She sighed and tried to banish the thought of him from her mind. It was now dark, and she tried to sleep. She had not slept the previous night and was deadly tired with the effects of the drug and the emotional turmoil of the day, but she dozed restlessly and uncomfortably, her hands still secured behind her back.
They passed Newark just as the early summer dawn broke, stopping at an obscure inn on the outskirts of the town to change horses. How long ago, Sarah thought dejectedly, since she had first encountered the man at her side in this very town, unless one counted the unbelievable time when she had ridden out with a highwayman and helped to hold him up.
An hour later they halted, the driver having driven a little way along a narrow lane to a small clearing. Sarah forced herself to eat the dry rolls and unappetising slices of cold meat Sir Gilbert provided. She made an attempt to tidy her by now considerably bedraggled green ballgown, and pulled her fingers through her hair, doing her best to smooth her riotous mass of curls.
'We shall be home tonight,' Sir Gilbert commented, looking at her speculatively.
'The Hermitage is not your home, and never will be,' Sarah replied defiantly.
He laughed unpleasantly and walked across to where she sat on a fallen tree trunk.
'You will sing a different tune tomorrow,' he promised, and she had to force herself not to avoid the hot, greedy look in his eyes.
'That remains to be seen,' she replied as calmly as she could, willing herself not to flinch as he reached out and seized her, dragging her up and pulling her roughly into his arms.
'We will see, but here is a foretaste of what you may expect, my dear wife. You can consider the pleasures to come during the rest of the journey!'
Although she struggled to avoid him his seeking lips descended on to hers, bruising her with the savageness of the assault. His arms clamped her to him and he breathed rapidly, then as he held her fast with one hand the other began to explore the curves of her body. Sarah writhed to escape him, but he was bending her backwards so she could neither escape his kiss nor wriggle from his trespassing hands.
For a moment he raised his head and she gasped in air.
'I do not think we will wait until tonight,' he said huskily, and began to push the shoulder of her low cut bodice away from her neck, his eyes resting appreciatively on the soft white flesh revealed.
'I think you will wait longer,' a new voice drawled, and before Sir Gilbert could turn round there was a loud shot from a pistol and he fell to the ground, rolling in agony and clasping his leg from which blood was already oozing.
*
Chapter 11
'I wish you had killed him!' Sarah said vehemently an hour or so later.
She was sitting once more in the highwayman's cottage, facing Sir Charles across the kitchen table. He laughed ruefully.
'Murder an unsuspecting man, my dear?' he asked lightly. 'Besides, it might have been a lover's tiff, and you would never have forgiven me.'
'I loathe him! He drugged me, or rather that detestable Mrs Woodford did, and forced me to wed him. But how did you contrive to follow us? There has been no time to talk.'
He grinned at her. Despite the mask he had worn she had recognised him at once, and flown across the clearing where he had interrupted Sir Gilbert's attempt to ravish her to fling herself into his arms. She blushed as she thought of that impulsive action and the manner in which he had gently put her aside, saying he must ensure Sir Gilbert had no weapons about him. He clearly did not still entertain any softer feelings towards her.
She thought back to the efficient manner in which Sir Charles had swiftly bandaged the injured man, then thrown him across the back of one of the coach horses. The coachman had already been securely tied and was bundled into the coach. With the remark that he would be discovered during the day Sir Charles had unharnessed the horses, helped Sarah onto the broad back of one of them, and led away the one carrying Sir Gilbert.
On arrival at the cottage Sir Gilbert had been installed, fruitlessly protesting, in the loft, and Sir Charles had produced a bottle of wine which he and Sarah were now sampling.
'I arrived at the ball rather late,' he answered now. 'Clarinda was somewhat distracted about your long absence, and after making some enquiries I suspected what had happened. I rode after you at once, but you had been taken away when I reached that devil's house. His aunt, if she is, which I doubt, was in the midst of packing and made little demur at revealing what had happened.'
'She admitted having drugged me?' Sarah demanded. 'I did not agree to wed him!'
'She admitted it,' he agreed somewhat grimly. 'And she told me he intended taking you straight to The Hermitage in order to establish himself as master there. It was pointless my attempting to follow you across the moors, so I returned through Harrogate and rode here, waiting for you at the bridge in Newark. I knew you would have to pass there, and I had your reception arranged.'
'Why didn't you kill him?' she demanded again. 'You might have known I had no wish to remain his wife.'
He laughed shortly. 'I have a use for him first. But do not fear, you need never again see him. It will be possible to obtain an annulment. I propose to escort you to The Hermitage at once. I stopped briefly in Harrogate and told your cousin my plan. He will be riding there with Clarinda and her father and should reach there tonight. We can reach it first if we go at once.'
Sarah groaned. 'No, I beg of you! I am so tired I should fall out of the saddle. And you have had two nights without sleep, too. Can I not stay here and sleep?'
He considered her for a moment. 'Very well, then. You will have to use my bed while I make one up in here. Perhaps it is wiser.'
*
Sarah fell fast asleep and awoke as the daylight was fading. She could hear sounds in the kitchen, and after washing in the water which had been placed in her room she dressed and went out to discover Sir Charles frying thick, appetising slices of ham and several eggs. To her dismay she found Sir Gilbert sitting on a settle near the window.
'There is no need to fear him. He is securely tied,' Sir Charles smiled at her, and she went to sit at the table as far away from her husband as she could.
She was ravenous and so, it appeared, was Sir Gilbert. His hands were partially free so that he could eat, but not stretch down and untie the bonds about his ankles, and despite his casual air Sir Charles maintained a close watch on his prisoner, ready to forestall any attempt at either escape or attack.
'Well, what do you propose to do with us?' Sir Gilbert asked as he pushed away his empty platter. 'You cannot keep us here for ever.'
'I have no desire to keep you longer than is necessary,' Sir Charles replied. 'I have a few matters to settle with you. You won my brother's estates, and Forleys, which should have been mine, by cards, I am told?'
'I did. What of it? I have won a great deal by my skill at cards, having had no other way of living as I wished to live, unlike those born to wealth,' Sir Gilbert sneered.
'I have reason to believe the cards were marked and you cheated my brother.'
Sir Gilbert laughed. 'Easy to say, but impossible to prove. I deny it. I used my skill alone.'
'Then you will not have any objection to using your skill alone with me,' Sir Charles said smoothly. He rose and walked across to a small wall cupboard. 'I have here new packs of cards which you cannot have marked, and you will have to trust I have not done so. I offer you your freedom and your wife against all you possess.'
Sarah gasped and Sir Charles turned towards her.
'I beg your pardon, but I must settle this matter. I had not intended you to be present. Please retire if you choose.'
'No, I do not wish – how can you be certain of winning?' she asked fearfully.
'He intends to cheat me,' Sir Gilbert said scornfully.
'As you, I believe, cheated my brother? No, I play fairly and this time you will also. I doubt if you are as skilled as you appear to be without your own tricks to add to the game.'
'I have sol
d Forleys. You cannot win it back,' Sir Gilbert pointed out.
'And my brother's other houses?'
'Yes, I preferred the money. Of what use were empty houses to me? I bought stock.'
'South Sea stock?'
'Mostly. They have risen tenfold this year alone,' he boasted.
'Then you will not wish to lose them. Will you stake your wife first? Give up all claim to her, or her money?'
'I'll be damned if I do! You'll have to win everything else first, and that will be beyond you. Give me the cards. If they are clean I will take your challenge!'
With a faint smile Sir Charles handed over the cards and sat opposite his prisoner. Sarah, not quite believing her senses, sat to the side near to the fire but in a position to watch the game.
'What do we play?' Sir Charles demanded when the cards had been examined. 'Piquet is your favoured game, I hear?'
'It serves, demanding skill,' Sir Gilbert sneered, swiftly sorting the cards and scrutinising them carefully as he discarded the lower cards.
'Sarah, will you fetch the valise I placed in your room, please?' Sir Charles asked and, mystified, Sarah went to find it. 'I retrieved it from the coach,' he explained briefly, when she carried it back into the kitchen, and she saw Sir Gilbert frown in annoyance. 'I could not permit your husband to lose his valuables,' he added. 'Please open it.'
As well as several clean cravats and a change of linen, the valise contained several bundles of papers and Sarah put them on the table. There was a leather drawstring bag containing various items of jewellery, and a purse with a large number of gold coins. Sir Charles selected the purse.
'This first?' he queried politely. 'If I win, I take it, if you win you may leave, but without your wife. You will need to play another partie if you wish to regain her, too.'
*
Silently Sir Gilbert nodded and laid down the cards. They cut and Sir Charles began to deal. Sarah watched in breathless silence. She had played piquet occasionally with Robert and knew the rules, also that it was a game where skill mattered more than luck. If Sir Gilbert was a frequent player how could Sir Charles hope to defeat him?
It soon became clear the two men were close matched. Sir Charles smiled reassuringly at Sarah as his score slowly crept up, and he won the first partie and the purse with some margin. He then won the jewels with a slighter margin of points, and lost them on the third partie. Winning them back by the barest difference he went on with only one more defeat, to add the share certificates to the pile at his side of the table.
Sir Gilbert was looking pale and strained in the flickering candle glow, and drinking steadily from the glass beside him, refilling it from the bottle when he had drained it. Sir Charles also had a glass of wine but sipped sparingly, having drunk less than half the contents. He leaned over and nipped the wick of a guttering candle.
'Your last stake. Sarah?' he said softly to his opponent.
'I'm not bested yet, damn you!'
He bent low over the cards and, with a desperate concentration managed to win that game, but relaxed and lost the share certificates again as Sir Charles, winning all twelve tricks, scored a capot and went on to win the game by a large difference.
'Sarah?' Sir Charles said inexorably, and wordlessly Sir Gilbert nodded, biting his lips in fury.
On the first deal Sir Charles had poor cards and his opponent drew well ahead, but in the next four deals the lead was lost as Sir Charles gradually drew level. In the final hand Sir Charles won by just three points, but it was sufficient when added to the score and the extra hundred points the winner scored to give him the game.
Before he could speak Sir Gilbert rose to his feet and heaved the table up, pushing it against the other man. The candle slid to the floor and went out, leaving only the dim glow from the fire to illuminate the scene. Sarah, rising from the stool where she had sat to watch the game, saw the shadow of Sir Gilbert grasp the bottle and smash it against the table. Then he bent and sawed through the ropes which bound his hands loosely together, and was stooping to deal with those about his ankles when Sir Charles, having pushed back the table, was upon him.
For a moment Sarah watched the two shadows as they converged, then she heard the thumps and bangs as they fell to the floor, and the sharp tinkle as the glass Sir Gilbert held scraped against the settle on which he had been sitting. She remembered suddenly there was a candlestick in the room where she had slept, and ran to find it, seizing it and bringing it back to the fire, thrusting the wick into the flames and when it was alight holding it up to cast light on the scene before her.
The two men were closely engaged on the floor of the kitchen, Sir Charles forcing away the hand which held the broken bottle while his opponent tried to evade his grasp and use it as a weapon. Although Sir Gilbert's feet were still tied together he was able, as Sarah watched, her hand to her mouth, to use them to brace himself against the wall and thrust away from Sir Charles. As the hold on him was broken he slashed downwards, but Sir Charles managed to roll swiftly out of reach.
The bound man bent to slice through his bonds and then was on his feet, facing Sir Charles who circled warily, looking for an opening past the wickedly sharp broken bottle which threatened him. 'You'll not cheat me,' Sir Gilbert panted, his voice filled with hate. 'I've money, and a wife it will be a pleasure to train to do my will. No cheating games of cards will take them from me!'
'You never had any claim to be called a gentleman,' Sir Charles replied coolly. 'You cheated my brother and caused him, poor wretch, to take his own life. I swore then that one day I would make you pay for it. It is an added pleasure to snatch your wife away from you, too. Especially since you were only able to get a wife through more trickery,' he taunted, and Sir Gilbert leaped towards him.
Sir Charles sidestepped neatly, and then closed with his enemy before he could regain his balance. For a moment they swayed as Sir Charles strove to reach the hand with the murderous bottle, and then Sarah screamed out a warning as Sir Gilbert, exerting all his strength, tried to bring it stabbing towards the other man.
With a sudden twisting movement Sir Charles bent to avoid the wicked glass and then, as Sir Gilbert was unbalanced, threw himself sideways to send both of them crashing again to the floor. By some tremendous effort Sir Gilbert retained hold of his bottle and tried to slash at Sir Charles as he fell, but he managed only to tear the wide cuff of Sir Charles's coat. As Sir Charles reached for him again he kicked viciously upwards, but Sir Charles swerved aside and seized his leg, rolling over and pulling the grunting Sir Gilbert over with him.
*
During the few crowded moments of the fight Sarah had remained just inside the kitchen, holding aloft the candle she had fetched from the bedroom which cast its feeble glow over the antagonists, adding to the faint illumination from the fire. Then she saw Sir Gilbert was sprawled on top of Sir Charles and had his right hand free, poised to strike with the jagged shard of glass which could inflict greater damage than a dagger.
With a furious cry she leapt forward and made a grab for his arm, forgetting she still had the candle in her hand. Her sudden movement scattered blobs of burning candle grease which fell onto Sir Gilbert's hand and the back of his neck. He jerked upwards as Sarah, tripping over her skirts, fell against him and collapsed with him on top of Sir Charles, the candle still clutched in her hand.
From beneath her there was a strangled cry, a grunt and a convulsive heave, and she found herself rolling aside, her feet entangled in her full petticoats, to stop with a breathtaking jerk against the settle.
She lay for a moment, partly stunned, and then became aware of a warm, sticky substance flowing against her outflung hand. The candle had gone out and all she could see was a crumpled figure silhouetted against the firelight, frightening still.
'Charles? Oh, please, Charles, say you're not hurt!' she almost sobbed, her voice weak with terror.
'As you wish,' an amused voice said, and beyond the recumbent figure Sir Charles rose, another lighted cand
le in his hand. 'I do not think your husband is able to reassure you similarly, though. Hold the candle while I look at him.'
Weakly Sarah scrambled to her feet, and looked fearfully at the still form of Sir Gilbert. His right arm was bent beneath him and it was clear when Sir Charles turned him over that the bottle had been driven straight into his neck as he had fallen on it. A jagged gaping wound left her in no doubt he was dead.
'Thank you for your most prompt intervention,' Sir Charles said gravely, and Sarah looked up at him, her lips trembling.
'I might have killed you instead,' she said, swallowing hard. 'You – you would have defeated him, and I might have prevented it! I – oh – damnation, I will not cry!' she added furiously, and gave a shuddering sob, then collapsed into overwrought tears as Sir Charles gathered her into his arms.
When she was calmer she drew away from him and took a deep breath.
'What do we do now?' she asked shyly, unable to look up into his face.
'It will be light in an hour. I shall escort you straight to The Hermitage, and then find the nearest justice. I fear I may need to ask you to corroborate my story, or doubt will be cast on my right to what I won, if nothing worse.'
'Of course,' Sarah agreed readily. 'Why do we not go to a justice immediately?'
'Are you able to face it yet?'
'I'd be happier to get it over. And it will take until very late tonight, or even tomorrow, before you could return. Ought we not to have his body removed as soon as possible? There is a great deal of blood,' she added with a grimace.
*
They were soon on their way, and although they had to return to the cottage with an astonished and perturbed justice he readily believed their story that they had all been travelling southwards together, and an angry Sir Gilbert, after losing a great deal at cards, had accused his companion of cheating and attacked him.
'It was the fact I was married to him that convinced them of it,' Sarah commented when they were eventually riding towards The Hermitage. 'I feel so strange now, as if it were all a dream.'
Highwayman's Hazard Page 13
