Griffin Stone: Duke of Decadence (Dangerous Dukes 5)

‘And throwing knives at people’s shoulders. Don’t forget the knives part,’ Archer added crossly. He was tired, concerned about the horse and Brennan. It seemed an ominous note to leave on. Perhaps it was an omen that he should stay behind? He could take a few days and deliver the horse himself to Jamie Burke over in Folkestone. He could find Brennan. They could catch a boat together. It was a sensible solution. He should offer...

No, he told himself firmly. He wasn’t going to give in to the excuses no matter how practical they seemed. He’d put this off long enough, put others’ needs ahead of his own long enough. He was getting on that boat. Perhaps he prevaricated out of cold feet at the last. If he took this step, there would be no turning back. His step would be larger than the others. He was going to find a new life, a new family.

The trio boarded the boat reluctantly and took up positions at the rail, their eyes glued to the wharf, each of them lost in their own worries about Brennan. The glances they exchanged with each other all communicated the same thought: What could have happened? Brennan had been with them last night at dinner. It wasn’t, Archer knew, a matter of where Brennan was, but a matter of whether or not he was safe. Nolan tried to keep everyone’s spirits up by wagering on Brennan’s arrival, but to no avail. By the time the anchor’s chains began to roll up, there was no sign of their fourth companion.

Archer bowed his head to the inevitable. Brennan wasn’t coming. It wouldn’t be the same the trip without him. It might be a whole lot safer, but it would lose something all the same. Wherever Brennan went, there was life and fire, he made everything exciting.

A blur of movement on the wharf caught his attention. Archer lifted his head. Beside him, Haviland saw it too. It was Bren! Haviland began shouting and waving madly. Brennan was running full tilt without his coats, white shirttails flapping like sails in the growing light. Haviland sprinted the length of the boat, yelling instructions: ‘jump,’ and ‘don’t jump here, it’s too wide, jump at the back of the boat where it hasn’t left the dock yet’. The back of the boat was flat for loading and there was a section that sported no railing. It would be Brennan’s best chance.

That was when Archer realised Brennan wasn’t alone. In his excitement, he hadn’t noticed the two men racing behind, one of them armed. There was something more too. Behind the men was a horse, thundering past them, jumping knocked barrels, headed straight for Brennan and the drink. That wasn’t just any horse. That was his horse. Archer exchanged a look with Nolan and they dashed off after Haviland.

The stern of the ship was chaos. Haviland was yelling, Brennan was running, the horse had pulled up alongside him, matching his pace to Brennan’s, but the two men in pursuit were gaining. As long as they kept chasing him, they couldn’t get a worthy shot off. It was when they stopped that worried Archer and that would be soon. There wasn’t anywhere else to run. The ship had nudged away from the dock, leaving a gap of cold dark water between itself and the pier. Archer gauged the distance. Even with Brennan’s speed, it would be close. Not close enough. Bren would need some help.

‘Get on the horse, Bren!’ Archer shouted into the wind, gesturing wildly towards the animal. It would be beyond dangerous. What if the horse refused to jump? What if they both missed the boat deck? Like him, Brennan had been born to the saddle. If anyone could do this, it would be Bren. There was no other choice unless Bren wanted to face pistols. Haviland and Nolan joined him in the wild charades. They held their breaths as Brennan Carr grabbed mane and swung himself up on the running steed. He put his feet to the horse’s sides.

They leapt.

They landed.

Just barely.

Another foot and they would have missed. The shock of the landing and the uneven movement of the deck beneath him brought the horse to his knees. Archer and Haviland raced forward.

Brennan rolled out of the saddle. Haviland was there to catch him, but Brennan pushed him down with a rush of incoherent words. ‘Stay down, Hav! Arch, the horse, keep him down!’

The first bullet whined overhead, missing Haviland by inches. Archer crouched beside the frightened horse, using his words and his hands to keep the big animal from becoming an accidental target. Now that they were all safe, Archer wished the boat would move faster. There was suddenly not nearly enough space between them and the dock. It wouldn’t surprise him to see Nolan’s man from the hotel show up. Everyone else was here, even the horse. Thanks to Nolan and Brennan, the morning had got off to quite a start.

Assured they were out of range, the foursome picked themselves up cautiously, brushing off their clothes and exclaiming over Brennan. Archer exchanged knowing glances with Haviland. It was going to be quite a trip with those two along, but Haviland was smiling as England disappeared. Archer nodded to the reins in his hand. ‘I’ll go speak to the captain about where we can stable this boy.’ As he moved off with the horse, Archer could hear Nolan drawl at the rail, ‘The real question isn’t where you’ve been, Bren, but was she worth it?’

Brennan’s laugh drifted over the wind, as if the mad chase had been a simple lark, as if there hadn’t been bullets fired. ‘Always, Nol, always.’ Sometimes, Archer envied Bren and Nolan their nonchalant ways, not seeming to care too much. They were proof that perhaps the unexamined life was underrated.

There was a makeshift stall above deck where the horse would be relatively safe. The Channel crossing was short. Just twenty-one miles of water separated England from France, but the water could be rough. Archer didn’t want to risk the horse doing further injury to himself, so saw the horse installed and ran a hand down each of his legs to make sure there’d been no damage from his leap.

Satisfied the horse was no worse for his morning adventures, Archer placed a hand on the horse’s neck. ‘I guess you’ll need a name if you’re going to stay with me.’ Archer thought for a moment. ‘How about Amicus? It means friend in Latin, and you were that today. You stood Brennan in good stead when he needed you.’

‘Especially since Cleveland Bays are carriage horses.’ Haviland’s voice was quiet behind him. Archer shrugged. He’d long since stopped caring if anyone heard him talking to the horses.

Archer smiled and stroked Amicus’s long nose. ‘Especially because of that.’ He gave Amicus a considering look. ‘I wonder if you might have been a hunter once, boy? It looked like you knew what you were doing when you made that leap.’ Fearlessly, as if he’d taken hedges and logs, heights and wide spreads, before. Cleveland Bays were the preferred carriage horse of royalty, and Archer knew a few breeders who enjoyed riding to the hunt on them.

Haviland stepped up beside him and petted Amicus. ‘Why do you suppose he did that? It was an extraordinary leap. I know horses that woul

d have balked. He could have been killed.’

Archer gave Haviland a solemn look. ‘He decided England could no longer hold him.’

‘Like you, old friend?’ Haviland ventured. ‘Are you still determined to do this thing?’ Nolan and Brennan might not know of his choice to stay in Italy, but he’d confided in Haviland.

Archer nodded. ‘And you?’ Haviland had done some confiding of his own. Archer wasn’t the only one using this trip as an escape.

‘Yes. I want to taste some freedom, I want to know my own power, to see what might have been before...’ Haviland shrugged, his sentence dropping off. Haviland didn’t have to say it. Archer knew how that sentence ended: before he had to go back and give himself in an arranged marriage to a woman who did not inspire his passions.

Archer silently thanked the heavens again that he wasn’t firstborn. He at least had choices. He just had to make them. He and Amicus had something in common. He too had decided England could no longer hold him.