To Taste Temptation (Legend of the Four Soldiers #1)(94)

Samuel ran out of nowhere and threw himself against Thornton’s gun arm, deflecting his aim. The gun exploded, sending chips of cobblestone into the air. The tall, balding henchman leaped at Samuel, grabbing him from behind, and all three men went down in a writhing heap of desperate arms and legs. Rebecca screamed and pulled at the balding henchman’s coat. The scarlet-coated thug let go of Emeline’s arm, but before he could move, she brought her heel down on the toe that poked through his boot. The man howled and lashed out. Emeline saw a burst of white stars as his hand connected with the side of her head, and then she found herself on the ground, lying in a cold puddle of water.

“Are you all right?” Rebecca gasped beside her.

“Samuel,” Emeline whispered. He was under all three men now, almost hidden by the legs kicking him, the arms hitting him. They would beat him to death before her very eyes if she didn’t do something.

There were no pieces of wood, no stones to pry up. All she had was herself, so Emeline used that. She scrambled to her feet and ran at the awful little man and his henchmen. She clutched a head of hair and yanked. The man she was holding—one of the henchmen—shouldered her aside. Emeline staggered, almost falling, but got up again. She threw herself, kicking, shrieking, clawing, at the bodies attacking Samuel. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rebecca pummeling the back of one of the men, her fists small and puny. The rain mixed with hot salty tears on Emeline’s face, and she was half-blinded, but she wasn’t going to give up. If they killed Samuel, they would have to kill her, too.

Her slipper connected with Mr. Thornton’s rump, and he twisted to look at her with a comically astonished expression. Samuel took advantage of the other man’s distraction and punched him in the face. Mr. Thornton’s head snapped back, and he rolled to the cobblestones, a hand outstretched to break his fall. He made to get up, and Emeline stomped on his outstretched hand, feeling quite pleased when something snapped beneath her heel.

Thornton screamed.

Behind Emeline, a gunshot exploded.

“Good God, Emmie, I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty,” a male voice said.

Emeline looked up and saw Jasper descending a carriage with a footman behind him. The footman had a gun in each hand, the right one smoking.

Fear and exasperation overflowed all of her good manners. “Jasper, don’t be an idiot. Come help Samuel at once!”

Jasper, not surprisingly, looked startled. “Right you are, Emmie. You two, get off Mr. Hartley. Slowly, now.”

The thugs glanced at each other glumly and got to their feet, backing away from Samuel. He lay so still, the rain beating on his pale face.

Emeline rushed to him, terribly afraid. “Samuel.” She’d seen him punch Mr. Thornton, but now he didn’t move. “Samuel!” She knelt on the filthy, wet cobblestones and tenderly touched her fingertips to his cheek.

He opened his eyes. “Emeline.”

“Yes.” It was insane, but she couldn’t keep from smiling at him in the rain, with hot tears trickling down her cheeks. “Yes.” God only knew what she was saying, but Samuel seemed to understand.

He turned his head and kissed her palm with bruised lips, and her heart rejoiced.

Then his gaze sharpened and he looked behind her. “Have they got Thornton?”

He started to sit up, and she put her shoulder under his to help him. “Yes, Jasper has it all under control.”

In fact, the footman was tying the two henchmen’s hands to Mr. Thornton’s carriage while Rebecca held the guns. Jasper had hold of Mr. Thornton.

“What shall we do with him now?” Jasper asked. He looked like he was holding a piece of offal.

“Toss him in the river,” the footman growled over his shoulder, and Rebecca smiled at him.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Samuel said softly, and Emeline had never heard his voice so cold.

Mr. Thornton laughed. “What for?”

Jasper shook him like a dog does a rat. “For trying to hurt Miss Hartley and Lady Emeline, you bounder.”

“But I didn’t, did I?” Thornton said. “They’re not hurt at all.”

“You held a gun on them—”

“Pish posh! Do you think any magistrate will care?” Mr. Thornton smiled happily, almost normally. He didn’t seem to have any idea the trouble he was in.

Emeline shivered in Samuel’s embrace. Thornton’s manic confidence that he could win out against Jasper—a viscount—was the final evidence that the man had lost his senses.

“You killed a woman in America,” Samuel said quietly. “They’ll hang you for that.”

Mr. Thornton cocked his head, completely unperturbed. “I don’t know who you mean.”

Jasper expelled an impatient breath. “Cut line. We know you’re MacDonald, know you killed that woman, know you betrayed us to the French and their Indian allies at Spinner’s Falls.”

“And how will you prove all that?”

“Maybe we don’t have to,” Samuel said low. “Maybe we’ll just drown you in the Thames and be done. I doubt anyone will miss you.”

“Samuel,” Rebecca whispered.

Samuel looked at her, and although his expression didn’t change, his voice softened slightly. “But I don’t think we’ll have real trouble convicting you in court. There’re a few survivors who must remember both MacDonald and Thornton, and if nothing else, we can ask your father-in-law.”