“Since before your arrival,” Alexander lied. He took two steps forward when Moreau edged his daughter closer to the barn.
“Yet, you did not move against me? You allowed me to continue to care for your sister,” he taunted.
Alexander attempted to keep his temper in check, but it was difficult. “Sometimes a man must put the welfare of his nation before his personal pleasures.” He gestured with the gun. “Now, raise your hands and ask ‘Lady’ Caroline to step out where I may view her.”
He had been too confident in his abilities and had not considered Moreau was more of the nature of a trapped rabid dog. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. Moreau dove from the way, exposing his daughter holding a gun, pointed at Alexander’s heart. She fired before Alexander had the opportunity to reason with her.
When the smoke cleared, he had wounded Moreau, but Alexander swayed in place before collapsing to the ground. He could hear Beaufort calling for Thompson. “Hurry!” Beaufort ordered. Alexander looked to the side to view Caroline lifting her skirt to mount a nearby horse.
Within a minute his brother Benjamin was ordering a door or board to place Alexander on.
Meanwhile, Alexander caught Beaufort’s arm. “Go… after… my… sister… before… Caroline… reaches… her.”
Duncan knelt beside him and claimed Alexander’s hand. “We have you, boy. I shan’t permit anything to happen to you.”
Alexander ignored Duncan’s assurances. “Beaufort! Go… now!”
“I will do as you ask. Permit the others to tend you.”
With that promise, Alexander closed his eyes. He heard Duncan barking orders to a number of people. Hartley said something about having taken Honfleur into custody, but Alexander concentrated on the sweetness of the image of Theodora’s countenance that he carried about with him in his head. He knew she would be angry that he had worried her, but he was satisfied, at least for the moment. He had found Annalise, and, even if he did not live to see it, she would soon be at Marksman Abbey, their family home.
His brother Benjamin, though not a surgeon, but a man as knowledgeable as one, ripped the cravat from his own neck and pressed the cloth against Alexander’s wound to stanch the flow of blood. If Alexander had seen the blood trickling out onto the grass, he, too, might be as concerned as was Duncan and his brothers.
Benjamin’s fingers probed for the bullet, drawing a groan of pain. “Be careful, Benjamin,” Duncan ordered.
“I am,” Thompson assured. “I must locate the bullet.”
“I want… to be… at Marksman… Hall… when Annalise… arrives,” Alexander managed to say. “Dora should… not see… me… on the… ground.” The effort to make his wishes known had him wishing to sleep, for even speaking was truly exhausting.
“The bullet must be removed and the wound dressed properly first,” Thompson ordered.
“I mean… to go…” Alexander attempted to rise.
Thompson pushed him down again. “It is too dangerous. The bullet could move into your heart.”
Duncan leaned over him. “If you die on this journey, I will revive you long enough to kill you again. You cannot destroy my daughter nor your sister nor me with your death. You hear me, boy? You must will yourself to live.” He turned to one of the others. “Bring that wagon around!”
Thompson warned, “I must object, sir. Moving him is too dangerous.”
“I understand,” Duncan declared. “Your concerns are so noted. Now bind the wound until we might return him to Duncan Place.”
With a frown and a doleful nod that Alexander felt more than actually saw, Benjamin did as Duncan instructed.
“Here is a door, sir,” Orson and Graham told him, but Alexander concentrated on the speck of light that had sneaked under his lids. It reminded him of his mother’s hair color, and he considered it a good sign.
“I have the wagon,” another of their men announced.
“Slide your arms under him and rotate him onto the flat of the door.” The effort not to cry out had been a mighty obstacle to overcome, but soon Alexander was in place, and his family was lifting the wooden frame and him into the air and carrying him towards a waiting wagon.
“Give me the reins,” Duncan ordered. “Orson and Hartley, you are in charge of the investigation. Thompson, with me. Keep the door steady.”
As they traveled the miles at a steady clip, Thompson kept pressure on the wound to stanch the flow of blood. The occasional rut in the road caused Alexander to bite his tongue twice, but he did not call out. He meant to stay alive to say his farewells to both Theodora and Annalise.
“Did we… capture… all?” he asked Thompson.
“Quite a few,” his brother said. “Yates and Honfleur and a few dozen or more. Now, you must rest. We will be at Duncan Place soon.”
“Someone will… fetch… my sister?” he asked.
