The Black Duke's Prize (26 page)

"You said Crestley was mine to do with as I
pleased."

She looked at him for a long moment. "Please
sign that thing, so we can conclude this odious business."

He stared at her, wondering if she was truly trying
to signal him that she had a plan, or if she was attempting to trick him into
signing. Still, back at Crestley she had trusted him, and he would have to do
the same for her. With a snarl he accepted the parchment and pen from DuPres's
waiting hand and scribbled his signature. As soon as he had finished, Reid
wrenched his arm back behind him and retied the bindings. DuPres lowered the
pistol to examine his signature.

"Not your neatest effort, but I believe it
will stand up in court," he muttered, folding the parchment.

It would, but only if Nicholas wasn't there to
testify that he had been coerced into signing it. "Let Katherine go,"
he said insistently, wishing he'd had time to think, to leave her something
else that could be her own.

"And let Nicholas go," Katherine said,
and raised a pistol to aim it at DuPres's chest.

At the back of the warehouse the door was flung
open, and Thomas Elder strode into the room. "Kate!" he yelled.

Katherine flinched at the sound, and DuPres leaped
toward her. She shrieked and fired the pistol, missing DuPres and nearly
taking off Nicholas's head. He ducked reflexively as she let out another
scream, kicking Francis in the leg and dodging out of the way.

"Reid!" DuPres bellowed, limping after
her, and his henchman ran forward. "Get her!"

"I don't think so," the Viscount of
Sheresford returned, launching himself at Reid.

Thomas hadn't let her come alone after all. But
Nicholas's relief swiftly turned to dismay as Reid swung a piece of lumber at
the viscount and knocked him onto a pile of broken crates. Thomas lurched to
his feet and grabbed for the other man. Katherine threw the spent pistol at
DuPres and dodged around a pole, trying to work her way back to
Nicholas.
She
was too damned brave for her own good. Instead of trying to rescue him she
should have been heading for the door and safety. Nicholas yanked his arms
again, wincing as the movement opened the cuts in his wrists. Shutting his
eyes, he yanked again. Hard.

''Your Grace?"

With a start Nicholas opened his eyes. Althaea
Hillary stood in front of him. "Miss Hillary. Thank God. Please untie
me." She knelt behind him, and he felt her fingers pause as they touched
the bloody ropes binding his wrists. To his surprise she didn't faint, but
after a moment began to tug at the knots. He wanted to yell at Kate, to tell
her to get out while she could, but he didn't want DuPres coming over and
stopping Althaea before he was free. He yanked at the ropes again. "Hurry,
Miss Hillary."

"I'm trying," she said in her hesitant
voice, and went to work again.

"Miss Hillary?"

"Sit still and be quiet. I'm nearly
finished," she ordered, tugging hard enough at the bindings to make him
wince.

Apparently the flower wasn't as timid as he had
thought. Surprised, he complied. After a moment the ropes were loosened and he
tugged his hands free. They hurt like hell, but he immediately bent and began
pulling at the ropes binding his legs. The last knot came undone, and he
staggered to his feet in time to see DuPres grab Katherine by the hair and pull
her against him.
    
.

"Get your filthy hands off her, DuPres,"
Nicholas snarled.

"Nicholas," Katherine sobbed, breathless
and half hysterical, and punched at DuPres as the madman yanked her toward the
door.

Francis pulled his pistol out of his pocket and
pointed it at her head, bringing Nicholas to a skidding halt. "Stay right
where you are, Sommesby," he said, then bent his head and kissed Katherine
wetly on the lips. "It seems I now own several things that used to belong
to you," he murmured at the duke, dragging her out the back door and kicking
it shut behind him.

''Let go of me!" she shrieked, but DuPres
wrenched her arm and pulled her down the alley.

The door was thrown open again behind them, and
Francis whipped around, flinging her into the wall. He fired as Nicholas dove
behind a pile of rotted cabbage and greens. Katherine couldn't tell whether he
had been hit or not, and she screamed again. DuPres grabbed for her, and she
ducked away. She yanked the other pistol free from her pocket and aimed it at
him. "Leave me alone," she spat out, taking a step backward.

Nicholas lurched to his feet again behind DuPres,
who took a step toward her. "Put that down," DuPres ordered.

He lunged forward, and she aimed carefully and
pulled the trigger. The shot missed him and dug into the wall a foot in front
of Nicholas. "Kate, put that down!" Nicholas bellowed, stumbling
again.

DuPres grabbed her arm, wrenching the spent weapon
out of her hand and pulling her toward the street. "You'll pay for that,
shrew," he snarled.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded,
trying to free her arm and look over her shoulder to see if Nicholas was still
behind them. "Nicholas!"

"Shut up. You might think you've ruined things
again, but you and I are leaving England for the colonies. I doubt, though,
that you'll survive the voyage," DuPres said panting.

That made sense. He would only keep her alive long
enough to see that he had gotten safely away from England and the
.authorities. They reached the street, and he yanked her to the right. His
coach stood waiting past the corner and beyond two dozen street vendors and
passersby, who all turned to watch them curiously. "I'll kill that bastard
Sommesby this time."

''Try it, then."

Nicholas slammed into DuPres from behind, and the
two of them crashed onto the cobblestoned street. Katherine stumbled away and
threw a hand out against one wall to keep herself from falling. The two men
came to their feet at almost the same time, and DuPres slammed the pistol at
Nicholas's head. The duke ducked and barreled into the smaller man's chest.

DuPres twisted as he fell and grabbed at Nicholas's
ankle, yanking him off his feet. Katherine watched as Francis grabbed the duke
around the neck. Varon broke the stranglehold and threw off DuPres. Nicholas
dodged sideways and scrambled to his feet, dragging DuPres up with him. While
the shorter man punched and kicked at him, screaming curses, Nicholas grabbed
him by the back of the collar and slammed his head into the wall. DuPres went
limp, but Nicholas did it again. And again.

"Nicholas, stop!"

The duke released his grip and staggered backward.

DuPres slid bonelessly to the ground, blood flowing
from a deep gash in his forehead. Nicholas straightened and turned toward
Katherine. He was bleeding from a cut on his cheek and lip, and dark blood
soaked into the right sleeve of his tom jacket.

"Nicholas, are you shot?" she sobbed as
she reached his side. He was filthy, his fine jacket torn and muddied.

"A ricochet," he said breathlessly.
"Are you all right?" She nodded, and he wrapped his arms around her, lowering
his face into her disheveled hair. "I was afraid I'd lost you," he
murmured, pulling her closer. "And we have gone through entirely too much
for that." After a moment he leaned away a little and tilted her chin up
with his fingers.

''That's the bloody Duke of Sommesby," someone
from the crowd called.

"It's the Black Duke," someone else
muttered. Nicholas raised his head and looked around them. "We seem to
have attracted an audience," he noted.

"I don't care," Katherine replied,
curling her fingers into his jacket. "Take me home, Nicholas," she
whispered.

"I will, if you promise never to pick up a
firearm again," he muttered, chuckling and keeping his arms close around
her.

She gasped, horrified, and touched his arm. "I
did this?"

"It's all right, my sweet. You missed me the
first time, as it turns out, so I suppose this is only fair."

"What do you mean?"

"It was DuPres."

She looked down at the unconscious figure beside
them.

"DuPres? How?"

Thomas and Althaea appeared up the street, the viscount
shoving Reid in front of him at gunpoint. "I'Il explain later."
Nicholas released her and bent over to rifle through DuPres's pockets. After a
moment he produced the paper he had signed. "Here, this belongs to
you."

Katherine looked at it for a moment, then tore it
up, letting the pieces flutter down over DuPres's unconscious form. "Now
you can have it," she said.

"I'm relieved you had a plan," Nicholas
murmured, looking down at her.

She shook her head, stepping forward to rest her
head against his- shoulder as he hugged her to him again. "I would have
let him have Crestley," she whispered, tears starting to form in her eyes,
"to save you." Agreeing to relinquish Crestley Hall, given the
alternative, had been the easiest decision she had ever made. She would have
parted with a hundred Crestleys for Nicholas Varon.

He sighed, his breath warm in her hair. "Thank
you," he returned, equally softly. "And I hope to never make you go
through that again."

She smiled a little. "I wonder what will go
wrong next." His eyes twinkling, he shook his head. "I really don't
wish to take the chance of finding out," he murmured. "You
know," he continued softly, touching her cheek, "I think that I fell
in love with you the first night we danced."

She eyed him, surprised by the admission and wondering what he was up to
now. "But I was awful to you."

"Yes," he agreed, "but very few people are." He gave
her a lopsided grin that made her feel weak-kneed. "And now I find that I
cannot live without you. I love you, Katherine. "

"And I love you, Nicholas," she returned softly, smiling.

 
"Will you marry me?"

She had never thought to hear him utter those words. "I will."

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, their emerald
highlights glinting at her. ''Thank God." He bent his head and kissed her
on the lips. She closed her eyes and reached her arms up around his shoulders.
His arms enfolded her, and he pulled her tightly against him.

She didn't open her eyes again until their gathering audience began
applauding and laughing. "Nicholas," she said, shoving at him and
blushing.

"Nick, I'm not certain this is the place for—" Thomas said, his
face flushed and a cut bleeding over one eye.

"It's all right. Thomas," the duke replied. "We're to be
married." He looked down at her again. "I love you," he
whispered.

"And I love you," she returned promptly. ''Now let me go."

He shook his head. "Not until you do something for me," he said,
his gray eyes dancing.

"What?"

His grin widened wickedly. "Kiss me, Kate, and we will be married on
Sunday."

She recognized the reference to
The Taming of
the Shrew,
and returned his grin. "We'll wed on Saturday," she
improvised.

"And I say 'tis Sunday," he returned.

"'Tis Saturday," she corrected, and then couldn't argue any
longer, because he was kissing her so thoroughly that all she could do was give
in and kiss him back while the onlookers cheered the duke and his lady. Black
knights were definitely more interesting than white knights, she thought
distractedly. And Black Dukes were the best of all.