by Carrie Brock
. . .
Nicki gazed out at the countryside flashing by. Teddy had opened the shades, probably believing they had come too far for Nicki to know where they were.
The thought crossed her mind again that she could grab for the door handle, fling the door wide, and leap from the vehicle. An inner voice she had previously ignored warned her to think twice about such an action. She was forced to admit to herself that she could be knocked unconscious, or worse, killed.
With a sigh, she drew the throw closer around her shoulders. Her cloak had been left behind at Langley Hall where she had used it to cover Simms. Dear Simms. She hoped he had not awakened with a splitting headache. Nicki would have liked to apologize. Well, she hoped he knew her feelings. Perhaps Mina would explain everything.
“If you think that long face will change my mind, you're mistaken.”
She refused to look at him. “Tell me, Teddy, how should one look when their life is being destroyed by another?”
He snorted derisively. “I hardly think I'm destroying your life. You always cared for me. I cannot believe your feelings could've changed so much.”
Nicki smiled, but she felt bitterness well up behind the expression. “Then you had best change your thinking, because I have come to believe I might actually despise you. I wonder if the Teddy I cared for ever really existed, or if I just gave you all the characteristics I would one day find in the Earl of Diamond.”
“Perhaps I should gag you. I'm growing extremely bored with your adoration of Dylan.”
“You had best get used to it. I plan to regale you with his virtues until you concede and return me to Langley Hall.”
Teddy watched her coldly for a long moment. “The only way I will return you to Langley Hall is in a casket . . .”
The coach slowed abruptly, finally coming to a halt. Face dark, Teddy stood and reached over Nicki's head to open a small door. “What is the meaning of this? I told you not to stop for any reason!”
“’ad to, sir,” came the muffled reply.
“Get moving at once!”
“The lead ‘orse is limpin’ somethin’ fierce. Th’ mare, she's startin’ t’ go lame. They can't go no further, sir.”
Nicki shook her head in disgust. She had told Teddy to stop at the hostelry they passed less than a half-hour before, but he refused. Now the poor horses were paying for his stubbornness. Folding her hands, she rested them on her twisted skirts. Beneath the fabric, she felt a hard object. Curious, she explored the shape, then remembered. The laudanum. Before Teddy noticed her actions, Nicki clasped her fingers tightly.
“Come around to the door, damn it all!” Teddy slammed the cover over the opening and threw himself back into his seat.
She looked at him, hoping disdain showed in her face. “You can only push horses so far, Teddy.”
“One more word from you and I'll—”
The door jerked open to the coachman's ruddy countenance. His glance touched on Nicki then flitted away. “Sir?”
“How bad are they, Larson? Can we make it to the next posting house?”
“Nay. Th’ lead ‘orse—he's lookin’ about t’ go down.”
Teddy gripped his knees until the knuckles of his fingers turned white. “Can we go on with two?”
Larson transferred his weight from one booted foot to the other. “Nay. Coach is too heavy.”
“Throw something out!”
“There's nothing t’ throw out, sir. It's th’ weight of the coach itself. It were made t’ be drawn by at least four horses, and th’ pace we been at, we should've ‘ad six.”
With beleaguered frustration, Teddy glanced at Nicki, then back to Larson. “The inn we passed not too long ago—can you take the horses back there and return with a fresh team?”
“We shouldn't be drivin’ ‘em even that far.”
“Not drive, you dolt. Pull the coach off the road and unharness the horses. You can ride one of them and lead the others on a tether to the inn.”
Larson aimed a doleful look at the sky. “There'll be a downpour any moment, sir. It'll be lucky if we can get th' coach back on the road.”
Teddy growled something unintelligible and lunged from his seat. Larson stepped back in alarm as Teddy leapt from the coach and slammed the door shut. Pressing her face to the dirty glass Nicki watched as the two men moved several feet from the carriage. No matter how she strained to hear, she could only make out a word here and there.
Certain Teddy would be occupied for a few moments, Nicki pulled the laudanum from her pocket and reached for Teddy's flask. Hands trembling, she removed the cap of the flagon, then unscrewed the top of the laudanum bottle. She held her breath to steady her hands and poured the remaining contents of the bottle into the container.
Her heart pounded as she replaced the caps on both, so certain was she that Teddy would fling the door open and discover her. The flagon she returned to the seat. The empty laudanum bottle was stuffed back into the pocket of her gown.
With a sigh of relief, Nicki returned her vigil at the window. Teddy impatiently gestured further down the road. Lifting her skirts, she moved to the opposite seat to see what he pointed at. It was a patch of forest the thoroughfare traveled through. She looked back at the men and saw Larson nod. Teddy headed back toward the coach. When he saw Nicki's face in the window, he glowered. She threw herself at the other seat as he nearly tore the door off the hinges.
“Sit there and keep quiet!”
She shrugged, feigning innocence. “Can we ride back to the inn with Larson? I am very hungry, Teddy.”
“You think I would let you on a horse? I told Larson to bring something when he returns.”
Nicki frowned. “But that may be an hour or more. We have not had water or food. This is absurd, Teddy. How could you be so unprepared?”
“It was you who upset my plans and sent us off on a mad dash. You never used to complain so on our adventures.”
She glanced outside as the coach jerked into motion. “That was a good idea to hide the coach in the woods. The rain will not get through the trees so quickly and mire us down in mud. But what about highwaymen? Do they not lurk in the forests?”
Teddy rubbed his temples. “We have nothing of value to steal.”
“Of course. I forgot you have no money. We shall simply be a coach stranded with no horses, no luggage, no food, and no water. You are right. They will most likely shoot us for wasting their time and be on their way.”
“Be quiet, Nicki!”
Reaching for the abandoned throw, Nicki snuggled down into the scratchy warmth to wait.
Chapter 26
. . .
Blake held the reins of the mounts, waiting while Jonathon gave Gerard descriptions of Nicole and Teddy for at least the third time. He sighed and shrugged his shoulders in an effort to relieve some of the tension. Together, he and Nicole's father had come to the decision to go on for another hour and then turn back. It seemed a fruitless mission, but both agreed they were not ready to give up quite yet.
Finally satisfied that the innkeeper had absorbed the information, Jonathon waved to Gerard and strode to where Blake waited. Their gazes met, and Jonathon's cheeks darkened. “I'm a foolish old man.”
Holding his gaze, Blake handed him one set of reins. “Fools are those who walk away from all they hold dear without fighting to keep it at any cost. You, sir, do not fall into that category. I, on the other hand, have been a fool. But I do not intend to be one any longer.”
“I don't believe you ever were.”
Blake looped the reins over the bay's neck, then placed his foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. “I had the strongest feeling they came this direction.”
“As did I, but we should've heard something by now. Ted wouldn't be fool enough to run horses like that.”
Blake waited for Jonathon to mount before turning his horse toward the road. “I think we have surmised that none of us truly knows what Bartholomew is capable of.”
A lone
rider leading three horses turned into the courtyard. Immediately Blake tensed. All four horses had white lather smeared across their damp coats. One stumbled, then recovered. The rider drew up. Blake met his gaze. Recognition dawned in the arrival's eyes and Blake knew luck had found him at last. It was Teddy's hired man.
He pressed his heels against the side of his mount and sent the beast surging toward the groom. The man tugged on the makeshift reins. His panic confused the horse and caused it to turn into one of the other coach horses. The weary horse stopped as though he had met a wall. The groom kicked his feet violently. The horse that blocked the path danced away nervously as the man's mount skittered sideways, then bolted.
“Damn!” Blake maneuvered his own mount around the remaining coach horses.
Hooves clattered across the cobblestones and onto the dirt road. The groom took the opposite direction from his original destination. Blake followed. His fresh mount easily overtook the weary animal. Panic darkened the man's eyes as he glanced over at Blake, but still he made no move to slow his desperate dash.
“Pull up, damn you!” Blake shouted.
The man turned his alarmed gaze back to the road, obviously determined to continue the mad race. Reaching across the distance between them, Blake grabbed the back of his jacket. The groom struggled to hold on to the horse and grabbed for the mane. But his grip slipped and he fell backward to sprawl awkwardly over the horse's rump. Blake turned his horse closer, at the same time attempting to pull the groom toward him. The man flailed wildly, lost what meager balance he had and finally slid off the side of his horse nearest Blake.
Still grasping the man's yellow jacket, Blake dragged him against his leg. The muscles of his shoulder burned with the strain of so much weight. When the man reached up and grasped his forearm, Blake thought the man would pull himself up. Instead the imbecile jerked downward. Desperately, Blake clutched at the saddle with his free hand, but with the groom clinging to the other it was no use. He continued to slip.
The groom's feet bounced along the ground, yet still he refused to let go. Blake's shoulder throbbed and burned as it if were being torn from the socket. The pounding of the horse's hooves against the dirt kept time with his hammering pulse. His hand slipped along the leather, further with each jolt the groom's body took. In a blur of movement, he saw flashing hooves—then he lost his grip completely.
Blake hit the ground first on his injured shoulder. He rolled over several times before he finally stopped on his side. Red smeared across his vision. He was blinded. Clutching his arm, he sat up. Pain—pounding, ripping pain. He struggled to his feet, trying to see his surroundings. Nothingness. Dizziness engulfed him, stripped him of his bearings. The earth vibrated beneath pummeling hooves, or was it the blood surging through his veins? Blake closed his eyes against the sharp edge of suffering. Miraculously, the lightheadedness dissipated.
“Good God, son, are you damaged?”
Billington. Blake heard the sound of a horse sliding to a halt. Jonathon's footsteps drew closer. He turned toward the sound, felt a soft cloth pressed against his eyelids, then taken away. Blake opened his eyes, relieved at least that his vision was restored. “The groom?”
Jonathon continued to wipe at Blake's forehead until the white linen came away with little blood. “Broke his neck when he fell.”
No. Damn it, no. Blake pushed Jonathon's hand away, and scanned the road. There—a splash of yellow. The man's jacket, which must have been torn off. Several yards away, the groom lay with his arm twisted up behind his back at an awkward angle, his eyes stared, unseeing.
“What have I done?”
“The man ran.” Jonathon took Blake's good arm in a firm grip. “Listen to me, son. I saw him drag you from the horse—it was nothing you did.”
Despair washed over Blake and he stumbled—fell to his knees to stare at the hard packed earth of the road. “He could have told us where she is.”
“He did, son. He told us we're on the right road.”
Blake looked up to meet Jonathon's gaze, where he saw hope and renewed energy. They would find Teddy on the road ahead, without horses, awaiting his groom's return. Nicole would be with him. Blake stood. His shoulder ached like hell, but his heart lifted. They were close.
His rented mount trotted toward them, most likely headed back to his stall. The coach horse followed. Blake captured the reins as the first animal attempted to dart past. Jonathon caught the other.
After first wrapping the reins about his wrist, Blake went to the groom. With Jonathon's help, they managed to drape the body over the bare back of the coach horse. The man's death galled him. Senseless. And all in the name of greed.
Jonathon watched him silently, somberly. “Well?”
“We shall have to take him to the inn.”
With a sigh, Jonathon picked up the long strips of leather the groom had used for reins and mounted his own horse. Blake gritted his teeth and got on his mount. Jonathon met his gaze, concern etched his features.
Blake smiled through the fog of pain. “Let's ride.”
. . .
The coach stood just off the road in a small wood. Blake motioned to Jonathon and they pulled up several yards away. Here, beneath the protection of the trees, rain filtered through the leaves, scarcely misting them. Silence reached out to him, gripping his chest in a crushing hold. He looked to Jonathon at his side.
“Maybe they went for a walk,” Jonathon offered half-heartedly.
Blake clenched his teeth together. He should go to the coach, but insidious fingers of fear clamped around his strength of will, paralyzing him. After coming so far, his search had ended in success, so why could he not move forward?
The silence. Whispers filled his mind, echoing louder with each beat of his heart. If Nicole were in that coach, it would be on fire, or tipped on its side—something. Certainly not this damned silence. He reached up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Move. But he could not. The thought flitted across his mind, skittered away, then returned to haunt him: Nicole's lovely blue green eyes wide and staring, her essence forever lost to him in this lifetime. Blake dropped his hand to grip the reins.
Jonathon kicked his horse gently. “Come along, son.”
The smell of damp earth rose beneath the hooves of their mounts. Blake glanced to his right. Dark, unwelcoming contours of trees seemed to fuse together, inhibiting the passage of light.
Jonathon pulled up next to the coach and climbed down from his horse. He looked up at Blake expectantly.
With a sigh, Blake prodded his mount forward, stopped, and dismounted. If she had left him, he had best know now. He strode to the coach and grasped the handle. With his breath caught in his chest, he jerked the door open.
Blake staggered, clutching at the handle to keep from falling. Jonathon pushed passed him.
Releasing the breath in his lungs, Blake concentrated on sucking more air in. He closed his eyes tightly, but the vision remained. A body on the floor of the coach partially covered by a knitted blanket. Otherwise the vehicle was empty.
Opening his eyes, he saw Jonathon grip the opening of the door until his knuckles whitened. The older man shifted his gaze to Blake. Disbelief. Horror. Blake knew his own eyes must mirror those emotions.
. . .
Teddy took another long drink from the flask, then offered it to Nicki. She shook her head. “No? You might feel a little better about your situation after a few sips.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. “Perhaps I would. But I decline. In fact, I believe I would rather drink poison.” Nicki's heart slammed at her poor choice of words.
“You've a fascination with that thought. I see I shall have to watch you closely.”
She fussed with the blanket to avoid looking at Teddy. His speech seemed to be slowing, becoming more deliberate, but she could not be sure how long it would take the drug to work. After all, she had been unable to judge the amount she added to the flask.
Teddy looked out the window. He grinned
and pointed his index finger at something outside. He misjudged the distance between his hand and the window and smacked his finger into the glass. Perhaps she had been too generous with the drug.
“Look at the pretty bird. I've never seen one with such beautiful colors. Just like a rainbow.”
Nicki strained to see this curiosity, but saw only dense green foliage and the trunks of trees. She glanced at Teddy's finger and attempted to follow the direction he pointed, certain she must have looked in the wrong place. No. Nothing but an odd shaped branch dangling from one of the trees.
“Don't you see it, Nick? Look at those feathers. I could make you a fine hat with those feathers. I must have a gun here somewhere.” Teddy leaned forward slowly, the silver flask dropping from his hand to hit the floor with a thunk. “Oops. No worry. See? It's empty.”
Teddy proved he had already drained the last drop from the flagon by turning it upside down. Nicki nodded mutely. He dropped it again. His legs spread further apart as he bent over until his upper body had passed his knees. She could only watch in stunned amazement.
“Now, what was I doing down here?”
The last thing Nicki planned to do was remind him he meant to look for a gun to shoot a dead branch and make her a hat. She certainly hoped Simms had not suffered similar delusions when she had drugged him.
Teddy pressed his hands against the floor of the coach and moaned softly. “Oh. I don't feel so good, Nick. Help me up, please . . .”
She did not budge. This is for the nasty lump on the head you gave me, you turnip. Teddy struggled to push himself up, but his body drooped lower with each attempt. With a final groan he tipped sideways. Nicki lifted her feet and he toppled over with a clumsy twisting motion to land on his side on the floorboard. He closed his eyes, brought up his legs, and curled his hands beneath his chin.
Tentatively, Nicki placed one foot on his hip and shoved. Teddy moaned, but his eyes remained closed. She lifted her foot and brought it down harder, this time on his ribs. The blow elicited only a groan before he curled into a tighter ball.
