“Didn’t I overhear you say you saved yourself, m’lady?” His embrace was even more awkward than Temple’s, but Piper didn’t care. She was free and among friends.
“Tam and Ian?” She turned back to Connor. “Are they well?”
“Why don’t we go find out?” Temple waved her toward the far staircase. “I’d like to make haste, if you please.”
Connor caught her hand and towed her along, holding her steady as they descended the narrow flight. “Why? Didn’t you subdue the other men?”
“Aye, though another problem presented itself,” Connor told her as he led her through the kitchen and out the back door. As they rounded the corner of the inn, he came up short with a snarl. “Och, ye fooking bastard.”
* * *
“Such language, Mr. MacKintosh.” Rutledge clucked his tongue as he and a half dozen of his men dismounted their horses.
Connor shoved Piper behind him. Moments ago, she’d been almost sobbing with elation at her victory. Now, her breath came in shallow, panicked pants behind him. Her hands trembled as she clutched his shirt.
He would not let her success be for naught. She needed this win, and he’d make bloody certain she had it.
“Breathe, lass,” he commanded over his shoulder in a low brogue when he felt her sway to the side.
He backed her up with the hope they might disappear around the corner and make an escape down the alley. The duke shook his head and signaled for his guards to draw their weapons. Connor stiffened and clasped his hand over Piper’s as they slid around his waist. Rutledge’s gaze dipped down and back up.
“You shouldn’t have provoked me last night, Mr. MacKintosh,” he drawled. “Had you kept your distance, I may never have questioned your assertion that you knew nothing of Lady Phillipa or her whereabouts.” Rutledge lifted his nose with an exaggerated sniff. “I could smell her on you. That sweet scent she wears is quite memorable. Then again, so is the smell of her fear.”
Rage bubbled up in Connor. Fury for all Rutledge had put Piper through, for what he’d done to her—to his brothers—coursed through his veins, hot as molten iron. It solidified into steely resolve. Yanking a pair of six-shooters from his waistband, he leveled them at Rutledge. His men transferred their aim to Connor. He ignored them and focused on the duke, calculating the odds of killing the malicious bastard without any of his own associates being shot in turn.
“Ye’ll never be close enough to get another whiff of her, Rutledge. Ye’ve lost. Walk away now before ye’re no’ walking anywhere.”
He took a step forward. Though the duke took a wary step back, he raised a hand as if he found the display tedious. “Don’t be tiresome. You’re outnumbered and outgunned.”
“I wouldnae be so sure about that.”
Connor pushed Piper farther behind him, and Temple and Albert rushed around the corner to take position at each side. Each held a shotgun at their shoulder, Temple with a pair of pistols similar to Connor’s in his belt. Good thing he’d reconsidered the possibility of being followed and made that trip to the armory before he and Albert left the Grange. They were still outgunned, but he liked the odds.
“Enough of this.” Rutledge scowled at Piper and extended his hand. “My dear? The bishop awaits us at the church. From what I understand, you already did the sensible thing once to spare your friends. Retain that good sense and come along now.”
Piper hovered at the corner of the building, however, Connor didn’t need to turn away from the duke to know she hadn’t submitted to the command. And wouldn’t, if Connor had a voice in the matter. The matter that had gone on too long. This ended today.
A crowd of spectators gathered at the far corner of the inn, more noses pressed to the windows. The innkeeper, who’d directed Connor to the room where Piper had been held, stood at the door. All appeared ill at ease by the standoff, yet curious.
“Kidnapping and assault remain illegal in England, yer grace. Ye’ve too many witnesses and nae options here.” Connor offered a glower of his own.
In the distance, the whistle of the train sounded. He’d hoped to make the departure. Now, knowing it had been on time provided a measure of comfort. He cast a sidelong glance at Temple, who nodded.
Connor arched a brow at the duke. “How about ye do the sensible thing and stand down? Ye’ll no’ be wedding Piper today, or any day.”
Rutledge waved a dismissive hand. “I am the Duke of Rutledge. Who here would dare rebuke me?”
“I would.”
Piper circled around Connor with a pistol in her shaky hands. Connor did a double-take then glared at Temple over his shoulder. The agent shrugged with awhat option did I havesort of expression.
The duke’s men leveled their guns on her and back to Connor as if uncertain which of them offered the greater threat. Her aim wavered sloppily across the line of henchmen, yet it was that same sloppiness that gave them all pause.
She nodded and let the barrel of the pistol encompass them once more. “I’m not terribly competent with this. Something about not holding my finger on the trigger? Poor Wilkes, he did try to tell me.”
One or two of them winced and a spurt of humor had Connor biting his lip.
“Harm her and you all die,” Rutledge grated out.
