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  “I’m on my way, sir.”

  “I’ll join you when I can.” Grimly Alex leaned forward, setting his team, nearly exhausted now, to as fast a pace as he could manage.

  Cecily stared at him. “Cranbourne. Isn’t that where Lord Liverpool is staying this week?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good heavens. Alex, you don’t think he’s going to try again!”

  “I know he is.” Alex’s face was as grim as his voice. “And I have to stop him.”

  “Then go after him. Don’t worry about us—”

  “Not until I know you’re safe,” he said, pulling into the inn yard with a flourish.

  “I don’t understand,” Diana protested.

  “You’ll stay here until I can come for you. Though God knows we’ll be lucky to reach London by nightfall.”

  “I don’t care. You can’t face him alone, Alex.”

  “I’ll have Parsons. We’d like your best private parlor.” This last was addressed to the innkeeper, who bowed and scraped at what he knew was the Quality. “You’ll be safe enough here.”

  Cecily barely glanced around the snug little parlor, with its sturdy table and comfortable chairs. “But what of you? ‘Tis dangerous—”

  “He has to be stopped. And I suppose you’re thinking I used you again to get to him.”

  “No, Alex, I—”

  “It doesn’t matter. Stay here until I return,” he said, and stalked out the door.

  Cecily stared after him. “He’ll get himself killed!”

  “Cece, what in the world is going on?” Diana asked.

  “There’s no time to explain now. I have to go after him.”

  “But he said not to leave—”

  “He might be killed! I couldn’t bear it.”

  “Cece! Are you in love with him?”

  “Yes.” Oh, Lord, yes. “Be a good girl, Di, and stay here? I can’t let him go alone.”

  “But, Cecily—”

  Cecily kissed her quickly on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re safe,” she said, and whirled out the door, leaving Diana to stare after her

  Cecily ran down the Great North Road, heedless of passing traffic and the stares she was receiving. In other circumstances she would have been concerned about her reputation, but today that was the least of her worries. Now, when it was too late, she at last knew that it was Alex she loved, Alex she needed. She belonged by his side, no matter where he was, and if he were in danger, she wanted to share it. The cool, practical Cecily, who would have realized there was little she could actually do, was gone. In her place was a woman in love, ready to risk all for her man.

  The turning seemed farther down the road than she had expected, but at last she reached it. Instantly she was plunged into a shadowy, silent world, as the road narrowed to little more than a lane. She had once been to Cranbourne Hill, but this road was new to her, and she had little idea of where she was. All she knew was that Alex was ahead someplace, and that he was in danger.

  A distance down the road she passed a shabby curricle, its team of job horses stamping and blowing, tied to a tree. Of Alex and Parsons there was no sign. Except for the curricle, she might have been alone, and she began to feel profoundly uneasy. It was too quiet. No birds sang, no animals rustled in the underbrush. To Cecily, a girl raised in the country, that meant only one thing: the animals scented a threat. The humans were about somewhere.

  That meant she might very well be watched, right at this moment. The skin between her shoulder blades prickling, she spun around, but she saw no one, nothing, only the thickening gloom as the daylight began to fade. It was time she took some precautions herself. Spotting a break in the trees, she turned into the forest. Here the undergrowth was thick, impeding her progress. Try though she might to be quiet, she couldn’t help stepping on twigs or brushing against the branches that seemed to reach out to snag her clothing. This was no good. Without knowing exactly where Alex was, what could she do?

  She had decided to return to the road when a branch snapped up ahead. Cecily froze. Someone was there! Her hand crept into the pocket of her pelisse to find her pistol, and she withdrew it with shaking fingers. At that moment, a shot rang out, and she dropped to the ground.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Come out,” a voice called, and Cecily raised her head.

  “Alex?”

  “What—God’s teeth! Cecily!” Alex appeared through the trees ahead of her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “You shot at me,” Cecily said, rising shakily and dusting herself off. In the tree near to where she had been standing was a fresh scar in the bark. “Not too well.”

  “Would you have preferred my aim to be accurate?” he snapped. “God’s teeth, what are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you.” She plucked a dead leaf from her pelisse. “I see I needn’t have bothered.”

  “Looking for—oh, for God’s sake.” Disgusted, Alex turned away. “Go back.”

  “No.” Now that the shock of being fired upon had worn off, Cecily stood her ground. “I may be foolish beyond permission, but I can’t let you face him alone.”

  “What are you going to do? Protect me?”

  “You needn’t be sarcastic! I do know how to use a pistol.”

  “And have you ever fired at a man? No, I thought not. Leave, Cecily. You’ll be worse than useless. You’re a liability. I don’t want you here.”

  Cecily flinched at each word. “I’m not going.”

  “Hell, Cecily, don’t you see? I can’t protect you and fight Edgewater at the same time.”

  “Oh.” Now she understood, and for a moment her heart warmed. Only for a moment, though. He was a gentleman, after all, and a gentleman would feel obliged to protect a lady. She put up her chin. “I can protect myself, sir. And,” she went on as he began to protest, “if I go now, Edgewater may find me. I think I’d best stay with you.”

  “Hell.” She was right. She was in danger if she stayed with him; she might be in more danger if she left. “Oh, all right,” he said, ungraciously. “Follow me, and—”

  Another shot rang out, this one coming from the direction of the road. Without stopping to think, Alex threw himself at Cecily, knocking her to the ground and falling atop her. Frantically he fumbled for his pistol, managing at last to pull it free. “Stay down,” he commanded, and rose to a crouch, his eyes alert, his muscles tensed. In the wake of the shot the silence rang eerily, and in spite of Alex’s command Cecily lifted her head to watch him. Gone was the elegant man about town she was used to seeing; the veneer of civilization had been stripped away, revealing the essence of the man, a hunter, deadly and savage, and yet somehow magnificent. Something stirred deep within her at the sight, some primal force. Edgewater, no matter how dangerous, paled next to this man.

  Far off in the underbrush branches crackled, and Alex was up and running, as lithe as a cat. Left alone, Cecily slowly rose, aware of bruises from her fall, and crept to the shelter of a tree trunk, pulling her pistol out. She felt defenseless, uneasy, though she doubted Edgewater would actually come back. If it came down to it, could she defend herself? She had never shot a man. The thought of doing so made her ill.

  The branches crackled again, and Cecily stiffened. Swallowing hard, she raised her pistol, just as Alex came into view. “Lost him,” he said, briefly, extending a hand to help her stand.

  “Was it Edgewater?” she asked, holding his hand for a moment longer than necessary. Now that the danger was past, at least for the moment, her legs were decidedly shaky.

  “Had to be. I didn’t see him, though. Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I’m glad I didn’t have to use this, though,” she said, gesturing with the pistol.

  “Keep it close by,” Alex said, so grimly that for the first time the danger of this situation came home to her. This was no game. This was life and death, and it was something Alex had engaged in before. In such a situation, whom did a man trust?

  She was standing sto
ck still, absorbing the shock of that revelation, when Alex, who had already walked a few paces away, turned. “Come. There’s a path a few feet away. I suspect it leads to the estate. Try to be quiet.”

  “Yes, Alex,” Cecily said, so meekly that he gave her a look. It was as well that Alex, tense, alert, was watching for danger as they walked along the path; Cecily was following her thoughts. In the past years, Alex had lived in a dangerous world, a world where betrayal might be only a few words away. In such a world, he would learn quickly to keep his own counsel, and to rely on few. It would be very hard to unlearn such lessons, just because the war was over. It was obvious to her now that Alex was very much, in his own way, a warrior, though he’d never actually fought a battle. His war had been a different one, and it was still going on. If he had evidence, no matter how sketchy, that a certain Lady Cecily was involved in a conspiracy, why should he believe otherwise? And yet, in the face of danger, he had acted to protect her, not himself.

  Alex suddenly stopped, his hand held up, and Cecily, not attending, walked directly into him. He turned quickly, but the remonstration on his lips died when he saw her eyes, huge, questioning, framed by those long lashes, gazing up at him. How could he ever have thought her guilty for so much as a moment? But he hadn’t, not really. In spite of the evidence against her, he had known from the beginning, deep within himself, that she was innocent. He had done her a grave disservice. He wondered if he could ever make it up to her.

  “Is something wrong?” Cecily whispered, and he abruptly became aware that he was staring at her.

  “Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “No. The house is just over there.”

  Looking past him, Cecily could just see through the trees the long, curving drive, and the west wing of the great house. There was no one about; in the fading light of early evening, the manicured lawns and formal gardens were empty. “How will Edgewater know where to find Lord Liverpool?”

  “I suspect he’s going to watch for the carriage coming up the drive. How he’ll do it, though, I don’t know, though he must have some plan. He values his own skin too highly to endanger it unduly.”

  “Do you think he’ll try for us first?” she asked with creditable calmness, sinking down onto the ground next to him.

  “No, and for the same reason. Any shots would alert the house that something is wrong.” He peered forward, his eyes intent. “He’s come this far, he’s not going to give up now.”

  She looked over at him, crouched beside her in the shrubbery that lined the parkland. “Alex, I owe you an apology.”

  “Why? All you’ve done is possibly ruin my chance of catching an assassin.”

  “I hate it when you’re sarcastic!” she flared. “Oh, why should I bother? I thought I misjudged you, but maybe I haven’t. You can’t trust anyone, can you? Not even to—”

  “Why should I? Most people have proven quite untrustworthy.”

  “Not even to show your feelings, so you hide behind sarcasm.”

  “I don’t need your pity,” he said, biting off the words.

  “Pity? That was contempt! Is that how you’re going to live your life, Alex, forming brief attachments, never letting anyone get too close—”

  “Be quiet.”

  “—never really getting involved with someone, holding people at arm’s length—”

  “Cecily, I am warning you.”

  “—never feeling love?”

  “God’s teeth, who says I don’t feel love?” he demanded, and fastened his mouth on hers. After a startled second Cecily responded, moving her mouth eagerly against his, and when at last the kiss ended, both were breathing unevenly.

  “You’re experienced at this,” she said at last, her voice as shaky as her breathing. “You know what to do to affect a woman.”

  Alex reached out to tuck an errant curl behind her ear, his hand unsteady. “No, Cecily. Only you. I’ve never kissed anyone else like that.”

  “Only me?” Joy flared within her. “But how can I believe you, when you don’t believe in me?”

  “Cecily.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Trust is hard for me, with the life I’ve led.”

  “I know. I finally realized that.”

  “But I do trust you.” He pulled back to gaze at her. To her surprise, his eyes were anxious. “I do. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have let you stay.”

  “And here I thought you were concerned about my safety.”

  “That, too. And I wanted you with me.” He leaned against her again. “I am a poor rake, Cecily. I’m all that you said, and more. But I don’t want to be that way, and I’m trying. It will take me time, sweeting.”

  “Oh, Alex.” She reached up to touch his cheek. “We have that.”

  “Maybe.” He straightened, looking regretful. “Of all times for this—”

  “I don’t know, it seems appropriate, somehow. Considering how we first met.”

  He flashed her a brief smile, and then turned serious. “It’ll have to wait for London, sweeting.”

  “I can wait.” Her eyes met his. “I trust you, Alex.”

  Alex caught her hand and kissed it. “Thank you, sweeting.”

  “Now.” Cecily’s voice became brisk. “What are we going to do about Edgewater?”

  “Catch him.” Alex’s face had gone grim again. The hunter was back. “I’ll not let him escape this time.”

  “I think we should go after him.”

  Alex turned towards her, grinning. “Do you know, Cecily, I think in your own way you’re something of an adventuress.”

  Cecily’s eyes sparkled. “Such a compliment, sir! But, really, Alex, don’t you think we should hunt him down, instead of waiting for him to show himself?”

  “Yes, I do.” He rose, reaching out his hand to her. “I’d like to leave you here. You’d be safe enough, I think. I doubt Edgewater will wish to run into us.”

  “No. ‘Whither thou goest.’”

  “I don’t think that quote is particularly apt,” he said, but he was smiling. “Very well, then. Let us go catch an assassin.”

  Some distance away, the Marquess of Edgewater crouched near some bushes, looking out at the house and considering his alternatives. The drive, where soon Lord Liverpool would be arriving, was too far for his shooting, superb though it was, to be effective. He had to get closer to the house, but not so close that he couldn’t elude capture. What he needed was a diversion, or a hostage. A hostage, yes, that was an idea, and he knew where one could be found.

  The idea was so perfect, he nearly laughed aloud. When he had heard the shot, sometime earlier, he’d known he was being pursued. Somehow, he hadn’t been surprised to see St. Clair, but the sight of Cecily had been startling. Now he could see it for what it was, the intervention of some kind fate, allowing him to take his revenge on both Cecily and St. Clair, as well as to complete his mission. It confirmed what he had always known. He was one of the special ones, one of the chosen, and he would win out. Anything less was unimaginable.

  Wearing the mocking smile that never reached his eyes, Edgewater rose. He had work to do, and he would succeed. His destiny was within reach.

  “Stay close,” Alex cautioned as he and Cecily began their slow progress through the belt of woods between the house and the lane, “and keep as quiet as possible.”

  “I wish I’d worn my breeches,” she whispered, and he flashed her a quick smile. “Did you see him go this way?”

  “No, but it stands to reason he’s here somewhere. He has to get close to that drive.” He held a branch back so she could pass by, and though he smiled at her, it was clear to her from the tense set of his shoulders and the way his eyes searched the trees behind her that she wasn’t uppermost in his mind. She didn’t mind. In an odd sort of way, she was enjoying this. She felt for the first time that someone was seeing her as she really was, and that she, in turn, was seeing the real Alex, a sight she knew few had been privileged to have. Why he had suspected her, she neither knew nor cared. That was behind t
hem. This afternoon had forever changed her, and she would never be quite the same again.

  The gloom among the trees deepened as they continued to struggle through the underbrush, keeping the house and the drive always in view to their left. It was so peaceful that Cecily found it hard to believe that danger lurked nearby, except for the continued silence of the birds. Whether it was their own presence that had alarmed the birds, or Edgewater’s, she didn’t know, but she hoped Alex was wrong. She hoped Edgewater was far away by now.

  They both heard it at the same time, the sound of a vehicle of some sort, and the pounding of hoofbeats, carried to them by a trick of the wind. Alex turned back, his eyes startled. “The lane,” he said, forgetting to keep his voice down, and changed direction. Cecily followed. If this were Lord Liverpool’s carriage, perhaps they were in time, after all. Following Alex, she stepped from the grassy bank onto the lane, and at that moment someone grabbed her from behind.

  Cecily shrieked, and then went very still as she felt the unmistakable pressure of a gun barrel against her jaw. For a moment terror overwhelmed her so strongly that she thought she would faint, and only willpower kept her from sagging against her captor. It was Edgewater; the scent of sandalwood, now mixed with other, less pleasant odors, told her that. The arm that held her against him was so hard and strong that she wondered why she had ever considered him weak.

  In the distance, the sound of the carriage grew louder. Alex, having taken an involuntary step forward, lowered his pistol. “A wise move,” Edgewater said, his voice so close to Cecily’s ear she had to force herself not to flinch. “As you see, I seem to hold all the aces.”

  Alex gazed at him for a moment, his face unreadable. “I congratulate you, Edgewater,” he said at last, with that edge to his voice that told Cecily he meant exactly the opposite. He seemed relaxed, one hand in a pocket, but the muscles in his neck stood out corded and hard. “You’ve sunk to hiding behind a woman.”

  “Ah, but not just any woman,” Edgewater gloated. “Your woman. It will give me great pleasure to take her away from you. The famous rake. Who would have thought it?”