Jacquie D’Alessandro - Not Quite A Gentleman

After he’d obeyed, Nathan said in a mocking voice, “Brave enough to show yourself now?”

Nathan remained still as a statue, his gaze burning into the man who stepped out from behind the tree. Holding a pistol in one hand, his other hand resting on the hilt of a sheathed knife tucked into the waistband of his breeches, Gordon approached.

“Very kind of you to locate the jewels for me, Nathan,” Gordon said in a conversational tone, his gaze flicking down to the worn leather sack at Nathan’s feet. “I knew if I followed you, you’d eventually lead me to them. You cannot imagine what an inconvenience it’s been trying to locate them for the past three years.”

Nathan’s mind whirled. Damn it, he needed time, a diversion, yet if there was any hope of saving Lord Wexhall, he couldn’t stall for long. “You betrayed us three years ago,” Nathan sneered. “Why? Why risk everything when you already had everything?”

Stark hatred burned in Gordon’s eyes. “Everything? I had nothing . My father had gambled away everything-my entire inheritance-except the entailed property. He left me with a half-dozen homes I couldn’t afford to maintain and that I couldn’t sell due to the entailments. I needed money-a lot of money-and quickly.”

“Because of your greed, my brother could have been killed.”

Gordon’s face twisted. “Your brother was supposed to have been killed. And I was only supposed to have been grazed.”

Understanding dawned and Nathan’s eyes narrowed. “And I was supposed to remain uninjured, thus thrusting the guilt upon me. How much did you pay Baylor to betray the mission?”

“Too much. And the bastard ruined everything. He got away with my money and the jewels. Once I recovered from my gunshot wound, I searched everywhere for him. I’d given up hope of ever finding him or the jewels until you showed up. When I learned Wexhall was sending his daughter to Cornwall, I knew something was afoot.”

“You searched Lady Victoria’s belongings.”

“Yes. Sadly, I didn’t find what I was looking for.”

“And you hired that thug who robbed us in the woods.”

Gordon chuckled. “Very clever of you, Nathan, having a false note with you. Clever, but exceedingly annoying. I wasted a week chasing false clues.”

Nathan’s gaze shifted briefly toward Victoria, who stared at him through solemn eyes. “That bastard you hired nearly killed Lady Victoria.”

Unfortunately, Gordon didn’t follow his gaze, as Nathan had hoped he would. “If it makes you feel any better, he’ll never hurt anyone again.”

“A tremendous load off my mind,” Nathan murmured. “You cannot possibly hope to get away with this.”

“On the contrary, I’m confident I shall. No one will gainsay the word of the Earl of Alwyck.”

“I will.”

An unpleasant smile curved Gordon’s lips. “Dead men can’t tell tales, Nathan. Now give me the jewels.”

“If you’re going to kill me anyway, why should I?”

“Because if you do as I say, I’ll allow your father to live. If not, I fear he shall meet with a tragic accident. Now pick up the jewels very slowly and toss them to me. After you do, your hands go back on top of your head. You’ll have one chance to make a nice, gentle toss I can catch. If you fail, Lady Victoria will have drawn her last breath.”

Nathan picked up the leather satchel and nimbly tossed it to Gordon, who caught it in his free hand. He lifted the cache up and down several times, testing its weight, and a slow smile curved his lips. “Finally,” he said. “And now-”

“There was no need to shoot Lord Wexhall,” Nathan said quickly, clasping his hands on his head.

A look of utter disgust passed over Gordon’s features. “He got exactly what he deserved. God only knows what he was doing here today. Looking out for you, no doubt. You always were his favorite of the three of us. Never understood why. Never understood why he gave you the chance to recover the jewels.”

Nathan shrugged. “He thought I could use the money. If he’d known your financial difficulties, I’m sure he would have given you the opportunity.”

“It makes no difference now. I have the jewels.”

Nathan flicked his gaze toward the ground. “Um, yes. Yes, you do.” He made a tiny sideways kick with the toe of his boot.

Gordon’s gaze dropped to the ground and riveted on the dirty blue velvet drawstring bag near Nathan’s boot.

“What is that?”

“Nothing,” Nathan said a shade too quickly.

A gasp came from Victoria. “No, Nathan,” she said in a low hiss. “Not those, too.”

Gordon’s eyes narrowed on Nathan. “Holding out on me, Nathan?”

“No.”

“Another bag of gems?”

“Those stones are mine ,” Victoria said in a shaky voice.

“How greedy you are, Lady Victoria,” Gordon said, making a tsking sound. He tucked the leather cache under his arm then pointed toward the blue velvet bag. “I’ll take those as well, Nathan. Nice and slow, just like before.”

Nathan slowly bent his knees, reaching down, never taking his gaze from Gordon. Just as he rose, an unearthly wail of distress came from Victoria. Distracted, Gordon’s gaze shifted to her. It was all Nathan needed. With lightning speed he hurled the blue velvet rock-filled reticule at Gordon. The weighted bag struck him on the temple with a sickening thud and he went down like a tenpin. Nathan ran forward, ripping off his cravat. “Keep the pressure on the wound, Victoria. I’ll be right there.”

Using the cravat, he quickly tied Gordon’s hands tightly behind his back in case he regained consciousness. Then grabbing Gordon’s pistol, he turned to Victoria and her father.

“Are you all right?” he asked her, dropping to his knees.

“I’m fine. But Father…”

“Let me look,” he said, gently moving her pressing hands away from her father’s shoulder. “I need you to bring me my knife. Then I want you to gather up the jewels and our tools.”

She scrambled to her feet and seconds later returned with Nathan’s knife. He gently rolled her father onto his back and checked his pulse. Strong and steady. He used his knife to cut away the bloodied jacket and shirtsleeve. Probing the oozing wound on his shoulder, Nathan breathed a sigh of relief. “Flesh wound.” He looked at the purple bruise on Lord Wexhall’s forehead. “Looks like he’s unconscious from knocking his head on the ground.”

“He’s going to be all right?” Victoria asked, kneeling beside him, her arms filled with their belongings.

“Yes. His wound is little more than a scratch, and he has the hardest head of anyone I’ve ever met. I suspect he’ll have a devil of a headache for the next day or so.”

As if to prove his words, Wexhall groaned. They both looked down. “Ooooh, I’ve a devil of a headache,” he murmured. He blinked several times then attempted a smile at his daughter. “Victoria,” he whispered.

“I’m right here, Father,” she said, a catch in her voice.

Nathan heard the pounding of horses’ hooves. Retrieving his gun, he peered around the corner of the crumbling wall. Seconds later Colin rode into view, followed by a man Nathan recognized as the local magistrate.

“Am I too late?” his brother asked, dismounting before he’d even fully reined in.

Nathan smiled. “You’re right on time.”

Several hours later Victoria stood next to her father’s bed, holding his hand. Father, propped up on a mound of fluffy pillows, glared at the assembled group standing around the bed.

“I wish you would all stop staring at me,” he grumbled. “I’m perfectly fit.” The impatience in his voice let Victoria know more than his words that he was telling the truth. “If you don’t believe me, ask my doctor,” he continued, indicating Nathan with a bob of his chin. “I’ve been bathed and bandaged within an inch of my life, and have been told that I have to take a nap. My injuries only look serious because of all these blasted bandages wrapped around me. A sling for my arm, linen strips around my head, why ‘tis ridiculous. I sustained a scratch on my shoulder and bump on my head.”