had happened Nathan had tossed him to the pavement.

Caine shouted directions to the driver while Sir Richards helped the stranger to his feet. The director was being very solicitous until he realized he was about to be left behind. He rudely shoved the man back to the ground and jumped inside the hack before Caine could pull the door closed.

No one said a word on the ride over to the Winchesters' townhouse. Nathan was shaking with terror. For the first time in his life he rebelled against the isolation he'd always enforced upon himself. He needed her, and dear God, if something happened to her before he could prove to her that he could be worthy, could love her as much as she deserved to be loved, he didn't think he could go on.

In the space of those long, unbearable minutes Nathan learned how to pray. He felt as unskilled as an atheist, couldn't remember a single prayer from childhood days, and so ended up simply begging God's mercy.

How he needed her.

The ride over to her mother's residence wasn't quite as traumatic for Sara. She wasn't in a panic because she knew she had enough time to get to her mother first. Her father would have to go to his brother's townhouse. That ride would take him at least twenty minutes. Then he'd have to spend at least fifteen more minutes working his brother into a rage for the injustices dealt to him. Assuming that Henry would certainly be in the throes of his daily hangover, it would take him time to clear his head and get dressed.

There was also the oddly comforting fact that surely in that amount of time Nathan would put the pieces together and figure out she wasn't in the washroom. She knew he'd come after her.

Don't give up on me. His whispered command once again intruded upon her thoughts. She immediately tried to get angry over the insulting demand. How dare he think she'd given up on him. How dare he…

She couldn't work herself up into a proper fury, for in her heart she wasn't at all certain she had the right to be outraged. Had she given up on him? No, of course not, she told herself. The simple fact was that Nathan didn't love her.

He had shown her consideration, though. She'd give him that much. She remembered how he'd rubbed her back when she'd been in such embarrassing agony with her monthly cramps. His touch had been so gentle, so soothing.

He was a gentle lover, too. Not that he'd ever given her loving words when he was caressing her. But he'd shown her kindness, patience, and never once had she truly been afraid of him. Never once.

But he didn't love her.

He'd spent long hours teaching her so many little things he thought she needed to know to become self-sufficient. She thought it was because he didn't want to watch out for her. And while she did consider it her duty to protect those she loved, like her mother, she left the task of her own protection to her husband.

Like her mother…

Dear God, Nora had been right. Without realizing it Sara had been following in her mother's path. She had been determined to become dependent on her husband. If Nathan had turned out to be a cruel, selfish man like her father, would Sara have learned how to cringe whenever he raised his voice to her?

She shook her head. No, she would never allow any man to terrorize her. Nathan had made her realize her own strength. She could survive alone, and she certainly could stand up for herself.

He hadn't taught her how to defend herself because he didn't want to be bothered with the chore of watching out for her. He just didn't want anything to happen to her.

He was a kind man.

Sara burst into tears. Why couldn't he love her?

Don't give up on me. If he didn't love her, why did he care if she gave up on him or not?

Sara was so consumed with her thoughts, she didn't realize the carriage had stopped until Caine's driver shouted down to her.

She asked the driver to wait, then hurried up the steps.

The butler, a new man hired by her father, told her that both her mother and her sister had gone out for the afternoon.

Sara didn't believe him. She pushed her way past the servant and hurried up the stairs to the bedroom level to see for herself.

The butler sniffed at her lack of manners and retired to the back of the house.

The bedrooms were empty. Sara was at first relieved, then she realized she would have to find her mother before either of the Winchester men did. She went through the stack of invitations on top of her mother's writing table, but none gave her a clue as to the afternoon activities.

She decided to go back downstairs and force the information out of the servants. Surely one of them knew where her mother had gone.

Sara had just reached the landing when the front door opened. She thought it was her mother returning home and started down the steps. She stopped midway when Uncle Henry strutted into the foyer.

He saw her at once. The sneer on his face made her stomach lurch.

"Father went directly to you with his anger, didn't he?" she called out, contempt evident in her voice. "I knew he would," she added. "It's the only thing he's predictable about. He thinks he's so cunning to let his drunken brother dole out the punishment whenever he's upset. Father's waiting at White's, isn't he?"

Her uncle's eyes narrowed into slits. "Your mother should have her tongue cut out for turning against her husband. This isn't your business, Sara. Get out of my way. I'm going to have a word with your mother."

Sara shook her head. "I won't let you speak to her," she shouted. "Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. If I have to force Mother, I will, but she's going to leave London. A nice visit with her sister will be just the thing. She might even realize she doesn't want to come back here again. God, I hope so. Mother deserves a little joy in her life. I'm going to see that she gets it."

Henry kicked the door shut behind him. He knew better than to strike Sara, for he remembered the threat her husband had made when he'd walked into the tavern to get his bride.

"Go back to the cur you're married to," he shouted. "Victoria," he added in a screech. "Get down here. I'm wanting a word with you."

"Mother isn't here. Now you get out. The sight of you makes me ill."

Henry started toward the steps. He stopped when he spotted the brass umbrella stand in the corner. He was too furious to consider the consequences. The chit needed to learn a lesson, he thought to himself. Just one good hit to rid her of her insolence.

He reached for the ivory-tipped walking stick. Just one good hit…

Chapter Sixteen

She damn near killed him.

Tortured screams echoed into the street. The carriage hadn't come to a complete stop before Nathan jumped to the pavement and started up the steps. The god-awful screaming made him crazed with fear for his Sara—so crazed, in fact, that he didn't stop to notice it was a man's voice making all the noise. He didn't stop to open the door, either. He went through it. The frame bounded off his shoulder and landed with a thud on Henry Winchester's head. The heavy piece of wood muffled some of the louder cries.

Nathan wasn't at all prepared for the sight he came upon. He was so stunned, he stopped dead in his tracks. Caine and Sir Richards crashed into his back. Caine let out a low grunt. He felt as though he'd just run into a block of steel. Both he and Sir Richards recovered their balance and moved to the side to see what held Nathan transfixed.

It was difficult for the men to take in. Henry Winchester was shriveled up in a fetal position on the floor in the center of the large foyer. His hands were clutching his groin. The man was literally writhing about in agony, and when he rolled over their way Sir Richards and Caine immediately noticed his bloody nose.

Nathan was staring at Sara. She was standing at the bottom of the steps. She looked thoroughly composed, absolutely beautiful, and completely unharmed.

She was all right. The bastard hadn't gotten to her. Yes, she was all right. Nathan kept repeating that fact inside his mind in an attempt to calm down.

It didn't work. His hands were shaking. He decided he needed to hear her tell him she was all right before he could start breathing normally again.

"Sara?" Nathan whispered her name in such a hoarse whisper, he doubted she could hear him above the racket her Uncle Henry was making. He tried again. "Sara? Are you all right? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

The anguish in her husband's voice was almost her undoing. Tears filled her eyes, and she realized that Nathan was just as misty. The look on his face made her heart ache. He looked so… scared, so vulnerable… so loving.

Dear God, he did love her. It was so apparent to her.

You love me, she wanted to shout. She didn't, of course, because there were other people present. But he loved her. She couldn't speak, couldn't quit smiling.

She started toward her husband, then remembered her audience. She turned to Caine and Sir Richards and made a perfect curtsy.

Caine grinned. Sir Richards was in the middle of an acknowledging bow when he caught himself. "What happened here?" he demanded in a fluster of authority.

"Damn it, Sara, answer me," Nathan strangled out at the same time. "Are you all right?"

She turned her gaze to her husband. "Yes, Nathan. I'm quite all right. Thank you for inquiring."

She looked down at her uncle. "Uncle Henry had a little mishap," she announced.

The director bent on one knee and lifted a remnant of the door away from Henry's chest. "I surmised as much, my dear," he said to Sara. He tossed the piece of wood aside, then frowned at Henry. "For the love of God, man, quit that weeping. It isn't dignified. Did the door fell you when Nathan came charging through? Speak up, Winchester. I can't catch a word of your blubbering."

Caine had already put the pieces together. Sara was rubbing the back of her right hand in what appeared to be an attempt to work out the sting. Henry was clutching his groin.

"Uncle Henry had his mishap before the door fell on him," Sara explained. She sounded incredibly cheerful, and she was smiling at Nathan when she made that statement. Nathan still wasn't calm enough to reason it through. He couldn't understand why his wife looked so damned pleased with herself. Hadn't she realized the danger she'd been in? Hell, his nerves still felt as raw as a fresh wound.

Then she was slowly walking toward him, and all he could think about was taking her into his arms. He was never going to let go of her, not even when he lectured her on her sinful habit of taking off on her own.

Caine's smile proved catching. The director found himself smiling, too, though he still didn't know what was so amusing. He stood up and turned to Sara. "Please satisfy my curiosity and tell me what happened."

She wasn't about to explain. If she told him exactly what she'd done, the director would certainly be appalled by her unladylike behavior.

Nathan wouldn't be appalled. He'd be proud of her. Sara couldn't wait until they were alone and she could give him all the details, blow by satisfying blow.

"Uncle Henry tripped over a walking stick," she said, unable to stop smiling.

Nathan finally came out of his stupor and took a good look around him. Sara had just reached his side when he grabbed hold of her and stared intently at the red splotches on the back of her right hand.

That low growl she found adorable was working its way up Nathan's throat. She could also see the rage coming over him. She wasn't at all frightened, however, for she knew he would never turn his anger against her.

She didn't want him to get all worked up on her behalf. Sara wrapped her arms around her husband's waist and hugged him tight. "I'm really all right, Nathan," she whispered. "You mustn't worry so."