Jacquie D’Alessandro - Not Quite A Gentleman

“I’d wager that we could agree on something else.”

“I wouldn’t be too certain. I’m not feeling especially agreeable.”

She slid her arms around his neck. Raising up on her toes, she pressed herself against him and lightly bit the side of his neck. “I’d wager we could agree that there are more interesting ways to pass the hours before dawn than arguing. Do you not think so?”

His hands slid to her waist, the heat of his palms warming her through the thin satin of her robe. “I don’t know.” A low groan rumbled in his throat as she nibbled on his earlobe. “I’m going to need some more convincing.”

She skimmed one hand down his chest, over his abdomen, then lower, to boldly fondle him through his silk robe. He sucked in a quick breath, his eyes glowing like twin braziers.

“Better than arguing?” she whispered, stroking his hardening length. “I’m convinced,” he said, and crushed her to him.

They silently left the house just as the first mauve smudges of dawn touched the sky. Her heart pounding in anticipation, Victoria hurried along next to Nathan, who held her hand in a warm, comforting grip. In her other hand she carried her dark blue velvet reticule-filled with rocks.

“We’ll walk rather than take the horses,” he said in a hushed tone as they bypassed the stables. “That way we can more easily survey the area surrounding the ruins without risking detection.”

Victoria nodded her agreement, and then concentrated on the path in front of her. They moved along rapidly, passing the lake then continuing on a trail that veered off to the right. She judged a half hour passed before Nathan slowed their pace. Sullen gray streaked the sky, and the air felt cool and heavy with approaching rain. She could hear the sound of water gurgling over rocks, indicating a nearby stream. He pulled her behind a huge elm and, keeping one arm firmly around her shoulders, pointed. “The ruins,” he whispered next to her ear.

Peering through the trees, she saw the crumbling trio of roofless walls. She could feel his tension, knew his every nerve was alert as his gaze carefully scanned the area. Finally, clearly satisfied they were alone, he led her toward the cottage.

They stepped into the U shape formed by the three remaining tumbledown stone walls. Nathan slowly surveyed the area, then pointed toward the remains of the fireplace in the center wall. “Let’s begin there,” he said, pulling their chisels and hammers from the tool bag. “The stones are set in a more irregular pattern, making it easier to conceal any that might be out of place.” He handed her the tools with a grim smile. “You take the right side and I’ll take the left-and good luck.”

For more than an hour the only sounds besides the usual birdcalls and the gurgling of the stream were the chinks of hammers striking chisels. A heavy gray mist saturated the air, dampening their clothes. Victoria noticed that Nathan had stopped hammering and she looked over at him. He’d turned so his back was to the fireplace. His gaze, narrowed and alert, scanned around them. Her stomach jittered at his tense expression.

“Is something amiss?”

“No. I just don’t like this heavy mist. I don’t think the rain will hold off much longer. Another hour or two at the most.”

“I’m not afraid of getting wet, Nathan.”

He looked at her and gave a small smile. “I know, my brave warrior. But rain would make us vulnerable. Make it easier for anyone to sneak up on us.”

“Well, then let’s just find the jewels and leave before anyone does.” Without waiting for his reply, she turned back to the fireplace. A quarter of an hour later, kneeling on the ground, she tapped her chisel into a bit of mortar surrounding a stone close to the ground and the plaster crumbled differently than before.

“Nathan,” she said in an excited whisper. “I think I’ve found something. The mortar around this stone feels softer.”

He dropped to his knees beside Victoria and looked at the stone she indicated. “And the mortar is a slightly different color,” he said.

Together they chiseled around the stone. When they’d loosened it, Nathan worked his fingers into the narrow side openings and pulled, rocking the stone back and forth, up and down. Slowly, slowly, he inched the heavy stone forward until it landed on the ground with a dull thud. He reached his hand into the dark opening, and Victoria held her breath. When he withdrew his hand, he held a dirt-encrusted, battered leather satchel.

She exhaled her pent-up breath in an awed gasp. “Are the jewels inside?”

He loosened the drawstring top and their heads bumped as they both looked into the bag. Even the gray mist couldn’t dull the sparkling glitter of the contents. Reaching in with an unsteady hand, she reverently lifted the first thing she touched-an exquisite strand of creamy pearls. Delving back in, she lifted an emerald necklace, tangled with a sapphire bracelet.

She tilted her hand so the jewels slid back into the bag then looked at Nathan. “Even though I’m seeing this with my own eyes, I can scarcely believe it.”

“Neither can I. But we can dwell on that later.” He pulled the drawstring closed, then tucked the cache under his arm. “Let’s gather our things and get out of here.”

While Nathan hastily shoved the hammers and chisels into the tool bag, Victoria scanned the ground for her rock-filled reticule. Spying it several feet away, near Nathan’s feet, she was about to reach for it when a familiar voice behind her said, “Victoria.”

Before she could so much as blink, she found herself shoved behind Nathan, who held his small pistol in front of him.

“Nathan, stop!” Victoria cried, darting around him. “Father,” she said, staring in stunned amazement at the gray-haired man standing a dozen feet away. Before she could utter another sound, a shot rent the air.

Victoria watched in horror as her father crumpled facedown to the ground.

Today’s Modern Woman must realize that not every love affair will have a happy ending.

A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore

Nathan was aware of Victoria dashing to her father, falling to her knees beside him, but his attention was riveted on the wooded area beyond the ruined cottage. A slight movement behind a thick tree trunk alerted him. Dropping to one knee to make himself a smaller target, he aimed his pistol at the tree. “Stay down, Victoria,” he ordered in a low voice.

“Drop your weapon, Nathan.” The command came from behind the tree. For an instant Nathan froze at that familiar voice. Then white-hot anger and betrayal shot through him. You bastard . Before he could reply, the voice continued, “I have a pistol aimed right at her head. If she moves, I’ll kill her. If you don’t follow my directions to the letter, I’ll kill her. Now set your pistol on the ground and push it away.”

Nathan’s gaze flicked to Victoria, who was pressing the hem of her gown against her father’s bleeding wound. She looked up at Nathan with wet, horrified eyes. “Keep as much pressure on his wound as you can,” Nathan said in a terse undertone, “but don’t move .”

Moving slowly so as not to be perceived as making any sudden moves, Nathan set his pistol on the ground then shoved it aside.

“Good,” came the voice. “Now do the same with the knife in your boot. Don’t bother to pretend you do not have it, especially as I’m the one who gave it to you. For your birthday five years ago, as I recall.”

Nathan slid the knife from his boot and shoved it aside.

“Now stand up and put your hands on your head.”