“We’ll have to tie and gag him, or else he’ll alert the others,” she whispered to Meghan. “After we do so, I want you to slip out and go for help. If they haven’t taken Hickory, perhaps you can reach him. The sheriff must come here with as many men as he can lay hold of. We’re dealing with an unworthy lot of pirates and murderers.”

Meghan’s worry increased as she watched her mistress remove the pistol from the miscreant’s belt. “But, mum, what will ye be doin’? Where will ye be goin’?”

“Downstairs. They threatened to start cutting on Mr. Wingate if I tried anything, so hopefully I can stop their bloodletting and deliver a surprise they’re not expectin’.”

“Ye’re goin’ back into that devil’s den?” the maid questioned in astonishment. “Ye’ll not likely come out alive.”

A wistful smile curved the younger woman’s lips as an image of a tall man gripping a wooden railing came to mind, and she knew from experience that life without Ashton would hardly be worth living.

The sun dipped lower in the west, and Ashton distantly mused that it was like the sand that sifted through the narrow waist of an hourglass marking the dwindling hours of his life. With so many guards holding their weapons upon him, he was beginning to despair that he would find an opening to launch an attack. His hopes rallied briefly when a team of horses brought a carriage rattling up the drive. The presence of the conveyance gave his adversaries a start until Malcolm noticed a pair of his own men sitting in the driver’s seat. The miscreants relaxed, and a moment later a burly man stepped to the parlor door and, reaching back, pulled a struggling woman into view.

“Look who I found in Biloxi.” The man chortled as he swung his captive around to face the occupants of the parlor. Her face was red and enraged, and the green eyes blazed in outrage. Malcolm gaped in stunned silence, while gasps of astonishment came from his companions. Edward Gaitling slowly sank to the settee, perhaps more confused than anyone.

Ashton came to his feet and stepped forward for a better look. “Li…er…?” he began, and then halted. The features were similar, but not as refined. With sudden certainty he shook his head. “You’re not Lierin.”

“Of course not. I’m her sister, Lenore. And who might you be, sir?” she asked crisply. “Are you part of these ruffians who kidnapped us as we were leaving the boat?”

Ashton began to smile and then to chuckle with real, heart-felt humor. “I do believe someone has made a mistake and sent me the wrong portrait.” He sobered slightly as he cocked a querying brow. “Mrs. Livingston?”

“Yes,” she answered warily. “And you?”

“I am your brother-in-law, Ashton Wingate,” he replied.

“Ashton?!” Her eyes widened in dubious wonder. “But he’s dead.”

“No,” the Natchez man grinned broadly as he replied. “I’m very much alive.”

“But Lierin was sure that Ashton was dead,” Lenore insisted. “She saw him die…and Malcolm showed her the grave.”

Ashton raised a brow as he cast a glance toward the other man who had finally managed to close his mouth. “My grave? And where might that have been…and just when precisely did he show it to her?”

“Lierin said Ashton was buried near the place where the pirates attacked the River Witch. Malcolm showed her the grave shortly after he rescued her.”

“I fear Malcolm has deceived us all…or at least tried to.” Ashton faced the lady with a vow. “I swear to you that I am very much alive and the bearer of the name, Ashton Wingate. I believe your sister will attest to that.”

“Where is she? Where is Lierin?” Lenore demanded. “I want to see her.”

Ashton almost smirked as he turned to Malcolm. “Would you mind having one of your men fetch my wife?”

Malcolm returned a glower to the challenging hazel eyes, then with a gesture of a hand sent one of his men on the errand. “Get her down here…and make sure her maid comes with her.” As the other left the room, Malcolm bent a curious stare upon the woman who was jerking off her gloves and his eyes narrowed slightly as he inquired, “What are you doing here?”

“We came here to see Lierin, Malcolm. An attempt was made on my father’s life, and he grew anxious about Lierin’s safety. He sailed from England, came by the islands, and bade me to journey with him the rest of the way.”

“Your father is here?” Malcolm inquired in amazement. “But where?”

“He’s in the carriage. He didn’t like the way that buffoon was treating us and set upon him. The pair of bullies knocked him unconscious, and he hasn’t come around yet.”

Malcolm faced the fellow who had brought her in and flung out an arm toward the front porch. “Get out there, you idiot! I don’t care if you have to carry Somerton, get him in here. He’s too dangerous to leave out there alone!”

Lenore displayed some wonder as she watched the man scamper out, then she lifted a confused stare to Malcolm. “Am I wrong in assuming you’re the leader of this band of misfits?”

Ashton was in amazing good spirits as he seized the moment to introduce the man and his companions. “You are correct in your assumptions, madam, and if perchance you do not know his real name, this is Marcus Gaitling, son of…” He twisted slightly, indicating the actor, who raised bleary eyes to the young woman. “Edward Gaitling, Shakespearean actor.” Ashton nodded toward the other men who stood about the room. “These are some more of Malcolm’s associates…and I would do the honors for them, except,” he shrugged, “Malcolm hasn’t told me all their names.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the pirate leader snapped.

“Temper, temper,” Ashton chided.

Malcolm swung around on him in a fit of rage. “You needn’t gloat, Mister Wingate. She may be your wife, but it will do you little good…nor will it benefit her or the child she carries. You’ll be dead shortly…and she’ll be confined to a madhouse.”

Lenore gasped and laid a trembling hand to her throat. “You wouldn’t.”

“I regret to say, madam, that Malcolm will do anything to see his purposes served,” Ashton stated wryly. “What I’m wondering now is how he plans to get rid of you and your father….”

Malcolm smirked. “That will be taken care of easily enou-”

“Unhand me, you brigand!”

The shouted command made Malcolm jump and glance around in sudden dismay as stumbling footsteps ended in a loud crash against the outside wall of the house.

“I’ll make my own way, damn you! Now where is my daughter?! Where is Lierin?!”

Thundering footfalls came into the front hall, rattling the glass in the door as Malcolm had never thought of doing with his awesome entries. The pirates glanced at each other in worried confusion, but they had no time to obey Malcolm’s angry gesture to get into the hall and seize the man. He came striding in on his own.

Ashton had once given up the thought that he would ever meet Robert Somerton face to face, but he knew as soon as he laid eyes on the graying dark head and blazing green eyes, that this was indeed the sire of Lierin Wingate. One of the brigands bolted forward to grab the older man’s arm, but he was slammed carelessly aside, and as he struck the wall and slithered senseless to the floor, Robert came around with another thunderous demand.

“Fetch me my daughter!”

The pirate who had been sent after Lierin sidled past the man and entered the room, carefully avoiding the raging intruder as he did so. Hurrying to Malcolm’s side, he made a whispered announcement. “She’s not to be found, sir. She and that maid of hers…they knocked Tappy out…and left him all bound up.”

“Find her!” Malcolm shouted. “Don’t let that bitch leave here!”

Ashton glanced over his shoulder as he glimpsed a movement on the veranda, and he saw the tail of a skirt flick past the open french doors. Casting a wary gaze around, he found the miscreants occupied with Malcolm, who was angrily giving them orders. Straightening his stance, Ashton moved cautiously backward until he stood on the threshold of the double doors. He held his bound hands outward, away from him, and waited as unseen fingers plucked at the cords. It was nearly dark and they did not have much time left to secure their freedom. His brows lifted slightly in surprise as a large pistol was placed in his grasp. The time was not appropriate to thank the hidden angel for her gift, but he would strive to bestow the full measure of his gratitude at a later moment…when their victory was firmly in hand.

Behind his back, he tucked the pistol into the top of his trousers and then cleared his throat for attention. “Maybe Lierin has gone up to the attic to hide. She has been up there before.”

Malcolm came around at Ashton’s suggestion and, seeing how close the other man was to the french doors, yelled another command to his companions, “Get him back in…!”

“I’m coming!” Ashton barked and leisurely sauntered toward the settee, keeping his hands folded behind his back.

“I promised that bloody bitch I’d see you cut,” Malcolm growled. “I think it’s about time I let Barnaby have his fun.”

“Really, Malcolm. You have become such a boor lately,” Lierin chided as she swept through the french doors. She fervently hoped that she appeared more serene than she felt. The dam had broken completely away from her memory, and it was flooding back with vivid detail. With her entry she won the gawking stares of the band of thieves who cast befuddled glances between the twins, but Lierin hardly noticed as she continued to berate her second husband who had made a bigamist of her. “All you can do lately is threaten people. You haven’t been successful in killing anyone since Mary…” She heard the startled gasp of Edward Gaitling and wondered if something his son had done had finally shocked the actor. “If you’re not careful, we’ll stop taking you seriously.”

“You bitch,” he growled. “I thought you were an angel when I first saw you with Wingate aboard the River Witch. I told my men to kill him so I could have you, but you have meant nothing but misery for me.”

“Tsk, tsk,” she shamed and, shrugging her shoulders innocently, crossed the room with a shawl draped over one hand. She moved to her father who was being held to his position by the menacing bore of a gaming gun. Robert Somerton’s eyes glowed with pleasure as he gave his daughter a casual inspection, and with a laugh that trembled slightly, Lierin came into his wide-spread arms. As she did so, she dropped the small derringer she carried into his pocket and breathed close to his ear. “The one without a shirt is a friend of ours, Papa. The rest can go to Hades.”

Robert Somerton pressed a kiss upon her brow, then setting her aside, stepped toward Malcolm with a demand. “I want to know what the bloody devil is going on here. When you brought Lierin to England, we were under the impression that you had saved her from the pirates who had killed her husband in an attack upon his steamer, but here you are, looking very much like the villain in this game.”

“He is,” Edward Gaitling slurred from the settee. He tipped the crystal decanter that he held and poured an ample draught into his glass. “My son has seized the moment in hand and made his own bed…may he rot in hell.”

Malcolm’s eyes flared as he glanced at the white-haired man, then his lips curled as he faced Somerton. “Your daughter would have drowned but for my men. They caught her by the hair as she was swept near the barge and going under. They pulled her aboard and saved her life. You ought to be grateful-”

“Grateful!” Lierin cried. “Why, you buffoon! It was their attack on the steamer that nearly killed me! They shot my husband, and for all I knew he was dead. Then you came into their camp to receive the spoils, few that they were, and you pretended to rescue me. Oh, how gallant you were to brave so many. You won my release, and then took a grieving widow to see her husband’s grave which bore a tombstone that you had purchased. An empty grave!”

“I could have filled it!” he retorted. “Would that have made you happier?”

“You tried!” she accused. “You paid your cutthroats to kill him, but he was too much of a man for the lot of them.”

Barnaby chuckled. “We’ll see how much of a man he is when I start slicing.”

Lierin whirled to face the shaggy-haired man. “You bloodthirsty lout! I’ll see you sent to hell before I’m finished with you!”

“Oooh, a right fiery bitch, she is,” the unkempt bloke taunted with a leer. “I’ve gots me a bit o’ Indian blood runnin’ in me veins, an’ ye knows what Indians like best?” His eyes twinkled at her. “Scalps! That’s right, an’ yours would make a fine one, I’d say.”

Lierin dismissed his threat with a scoffing jeer and turned back to Malcolm. “When you took me to my grandfather’s house, we saw something there that confused us both. Lenore’s portrait was gone, and when we arrived in England, neither my father nor Lenore knew where it was. But you knew, didn’t you! Or rather, you guessed. You were aware that Ashton was still alive, and you realized he was sent the wrong portrait by mistake. When you returned there, you knew where it was. There was no need for you to search for it, but you were looking for more evidence to convince me that I was Lenore…and I think you were still there when Ashton and I came.”