Chapter 41.
Alex was waiting for a clear shot. He inched forward, crawling on elbows and knees, cursing the abundant undergrowth. It was useful to disguise his own position, but the sheer density of it made it impossible to get a clean line of sight to Danton. The Frenchman had chosen a good place for his rendezvous.
He caught a glimpse of Seb moving around to the rear of Danton’s position, and was reminded of all the times they’d done similar maneuvers during the war, belly-down in the dirt, hiding in the bushes with their rifles. It was good to have Seb at his side.
He squinted through the trees and tried to locate Emmy. That velvet dress of hers was fetching, but it made her bloody hard to see. She almost disappeared into the shadowy foliage. All he could make out were her pale hands and her equally pale face. She looked frightened but determined; her freckles stood out starkly against her cheeks.
He watched her put the box on the ground and saysomething to Danton. The Frenchman ducked out of sight and Alex cursed silently. He glanced over at Seb, who shook his head in a silent message to indicate that he didn’t have a clear view, either.
Alex inched to the right, trying to line Danton up with the V-shaped notch on the end of the Baker’s barrel. Another tree blocked his aim. Bloody hell. He’d only graze the Frenchman’s arm if he fired now.
Danton picked up the box of jewels. Alex held his breath, waiting for the bastard to step into his line of sight. He wasn’t about to kill the man, but he could certainly incapacitate the bastard. He tightened his finger on the trigger.
Danton was almost in range when he drew a pistol from his coat and Alex’s blood ran cold.
He leapt to his feet with a savage cry and fired. His bullet went wide, but Danton, as he’d hoped, whirled around and fired the pistol wildly in his direction, instead of at Emmy. The ball whistled past his head and embedded itself in a tree to his right with a dull thud.
The scent of spent gunpowder took him right back to the Peninsular and he started to reload his rifle without conscious thought. He’d already placed the butt on the ground and was reaching back for a paper twist of gunpowder when he remembered he had his dueling pistol in his belt. He threw down the rifle, pulled out the smaller gun, and started sprinting through the trees toward Danton.
Brutus had been thrown into a frenzy by the gunfire. He was barking wildly, twisting and straining on his leash. With an athletic lunge, he broke free of the branch and leapt toward Emmy. She shrieked in alarm, but he surged past her and headed straight for Danton, his teeth bared in fury.
Danton threw his spent pistol at the dog and turnedto run just as Alex fired. The ball caught the Frenchman midthigh, and with a high-pitched scream he went sprawling to the ground. The tin fell from his arms and burst open, spewing jewels onto the muddy ground. Brutus was on him a second later, barking fiercely, his front legs splayed wide to corner him and guard Emmy.
Danton rolled over with a howl of fury. Alex grabbed hold of Brutus’s flailing leash and tugged the dog back toward Emmy, who was standing frozen as if in shock. He thrust the leash into her hand.
“Here. Hold him.”
She grasped it automatically, still watching Danton’s writhing efforts to crawl away on his hands and knees.
A blinding fury seized Alex. He strode over, grasped Danton by the collar, and dealt him a punishing blow across the jaw. Panting through his teeth, he punched him again and again.
He didn’t fight like a gentleman. The bastard had tried to shoot Emmy. He deserved no such courtesy.
Seb grabbed his shoulders and tried to pry him away, but Alex shrugged him off. He hauled Danton to his feet, ignoring his screams for mercy, and punched him in the kidneys. His flabby stomach absorbed most of the blow.
The Frenchman doubled over with an agonized exhalation, gasping for breath. When Alex let him go, he dropped to the ground and lay curled around himself, his hands grasping his middle. Alex gave his injured thigh a contemptuous kick for good measure.
“Easy, Alex. Enough!” Seb’s urgent words pierced his red haze of anger. “We need him alive to hang, dammit!”
Alex shook out his fists. His knuckles stung. He looked down at the whimpering, cowering heap below him with disdain. Threaten Emmy, would he? Bastard.
Seb stepped in front of him and ushered him a few steps away.
“Can’t we just shoot him here?” Alex growled.
“You’ve already done that.”
“Only in the leg. It’s just a flesh wound. Let me try again. Somewhere really painful this time. The knee? The hand?”
“No! Conant wants him alive to stand trial. Leave it to the authorities. Let them decide what they want to do with the traitorous bastard.”
Alex scowled at his friend.
“Nobody’s shooting anyone,” Seb repeated firmly. “Unless Emmy decides to shoot you, of course. That I’d pay to see.”
“Some friend you are. You’d probably hand her the gun.” Alex glanced around the clearing as a wave of belated shame swamped him. Oh, God, she’d seen him beating Danton to a pulp. She must be disgusted. Horrified at his barbarity. “Where is she?”
There was no sign of her or the dog.
