Wham!

A punch to the face sent the masked man sprawling. Adaira, suddenly freed from his grip, whipped her head around and...there he stood. Captain James Carter. Wet, dirty, covered in unspeakable things from his underground bath, and yet...Adaira had never seen a more beautiful man in her life.

"You are late," she told him.

One corner of her man's mouth quirked up. "Oh my. So, I guess I'll never be working for your brother, will I? What a tragedy."

She couldn't help herself any longer. Rushing forward, Adaira threw herself into his arms, hugging him fiercely. He didn't waste a moment and enfolded her in a tight embrace. Adaira felt those strong, warm arms of his around her and nearly melted into his chest. Right then and there, surrounded by enemies, with a hostile army marching towards them and a war-torn country between them and security, she felt safer than she ever had before. Instinctively, she tightened her grip.

"Miss me?" he chuckled.

"Miss Adaira," she corrected, her voice muffled as she snuggled into his chest. "I'm not called Mee."

"Oh, right. How could I forget?"

Adaira smiled and was just about to open her mouth to respond when, suddenly, he slipped out of her arms and stepped away, his eyes suddenly hard. Glancing after him, Adaira saw something that made her throat tighten—the figure of the masked man, rising from the ground a few yards away.

"Apologies." Taking a step forward, the captain firmly interposed himself between her and the henchman. "It seems that my attention is required elsewhere."

Adaira swallowed. "Be...be careful."

"Of course." The captain fixed his gaze upon the approaching henchman and took up a fighting stance. "Now, how did this go again...on cart? One card? Ah, no. En garde!"

Adaira felt the urge to whack him over the head from behind. Considering this was probably a bad idea just before a fight to the death, she resisted. Barely.

The masked man, on the other hand, did not. Bringing up his fists, he rushed forward. Captain Carter made no move to respond. He simply stood there and waited.

"Um...James?" Adaira questioned cautiously.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting."

"I can bloody see that! For what?"

The masked man had arrived in front of Carter, fist raised to strike.

"This," the captain said.

Then he twisted his body ever so slightly. The enemy's fist sailed right past him, and the masked man was so surprised he didn't notice Carter extending his leg right into his path. Until he fell, that is.

"Aaaah!"

"Oh my. A little clumsy today, aren't we?" Bending down with a look of concern on his face that seemed so genuine Adaira almost bought it, Carter extended his hand. "Please allow me."

Then, before the man could react, Carter grabbed his hand, pulled him to his feet and rammed a knee into his gut. Wheezing, the man doubled over.

"Already stumbling again? Tut-tut." With a swift kick, the captain knocked his opponent's legs out from under him and, with another, hit him in the liver.

"Ugh! You son of a—"

"Now, now. Watch that dirty mouth," Captain Carter advised and, with a foot on the back of the man's neck, pressed him face-first into the mud.

Adaira felt her lips twitch. She was almost starting to feel pity for the poor goon. But then again...

She glanced down at her sewage-stained clothes.

Maybe not.

"Nnnmgph!" The man flailed in the mud.

"Much better." The captain nodded in satisfaction. "It's always better to be polite, don't you think?"

In response, the masked man twisted his head to the side and bit Captain Carter's leg.

"Agh! You...! Don't you know it's bad manners to fight with your mouth full?"

The masked man didn't seem to appreciate the captain's continued attempts at education. He bit down harder and, grabbing hold of the other leg, pulled on it until Captain Carter keeled over and joined him on the ground. Snarling, the masked man lunged towards his foe and started punching and kicking.

"Um...do you want some help?" Adaira enquired cautiously.

"No need, no need." Captain Carter waved a hand—only to likely regret it a moment later when a punch went past his non-existent guard. "Gummph! I, ehem...have it all under control."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yes. He may be strong, but I've got a good head on my shoulders." Grabbing his opponent by both ears, Captain Carter reared up and headbutted him hard. "You see?"

Adaira's lips twitched. "All right then. Don't make me regret it."

"Never."

A warm feeling surged in Adaira's heart. Without another word, she turned around and strode off. After putting some distance between herself and the two people wrestling on the ground, Adaira let her gaze sweep over the riverbank to take stock of the situation.

The first thing she noticed was the army. The army which, by now, had come a lot closer. Far too close for Adaira's liking.

We have to get out of here. Fast.

Her head whipped around to scan the masked men and quickly discovered the weakest link. The smallest of the goons was currently unarmed and fighting Lilly with his fists—or at least trying to. The fact that Lilly had gotten her hands on a knife somewhere was hampering his efforts considerably.

Well...as my brother likes to say, there's no time to waste!

Decision made, Adaira strode forward. Snatching up a stone from the ground, she came up behind the masked goon and...

Crunch!

The sound of stone colliding with cranial bone made her shudder. The man fell to his knees, but Adaira didn't hesitate for a second before raising the rock again and bringing it down once more.

Crunch!

The masked man keeled over. One last time, he twitched, then ceased to move. Heart pounding, Adaira lowered her hand, still clutching the bloody rock. Over the dead body, she met Lilly's gaze. Then she jerked her head towards the side, where her brother was still fighting fiercely with three henchmen at the same time.

"Shall we?"

Lilly twirled her knife in a way she had probably practised in front of the mirror. "With pleasure."

"Then let's go." Hefting the bloody rock in her hand, Adaira strode towards the four fighting men. Lilly marched beside her, blood-stained dagger in hand. Truly, they were the image of well-bred young ladies.

"On the count of three," Lilly whispered, and Adaira indicated her agreement with a nod. "One...two...three!"

They lunged.

Adaira once more brought her stone down on the skull of a man, and felt him buckle under the force. Lilly, for her part, buried her dagger into another henchman's back.

"Aaagh!"

Alerted by the scream of his companion, the third man whirled to face them—which, Adaira could have told him, was a really bad idea. As quick and cold-blooded as a snake, her brother struck. In a blink, Rick had his arm around the throat of the third man from behind and twisted.

Crack!

Adaira had never heard the sound of a twisted neck before, but she was pretty sure she would never forget it. Before the body had time to hit the ground, her brother rushed to the last man, wounded but still standing, and twisted the goon's arms behind his back. This left the thug unable to defend himself—an opportunity Lilly immediately took advantage of. Her knife stabbed down, and blood spattered. A moment later, the henchman's struggles ceased, and another body hit the ground.

Adaira dragged in a deep breath.

That was it. The last enemy was down.

It seemed to take a little time for her thick-headed brother and Lilly to realise. For a second that seemed to stretch for eternity, the two of them stood there, staring into each other's eyes. Adaira was starting to wonder if they had been hit over the head or something—when, suddenly, her brother lunged forward, pulled his wife into an embrace and pressed his lips on hers in a display she really didn't want to watch.

Ah. So, not hit on the head, then. Just being nauseating.

After ten whole seconds, her brother finally broke the kiss.

"You're late," he panted.

Lilly grinned. "And you're welcome."

"Not that I want to interrupt your special moment," Adaira cut in (although she absolutely did), "but can we go help my husband-to-be before he gets himself killed?"

Rick moved his eyes away from his wife quite reluctantly. "Do we have to?"

Adaira raised the rock in her hand. "Move, Rick, or I'll show you how good I've gotten at using this!"

With even greater reluctance, her thick-headed oaf of a brother let go of Lilly and, together, the three of them headed to where the captain was still wrestling with the masked henchman on the ground. Currently, the good captain had one hand wrapped around his opponent's throat while trying to use the other to prevent the enemy's free hand from wrapping around his own.

Adaira didn't hesitate for an instant. Marching forward, she aimed a kick at the head of the masked goon—only for the two men to roll around and her kick to hit the captain's back instead.

"Nng! Bloody hell! I hope this isn't the normal way for you to show appreciation to your husband, darling. Otherwise, my married life will be a lot bleaker than imagined."

Adaira flushed. "Shut up!"

Quickly, she aimed another kick at the masked goon and this time hit her mark. The man cried out in pain and his grip loosened.

"And now you even show affection to another man? Tsk, tsk." In mock-sadness, Captain Carter shook his head. "Here I thought we had something special."

A fist flew at his face (well-deservedly, in Adaira's opinion), and he only barely dodged the punch of the masked man.

"Apologies, but I don't want affection from you," Captain Carter informed his foe. "Sorry to break your heart."

Adaira felt one of her eyelids twitch, and she raised a fist. The only question was—which of the two should she punch?

Finally, she came to a decision. Reluctantly.

Thud!

Her fist—the one that was still clutching the stone—slammed into the head of the masked man, just a few inches away from the captain's face. The man crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut—right on top of Captain James Carter.

"This really isn't what it looks like," came the captain's muffled voice from below the unconscious man. "I swear, normally I don't cuddle up to strange men in public."

Adaira gave him a gentle (in her opinion, anyway) kick in the ribs. "Get up!"

"Yes, My Lady. Right away, My Lady." Pushing the henchman off, her intended rose to his feet with a groan and looked around. Then he caught sight of the army. Adaira realised it was a lot closer now, and forming up to charge.

"Err...maybe we should get out of here?"

***

"Err...maybe we should get out of here?"

I stared at the man my sister-in-law was planning to marry and made a mental note to have his intelligence checked before the wedding.

"You think?"

"Enough!" Mr Ambrose cut in. "We have to leave. Now."

He was right. Quickly, I scanned the scene at the river bank. All the goons—down. Mr Ambrose—safe. Captain Carter—safe. Adaira—safe. I myself—safe. And as for Karim...

Well, suffice to say he was having entirely too much fun with Dalgliesh and didn't look like he required (or wanted) any help. If anyone needed saving over there, it probably wasn't the bodyguard. Not that I was inclined to interrupt Karim's fun, but, well...

I glanced at the fast-approaching army once again.

No time-wasting allowed, I guess.

Cautiously, I made my way over to where the massive Mohammedan was crouched over Dalgliesh, pummelling him into the ground.

"This is for making me leave my homeland for decades!" I heard him growl as he punched the peer's prone form. "And this—" Another vicious punch. "—is for her!"

Ah.

I had always been wondering why exactly Karim left India. Now I had an idea, vague though it may be. No wonder that, after all these years, the big fellow was still single. Poor Granny Aatifa. Seems like it would take a while for her dream to be fulfilled.

I would have liked to leave Karim to his own devices and allow him to finish his fun, but, unfortunately, we didn't have time for any more of this.

Reaching out, I touched Karim's shoulder—and jumped back as he whirled around, fists raised, a ferocious expression on his face.

"Err...Karim?"

"Sahiba." Karim expelled a long breath and visibly forced himself to calm down. "What is it?"

"It's time to go."

Full of reluctance, the bodyguard looked down at the groaning, deformed heap that had once been Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh. "Do we have to?"

In answer, I jabbed a finger in a certain direction. Karim followed my extended arm with his gaze and caught sight of the army. For the first time since he had started beating Dalgliesh into a pulp, he seemed to remember that the two of them were not alone in the world.

"Kuti'āṁ dē puta!" he cursed.

"How about we discuss the ancestry of the British army at a later date?" I suggested.

"Agreed." Unable to resist, Karim cast a last, reluctant glance back at the battered remnants of Dalgliesh. "What about him?"

"Oh..." Picking up a large rock, I dropped it on Dalgliesh's head with a distinctly unhealthy crunching sound. What, you thought I was going to leave him there, only for him to miraculously survive and come back for revenge three years later? Ha! And even if he wasn't completely dead... I glanced up at the city wall and eyed the rebels, who were forming up and loading several cannons with grapeshot. "I don't think we'll have to worry about him any longer. Now, go!"

"Yes, Sahiba!" Turning to my husband, Karim inclined his head. "Where to, Sahib?"

Wordlessly, Mr Rikkard Ambrose jerked his head towards the reed-covered riverbank. It took a moment or two for his meaning to sink in.

"Oh no. No." Shaking my head, I took a step back. "Not again. I've only just been flushed down a sewer!"

He opened his mouth.

"Don't say it!"

"It's time for everyone to take another bath, Mrs Ambrose."

-----------------------------------------------------

My dear Readers,

I hope Dalgliesh's end was sufficiently ignonimious! ;) Oh, and in case you were wondering what grapeshot is—it is a kind of ammunition for cannons that consists of several smaller balls rather than one large cannonball, mostly used against enemy infantry to cause damage over a wide area.

Countdown: Eight chapters left!

Yours Truly

Sir Rob

----------------------------------------

GLOSSARY:

Kuti'āṁ dē puta!—Punjabi for "Sons of dogs!"