Page 90 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
Chapter 18
As he nearedthe two riders, the quality of the horses reassured him more. He’d seen Agruen’s cattle at Greencastle. The man had squandered whatever money he’d won through death or marriage, and the best he could afford had been no match for these mounts.
Closer still and his hackles rose once again. One of the riders was Bakeley, and the grin on his face spread from ear to ear. “Greetings, brother, I hear congratulations are in order.”
Bink nodded. “Bakeley.”
“So glum.” He peered around Bink to glance at the coach. “Was the wedding night that bad?”
Behind him a throat cleared. Johnny backed his horse away, stone-faced, just as he ought to be.
The man with Bakeley had hung back, but Bakeley motioned him to go join the others near the coach.
When he was out of earshot, Bakeley turned to him and said “Well?”
The brush drew his scrutiny again, his nerves prickling. This road didn’t lead to or from Cransdall, and why the devil Bakeley was here, he couldn’t imagine.
“I’ll not be waxing poetic about the wedding night to you. It’s none of your damn concern. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Ah, ha.” Bakeley clapped him on the shoulder.
Bink’s horse shied, not appreciating the closeness of the other mount.
“As to that, brother, Hackwell and I devised a plan to keep your lady safe.”
Irritation spiked through him. Paulette washiswife,histo protect.
A breeze picked up and the brush nearby rustled, sending his horse side-stepping again. Bakeley frowned at the trees and reached under his coat.
A hare ran from the cover, bounding across the lane.
Struggling to settle his mount, Bakeley laughed, and Bink released a pent-up breath.
There was real danger to Paulette, and taking offense at the offer of help was pig-headed and unfair. With Hackwell there’d always been more camaraderie than command, and Bakeley was his brother.
Brothers helped each other.
So, best listen, Bink, and don’t be too proud to turn down help.
Bakeley looked up at the sky, “Rain’s coming in. Shaldon had a manor house not three miles off this stretch. It’s a small, secret safe house. Found it among our father’s papers after you left.”
Bink’s tension eased. In truth, he was glad he’d not been born under all those piles of Shaldon papers.
“Paulette can stay there, well-guarded,” Bakeley said. “Hackwell’s sent his family off to stay with the Cathmores in Sussex. Now, I’ve a coach down the road. You’ve visited your last coaching inn for the day. We’ll transfer the lady, her servants and her bags and send the hired horses on their way.”
“What news of Agruen?” Bink asked.
“He headed for London and did not arrive, as far as we know. His man Spellen is also missing.”
His nerves prickled. How was it possible Bakeley didn’t know about Spellen?
“He’s not missing. He went over a ledge in the dales. Broke his damn neck.” And Hackwell would know that if the express had arrived.
Bakeley’s lips turned up and he laughed. “Look at us, brother. Caught up in our father’s games. Did the valet put up much of a fight?”
Bink told him about finding Spellen searching Paulette’s room.
“I only chased him as far as the window he jumped out of. Kincaid took over the rest.”
