It was an odd way to refer to one’s firstborn son, but Jeremiah was small, if not quite ant-like. He was also paying attention; behind Alice’s back, she felt him tense, as if readying for something.
“His pismire pony of a brother is just as bad.” Ethan’s tone was bored, while Alice felt the child’s arms tighten around her waist and wondered what had just passed between father and son. If somebody yelled that particular phrase, there was a good chance…
Ethan arched an arrogant eyebrow. “So what do you want, Collins? You expect me to pay money for this folly? And you, Thatcher. Perhaps you’re another one of Collins’s reluctant conquests. Welcome to the club, I understand there are more like us. Phillip Edmonton, Beauvais Morton, Henry Fentress, and many others.”
“Buggery?” Thatcher’s brows drew down in horror. Alice gathered that in Thatcher’s personal hierarchy of felons, the baron’s predilections placed him well below a mere kidnapper of children, horse thief, or raper of women.
And there Ethan stood, facing the one who’d done him such violence.
Behind her, Jeremiah tightened his arms more, as if he were tensing—
When Collins swung to face Thatcher, Ethan threw up both arms and charged Argus, bellowing at the top of his lungs. Jeremiah added to the commotion by similarly hollering at the top of his lungs then wrenching himself over Waltzer’s side, dragging Alice off the horse with him. Bishop, apparently at his wits’ end with the morning’s doings, reared until his burden fell from his back. As Argus shied violently, the baron toppled from the saddle then rose to his feet, aiming his pistol directly at Ethan.
“Get back, Grey, or I’ll shoot!”
Ethan charged him, grabbing the gun barrel and forcing it aside. Ethan was larger than Collins and likely in better condition, but Alice suspected meanness also gave a man strength. They grappled over the gun while Jeremiah struggled to undo Alice’s bonds.
As the binding on Alice’s wrists gave way, Ethan’s knee came up into Collins’s groin with savage force. Collins dropped like a stone into the dirt while Ethan held the gun on him.
“Heathgate,” Ethan called. “Show yourself.”
The marquis emerged from the trees, leading both his chestnut and a gray mare Alice did not recognize. He tied up the mares and headed for Collins’s prone form as Jeremiah pelted across the clearing into his father’s body.
“We did it!” Jeremiah crowed. “We sent the bloody blighters packing! Wait ’til I tell Joshua. Papa, you were wonderful, and I got it, didn’t I? I’m a pismire pony!”
“You are brilliant.” Ethan picked his son up and hugged the child tightly. “You saved the day, and likely Miss Alice as well.”
Both of them turned radiant smiles on Alice where she sat with no dignity whatsoever on the hard ground.
“Alice?” Ethan knelt beside her, Jeremiah standing at her shoulder. “Sweetheart, is something amiss?”
Now he called her sweetheart, before the child and with the marquis hovering nearby. Alice closed her eyes and swallowed. “Something’s wrong with my back or my shoulder.”
Or both and everything in between. She did not want to cry before Jeremiah, did not want to diminish the heroics of the moment, but she could hardly draw breath for the pain.
“Hurts?” Ethan asked quietly.
“Hurts badly.” Alice tried to nod but abandoned the movement. Even swallowing somehow hurt her shoulder, and now—how marvelous!—the marquis was glowering down at her too.
“It’s probably dislocated,” Ethan hazarded. “We’ll fetch Fairly, and he can have a look at you. Can you sit up?” She did, but only with Ethan’s assistance, and she felt a cold sweat on her forehead before they were finished.
“Is Miss Alice going to die?” Jeremiah asked quietly.
“I am not.” Alice winced as Ethan set her on her feet. “Though you are growing rather substantial, Jeremiah, and I don’t think my shoulder was quite up to breaking your fall and mine.”
“Sorry.” Jeremiah looked distressed. “That man was going to shoot you to shoot me.”
“He was,” Ethan said, expression grave, “and Miss Alice was willing to protect you at the cost of her own life. You did the right thing, Jeremiah, and we’ll soon put Miss Alice to rights. Fetch the mare for me, lad.”
Before Jeremiah had taken a step, Alice saw that Collins had managed to drag himself to his feet.
“Ethan, he’s getting away!”
Heathgate moved first, while Ethan put himself between Alice and Collins. The marquis was lethally quick for such a big man, but Collins was desperate. He caught up Argus’s reins and grunted his way into the saddle. With a vicious jab of his spurs into the gelding’s sides, Collins took off at a gallop for the woods.
“Horse thievery,” Heathgate spat over the sound of retreating hooves. “As the local magistrate, I am happy to report this is a hanging felony.”
“Papa,” Jeremiah said worriedly, “Argus is bolting.”
Jeremiah had the right of it. While Alice watched, Argus flattened from a gallop into a dead run. The horse’s ears were plastered to his head, and Collins was sawing frantically at the reins.
Ethan shifted so Jeremiah’s face was hidden against his father’s side, but over Ethan’s shoulder, Alice saw Argus thunder beneath a low-hanging branch, the rider flopping to the ground like a rag doll.
Justice, Alice thought without a shred of remorse. She’d been dragged and lamed by a horse, thanks to Collins, her sister had been emotionally lamed, and apparently others—Ethan included—had suffered at the man’s vile hands as well. The pain of that knowledge rivaled the throbbing in her shoulder.
“I’ll see to him,” Heathgate said, striding off in the direction of the fallen baron.
How long Alice stood there in Ethan’s embrace, her hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder, she did not know. The morning was crisp and sunny, the birds were singing, and nothing but the hurt felt real.
“Neck broken,” Heathgate reported when he returned. “He didn’t suffer, which is a great injustice, though the Crown might get its hands on his private holdings. I suppose that’s something.”
Because Alice was leaning directly against Ethan, she watched his expression shift from consternation to, not resignation, exactly, but acceptance.
“Ethan!” Nick’s call was followed by his appearance through the trees with Fairly at his side. They were riding bareback, mounted on matching chestnut draft horses. “All’s well?”
“Hullo, Uncle Nick,” Jeremiah called. “Hullo, Doctor Lordship. Miss Alice is hurt, but she’s not crying.”
“Always a good sign,” Fairly said as he slid off his horse. “Any bleeding?” he asked as he approached Alice.
“I’m not bleeding,” Alice said. “It’s my shoulder.” Fairly did not reach out and touch her shoulder, he walked around her, gesturing to Ethan to drop the arm he had around her waist.
“Dislocated,” Fairly said briskly. “Easily fixed, but more than a bit uncomfortable.”
“Will she cry?” Jeremiah asked.
Fairly smiled slightly at the child. “I might cry. Grey, take the lady in your arms as if you’ve the honor of a very friendly dance. Miss Alice, let Mr. Grey support you, and close your eyes.” Alice obeyed, letting Ethan’s embrace and the warmth and scent of him sink past the pain. She felt Fairly’s hands on her back, then on her neck, finally on her shoulder.
“We’re going to do this on the count of five,” Fairly said, taking a firmer hold of Alice’s shoulder. “Deep breath, Miss Alice, then let it out and hold onto Mr. Grey tightly. One, two, three, four, five.”
Except on “three,” Fairly had deftly wrenched her shoulder, putting it back in place with an audible click. Alice saw stars and would literally have been felled by the pain except for Ethan’s hold on her.
“Catch your breath.” Fairly’s gaze was sympathetic. “When you can see straight, have a nip of this.” He tucked a silver flask into Ethan’s pocket. “You’ll be sore for a few days, and you shouldn’t lift anything substantial until the soreness passes.”
“My marchioness would be more than willing to have you recover with us,” Heathgate said. He’d bound Thatcher’s hands and left the man sitting on the ground. “Fairly will be in residence at Willowdale, if he knows what’s good for him,” Heathgate added with a sardonic smile. “You could be spoiled and attended by your personal physician.”
When Alice might have demurred, might have expected Ethan to intercede, Nick came stomping over.
“Ethan?” Nick called. “Argus won’t let me near him. We’ve too damned many horses, and something will have to be done with Collins.”
