Mrs. Holt carried her youngest and Mrs. Broome picked up the next smallest Holt child as Bree led the way into the ruins. The tunnel was hidden behind a partially collapsed wall in the old castle basement. When they reached the small entrance, she said, “Because I use it often, I keep candles and a tinderbox at both ends.”
“How very practical!” the dowager said approvingly. “Strike a light.”
Bree got to her hands and knees and reached inside the opening for her candles and tinderbox. Her hands were shaking so badly that it took half a dozen attempts to ignite the damp wick of one of the candles. She lit another candle from that so they’d have light at both ends of the procession.
Mrs. Broome said, “Alice, take one of the candles. Bree, you know the tunnel best so light another candle and run through fast as you can to summon help. Now go!”
Bree didn’t have to be told twice. Protecting the candle with one hand, she crawled through the entrance and straightened, grateful the tunnel was high enough for her to stand. Then she took off into the damp and dark, praying she’d find help in time.
If something happened to Sarah because Bree had been too slow, she’d never, ever forgive herself.
Rob had resigned himself to being a besotted bridegroom. A mere three days away and he missed Sarah like sin. But he did look forward to their reunions. Even more, he was looking forward to taking her and Bree to London in a few days. He wanted to show his daughter the sights, and to meet his old friends as an equal.
By starting very early, he reached home with enough time to join the end of the birthday picnic. On his way, he stopped by the stables, where Bree’s pony was waiting after spending the last few days in a tenant farmer’s stables. Jonas had groomed and saddled Riona and put a bow in the mare’s mane. Rob couldn’t wait to see Bree’s reaction when he led the pony to the picnic and presented her to his daughter.
Riona had a sweet face and an intelligent expression. Ponies could be wickedly clever, and he was sure that Bree would learn about horsemanship with this one.
Rob was halfway to the castle ruins when he saw movement by the old ice house, which was half buried in a hill. A small, muddy figure emerged and began running in his direction. He stared, astonished. Bree? Yes, it was his daughter, and she looked frantic.
Oblivious to the pony, she hurled herself into Rob’s arms, sobbing. “Papa, Papa!”
Would she be this upset from a fight with another child? Surely not. Wrapping his free arm around her, he asked, “Bree, what’s wrong?”
“The men who abducted Sarah have come back and they want to kill you and Sarah and everyone in the village!” she said, her words tumbling out. “They have a yawl in the cove and guns and they’re horrible!”
Dear God, who could have predicted such a thing? “Where is Sarah? And your grandmother and friends?”
“Sarah and I overheard the buggers talking—they’re in that barn at the far end of the old village. She stayed to listen more and sent me back to the others. They’re following in the tunnel.” She waved toward the ice house as she gulped for breath. Though her face was smudged with dirt and there were tearstains on her cheeks, she had a hold of herself again. “I was sent ahead to get help.”
“Good girl! Here’s your birthday pony.” He caught her around her waist and lifted her into the saddle. “Ride home and tell Jonas what’s happening so he can summon the local militia. He’s a sergeant in the troop and he’ll know who else to call out. Tell him to be fast and make sure everyone is armed. Do you have that?”
She nodded. For a brief moment, she registered the pony. “For me?”
“Yes, her name is Riona. Now go!”
Heart pounding, he set off for the castle ruins at his fastest run. Please God, don’t let anything happen to Sarah! If someone has to die let it be me!
But if he had any choice in the matter, no one from Kellington would be harmed today.
By the time Sarah reached the picnic area, all the guests had vanished, leaving a scatter of blankets and picnic baskets and the dowager’s Windsor chair. She scanned the area but saw no one. Could they be escaping through the tunnel Rob had mentioned once? She hoped so.
She had no idea how to find it, but no matter since she wasn’t going to run away. She might not have the courage to blow herself up, but she could damn well establish herself on high ground and slow those murderous devils if they came this way.
She scrambled up the high, very steep mound of fallen earth and stone that backed up the tall wall behind their picnic area. The ground on the far side of the wall was fairly level and a wooden bench had been placed there so visitors could sit and enjoy the magnificent view of the sea.
Two empty windows gave Sarah a commanding view of the small headland in front of the ruins. Perfect for shooting and ducking. A skilled marksman could control the whole area below, including a good section of the cliff path—and Sarah was a very skilled marksman.
Panting from the climb, she opened her reticule and emptied balls and powder in neat piles on the bench. Then she studied the ground below. The villains would almost certainly follow the cliff path since it led right to the picnic area.
Though she’d never hunted game as a girl because she didn’t want to kill, she’d been able to best all her cousins at target shooting. Today was different. She felt a fierce, primitive fury. She was the Lady of Kellington, and she would use her skills to defend her friends, family, and land.
When the rebels reached the abandoned picnic area, they’d be within easy range, no more than fifty or so yards away. With a few well-placed shots, she could drive them onto the headland and corner them there for a while. Given the steepness of the slope, no one would be able to charge up fast enough to attack her without getting shot.
Tight-lipped, she practiced loading the rifle several times. She’d always been fast at reloading, and she’d need that skill today.
Should she fire to attract attention? No, anyone who came to investigate would be an unarmed villager walking into a death trap. Nor did she want to tip off Free Eire that she was here, she had a rifle, and she knew how to use it.
She loaded the rifle one last time. Then she waited.
It was only a few minutes till five men and a woman appeared. They walked with arrogance, sure there were no threats in this peaceful place. The men all carried rifles.
Georgiana Lawford strode beside the burly older man who was her lover and co-leader. When Sarah had met the woman socially the year before, she’d thought Georgiana rather tense and bad tempered, but she’d not seen hidden madness.
Now madness had emerged as a wild, dangerous kind of beauty. Georgiana was dressed all in black except for a blazing, blood red scarf that whipped behind her in the wind. She looked like the Morrigan, the Irish crow goddess of war, blood, and death.
Sarah waited until they were directly in front of her. Taking her time, she aimed the rifle at the weaselly man who’d wanted to slit the throats of the children.
O’Dwyer was right, it was hard to point a gun at another human being. But he’d also been right that the first killing was the hardest. She’d killed one man today, and if she was to try to kill another, she couldn’t think of a better target than someone eager to murder little girls.
Taking her time, she lined up the shot, resting the barrel of the rifle on the stone sill of the window. Allowing for gusty winds from the sea . . .
She squeezed the trigger.
Ka-booooooom! The gunshot echoed across the water as the rifle kicked into her shoulder with bruising force.
The baby killer crumpled to the ground. As his comrades shouted and looked around for the source of the shot, Sarah swiftly reloaded.
Ferociously she tamped down her horror at this violence. All of the people below her were committed to killing innocents and they deserved to be shot.
She aimed at the man nearest to her. He moved as she squeezed the trigger so the shot only grazed him, but he cried out and dropped his rifle.
&n
bsp; Grimly pleased with herself, Sarah reloaded and shot again. Another wounding.
Yes! As she’d hoped, the five still standing retreated onto the headland to take shelter behind the walls of ruined outbuildings. One of the men, Flannery, she thought, figured out her location and returned fire. His ball ricocheted off the wall above her.
She ducked and reloaded. There was another window a dozen feet down the wall. She shifted to it and shot again, once more ducking immediately.
More shots smashed into the wall in front of her. A stone on the upper edge of the wall toppled back and almost hit her. She dodged, snapped off another shot, ducked below the edge of the window. How long could she keep them pinned down?
As she finished reloading, she heard a sound behind her. Panicking at the knowledge that one of the rebels must have already crept up behind her, she swung around, rifle at the ready.
“You really should stop pointing firearms at me,” Rob said mildly, standing absolutely still. “It makes a man feel unwanted.”
“Rob!” Seeing him behind her, tall, calm, and utterly competent, made her dissolve into frantic relief that she was no longer alone. She dropped the rifle and tumbled into his arms. “Oh, Robin, I was afraid I’d never see you again!”
He gave her one hard kiss, then held her away from him, his gaze steadying. “I heard shooting and came in the back way. What’s the situation?”
She pulled herself together, wiping a grimy wrist across her eyes to stem incipient tears. “Adam’s Aunt Georgiana is behind this. She and her lover are the leaders of Free Eire. There’s a Frenchman with them who probably supplied the rifles and ammunition. It sounds like they want to spread terror in England by slaughtering innocent villagers, and Georgiana persuaded them to start here because of us.”
Rob swore under his breath. “I understood why Ashton didn’t want to turn her over to the law, but I wondered then if mercy might backfire on him.”
“I don’t think anyone could have predicted that she’d take such monstrous revenge,” Sarah said with a shudder.
He gave a sharp nod and peered out the window. A rifle ball struck the wall and Rob stepped back. “It looks like you’ve cornered them on the headland. Well done! How many?”
“Four armed men and Georgiana, I think. There must be men on their yawl below. I don’t know if others came up from the boat. My guess is no.” Suppressed panic spiked again. “I . . . I didn’t know how long I could hold them off.”
“You are truly amazing, princess.” He caught her hand, lending some of his warmth. “But you’re not alone now. Since there’s only one rifle, shall I take over?”
“Please!” Now that Rob was here, she was shaking with reaction and probably couldn’t even reload her weapon, much less shoot accurately. “Here, it’s loaded.”
He accepted the rifle and peered out a window. It took him only an instant to aim, shoot, and pull back to safety as several rifles fired back.
“Nice, accurate weapon the French produced.” As he reloaded, he raised his voice and shouted, “Surrender! You’re trapped and a militia troop is on the way!”
Georgiana Lawford shouted back, “Carmichael? I don’t see any militia coming!”
“I’ll be damned if I trust myself to English justice!” the gruff voice added in a bellow. “Show your head, boyo, so I can blast it off!”
“It’s a standoff,” Sarah said, her voice shaking. “It will take time for any militia men to arrive, and when they do, charging out onto the headland would be suicide.”
“Rifles may not be the answer.” Rob took a quick look out the window to survey the slope below that led out into the headland.
Then he stepped back to evaluate the wall, shoving at several of the irregular stone blocks. “This wall is on the verge of collapsing as other walls have in the past. If we push on the right side, which seems less stable, we might be able to create a little avalanche to give Georgiana and company something else to think about. Shall we try?”
Sarah smiled crookedly. “Show me where to push. But don’t expect much.”
“Every bit will help.” He swept the remaining powder and shot back into her reticule and set it on the ground. Then he lifted the wooden bench and pressed it horizontally along the wall about four feet above the ground to broaden the area affected. “Push at the left end and we’ll see what happens. Ready? One, two, three!”
They shoved together hard. She could feel the focused power in him as he dug his heels into the turf and pushed. She did the same, and felt some movement in the wall. They pushed again, and yes, the wall was wobbly. A third time.
With the fourth shove, the right half of the wall gave way abruptly and stones began to tumble down the steep slope. Rob yanked Sarah back to safety so she didn’t follow them down the hill, keeping low in case anyone seized the opportunity to shoot.
Wanting to see what happened, Sarah looked warily out the other window, which remained in a much diminished section of wall. “Good heavens!”
Rob joined her and together they watched the stones they’d knocked over smash into other walls below, freeing still more stones to create a crushing avalanche. Sarah hadn’t realized just how steep the slope was, or how much speed falling stones could acquire going down it.
Panicked shouts rose from the Free Eire rebels as they saw the avalanche of stone hurtling down at them. A man stood only to be knocked over by rolling rocks that pounded into the low walls that no longer offered the rebels protection.
The earth itself shook. Then, with a sound like rolling thunder, the headland crumbled, sending ruined buildings and murderers plunging into the sea.
Chapter 44
Rob wrapped one arm around Sarah as they stared down at the boiling sea. A tower of water blasted into the air, followed by foam and massive waves as the heaving sea swallowed a vast chunk of earth, the remnants of castle outbuildings, and the monsters who’d come to slaughter his family and friends.
Sarah asked in a choked voice, “Do you think anyone survived?”
He gazed into the chaos of water and stone. “No.”
He’d known the headland was undercut from years of waves and weather, but he hadn’t expected to trigger its complete collapse. Shoving the wall over had been merely an attempt to complicate the situation. He’d never imagined . . . this.
But he wasn’t sorry.
Sarah pointed. “See the yawl that brought them? I think it’s the one they used to take me to Ireland. They’re raising their sails to leave.”
The yawl was pitching in the waves created by the fallen cliff. “Wise of them. With their leaders dead, retreat is the only sane thing to do. My guess is that the remains of Free Eire will disband and members will join other groups that don’t have a personal vendetta against Ashton or us.” He studied Sarah’s pale face. “If you want to have strong hysterics, feel free. You’ve earned the right.”
“I’m all right now that you’re here, but oh, lord, Rob! I don’t ever want to have another adventure as long as I live!” Like a marionette whose strings had been cut, Sarah folded jerkily onto the grass. Her pretty pale summer gown was stained with grass and dirt and her hair had fallen loose. She looked like a tomboy who’d been playing with her cousins and fallen out of a tree rather than a woman who had single-handedly held off a gang of murderers.
His indomitable golden chick. He felt unbearable tenderness along with other emotions he couldn’t name. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and protect her from the world. He wanted to lie down and make mad, passionate love to her. He wanted . . .
He locked down his churning emotions and settled on the turf beside her, drawing her under his arm. “I am reminded that princesses are descended from warrior kings and can become warrior princesses. How did you acquire the rifle and ammunition?”
“I stole it from where it was stored in the back room of the old barn.” She gestured toward the ruined village. “I was about to leave when . . .”
She swallowed hard, barely able to speak.
“O’Dwyer, the vilest of the kidnappers, came in. He planned to rape me, then hand me over to the other men to do the same. When he grabbed for the rifle, which wasn’t loaded, I let him have it while I reached for the rusty tools in the corner.”
“You knocked him out with a spade?” Rob suggested when her voice failed.
Her muscles tensed. “The tool I grabbed was a pitchfork. When I struck him with it, he . . . he died.”
“Oh, Sarah!” He turned to embrace her completely. She burrowed into his shoulder, sobs shaking her small frame.
“That’s not all,” she said as she struggled for composure. “I also shot the man who wanted to slit the throats of all the children and the other women. I—I’ve killed two men today.”
He swore under his breath. “I should have been here! You shouldn’t have had to face a gang of murderers alone.” He hugged her hard. “Though you did an amazingly good job of dealing with them.”
She looked up and gave him a twisted smile. “Women are good at doing what needs to be done.”
“True. But few are called on to defend their people against such violence. Fewer still could have done it as effectively as you.” He realized that he was shaking inside. The idea of losing her was so horrendous that he could barely wrap his mind around it.
Sarah was . . . everything. She inspired the kind of intoxicating passion he’d found with Bryony when passion was a miraculous new discovery. She had the wit and companionability of Cassie, and the tough mindedness as well. All wrapped in that ineffable, heart-shattering Sarah-ness.
Fumbling for words, he said, “When my former companion left me, she said that we were both too self-sufficient, too incapable of needing anyone or anything, to ever fall in love. She was right then.”
He skimmed his fingertips down the side of Sarah’s face. “I was so used to living that way that I didn’t even recognize how I came to need you more powerfully than the air in my lungs. I need your laughter and your kindness and your competence. I need to be with you or the world is only half alive. I love you, Sarah. Now and forever, amen.”