Page 41 of How to Tempt An Earl
They rode hard then, Kieran in the lead, Tambor’s hooves thundering across the countryside, a single thought thundering through his head:let me be in time. This was the great fear of the Horsemen—that their weakness would be discovered and used against them. The choice not to marry had been their solution to that fear and it had worked, for a while. He would ride into hell for Celeste and he knew Roan was counting on that. He’d protect his home; Roan was counting on that as well. He simply couldn’t choose not to. It was not the Horseman’s way to let innocents suffer. A Horseman protected those he cared for. But it made family and home a vulnerability, one Kieran had not had to deal with until now. He bent low over Tambor’s neck, taking a country stile.
I am coming, Celeste.
* * *
‘Do you think he’ll come, Celeste? Were you charming enough?’ Roan tested the bonds around her wrists where they looped over a tall bed-post in one of Wrexham Hall’s many bedrooms. This one overlooked the front drive. ‘There, nice and tight. I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere soon. But you have a good view for our little pageant,’ Roan added conversationally.
‘He’ll recognise your handwriting, yes? I’d hate to go to all this effort and not have him appear. How embarrassing for you, too, when you thought that he loved you.’
Kieran did love her. It was why she’d left him. It would have made him weak, made him take chances. She didn’t want to be used against him and didn’t want to be the cause of his death. Love was scary. Freedom was easier, lonelier, safer.
Ammon Vincent entered the room, carrying a musket, and she paled, bargaining quickly. ‘I wrote the note; I dismissed the staff just as you asked,’ she reminded Roan through gritted teeth. She’d got them all to safety with her lies. They would not suffer for her. She’d not wanted to write that note. It would ensure Kieran walked into Roan’s web of diabolical revenge. Dismissing the staff had ensured their safety but it had also taken away any chance of an ally for herself or for Kieran. He would have only his brothers—three against however many men Roan had with him.
But, if there was to be a chance for her, she had to think of herself in these moments. ‘In exchange, you said—’
‘I know what I said.’ He gave a cold laugh and turned to Ammon. ‘She doesn’t want you to touch her. She’ll do just about anything to keep that from happening.’
‘Anything, boss?’ Ammon gave her a cruel look. ‘I bet I know one thing she won’t do.’
‘What’s that?’ Roan played along and her blood curdled.
‘Die—she won’t die. When it comes down to it, everyone has a price. Everyone wants to live.’ He smirked. ‘Isn’t that right, princess?’
She said nothing and Ammon shrugged. ‘Boss, let’s make a bet between you and me. I win, I get her. If you win—well, then I was just wrong. I think, if she has to choose between living or dying, choosing herself or her Horseman, she’ll choose living. She won’t die for him. I’m going to tie this musket to her side.’
He jabbed the gun into place, lashing it tight, the barrel poking into her flesh. He moved her bound hand into position over the trigger, the horror of his sick riddle filling her with cold dread. ‘It’s an old dilemma, but still an interesting one, isn’t it? She can see her Horseman ride up into our killing zone, where we will catch him and his brothers in a little cross-fire. She’ll see him well in advance though, and shecouldwarn him with this musket. He’ll hear the shot soon enough to ride off and live to fight another day. I don’t think she’ll do it, though.’
Roan slapped his leg and laughed. ‘I like it. Weren’t you telling me just this morning, Celeste, you’d rather die than be Ammon’s whore? I guess that has been arranged.’ He tweaked her chin and pulled out his watch. ‘Ammon, have you started the fire?’
‘Yes, Parkhurst should be seeing the first signs of trouble about now.’ Ammon gave a grin that revealed holes where teeth had once been before they’d been lost in a fight. ‘I’ll go to work on the rest of it.’
Roan gave her a ruthless look. ‘Never say I don’t give people choices, my dear. There are a lot of ways to die today: musket ball, fire, smoke, broken heart… Choose one that suits you. It’s a shame to waste your beauty and your talents, but you’ve proven disloyal to me twice now, just like your father. He thought he could slip away to the Alps with you, so he had to die. Now I’ve come all this way to make you pay for your betrayal. Understand, it’s purely business. I can’t have people saying I’ve gone soft.’
She felt her gorge rise, emotions coming in waves: grief anew for her father, who had loved her and who had been trapped into a life of deceit by this man. Then the anger came. Roan had taken everything from her: her father, her freedom…and he’d take Kieran too, if she let him.
She tugged at her bonds, shaking the bed-post in her rage. ‘There is a special ring of hell for men like you.’ If she were free, she’d plunge her dagger deep into his heart. But her bonds held. If there was any plunging of knives to be done, it would be up to Kieran now.
He smirked. ‘I have no plans to find out today.’ He left her then. A few moments later, from her vantage-point, she saw him take up his position on the front lawn.
Celeste drew a shaky breath. She’d been a fool and she would die today for her mistake; that was a certainty, the only one she had. She was tied to a bed-post, a gun strapped to her side, in a house that was slowly burning down around her—a house in which she’d lived the best month of her life with the best man she’d ever known. That man had shown her true partnership and true courage—not because he’d killed two men in an alley for her but because he’d had the fortitude to re-examine his preconceived notions about love and marriage. He, too, had once believed those were things he could not embrace. Yet he had been compelled to take the leap and had held out his hand, waiting to help her across that same chasm.
She had hesitated in both word and deed. She’d not leapt when he’d asked her and she’d not spoken the words in her heart when she could have:I love you; three simple words. Instead, she’d opted to give voice to doubt, to obstacles and to improbability when she should have chosen hope.
Now it was too late. There would be no more time for words, no more chances to say them. He would never know just how much he’d meant to her. What did her paltry sense of freedom mean beside the enormity of his love—theirlove? She would regret those hesitations for the short remains of her life.
If she was brave enough, she could save Kieran. If she was a coward, she’d see him shot down before her eyes on the lawn of the home he was making here and that would be her fault, because hewouldcome for her, as undeserving as she was. There was no doubt in her mind about that. As long as the smoke didn’t get to her first.
Chapter Twenty-One
The first detail Kieran noticed as he pounded down the lime alley on Tambor was the smoke: how much more of it there was, how dark it was as it filled up the sky. Time was slipping away. He and his brothers had spent much of it on the perimeter, quietly taking out one man at a time. Stealth had been their friend. They couldn’t expect to safely or effectively overcome Roan’s coterie of mercenaries all at once. They’d be outnumbered and, while numbers were not always the deciding factor when up against the Horsemen, it did increase the chance of not reaching their goal without sustaining injury, and injury would slow them down at the critical moment.
The perimeter had involved bloody knife-work and it had taken time—time Kieran was not certain he had, by the looks of the smoke-filled sky. The end of the lime alley neared. His brothers would be in position. Caine had gone round to the east of the house, Luce to the west. It had seemed from the position of his men that Roan had hoped to draw them to the front of the house and catch them in a cross-fire. It was a good plan, but one that they’d effectively reversed. The surprise would be all Roan’s.
Kieran drew his pistol. There was no more need for silent killing when he faced Roan. He must be ready, but not reckless. A tall figure stood on the front steps ofhishome and rage began to boil. He pushed the rage away. Rage was what Roan wanted. Rage and heroic recklessness made a man an easy target. Roan liked to play games. If he was to win, he needed to think clearly and quickly. He had to choose his shot carefully. He could not shoot Roan before he knew where Celeste was.
‘Good day,’ Roan called from the steps. ‘You took longer than expected. I was beginning to think none of this mattered to you—the house, the lovely Celeste. It’s not every man who can ride away from such beautiful things.’
Kieran halted Tambor on the drive and held Roan’s gaze as he went on the offensive. ‘There was business to take care of first.’ He was in the centre of the drive, a perfect target for Roan’s men if they’d been at their positions. Soon, Roan would realise his men were gone.
