“That’s why I never said it when you were my commanding officer. God knows I wanted to plenty of times.”
Neil looked at Ewan. “Any questions?”
Ewan had the same question Jasper expressed. But Neil had come with him as a favor, and he didn’t want to incur his friend’s wrath. “Go over it again.”
Neil sighed. “Jasper and I approach the building, one from the left and one from the right. We move quietly and come from far enough back that we incapacitate any guards on either flank. Jasper takes the left flank. We know there’s a guard there, and he’s seen him and can anticipate his location.”
“Thanks,” Jasper muttered.
“Once Jasper and I reach the cottage, we flank the door. If all goes well, we’ve been quiet enough not to alert those inside. Then you come out of cover—that’s the bushes Jasper described in front of the place—and we knock on the door. When it’s opened, you pound the man who opens it. Throw him aside and pound the next one. We’ll cover your back and come in behind.”
“And if the rogues inside are alerted to our presence?” Jasper asked.
“Then Ewan runs out early and starts beating the hell out of anyone in his way. Ewan and I take care of the men outside while you go in and find the lady.”
“She doesn’t know him,” Ewan pointed out.
“She’ll only be frightened for a moment, and once she sees you, she’ll be relieved,” Neil said.
“What if she won’t leave with me?” Jasper asked.
“She’s little more than a girl,” Neil said by way of answer.
“You don’t know her,” Ewan remarked. “She’s not…” What was the word? “Biddable.”
Neil sighed and muttered something about chits. “Take her dog. She’ll go where it goes. Get her to Ewan and he can carry her as far away as possible. We meet back at the inn in the village. We guard her tonight and take her back home at first light.”
“A lot of variables in this plan,” Jasper said.
“Then think on your feet.” He looked at Ewan. “Don’t kill anyone. This isn’t France. If we can, Jasper and I will restrain the men so the constable can collect them in the morning.”
“Don’t let them get away,” Ewan warned. Like Jasper, he worried too much about how Neil’s plan could go wrong. But it was better than any he might have devised. Neil moved in front of Jasper and Ewan, taking the lead. It felt natural to follow Neil this way. Ewan found it actually calmed him. Neil’s plans weren’t always successful, but he’d managed to keep twelve of thirty men alive through suicide missions Ewan did not care to remember. That was enough for Ewan.
“Put on your dancing shoes, lads,” Neil murmured almost by rote.
“Time to dance with the devil,” Jasper answered.
The three started forward. As they neared the cottage, Neil motioned for Jasper and Ewan to get down. Being taller than the other two, Ewan caught a glimpse of the building before lowering to his knees. It looked as Jasper had described—old and in disrepair. No signs of smoke or lamplight that would indicate habitation.
The three crept forward until Ewan was in position.
“Jasper.” Neil pointed to the left, then to himself and to the right. He held up five fingers, intending to count down, but he’d lowered only one finger before Jasper started in his direction.
Neil scowled. He hated when his plans weren’t followed exactly. Jasper, on the other hand, liked nothing better than riling Neil by going his own way.
Or leading the men in circles, as Ewan was pretty certain the incident near Lisbon had been intentional. The troop had lost two men in the mission just before, and no one—except Neil, it seemed—was eager to engage in the next suicidal foray.
Ewan peered through the bushes as Neil moved away. He knew the time between now and when Neil or Jasper made the first strike would seem like an eternity. His heart thudded with familiar excitement and a new sensation he recognized as fear. It wasn’t like the fear he’d had in the midst of battles—the fear that a cannonball would blow his leg off or smash his skull flat like the bodies of the men whose remains littered the ground.
This fear wasn’t for him. It was for Lorraine. If he died fighting for her, so be it. But if she was killed and he survived, he did not know how he could go on.
And what the hell was that feeling? Was this love? He would have died for any of the men in Draven’s troop, and he’d mourned them when almost twenty of them had been killed. But he’d gone on. There had never been a question of wanting to live. But without Lady Lorraine in his life, Ewan couldn’t see the point.
Something on the left side of the cottage, near where Jasper would emerge, moved. Ewan drew his shoulders down and tried to find a better view. Had Jasper already taken the guard?
Part of the wall of the cottage seemed to push out, and then a small ball of fur Ewan recognized dropped to the ground, followed by long legs clad in white.
Ewan wanted to scream at Lorraine to go back. Not now! Of all the times to make an escape attempt. Why should he be surprised she’d chosen now?
“Hey!” the guard Jasper had mentioned yelled.
Lady Lorraine tumbled out of the wall of the cottage, looking right, then left. And stumbling as though disoriented. The guard on her left started for her, and to Ewan’s horror, she ran toward him. Any sane person would have run the other way. Neil’s plans were shot to hell now. Without waiting for Neil and Jasper to circle around, Ewan jumped out of the bushes and raced to intercept Lorraine.
*
“Welly!” Lorrie yelled. “Come, Welly!”
But the little dog raced, yipping with all the ferocity of a child’s toy, toward the guard charging them. Lorrie could see exactly what would happen. Welly would nip at the guard’s heels and the guard would kick him away and hurt the little puppy. She couldn’t leave Welly alone and hurt in the woods.
The silence of the late afternoon shattered as the guard yelled at her again, Welly barked, and more shouts rang out. Lorrie didn’t bother to look behind her. If the men in the house were after her, she’d rather not know how quickly she’d be apprehended.
“Welly!” she yelled again, but the little dog’s fur bristled and his focus was centered on the guard who had almost reached them. Lorrie took two more steps, bent to retrieve Welly, and missed.
An arm came around her waist and lifted her off the ground and away from her puppy.
“No!” She fought her captor’s hold, twisting and kicking violently. The man was like a marble statue. Her efforts were useless. She screamed one last warning to Welly, then watched in amazement as a man with dark hair falling over a face with one side horribly disfigured grabbed the guard by the back of the neck and threw him down. Welly seemed equally surprised, dancing and barking around the men as they struggled on the ground.
“Stop kicking,” a voice said in her ear.