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“Doing?”
“The driver is busy, which means he left his pistol in a box beneath the seat.”
Belle frowned. “How can you be certain? Perhaps he took it with him.”
“That’s doubtful. Neither of them expected us to get out and no one else knows about the treasure. Their guard is down, and this is our best chance to stop the blackguard.”
For a few seconds, she stared at him while shivers shook her body. Then she nodded. “If the driver shoots me and I die, I’m coming back to haunt your arse.”
He chuckled, for she was adorable even half frozen and in a snit. “I look forward to it.” Feeling a bit wicked, he gave her bottom a swat. “However, if youdon’tdie, I still want you to verbally banter with me. It’s a foundation stone of our relationship as well as our future.”
For hewouldwed her. Of that much he was certain.
A wobbly smile curved her lips. “I don’t know if I can do this…” She gestured with a hand. “To do what you do with such skill and aplomb. I am merely a widow who jumps at shadows.” The defeat in her voice went straight through his heart.
“Ah, sweeting, you aren’t.” He took her hand in his good one. “You are brave and determined. You can dress a man down in an instant. You have faced and conquered your fears. And would a frightened widow do the things you have done over the course of this week?” Squeezing her hand, he slipped his to the side of her neck. “If there is anyone who can run a distraction, it’s you. I have never met a woman with more fire or tart-mouthed attitude than you.” When she wavered, he dragged her against him and claimed her cold lips in a desperate bid to light that fire within her. Then he set her away. “We have to do this, else Ravenscroft wins, and that will stick in my craw for the rest of my life.”
“Mine too.” When she giggled, relief shuddered down his spine. She touched his cheek, frowned at his shoulder. “Make it quick.”
“I promise.” As Belle silently crept like a war-ravaged urchin to the head of carriage horse, who whinnied in alarm or surprise and drew the driver away, Hawk sneaked around toward Philip’s position at the rear of the carriage. His foot must have scraped on the gravel, for Ravenscroft spun about. The interior of the carriage was filled with his ill-gotten gains. One of the trunks gaped open revealing the silver wares. “I’ll wager you didn’t count on seeing me again, hmm?” Then he sprang forward and swung out with a punch that caught the other man in the chin.
Sounds of a scuffle issued from the other side of the carriage, but he couldn’t let that distract him. He had to believe Belle would hold her own. As the viscount threw a punch to his midsection, Hawk groaned, but took a defensive stance as best he could.
“Why won’t you die?” Ravenscroft said as he lifted his fists.
“I am just stubborn that way.” Hawk reached out with his good hand, snagged his fist in the man’s clothing, and then threw him to the ground. On his way down, the viscount grabbed at an ornately carved silver candlestick. “As for you, I have a feeling you won’t enjoy a long life after tonight.”
“The only one dying tonight is you.” Ravenscroft wielded the candlestick like a sword. He swung it at his head, but Hawk ducked and only received a glancing blow to the side of his head. Seconds later, it was knocked from his adversary’s hand.
As they wrestled on the gravel drive for dominance, the pistol flew out of the viscount’s other hand and bounced out of reach a few feet away.
Pain coursed through Hawk’s body, and though he was slightly lightheaded from the loss of blood, he continued to fight with his opponent, landing blows the best he could with one arm. Of course the viscount had desperation on his side plus two working arms, so Hawk took the bulk of the jabs doled out. When a cry of pain came from Belle, that sound gave him renewed strength to end the fight.
“Get off!” The viscount was able to get a booted foot against Hawk’s chest. With a mighty push, he shoved Hawk from his person.
With a groan, Hawk was slower to gain his feet than the other man. Ravenscroft scrambled up and grabbed the pistol. “I won’t allow you to abscond with the treasure.” Staggering in the other man’s direction, he pitched the candlestick, which caught the viscount in the side of the head.
Ravenscroft once more dropped the pistol as a gaping wound opened near his ear. “That is not for you to say, but you have my promise I’ll take great pleasure in killing you.”
“Assuming you have the chance.”
The viscount snorted. “Look at you. You are half dead now.” He scooped up the candlestick and once more brandished it. “Declare defeat, Hawkins. You are no good to anyone.”
“I would argue with you, but I rather doubt the words would pass through your thick skull.” Hawk lunged at the other man, but Ravenscroft moved easily out of the way. When he hit the cold ground, the pain in his shoulder multiplied enough to steal his breath and send darkness flirting with the edges of his vision. But the pistol was so close. He threw out his good arm. Damn, but his fingertips only brushed the butt of the weapon. No amount of wriggling would charm the pistol into his palm.
“None of that, Captain.” With a grin made even more macabre due to the blood coursing down the side of his face, Ravenscroft ground a booted foot hard into Hawk’s chest. A wave of pain assailed him. The viscount lifted the candlestick over his head as he glared down at Hawk. “I am afraid this is where we part ways.”
Well, hell.
“Oh, we’ll part ways all right,” he managed to wheeze out. Never did he stop stretching out his arm for the pistol. Just a few centimeters more! “But not because I’ll die by your hand.” He stared in frozen, horrified fascination as the viscount began what was intended to be a death blow, and for one startingly second, the juxtaposition of the innocent, white snowflakes coming down to cover all the evil and ugliness of the scene held him captive, but then he took a deep breath, remembered he had a future to look forward to with Belle, stretched for all he was worth, and as soon as his fingers closed around the butt of the pistol, he brought it up and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
Warm blood splattered onto him from the gaping hole in Ravenscroft’s chest. A look of confusion crossed the viscount’s face. The silver candlestick fell from his soon-to-be lifeless hands to drop upon Hawk’s stomach. With a groan, Hawk rolled onto his good side just as the other man’s body toppled to the ground. Finally, Ravenscroft had been bested.
Every place on his body throbbed with some sort of pain, but with a quick prayer of thanksgiving, Hawk struggled once more to his feet. He nudged the viscount with the toe of his shoe. When the man didn’t move, he nodded. “Mission accomplished.” Mostly satisfied with the events of the night, he went as quickly as he could around to the front of the carriage in order to assist Belle, and then he stood stock still as the most interesting sight met his gaze.
She was in the process of beating the drive with his own boot. How the devil it had come off he didn’t know, but the burly man cowered on the gravel drive with his arms up for protection. A jagged cut across his forehead bore testament to how long the fight had been going. Belle looked worse for wear with her gown hopelessly torn in places and a bloody scratch across her chest, but the driver would sport a black eye in the morning, to say nothing of the other assorted bruises he’d have. When she saw him, a cry escaped her throat.
