LITMIR.BIZ

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as he searched hopelessly through the haze?

      One man tried to stop him, but Taris made short work of the fellow, the fop’s ineffective jab no match at all for a soldier trained in the art of warfare for over six years. He felt others move back from him, whispering, the footfalls of people afraid.

      ‘Taris?’ Ashe’s voice from afar, the sound in it almost as desperate as his own. Relief surged through him.

      ‘Asher, can you see Beatrice?’ The room seemed larger than it had all night, and still there was no response from the only one he sought.

      ‘Bea. Beatrice-Maude, where are you? If you touch her, Radcliff, I will kill you. I swear I will. Ashe?’ Another shout to his brother, who sounded closer.

      ‘The clerk is here?’ Asher’s tone sounded exactly like his own, and the noise of those in the room lessened, as though they too were suddenly cognisant of further threat and waiting for it to charge at them from any quarter.

      ‘Beatrice?’ He tried to disguise panic, but couldn’t.

      ‘To your right. We are over here, Taris.’ His sister-in-law’s voice and then finally Beatrice.

      ‘Taris?’ Her question was filled with worry. Closer and closer. The whirl of blackness made him pant, the sweat on his brow building and then she was there beside him, her hands threaded around his arm and the smell of violets welcome.

      ‘I thought I had lost you. Radcliff is here.’ He gathered her in, sword at ready. If anyone came close he would kill them, he swore that he would. The grey sludge of nothingness clung to his fear and anger made him shake. Only they in the room against the world!

      ‘Taris. He is not here. I cannot see him here.’ Beatrice’s reason was calming.

      ‘You are sure?’

      ‘He is not here.’

      The roar of the crowd came back and the thrump of his blood beating in his temples lessened. When Ashe and Emerald joined them, he lowered his blade and tried to find a normal breath.

      ‘He’s gone. The bastard was here, but now he has gone.’

      ‘You are sure it was Radcliff?’

      ‘I could smell him.’

      ‘Are you drunk, Wellingham?’ Lord Davis’s voice beside him voiced the query.

      ‘Not…drunk.’ He could barely get the words out, the rush of relief making him feel light-headed. ‘I believe that there is a man here who might hurt Mrs Bassingstoke and I would protect her. He has already knocked out two men.’

      A hum of conversation erupted.

      ‘Describe him for them, Bea,’ he ordered and was pleased when she began to talk, giving him a moment to try to collect himself.

      Beatrice felt his heart beating hard against her back. His arms had not released her and she stood in the middle of a roomful of strangers all looking at her.

      Well, at Taris, were the truth to be told, because he appeared so dangerously and wildly magnificent with the scar across his eye and the sword in his hand, threatening anyone who made the mistake of placing themselves between them. Even Ashe stood his distance and waited. For reason!

      ‘He is a very tall and thin man with light brown hair and a small moustache.’

      She peered around as the others did, but Radcliff was nowhere in sight, either in this room or in the next one.

      ‘I am sure he has left,’ she said more quietly to Taris and because of it he released her. Still, he held her hand as though he would not let her out of his sight.

      She smiled at her choice of words. Out of his touch, more like, the whole evening taking on an importance that almost brought her to her knees.

      For a man who hated to draw attention to himself tonight had been a revelation. Taris Wellingham had not only shouted across the room for all to hear, but had shielded her with his own body when he perceived the threat as ominous.

      A declaration?

      Perhaps he had not said he cared for her yet, but actions spoke louder than any words. Her fingers curled into his and stayed there. Safe. Right. Dependable.

      Asher and Emerald next to her completed the guard. A family who would stand at her side as no others ever had before.

      When Bates came up to join them, the bump on his forehead was raw and bleeding.

      ‘Did you see who hit you?’ Taris asked as he realised his man was standing beside him.

      ‘I just saw the baton. Presumably the same weapon he used on the footman, who is now being tended to by the housekeeper. It was a constable’s baton.’

      ‘The policeman who helped me off the street said he had lost his baton that day.’ Beatrice wished she might have kept that piece of information to herself as Taris swore soundly.

      She noticed Bates had given him back the cane’s wooden cover and saw how well the sword was sheathed within it, the silver ball forming part of the hilt of the weapon.

      To each side of them a line of people had formed, the interest on their faces undisguised.

      Taris, however, seemed unaware of any of it as he took Bea’s fingers and placed them in the crook of his arm.

      ‘We will follow you out, Bates,’ he said and the small party walked as one to the waiting conveyance.

      At Falder they sat in the small blue salon and tried to make sense of what had just happened.

      ‘The man must be crazy to think to attack us there.’ Ashe had a glass of wine in his hand. Emerald sat beside him with an identical glass.

      ‘I am not sure he meant to,’ Taris interjected. ‘I think we surprised him. If I were to guess I would imagine he was waiting for when we left to attack. But when he saw there were only two of us and that in the darkness he had surprise as an advantage, he took his opportunity.’

      ‘Bates will have a damn headache in the morning. You were lucky he didn’t go for you, Taris.’

      ‘He did.’ Rolling back his sleeve, Beatrice saw a large discoloured lump on his forearm, the skin broken by the force of the blow. ‘I felt him there—’ He stopped, tilting his head as though trying to remember something else.

      ‘Not all bergamot,’ he said suddenly. ‘Hops and mead. The smell of hops and mead.’

      ‘The Dog and the Boar?’ Ashe was on his feet.

      ‘At Kenworth.’

      Taris turned with his brother and before Beatrice had a chance to say goodbye they were gone, calling men to join them.

      Emerald had not moved, though she took a large swallow of her wine before beginning to speak.

      ‘The Dog and the Boar is a tavern five miles from here which has rooms for travellers. It makes its own special type of mead.’

      ‘The one that Taris could smell?’

      ‘Exactly. If Radcliff is there he doesn’t stand a chance.’

      ‘They would kill him?’ Horror made her whisper.

      Emerald laughed. ‘Worse. When they finish with him he might wish that he were dead.’

      ‘He could be waiting for them!’ The danger of it all made her voice shake. ‘He could have others with him!’

      ‘I think our men can hold their own.’ Emerald’s reply held no sense of any fear.

      ‘Are you always so certain?’

      Emerald began to laugh. ‘You think that of me when I could say exactly the same of you.’

      ‘The same?’ Bea frowned.

      ‘Your discussions! You manage your salon with the

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