They weren't far from the inn, only needing to turn a few corners and walk down a few streets that ran parallel to the dock. She held on to John's arm as they walked along the narrow alleys, but noticed that he had his free hand poised on his weapon.
He suddenly stopped. "Get behind me, Nicola."
They were in sight of the inn.
She wanted to ask a thousand questions, but this wasn't the time. She obeyed and hurriedly moved behind him. "What do you see, John?"
"Nothing, but it doesn't feel right."
If John's instincts were on alert, that was good enough for her. She held her breath. She made no protest when he nudged her into a shadowed doorway, understanding that he meant to hide her from view. "Stay here. Don't move." He handed her a pistol. "If more than one man approaches you, aim for the leader's chest. It's a bigger target."
"What?" But he was off before she could protest, leaving her scared and worried, and holding his pistol in her inexperienced grip.
He'd told her not to move.
She meant to obey.
But as the minutes wore on, she grew concerned.
The streets were fairly quiet, for the hour was still early. Most villagers were not yet up and about. Suddenly, several men ran past her. They'd come from the direction of the Three Cups Inn. Another man ran past her. They looked like frightened locals.
A woman stopped another man as he ran by and asked what was happening. "There's a fight. Some blokes are killing a man."
John!
Nicola ran toward the inn. Her heart was pounding so hard she couldn't hear her own footsteps pounding on the cobblestones. She rounded the corner and saw nothing. Where was the fight?
A barrel rolled toward her from a nearby alleyway. She hopped over it and ran to the alley. Six men had John. Another six lay on the floor unconscious. Mother in heaven! Twelve altogether. Who was their leader? Shoot him and the others will run. That's what John had told her.
Which one was the leader?
Then she knew, for the coward stepped forward only after his cohorts had pinned John down. He raised his knife to stab John.
She was not going to be a widow on her wedding day.
"Let go of my husband," she ordered, aiming the pistol John had given her at the villain's chest. She closed her eyes and heard a loud burst emanating from its barrel. It echoed off the alley walls. She quickly opened her eyes again and saw the man she'd fired at turn to her. His eyes widened in astonishment. She lowered her gaze to his chest. Blood seeped from his shirt and dripped onto the ground.
He fell to his knees.
Her own knees began to buckle.
Mother in heaven! She'd just shot a man.
Two of his cohorts fled past her, making no attempt to disarm her. They simply ran. But others remained. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and began to shout. "The dragoons have been summoned. Over here! Over here, Captain!" Nicola began waving her arms frantically.
The remaining men fled, leaving their leader sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood. The men John had managed to knock senseless before she'd arrived were also motionless on the ground. But they weren't dead. She ran to John, knowing she had to get him out of the alley before any of those men revived. She also couldn't risk those other fleeing scoundrels realizing she'd tricked them and returning.
There was no regiment of soldiers coming to save her or John.
"John!" She knelt beside him, afraid to move him, but she had to get him away from here fast. Her eyes began to cloud with tears. She wasn't certain that he was still alive. Then he moaned. "Thank goodness. Can you walk? Lean on me."
"Damn it. I told you to stay put."
"Shut up, you big oaf. Shout at me all you want afterward. Let me get you to safety. You look wretched. Is your nose broken?"
"Nothing's broken. Somersby's here. He went in search of you. I have to kill him first."
"You can't even stand on your own. Forget Somersby for now. We have to hide you and treat your wounds."
"But Somersby-"
"He's desperate to get his book back. He thinks we still have it. Let him waste his time ransacking our room at the inn. You know this town. Where can we go?"
"Bainbridge offices. Hampton Street."
Nicola flagged down a passing cart. "I'm Lady Bainbridge. There's a fifty pound reward in it for you if you can get us to Hampton Street at once."
The driver stared down the alley and then back at her. "And who's that bloke limpin' toward you?"
John looked awful, but he was up and moving, so she breathed a sigh of relief. "He's my husband. The Earl of Bainbridge."
"I'm not gettin' m'self mixed up in-"
He abruptly stopped talking. Nicola didn't understand why until she turned around and saw that John was pointing his pistol at the man's head. It was empty, of course. She'd already spent the shot. But the cart driver didn't know it. "You heard my wife. Take us to Hampton Street."
The man swallowed hard. "Hop on, m'lord."
Within the quarter hour, they drew up in front of a stately building that had a fenced-in rear yard. A big, burly guard ran forward to assist John out of the cart, two dogs lapping at his heels. "Yer lordship! Let me help you down. What curs attacked you?"
"Never mind about that, Harry. Just get my wife inside."
The driver raised his fist as the guard hurried to obey John's command. "What about m'reward!"
Nicola blushed. "I promised him fifty pounds."
John groaned. "This is turning into a perfect day. You could have offered him two shillings and he would have taken it."
She tipped her head up in indignation. "Your life is worth more than that." But she was relieved that he was cantankerous enough to complain about the expense. "Let's get you cleaned up and your injuries treated."
He hopped off the cart on his own, told the cart driver to wait, and then grabbed Nicola's arm and limped inside.
The guard he'd called Harry followed after them.
John led her to an expansive office that she knew must be his. The desk was of solid mahogany, as were the bookshelves. His chair was of finest brown leather. There was a safe embedded in the wall. He went to it and withdrew the reward money. "Harry, give it to the driver. Tell him I'll come after him if he dares tell anyone he saw us."
He sank down in the chair the moment Harry ambled off.
Nicola took a step toward him. "Let me see-"
"Don't." He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck and scowled at her. "You might have been killed."
"And you were definitely going to be killed. I saved your life. A thank you is in order."
He glowered at her. "You disobeyed my orders."
She arched an eyebrow. "Are you surprised? Did you seriously expect me to hide and do nothing?"
She expected a surly retort from him, but he buried his face in his hands and didn't move for the longest time. "John," she finally said in a ragged whisper and hesitantly moved closer to him.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her onto his lap.
He still said nothing.
"John, I'm so sorry. But I couldn't let you die. I had to fight. I couldn't stand by and do nothing. Let me see your injuries. Is your hand broken? How about your ribs? Let me see your eye."
But when she tipped his head up, she caught her breath. There were tears in his eyes.
She started to edge off his lap, but he stopped her. "No, brat. Stay."
She was going to ask if she could wet his handkerchief to wipe the blood off him, but he started to talk first. "I was six years old the night my parents were killed."
She drew in a breath.
"We'd been living in Ireland all those years. My father was the king's emissary and in charge of the daily communications between Dublin and London. Something important was going on, so my parents and I were invited to stay at the ambassador's residence that evening. Men broke in. I still don't know whether my father was the intended target. I don't know if they cared. If you were English, you were going to die."
Nicola's hand was shaking as she set it gently on his arm.
"They killed him brutally while we watched. My father's pistol had fallen out of his coat pocket and lay at my mother's feet. She wouldn't pick it up to shoot the villain. So I picked it up, but the shot went wide. I was too little and the pistol recoiled. All I could hear was their laughter. All I could see was the blood. First my father's and then my mother's."
"John … "
"I'm not angry with you, Nicola. I'm relieved that you're not helpless. I'm relieved that this morning did not turn into a tragedy similar to the night my parents died. But this latest encounter has shaken me to the depths of my soul. I can't lose you. I'm going after Somersby before he hurts you."
She wanted to protest, but he was right. Somersby was too close. He was desperate. If Somersby succeeded in harming her, it would be John's nightmare come to life again. "All right. But you have to let me tend to your wounds first. I love you. I would like this marriage to last longer than a day." She eased off his lap and found a basin and ewer of water on the bureau that stood along a side wall. After dipping his handkerchief in the water, she returned to his side and began to clean him off.