Part 22 (1/2)
As her bridegroom joined her, the minister opened the Book of Common Order and pushed his steel-rimmed spectacles up on his nose with a trembling finger, plainly remembering the last time the three of them had stood before that altar.
Just as he opened his mouth to begin the ceremony, the double wooden doors at the back of the abbey came flying open with a mighty crash. Emma's heart soared as a man appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the sunlight like a champion from another age.
Chapter Thirty-three.
OH, h.e.l.l,” THE MINISTER muttered, the color draining from his face. ”Not again.” muttered, the color draining from his face. ”Not again.”
This time he didn't even wait for Jamie to draw his pistol. He simply tossed the Book of Common Order straight up in the air and went diving behind the altar.
The Hepburn's guests huddled in their pews, wide-eyed with both apprehension and antic.i.p.ation. Emma's father rose half out of his seat as Jamie came striding up the aisle, but her mother placed a steadying hand on his arm, shaking her head. Emma's sisters couldn't stop themselves from preening a bit as he pa.s.sed.
”What are you doing here, you insolent whelp?” the Hepburn demanded, shaking a bony fist in the air. He began to inch away from Emma, his hopeful expression belying his outrage. ”Have you come to finish what you started?”
”Indeed I have, auld mon,” Jamie replied.
”I suppose there's nothing I can do to stop you.” The earl huffed out a long-suffering sigh. ”You won't be satisfied until you've murdered my bride in cold blood right before my eyes.”
Those eyes brightened even more as a dozen redcoats came streaming into the abbey behind Jamie.
”And what's this? More uninvited guests?” He shot Jamie a triumphant smile. ”These fine officers of the Crown must have followed you. I should have known they wouldn't let a rogue like you elude their clutches forever.” As the British soldiers came marching down the aisle, he addressed the officer in their lead. ”I suppose you've come to nab the culprit who shot my bride, Colonel Rogen? Excellent work, men. Take him into custody.”
”We already have,” the officer replied, his lean face grim.
The earl gasped as their ranks parted to reveal a snarling Silas Dockett. One sleeve of the gamekeeper's coat was torn clear off his shoulder and his brawny arms were secured in a pair of irons in front of him. A nasty bruise shadowed his jaw and his lower lip was swollen to nearly twice its normal size.
”I don't understand,” the earl croaked. ”What is the meaning of this?”
Colonel Rogen said, ”We have several witnesses who claim that this this is the man who shot your bride.” is the man who shot your bride.”
”That would be me,” Bon said as he came swaggering up the aisle. He gave Ernestine a ribald wink as he pa.s.sed the Marlowe pew, eliciting a t.i.tter from Ernestine and scandalized gasps from her sisters.
”And me,” Graeme added, a particularly pleased smirk on his lips as he limped after Bon.
”And us,” Angus and Malcolm called out in unison, shoving their way through the ranks of the soldiers.
”Witnesses?” the earl spat, eyeing them as if they were beetles that had just crawled out of a pile of sheep dung. ”I am a peer of the realm and the laird of these lands. Surely you don't expect me to believe you would take the word of this... this... Highland riffraff over mine? Why, they're naught but a bunch of filthy, no-good the earl spat, eyeing them as if they were beetles that had just crawled out of a pile of sheep dung. ”I am a peer of the realm and the laird of these lands. Surely you don't expect me to believe you would take the word of this... this... Highland riffraff over mine? Why, they're naught but a bunch of filthy, no-good Sinclairs Sinclairs!”
”Colonel Rogen might not take their word, Uncle, but I can promise you that he was more than eager to take mine.” A collective gasp went up from the crowd as Ian Hepburn rose from his pew and sauntered forward, offering Emma a courtly bow and his uncle a lazy smile. ”I, too, was in the glen on the day Miss Marlowe was shot and I have already presented Colonel Rogen here with a letter confirming with absolute certainty that Mr. Dockett here was the culprit who shot her.”
”You swivin' b.a.s.t.a.r.d!” Dockett shouted, straining against his chains. ”I'll 'ave your b.a.l.l.s for breakfast, I will!”
Graeme limped right up to the man who had beaten him with such brutal enthusiasm. Thrusting his face into Dockett's, he said, ”I'd mind that cheeky tongue o' yers, mate, or someone just might cut it out for ye. Before Before ye're hanged.” ye're hanged.”
Ignoring Dockett's feral growl, Ian continued. ”My letter also confirms that Mr. Dockett has been in my uncle's employ for a number of years and that he was acting solely on my uncle's orders on the day Miss Marlowe nearly lost her life.”
”Seize him,” the colonel ordered, nodding toward the earl.
The crowd watched, paralyzed with shock as two of the young soldiers hastened to obey their colonel's command. Ignoring the Hepburn's incoherent sputtering, they tugged his bony wrists in front of him and clapped them in irons.
His sputtering rose to an enraged howl. Emma watched without an ounce of pity in her heart as they began to haul him away from the altar. But they had failed to take into account just how skeletal his limbs were. As they dragged him past Jamie, he slipped one wrist out of its iron cuff and s.n.a.t.c.hed the pistol from the waistband of Jamie's breeches.
As he whirled around and pointed the weapon at the snowy white bodice of Emma's gown, a m.u.f.fled hush descended over the abbey. The redcoats fell back, plainly afraid of spooking him into firing.
”You cunning little b.i.t.c.h, b.i.t.c.h,” he spat, the pistol wavering wildly in his palsied grip. ”You knew about this ambush all along, didn't you?”
Despite having a pistol pointed at her heart for the second time in that abbey, Emma felt strangely calm. ”Of course I did. I'm the one who planned it. With a little help from your nephew. And your grandson grandson.”
The Hepburn's face went from beet red to eggplant purple. ”Just because his wh.o.r.e of a mother lured my son into her bed, that doesn't make that miserable b.a.s.t.a.r.d my grandson! I should have known you were no better than her. You just couldn't wait to spread your legs for the first randy young buck that came along, could you?”
Emma's father surged to his feet. ”I say now, sir, that's quite enough of that talk!”
”Indeed it is,” Jamie said softly, reaching around to give the earl's wrist a vicious twist.
Several screams echoed from the rafters as the pistol discharged, splintering one of the windows. As a shower of gla.s.s came raining down, Emma ducked, covering her head with her hands.
When she straightened, Jamie was standing in the middle of the aisle with the pistol in his hand and murder in his eyes. The earl slowly backed away from him, clutching his injured wrist.
”What are you doing?” Emma cried.
Jamie lifted the weapon, closing one eye to sight the earl's bony chest down its long, black barrel. ”What someone should have done a long time ago.”
”I thought you said your pistol only held one shot?”
”I lied,” Jamie said, drawing back the hammer of the pistol with his thumb.
Before his finger could squeeze the trigger, she shouted, ”Wait!” and darted around him, placing herself between the two men.
Jamie immediately lowered the pistol. ”Stand aside, Emma.”
Ignoring him, she smiled sweetly at the earl. ”There's one thing I neglected to tell you, my lord.”
”Emmaline,” Jamie growled.
”As it turns out,” she said brightly, continuing to advance on the earl, ”you never had any need of a bride after all.”
”What in the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l are you talking about?” the Hepburn ground out.
She drew closer to him, hypnotized by the sight of the ripe purple vein pulsing in his temple. ”It seems that you had an heir all along. Prior to Jamie's birth, your son Gordon married Lianna Sinclair before a rightful minister of the kirk. I have the page from the marriage register to prove it. She was never his wh.o.r.e, you black-hearted old goat.” He stood frozen in place as Emma leaned close to his ear, her hissed whisper audible to every ear in that abbey. ”She. Was. His. Wife.”
”His wife wife?” the Hepburn choked out, his breath beginning to rattle in his throat.
”Out of my way, sweeting,” Jamie commanded.
Emma held up one finger in a plea for more time. The Hepburn clawed at his throat, his rheumy eyes bugging out as he struggled for air. A thin line of spittle trickled from the corner of his mouth. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped like a stone to the floor of the abbey.