A Stranger at Castonbury(70)
Jamie held her close and kissed her forehead, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, over and over. ‘I’ll always come for you, my love. Always, no matter what. I promise you that.’
He kissed her once more and helped her to her feet. When her knees nearly buckled, he caught her around the waist and held her steady.
‘Come,’ he said. ‘I should take you home now and send for the doctor.’
‘No, I don’t need a doctor,’ Catalina protested, but she let him lead her into the stand of woods that led to the road.
But they did not get very far. A man suddenly stumbled out from behind a tree in the darkness. His coat was torn and his red hair tangled, yet Catalina could see the mad glitter of his eyes. It was Webster. And he held a pistol levelled on them.
Catalina’s mouth went dry, and her heart pounded with a fresh rush of panic. She spun around hard, pulling Jamie with her, but the footman was behind them with another gun in his hand. His face was white and his breath was laboured as if his panic was even greater than hers. The gun wavered in his hand yet he held on to it.
‘So you got my message, Hatherton,’ Webster said with a terrible triumph in his voice. ‘I knew if I just waited in the right place you would come to me. This is meant to be.’
Jamie’s hand moved towards his coat, as if he hid weapons there.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Hatherton,’ Webster said. ‘Not with my friend’s gun aimed right at Mrs Moreno’s pretty head. I’m sure you wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, as it did in Spain.’
Jamie’s arm tightened around Catalina. ‘What is your game, Webster?’ he said brusquely.
‘I have no game here,’ Webster said, his voice escalating. ‘You are the one who ruined my life by being alive, by exposing the plot I so carefully constructed around Miss Walters and her brat. You always did have a knack for using your unearned privileges to ruin other people. But now it looks like I have the upper hand at last.’
Catalina glanced frantically between Webster and his footman accomplice. The man didn’t seem to share Webster’s wild confidence. The hand holding his gun trembled, which made the firearm wobble around in a terrifying way. What if it went off?
She was sure if she could catch him off guard she could knock him to the ground, leaving Jamie free to deal with Webster. But as she took a step towards him, the gun suddenly swung up and pointed at her face.
‘Don’t—don’t come near me!’ the footman screamed.
‘Catalina,’ she heard Jamie shout. He dragged her down just as a deafening explosion went off. The flames behind them crackled higher, and Jamie threw her to the ground, his own body over hers.
‘Jamie! Are you shot?’ She ran her hands desperately over his back and shoulders, searching for any wounds. She felt his breath on her skin, steady and warm.
‘It’s not me,’ he said roughly as he pushed himself up over her. ‘For God’s sake, woman, what were you thinking, moving towards him like that? He could have killed you!’
‘I thought I could distract him.’ Catalina peered over Jamie’s shoulder to see that it was the footman who had been shot. A pool of dark red blood spread over his chest as he toppled to the ground.
Webster still held the smoking pistol levelled in his hand. He shook his head with a horrible calm. ‘That was regrettable, wasn’t it? He was a useful ally for a time, but he was obviously losing his nerve.’
He tossed away the empty pistol and drew out a dagger. As he took a step towards them, Jamie jumped to his feet and pulled Catalina up with him. He gave her a hard push and told her, ‘Run, Catalina, now!’
She did as he told her—she ran. But she didn’t go far. She could never leave Jamie. She snatched up the footman’s gun from where it had fallen on the ground and dashed to the edge of the clearing, where she took what shelter she could behind a tree and tried to get a clear shot at Webster.
He and Jamie circled each other warily, their intent stares never wavering from each other. The glare from the fire glinted off the knives in their hands as Catalina’s heart pounded with fear.
Suddenly, Webster lunged forward with his blade raised to strike. He let out a crazed, furious shout, but Jamie just slid agilely to the side. Jamie parried with his own dagger and drove Webster back.
And he kept driving him back, until he landed a strike on Webster’s arm, raising a line of blood on his sleeve. With a cry, he lashed out hard with his foot to kick Jamie on his bad leg and sent him falling to the ground with a sickening thud.