Page 69 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
Chapter 24
Emmeline stifled a scream and shuffled backwards where she sat on the floor. Ambrose’s gaze glittered with malice as he beheld her.
“You,” he hissed. “You escaped and told him. You told him, didn’t you?” The gun moved, pointing at her. She shut her eyes, heart pounding. It was one thing to escape from him, but another thing entirely to be face-to-face with her own death. A tear of pure terror ran down her cheek and she stifled a sob.
“Leave her!” Andrew shouted. Before she could stop him, Andrew pushed in front of her, blocking the gun.
Ambrose’s glare focused on Andrew instead. “You think you can have everything. I’m older by four years. It is my right, not yours!” His dark eyes burned with anger. “Had my father been the eldest, just as I am, I would be the earl, and you a baron.” Rage made his aim waver, the pistol pointing briefly at the roof. “You would never even have known about the treasure without me! It was Father’s quest, and mine. You think you can waltz in at the last minute and take it from me, but it is mine.”
Emmeline looked into his eyes and could not see any rationality there. His hate and envy had deprived him of his senses. She inched backwards, willing Andrew to follow her. They had to get away.
“Andrew,” she whispered.
“I am going to shoot you first,” Ambrose informed Andrew. “Then your new countess. Fine fellow you are, that you can’t even protect her.”
Emmeline tensed as Andrew drew a breath. She thought for a second that he was going to rush at his cousin, but he remained still. Ambrose was aiming the pistol wildly again, and she looked around, desperate to do something.
“You’re about to go and join Grandfather,” Ambrose informed Andrew and took aim. A wild idea came to Emmeline, and she reached for the chest, tugging it a few inches across the wet, muddy floor towards her.
“I’ll cast it into the river,” she shouted as Ambrose whipped round to face her.
“You...” Ambrose snarled. He pointed the gun at her where she crouched on the floor, and she screamed, but in that moment, Andrew moved. He launched himself at Ambrose. The gun fired, but the aim was wild, and it struck a roof beam. Emmeline screamed and ran at the twomen as they grappled on the floor. Andrew was trying to grab the gun and Ambrose was struggling upright. With a roar of rage, he twisted out from under Andrew and struck out at him with the handle of the pistol. Emmeline screamed.
“Andrew!”
Ambrose whirled around to face her, and Emmeline froze as he aimed the pistol at her. Her mind went through rapid calculations. While many pistols could only house one shot and needed to be reloaded every time, this pistol was double-barreled. Emmeline stared at the two dark mouths of the gun and fought to stay upright. Her legs were shaking, as though they would soon cease to hold her weight. Ambrose was glaring at her with hate.
“Fine. You first, and then I’ll beat Andrew to death,” he snarled. He was about to take aim, but the sound of a horse, neighing, and a man’s voice shouting, made him turn wildly to the door.
“Town Watch!” The man shouted. “Lay down your arms.”
Ambrose kept hold of his gun, but the door shuddered and buckled, and a man walked in, carrying a heavy double-barreled rifle.
“Drop the pistol,” he demanded of Ambrose. Emmeline’s legs gave way. She collapsed on the floor and Andrew, with a small cry of alarm, ran to her and wrapped his arms tight around her.
“Emmeline,” he whispered. “My dearest.”
“Andrew,” she said softly, and she shut her eyes for a moment. Relief made the last of her strength drain out of her and she lay where she was, too tired to move or even to think clearly. Her mind heard the word “dearest” and focused on it, holding onto it in the chaos like a raft in raging water.
Andrew wrapped her tight in his arms, holding her close. His embrace muffled the words in the room, and she leaned against his warm chest, listening distantly to the watchmen who were marching into the room.
She heard a noise as though something had been dropped into the mud. She assumed it was Ambrose dropping his pistol because the watchman spoke again.
“Right. Now, over here.”
She heard Ambrose walking across to the door and then the room was filled with the sound of booted feet as watchmen walked in. She heard a man approach them, and then she heard Andrew let out a delighted cry.
“Neville! You came with them.”
“Of course I did,” a man answered. Emmeline opened her eyes and looked up, recognising the dark-haired, slim-faced man who she had seen at the wedding. He was grinning brightly at Andrew, who struggled to his feet.
“Thank you, old chap,” Andrew said in a strained voice. “You saved us.”
Neville grinned. “Nothing to it, old fellow. You sent a message to me, after all. I’m just grateful we arrived on time. That horse of mine needs a mountain of bran mash. He ran so hard to get to Rilendale and then out here.”
Andrew laughed. Emmeline, relief making her weak, laughed too. Neville gazed down at her. She was huddled on the floor, the greatcoat still around her shoulders. His eyes widened.
“My lady!” He looked at Andrew. “We’d best get back to the manor, old chap. Lady Rilendale looks sorely tried.”
