The Highwayman Page 11

  Bart shook his head, refusing to consider such a thing. Perry was alive. This time tomorrow all would be well, the smugglers nothing more than a bad memory, and he would banish them forever by kissing Perry until they could scarcely remember their own names.

  Clinging to that thought, Bart urged the horses to a faster pace, slowing them only as he finally reached the little road only a mile or so from Ford Bridge—and closer still, he realized, to the path where he had come across Burr limping along.

  Figures stepped from the disfiguring shadows of the trees as he drew the carriage to a halt. The rasp of matches broke the silence, the night air overtaken briefly by the smell of sulfur, and then three lanterns beat back the dark of the near-moonless night.

  "My lord," greeted a man who stood behind the others. The man who had ordered him shot—and in the weak light, Bart suddenly knew him.

  Greer's son.

  "Is your father party to this, young Greer?" he demanded. "I see William, too, and recognize all the rest of you. I cannot see how it was smart to do this; until now I did not know who was involved." He paused briefly as he saw a familiar figure indeed—but this was one he pleased to see, despite having now to worry about the safety of two. "Burr, I should have guessed, as chummy as you are with young William. Weaver's fortune was not enough for you?"

  "Enough talk," Greer's son, Carter, said coldly. "We have too much work to do."

  Bart shook his head. "I've fulfilled my end of the bargain—now give me Perry."

  "Oh, you are far from finished with your part, my lord," Carter replied. "However, we will permit you to see him. Burr, fetch Perry."

  Burr gave a terse nod, then turned and vanished back into the woods. A moment later he reappeared, dragging along a barely conscious Perry. Dried blood was smeared across his forehead, his hands bound crudely behind his back, and from the way his head hung, it was a wonder he could walk at all. Only the number of pistols pointed at his person kept Bart from launching himself at the lot of them.

  "William, Burr, check the carriage and His Lordship for weapons. I do not want any nasty surprises cropping up on our journey."

  Bart stared coldly at William as the little bastard put hands upon him with entirely too much liberty, taking away the two pistols Bart had tucked away in hopes they would neglect to check the carriage.

  Smirking, William threw the pistols away, and then turned to Burr, who examined the carriage. "You had better be doing a thorough job of it, Burr. You know what will happen if you attempt to defy us."

  Burr appeared from the carriage a moment, his expression as hateful as Bart's. "I haven't defied you so far, have I?"

  William sneered. "You have, but we'll address that matter later. What did you find?"

  "One pistol in the secret compartment in the floor, one other in the secret compartment beside the driver side bench."

  Bart swore softly to cover up his satisfaction, although he wasn't pleased that the secret compartments had been so easily found. He'd placed two pistols in the one beside the bench.

  "Load up the goods in the floor compartment," Carter ordered, motioning with his own pistol to two of the men standing by—one the son of the local milliner, the other Bart recognized as the candle maker. Bastards.

  He watched in silence as they placed what seemed a considerable amount of dragon blood in his carriage, although he had no concept of what constituted a considerable amount. "This is stupid."

  "No, my lord," Carter said. "Stupid was getting involved. You should have kept your noble nose out of the affair."

  "I came to catch a highwayman!" Bart snapped, fighting the instinct to look at Perry, aching to go to him and assure for himself that Perry would be all right. "I had no intention of stumbling across smugglers. I can assure you that I would prefer our paths had never crossed."

  Carter laughed. "Indeed, my lord. Enough talking. Into the carriage with you, along with myself and dear Perry." He clucked. "Poor Father Thomas, he will be beyond despair to learn that his son was caught up in this nasty smuggling business."

  "What?" Bart demanded, but cut off the rest of what he wanted to say when Carter raised the pistol a bit more in warning.

  "Into the carriage, my lord," Carter said coldly.

  Bart obediently went, swearing softly when he was ordered to sit opposite the end he needed to be, with Perry between him and the secreted pistol. "Perry," he said softly, not caring if there was a pistol all but shoved in his face as he reached out to touch his friend.

  Perry's head fell against Bart's shoulder and the unmistakable smell of potent medicine washed over him. "You drugged him," he said, glaring furiously at William and Carter.

  William grimaced. "He proved to have a bit of fight in him. I put a stop to that."

  "What did you use?" Bart asked, dreading the answer.

  "What do you think?" William asked with a laugh.

  Bart trembled with anger and held fast to Perry, making a silent promise that when this was over, no one would ever cause Perry harm again. He forbade it, and he would see that William and Carter swung for this if it was the last thing he did. If only he could reach the pistol, but there was no subtle way to reach across Perry to get to it—especially with William and Carter watching him so carefully.

  "What do you intend to do with us?" Bart asked. "Why did you need my carriage?"

  "Because of you and that damned highwayman," Carter said, "we failed to make a delivery of some importance. Even that bloody thief cannot stop a carriage going full tilt across the bridge, and no one would dare to question why a lord's carriage might be dashing about at odd hours of the night. You will make the delivery, and then you will help ensure that no one in Greendale learns of our smuggling activities."

  Bart glared. "I will do no such thing."

  "Oh, you will, my lord," Carter said lazily. "I'm afraid that tonight's delivery will go quite sour, and when you are finally discovered, it will be obvious that you were engaged in smuggling activities and died when the exchange turned into an argument. Father Thomas will not be surprised to learn his son was part of it."

  Was killing Burr was part of their plan as well, given he was obviously against it? Probably. Blackmail victims had a limited time of use.

  Falling silent, Bart held Perry close and prayed fervently that Crane and Weaver found them quickly.

  Thirteen

  The carriage came to such a jarring halt that Bart was nearly thrown from his seat. "There's no need to go ruining my carriage."

  "I think that you will find the treatment of your carriage the least of your problems, my lord," Carter said. He brandished his pistol. "Out."

  Bart contemplated the merits of simply throwing himself at Carter and grappling with him—but the confines of the carriage would not work to his favor, especially as it would be an armed William and Carter against his single unarmed self.

  Perhaps an opportunity would present itself once they were outside. Hopefully Burr was contriving something, but Bart couldn't risk relying on that. He needed to think of something, damn it.

  He threw open the carriage door and made to climb out—but at the last, someone shoved a boot into his backside, and he instead tumbled head over arse to the ground, landing with a pained grunt on the dirt road.

  "Stay there, my lord," Carter said with smug amusement.

  Bart remained where he was, although it took every bit of the restraint he possessed to not throw himself furiously at Carter when Perry was thrown down alongside him. He could just hear the telltale clop of horseshoes, the rattle and creak of a distant carriage, and looked up just enough to see that another carriage was headed toward them, its lantern bobbing and swinging.

  "Ah, our client arrives," Carter said. He smirked at Bart. "I did not expect him quite this soon. I suppose your execution has received a brief stay, for I would hate to alarm my wealthiest client with gunshots. William, Burr, tie his lordship up."

  Burr fetched rope from the driver's seat of the carriage and toss
ed it to William, who caught it with one hand, tucking his pistol away in order to secure Bart. There was a blur of movement beside Bart—one moment Perry had been slumped over, all but dead to the world, and the next he was standing with pistol in hand.

  A shot rang out, and suddenly Carter was on the ground.

  Bart tried to keep up, but Perry moved too fast. Carter was barely on the ground when Perry turned and attacked William, shoving him into the carriage and bringing the expended pistol down on his head.

  Nearby, Burr had launched himself at the man who had driven the carriage, dragging him down, and Bart heard the familiar, awful sound of a nose breaking as Burr punched the bastard. Off in the distance, the carriage which had steadily been approaching them drew to a sudden halt, and then a faint cry was heard as the coachman turned the carriage about. In a moment it was gone, almost as though it had never been.

  Then he was pulled to his feet and turned roughly around to face Perry. He blinked. "Are you all right?"

  Perry laughed, an edge of hysteria mingling with the relief in it. "Only you, Bart, would ask me that." He leaned up and kissed Bart briefly, but that one small touch was all that he needed to confirm what he already knew.

  "Highwayman," he murmured.

  Perry let him go and stepped away. "Burr, get their pistols. The rest will have heard the shots and will come to see what has gone wrong. Bart, help me with the dragon blood."

  Bart immediately moved to obey, helping Perry carry the carefully stored poppy seed and deposit it on the ground near the fallen men.

  "What are we going to do with this lot?" Burr asked, lightly kicking the unconscious William's shoulder.

  Perry regarded the figures with a blank expression that was almost frightening. "Carter is dead. I aimed for his shoulder, but he moved at the last moment and took the ball full in the chest. The rest we'll tie up and leave for the authorities to fetch. Come on, we have to get out of here."

  But even as they all turned toward the carriage, a group of four horsemen came crashing through the trees with pistols raised. They did not hesitate, but immediately began to fire. Bart ducked behind the carriage, praying they each had only one gun apiece. For what seemed an eternity, the clearing was filled with the sound of pistol shots, all too reminiscent of the passageway, and Bart wished desperately that it was all over and they were safely home.

  When at last the chaos seemed to stop, Bart moved hesitantly from behind the carriage, feeling like the world's greatest fool because he had no idea what to do in situations like these.

  "Burr? Perry?"

  "Bart," Perry replied in relief. "I did not see you; I feared the worst." He looked up from where he knelt on the ground, holding his arm. Bart did not need good light to see that he was bleeding and in pain.

  "Perry," he said, fear turning his blood to ice. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine," Perry bit out, clearly no such thing. "One of them clipped me soundly, but the ball did not lodge in my flesh." He laughed weakly. "We'll have matching wounds."

  Burr came up with a strip of cloth that Bart realized had been his neck cloth. "Let's bind it as best we can, until it can be properly tended."

  "You do not look so well-off yourself." Bart frowned, taking in the dark smear across Burr's left cheek.

  "They cannot aim in the dark," Burr said with a brief smile. "Perry is a far better shot and you were smart enough to stay well out of the way—and I am unfortunately used to being in violent situations." He sighed and shook his head, falling silent as he dressed Perry's wound.

  Perry rested his head for a moment against Bart's shoulder. "I am sorry that you were dragged into this, Bart. I did my damnedest to warn you away."

  Bart laughed softly. "Then perhaps, highwayman, you should not have stolen kisses in addition to my gold."

  "What?" Burr said, fumbling briefly in his bandaging. "Highwayman? You, Thomas?"

  Perry grimaced. "It was the only way I could think to stop the smugglers without anyone getting hurt. Can we perhaps save this discussion for later? I do not know how much longer I can stay upright."

  Bart helped him stand as Burr finished his work. They had just started to help Perry into the carriage when they heard the familiar sound of horses running full tilt along the road. Grim-faced and out of usable pistols, they moved into the dark as best they could and waited. Seven men appeared in the clearing, and a moment later, Burr was the first to rush out of the shadows.

  "Thad!"

  "Alfred." Weaver all but threw himself off his horse, bolting over to grab Burr up in a fierce embrace. "Idiot," he said fervently. "Never do something so foolish again. I won't stand for it. Promise me."

  Burr smiled. "I promise."

  Crane dismounted more calmly, although in the light of the sudden profusion of lanterns struck by his men, his face was by far the most grim. He strode through the mess of blood and bodies to the figure closest to the carriage. Kneeling, he grabbed William's hair and roughly lifted his head up—then slapped him hard, over and over, until William's eyes fluttered open.

  William froze as he realized what was going on. "Father—"

  "You are even more of a disgrace and a disappointment than I had imagined," Crane said coldly. "If your mother were alive, she would be in tears." He stood up, dragging his son with him, then shoved him roughly at two of the men who had dismounted. "Tie him up; secure him to one of the horses."

  "Father," William said again, but when Crane sharply turned his back, he fell silent.

  Weaver, still holding loosely to Burr, looked around the clearing. "It would seem that our assistance was not needed."

  "It was all Perry," Burr replied. "He is like something out of a tale of knights and dragons."

  Perry snorted. "More like a particularly awful penny dreadful."

  Bart laughed. "Yes, I suppose you share a certain common element with many of them."

  That got him a warning look from Perry, amused looks from Burr and Weaver, and a wary one from Crane. "I say," Crane said, "are you all right, Lord Bartholomew?"

  "Yes," Bart replied. "Although I will be much better once I am home in bed with a glass of brandy. The next time I receive word of a highwayman in the area, I intend to leave the matter fully in your hands." He froze, something suddenly occurring to him. "If any of you reports this incident to my family, I will toss every last one of you into the sea with rocks affixed to your boots."

  Laughter rippled through the clearing. Crane shook his head. "I make no promises, my lord. They are bound to hear of it one way or another."

  "Fine," Bart muttered. "Only give me warning so that I might flee the country first."

  Perry chuckled and patted his cheek. "I'm certain they will only yell at you for a month, Bart."

  "I have never been that lucky," Bart groused, but could not help return Perry's faint smile. Neither could he resist leaning down to steal a brief, soft kiss. "We should get you home so that wound can be properly dressed."

  "I would not mind a bed and brandy of my own," Perry admitted.

  Bart stole another kiss, completely uncaring of their audience, although his words against Perry's mouth were too low for anyone else to catch. "You can share mine," he murmured, then stole another whisper-soft kiss before forcing himself to pull back. "Come on, into the carriage with you."

  "What about you?" Perry asked.

  "Someone has to drive it," Bart replied.

  "Not you," Crane said sharply. "You both look ready to fall over at a stiff breeze." He motioned sharply to one of his men. "Take them home." He then turned back to the others, barking out orders for the bodies to be handled, the smugglers still alive to be secured, and the poppy seed gathered up.

  Bart left him to it, more than happy to wash his hands of the matter. He sensed that it was not quite over, for there would be much to discuss and report and clarify, but it could all wait until morning.

  He lingered long enough to thank Burr, bid him and Weaver farewell—and he was happy to see that m
atters between them seemed well and truly resolved—then climbed into his carriage and settled beside Perry. As the carriage began to move, he draped an arm across Perry's shoulders and dragged him close, breathing in the sunshine scent of him that not even blood could wholly disguise.

  "I'm glad you did not die as you intended," he said softly.

  Perry tensed against him, and then he felt a warm puff of air against his skin as Perry sighed. "When did you figure it out?"

  Bart shifted guiltily in his seat. "I sent a letter to a friend of mine, hoping to figure out what had torn you and your father apart. The information I got back made it plain that you were the highwayman. All things taken together, it wasn't hard to deduce that you fully intended to die fighting the smugglers."

  "It would have made everyone happy," Perry said tightly.

  "Not me," Bart retorted. "We have been distant these past years, but you were always in my thoughts. I wish I had realized sooner that I loved you, though. Perhaps then all of this would not have happened."

  Perry's eyes filled, and the tears spilled briefly town his cheek. "You—" His breath hitched, and he shook his head. "It's over and done with now, and over the past few days I've become damned tired of dwelling on the past. I came home to rid myself of the dragon blood addiction once and for all, and thought my father would help." He sighed again. "Instead, everything just became worse. When I discovered the smuggling, it seemed like a chance to atone for my mistakes. I thought maybe Father would forgive me, or at least hate me a little less. But I don't think he ever will, and I don't know that I can keep fighting for something already well and truly lost."

  "You deserve to be proclaimed a hero," Bart said firmly. "You've saved my life twice, and Burr is safe now because of you, and the majority of the villagers remained unharmed, which was what you wanted all along. I do not know if matters with your father will ever improve, Perry, but you have me no matter what."

  Perry trembled against him, holding as tightly as he could with his one good arm. "I missed you, Bart. I thought of you all the time, but I didn't realize how much I missed you until I saw you again. You're all I need, if you'll have me."