He had positioned the chair in front of the open door, so that Riordan would have no trouble seeing her when he forced his way inside the house. While a candle burned on a table beside her, the rest of the room was in darkness. Silas stood across the room, his sword unsheathed and lying on a nearby table. In his hand a knife gleamed.
"How do you intend to explain all of this to Edwina and her mother? Don't you think they'll be a little annoyed that their dear Lord Silas Fenwick permits blood and bodies in his parlor?"
"I care not what those two silly fools think. I've already arranged for their return to Cornwall on the morrow. Their vessel will have a little ...accident along the way. Alas, my betrothed and her mother won't survive."
"You intend to kill them?"
"Why do you look so distressed? I can tell you care not about them."
"I may consider Edwina and her mother rather silly, but I wish them no harm. But to kill them? Oh, how can you be so heartless?"
"They've served their purpose."
"Their purpose?"
"I needed an excuse to visit Land's End, so that I could learn the names of the ships' captains who would be carrying the king's secret cargo."
"Barclay Stuart." Ambrosia's eyes widened. "You were the one who murdered him."
"How astute you are, my dear. Like Edwina and her mother, you will also have to be eliminated."
"How many people do you intend to murder before this ends?"
He laughed. "As many as it takes."
"You're mad."
His eyes blazed. "Shut up." He stepped closer and swung his hand, slapping her so hard he left the imprint of his fingers across her cheek. "Unless you hold that tongue, I'll be forced to cut it out." His eyes narrowed on her. "In fact, it would give me pleasure to do so. I've heard all I'll allow from you."
He held up the knife, so that the finely honed blade caught the glint of moonlight from the windows behind them. "When I'm finished with your lover, I'll make you pay."
"I'm not afraid of death, Silas."
"There are many ways to die, my dear Ambrosia." His eyes glittered with madness. "I'll see that yours is slow and painful to you, while extremely satisfying to me."
It wasn't a sound that alerted Ambrosia to Riordan's presence. It was just something she sensed.
When she saw his shadow flit across the doorway, she cried out, "Nay, Riordan. Go back. This is all a trap."
The shadow loomed larger, and he stood on the threshold, his sword lifted. "Has he hurt you, Ambrosia?"
"Please, Riordan. You must go. It's you he wants."
"I know that." He was studying her with a hunger that caused an ache around her heart. "I ask again. Are you hurt, Ambrosia?"
"Nay, Riordan."
For the first time he looked at Silas, standing directly behind Ambrosia. "Let the woman go and I give you my word, I'll lower my weapon and let you have the pleasure of killing me."
"I'll have that pleasure anyway." Silas gave an evil grin as he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled back her head before pressing the blade of his knife to her throat. "Lower your weapon now, Spencer. Or the woman dies."
When Riordan hesitated, he laughed. "It would be a shame to cut this pretty throat when it's so recently healed." He pressed the knife until she sucked in a breath. "What's the matter, my dear Ambrosia? Am I hurting you?"
"Let her be, Silas." Riordan tossed his sword aside and stepped closer. "It's me you want. Take me."
"With pleasure." In one swift motion Silas picked up his sword and ran it through Riordan's shoulder. He had the satisfaction of watching the color drain from his enemy's face as blood streamed down his tunic.
At Ambrosia's cry he turned with a smile. "Did you think I would end his life quickly? If so, you weren't listening. I told you, my dear Ambrosia, there are many ways to die. I intend to show you and your lover all of them." a
When Riordan lunged, Silas neatly sidestepped, (hen brought the knife to Ambrosia's throat once more. This time he drew blood. "I warned you, Spencer. You're not to fight me. If you do, I'll simply have to punish you by hurting the lovely lady."
Riordan froze in his tracks. The sight of Ambrosia, helpless and bleeding, was worse than any pain inflicted by a sword. He squared his shoulders. And prepared himself for the torture to come.
"I've never seen Winnie in such a state." Bethany tumbled into the carriage behind her sister, Darcy, as it took off with a lurch. When she got her bearings, she pulled out her pistol and began loading it with gunpowder.
Up front, Newton was driving, with the old nurse beside him, urging him to go faster. Their housekeeper, awakened from a sound sleep, looked befuddled. Beside her, their grandfather was strapping on his scabbard, tucking a knife at his waist and looking very much like the privateer he had been in his youth.
"How will we find Silas Fenwick's home, Grandpapa?" Darcy asked as she fingered the knife in her hand.
The old man looked up. "Do we know the way, Newt?"
'"Nay, sir. But Miss Mellon believes the king will know."
"The king?"
Everyone in the carriage went deathly quiet. It was Bethany who finally spoke. "We're heading for the palace?"
"Aye." Winnie's normally pale cheeks were suffused with color. "This is no time to be timid. We must do iwhatever it takes to save our Ambrosia and Captain Spencer."
Ambrosia bit back a scream as Silas inflicted yet another horrible wound to Riordan. This time it was his arm. Blood streamed from both his shoulders.
"Still standing, Spencer?" Silas gave a shrill laugh. "I'll soon have you on your knees, and begging me to end your life. But it's far too soon for that. I have a great deal more pleasure planned first."
He strolled to where Ambrosia was seated and lifted the knife to the bodice of her nightshirt. With one quick slice, it fell open, revealing the darkened cleft between her breasts. "I'll, tempt you with that much now, Spencer. Just to whet your appetite. And mine."
His laughter grew more shrill. A sound that sent icy shivers along Ambrosia's spine, for she knew now that he was completely mad.
As he walked back toward Riordan, Ambrosia noted that he'd left the knife on the table behind her. For the first time in hours she felt a glimmer of hope. If she could edge her chair backward, there was a chance.
She waited until Silas lifted his sword to inflict more pain on Riordan. As he ran the blade of his sword through Riordan's tunic, she shifted her chair backward. It was only a tiny movement, but she wiggled her fingers around and felt the sting of the blade. Ignoring the pain, she closed her fingers around it and maneuvered it until she could feel it begin to cut through the cord. Keeping her eyes on Silas, she continued to slice until she felt the cord begin to give.
She saw blood ooze from yet another wound on Riordan's body, and prayed for strength. Unless she freed herself quickly, it would be too late.
Tugging against the bonds, she felt the cord drop away. Before it could fall to the floor, she caught it and continued holding her hands behind her, with the cord grasped firmly in her fingers.
She saw Riordan watching her. When he realized what she was doing, he turned to Silas, determined to keep his full attention.
"If you were to drop that sword, I'd show you that I'm still twice the man you are, despite these wounds. Or are you afraid to face me without that weapon?''
"Afraid?" Silas laughed. "You can barely stand up. Why would I be afraid of you?''
"Prove it. Toss aside that sword and face me like a man."
Silas Fenwick's face darkened with fury. "You think to prove yourself a hero to the woman, do you, Spencer?" He tossed aside his sword. "This is going to give me pleasure."
Riordan managed to evade the first blow, but when he tried to raise his fists, he found that his arms were nearly useless. He could barely lift them above his chest.
The second blow caught him on the chin and he fell backward, against the wall. He leaned there a minute, struggling to clear his head. Over Silas's
shoulder he saw Ambrosia working feverishly on the cords that bound her ankles. He would do whatever it took to distract Silas until she was free. Then, he prayed, she would have the sense to run to freedom.
He braced himself for the next blow and managed to twist aside so that Silas's fist connected with the wall. But he wasn't so fortunate with the next, as Silas gave him a vicious shove backward, then rammed a fist into his midsection.
Riordan dropped to his knees and waited for his vision to clear. When it did, he found himself facing the tip of Silas's sword.
"I grow weary of this sport. I've decided to end it. And end your life, Spencer. There's still the woman to deal with. I'd like the energy to steal as much pleasure as possible from her before I send her to join you in death."
Fenwick brought his arm back, ready to plunge his sword through Riordan's heart. But just as he did, he felt something hot pierce his flesh between his shoulders. The sword slipped from his hands. He turned. And saw Ambrosia standing across the room. A room that had begun spinning wildly.
His body refused to obey him, and he dropped to his knees, still struggling to reach the hilt of the knife that protruded from his back. With a gasp he fell forward.
Ambrosia raced across the room just as Riordan's eyes began to close.
"Oh my darling." She wrapped her arms around him and held on. So much blood. His eyes were glazed with pain. His pallor terrified her. "Hang on, Riordan. Don't die, my darling. Oh, please don't die."
That was how the others found them when they arrived minutes later. The king and his soldiers stormed into the manor house through the front door, while Bethany and Darcy, Newton and Geoffrey, Mistress Coffey and Miss Mellon came through the window, prepared for battle.
As they surveyed the bloody room, and realized just how close these two had come to dying, the scene became one of bedlam, with soldiers marching through each room of the house, in search of any more traitors, the king demanding to know exactly what had happened, and Ambrosia's family all talking at once.
But through it all, Ambrosia clung to Riordan, her tears mingling with his blood, her lips pressed to his temple, urging him not to die. Begging him to stay with her.
They were, he realized as the blackness overtook him, the sweetest words he'd ever heard.
While the others stared around at the violent scene of death, it was proper little Winnie who assessed the needs and began shouting orders.
"Bethany. I want water. At once. Darcy. Fetch some clean cloth to bind Captain Spencer's wounds. Geoffrey and Newton, carry him to that chaise. Now. Mistress Coffey, we'll need disinfectant. And opiates for the pain."
Ambrosia refused to let go of Riordan, even while her grandfather and Newt hauled him to the chaise and laid him gently down.
While the others raced off to do the old nurse's bidding, Edwina Cannon and her mother stepped into the parlor, dressed in their nightclothes and looking completely bewildered by the soldiers marching through the house with drawn swords.
"Silas," Edwina called. "Can you tell Mama and me what's happening?"
She paused, staring around at the grisly scene. Spying Silas lying in a pool of blood, she put a hand to her throat. All the color drained from her face. "Silas, my beloved."
"Your beloved is a traitor," Mistress Coffey said as she returned with disinfectants and opiates.
"A...traitor?" Edwina caught her mother's arm and the two stared at each other in stunned silence.
"Aye. And he was planning to have the two of you murdered before you reached Cornwall," Ambrosia announced.
"This cannot be." Edwina began to weep in her mother's arms. "He...loved me. We planned to be wed."
"He was planning to flee the country," the king said matter-of-factly, repeating what he had just learned from Ambrosia. "And he wanted no one left alive who could tell of his treachery. He was merely using you so that he could visit Cornwall undetected, until he could murder Barclay Stuart and steal the list of ships carrying secret cargo for England."
At that, amidst all the chaos, Edwina and her mother fainted dead away.
Too busy to deal with them, the others walked over them as they hurried to assist Winnie, who was disinfecting and binding Riordan's wounds.
By the time she had finished, Riordan was awake and clenching his teeth at the pain.
The king leaned over the back of the chaise, peering down at his old friend. "Are you alive under all those dressings?''
In reply he got a vicious oath.
"I say. Is that any way to speak to your king?''
Again the muttered oath, this time stronger.
Charles smiled at Ambrosia. "He's going to be fine, my dear. I can tell by his ...colorful language. He's endured many more serious wounds than these." He turned to Riordan. "You look bloody terrible. You know, old friend, you really ought to make yourself more presentable for your king."
Riordan gritted his teeth against the pain.
Charles merely smiled as he looked over at Edwina and her mother, still lying on the floor. "If someone can revive those two fallen sparrows, I think we should all return to
Hampton Court
. Since my royal sleep has been disturbed, and morning is upon us, we'll break our fast, and while we're all being restored, Miss Lambert and my old friend Riordan Spencer can tell us all the fascinating details of this latest adventure. Or should I say misadventure?"
It was a strange procession that made its way to the palace. The king had insisted that Ambrosia and Riordan ride in the royal carriage. Two more carriages followed, bearing the rest of the Lambert family, as well as Edwina Cannon and her mother. Alongside rode the king's soldiers, in scarlet and gold, their swords gleaming in the morning light.
Riordan was grateful for the cool air. It helped to clear his mind, though he still seemed to drift in and out at times. He was tucked up in the corner of the carriage, with Ambrosia beside him. The king sat across from them, feeling energized by all the excitement.
"How did you happen to be here?" Riordan leaned his head back, enjoying the movement of the carriage. It made him feel as though he were back on his ship.
Charles smiled, remembering. "The Lambert family barged into the palace, making quite a noise. They demanded to see their king, and my servants almost had them tossed out like beggars. But that feisty little nurse just wouldn't accept anything except that she be allowed to speak personally with her king."
Ambrosia gasped. "Are you talking about Winnie?"
"Winnie, is it? She called herself Miss Mellon, and she insisted that I would lose two of my most loyal subjects unless I sent my soldiers at once to Silas Fenwick's estate."
"Winnie." Ambrosia smiled. "Who would have believed it of that sweet old thing?"
"That sweet old thing was like a dog with a bone. The woman was vicious." Charles smiled again. "And did you see how she took over when she saw Riordan's wounds?"
"Aye. I believe she's becoming absolutely fearless."
"It seems to run in the family." He studied the bruises at Ambrosia's throat, visible beneath the shawl her old nurse had insisted she wear over her torn nightshift. As they arrived at HamptonCourtPalace, half the staff was gathered at attention in the courtyard, awaiting the arrival of their monarch.
Minutes later orders were barked out by a haughty housekeeper, and the servants scattered to see to the comfort of the king's guests. Baths were ordered. Fresh clothing was to be portioned out. And a lavish meal prepared.
Edwina, still looking as pale as a ghost, stared around in astonishment. "You mean, Majesty, we are to be your guests?"
"Aye. Until I can arrange safe passage back to Cornwall."
He turned away, then turned back when Miss Mellon shrieked, "Somebody catch them."
Edwina and her mother had once again fainted. As servants rushed over to carry them inside, the old nurse could be heard muttering, "I always thought Mistress Cannon and her daughter a bit too frail for my taste."
Ambrosia and her sisters had t
o cover their mouths to keep from laughing aloud.
"Apparently," Ambrosia whispered to the others, "Winnie has forgotten those spells she used to take whenever things got a bit too frantic."
"Aye. Let's not remind her." Bethany caught Darcy's hand, and the two sisters danced up the steps of the palace. "I rather like the new Winnie."
"So does Grandpapa," Darcy whispered.
Her two sisters stopped dead in their tracks.
"Whatever does that mean?" Ambrosia asked.
"See for yourself."
As the three young women watched, Geoffrey Lambert gallantly offered his arm to their old nurse. "Come, Winnie. It's time we refreshed ourselves."
"Thank you, Geoffrey." She placed a hand on his arm and moved easily by his side.
As they walked past, Ambrosia turned to her sisters. "Did I just see a slight flush on those pale white cheeks?"
"You did." Bethany was shaking her head in amazement. "The next thing you know, Winnie will be wearing pink, or blue, or even purple."
"Impossible." Ambrosia put her hands on her hips. "She vowed she would never give up wearing white as long as she remained a virgin."
Bethany arched a brow. "You don't think ...she and Grandpapa..."
As the thought struck, they burst into peals of laughter.
"Stranger things have happened," Darcy whispered.
"Come along, ladies," Mistress Coffey sputtered. "I suppose it will have to fall to me to see to those silly Cannon ladies."
As she brushed past, the three sisters collapsed into giggles. Had their dour housekeeper just called the Cannon women silly, after a lifetime of trying to impress them?
Miracles, it would seem, were happening everywhere.
Charles paused outside the royal chambers. "I'll expect a full report, my friend."
Riordan nodded. "You'll have it."
As he started away, the king called, "And you'll have that expensive wedding present you asked for. You've more than earned it."
At that, Riordan turned. His words were clipped. "There'll be no need."
"What say you?" Charles shook his head. "Do you deny you love the lass?"
"I deny nothing. But that little scene with Silas has brought me to my senses. This life I lead would bring nothing but grief to a wife."