“Maria, my dear, how fast can you run? I implore you to suddenly act as if you have forgotten something at the bakeshop. Then, make haste, and fetch me some help, for I daresay that I shall need it. It seems as if those blackguards have returned. Now, pray, have faith in me. Find Jason and Christopher, for they are the only two people that I am able to trust.”
“If I can find Theo I’ll bring him, too,” Maria murmured, staring at her fretfully.
“Good thinking.” She gulped down the dryness that erupted in her throat. “I will continue to approach the house, as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. Now go,” she softly urged, continuing on, and brandishing her parasol as if it were a rapier.
She stared at the man in front of him, and shot daggers out of her eyes at him. How dare he presume that he would be able to capture her so easily! As long as she got Maria to a safe distance all would be well, and her ill misfortune may actually turn into a slim fortune. Her dainty slipper stepped along the rough gravel, and she watched with curiosity as the man against the house changed position. Maria had already made it down the long lane, and had already turned onto the street. Thankful that she was safe, Isabella plastered a determined expression on her face, and stared tauntingly at the man in front of her.
‘Come and get me, you bloody bastards,’ she thought, just as she had the wind knocked out of her as someone from behind knocked her down and came at her with a dagger and some rope.
Terrified, she rolled on the ground, and brought her parasol up and slammed it against the man’s knees. He fell like a dead weight, groaning out with pain. “You fucking goddamn bitch!” he screamed in French, as his pockmarked face become smeared with hatred.
Fear coiled around her heart as two other men came at her, and she screamed as one of them grabbed her parasol, and threw it across the drive. She slammed her elbow into the man’s side, causing him to momentarily lose his grip on her.
Wild eyed, with fear and attempting to remain calm, she screamed out the only name she could think of, “Saint Christopher!” She punched the man in front of her, and cried out again as they overpowered her and carried her to the waiting carriage. She was thrashing wildly, and swore out in pain as one of them touched her sore leg.
Bloody hell, she wouldn’t let them take her, she wouldn’t!
“Don’t treat her tenderly. This high-born bitch deserves everything that we give her, and then some!” She fell silent at his threat, and stared over at him, as he carried her to the carriage. Now they had really riled her, and when she got done with them they would be eternally sorry.
“No!” she muttered, agony tearing through her voice. Gladys’s lifeless form was sprawled out on the ground at the end of the carriage.
“Ah, now don’t worry, Mademoiselle, the wench is still breathing. But if you do not come along nicely, we will kill her. Yves gets a lot of pleasure out of it, don’t you, Yves?” the man that she had whacked with her parasol, nodded his head eagerly, and Isabella moaned. “Now my little pretty, we have the perfect way for you to travel in style. Very fitting for one such as you,” he promised, as they opened the back of the wagon, and shoved her into a waiting empty water barrel.
She remained motionless, as they shoved her into the large empty barrel, and only grew truthfully despaired when they placed the lid back onto it. Fortunately, they had forgotten to tie her up and both her hands and feet were free though they were sealing the barrel remarkably well. They had seemed stupid enough, yet they were proving that they had a certain amount of cleverness inside of their pea-sized brains.
She felt the wagon pull away, and groaned as it jolted her painfully. She sighed with relief when she realized that someone had been thoughtful enough to drill holes into the barrel for her. Rolling her eyes to the heavens, she prayed as the wagon continued moving, and mustered all of the strength that she had left. She pushed her entire body against the barrel and kicked against it in frustration, as something made a loud screeching noise. Obviously, the back of the wagon had given out.
She screamed, as she went rolling right out of the wagon. “Oh God, oh God, oh God!” she said, over and over again.
Suddenly, she was grateful that she had been sealed in so well. She heard her abductors cries of alarm in the distance, and she smiled smugly in the dark, as she realized that she had done just as she had intended. She escaped.
As she hit another rut in the road, she grunted out in pain, and quickened her breathing, as she realized she was rolling down a bloody hill.
She had to remain calm, and wait until someone, hopefully, Christopher came charging to her rescue. She realized that Jason would help, but he was still quite weakened.
Good lord, she felt quite queasy. She felt as if she was going to throw up, and decided that she would definitely be sick as soon as got out of this blasted barrel. Suddenly, she stopped moving, and sighed with relief. She quickly learned her lesson the hard way, when water started trickling into the barrel. They had traveled so far from Wisteria House, that when she had escaped, she had rolled down a hill on the beach right into the water. A French ship was no doubt hiding and waiting to meet them at the designated rendezvous point. Groaning, she pushed against the lid with all of her might.
Christopher and Jason raced after the rolling barrel, as soon as they heard Isabella’s cries, and caught a glint of her flaming hair.
“Bastards!” Christopher watched with dread, as she increased momentum, and rolled straight down into the water. “Oh hell! Stay out of the water.” He told Jason. “I will get her. At the particular moment with your head, I’m the best bet.”
He waded into the water and grabbed a hold of the barrel, before it could float too far. By the grace of God, she hadn’t weighed it down enough, or she would have most certainly drowned, but yet with the air holes, it would be a wonder if she were still breathing.
He pried open the lid with his bare hands, and reached inside to pull out Isabella. She was drenched, and sputtering as she tried to catch her breath. He was so relieved that she was alive that he brought her close and held her against his chest.
“You silly man!” she rasped, wrenching herself out of his hold and staring at him accusingly. “You were supposed to rescue me before they got me into that barrel! You listen to me you blasted, English, if you ever, ever let me almost get taken again, I will never forgive you.” She stared up at him with her wet hair plastered across her face.
“I thought that you could take care of yourself. A woman who can take care of herself doesn’t need rescuing.”
“You said that you were going to protect me. I don’t want to go back to France. Not yet anyway.”
“Of course you don’t want to go back, you aren’t finished here yet, are you?”
“I can’t believe you. Blister it, I don’t care what you believe or don’t believe. I don’t even give a tinker’s fart, that you don’t trust me. Be that way. I cannot believe I am going to marry such a bloody fool. I do not know how I shall bear having to sleep with such a man!”
“Ah, then you would sleep with me,” he concluded. She stumbled backwards, and he caught her quickly. “You are quite a handful, Duchess, which makes me wonder what you would be like in bed. I am sure you are quite skilled.”
Jason stopped and stared at him angrily. “Now see here, mate, I think that you have insulted my cousin quite enough.”
“Thank you, Jason. I appreciate your support, but I do believe that I would like a hot bath and a warm bed. Would you please take me back to Wisteria House?” Isabella asked. “I hope you two will all be ready for the trip to London on the morrow, for I do not believe I want to remain here much longer. And, given the fact that I do not do too well on the waters, I think we should go by carriage to London.”
“Well, there you have it, Jason. Her Royal Highness has spoken. I will take you back, and Elphinstone, I assure you, that she will be in good hands with me. I simply let my temper have the better of me. Sometimes, she has that remarkable effect o
n me.” Christopher grinned, and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Besides old boy, the Duchess and I have a few things to talk over.”
“Fine, I shall go and take care of the men that tried to take her.” Jason turned away from them, and mounted his horse.
Isabella shivered, and pushed her heavy hair out of her face, for what seemed to be the hundredth time. The air had grown quite chilly, and she was yearning for a hot bath and a warm bed.
“You bloody bastard!” she seethed, shrugging out of his hold and standing to regard him. She tried to toss her hair back haughtily. Instead it struck her in the face, and completely ruined the effect. She looked utterly dreadful, and had once again averted death.
“Ah, my darling you take my breath away,” he said huskily, taking his greatcoat off, turning her and wrapping it around her trembling form. He pulled her up against him, lifted her until her feet were right off of the sand, and plundered her mouth, as softly and as torturously as he could. She moaned, and wrapped her arms around him, as he roamed his hands over her body. She shivered, as he sent delicious tingles coursing through her body.
His eyes were alive with passion, as he opened her mouth, and took what she had to offer. He worked his dangerous magic on her, and she almost forgot that she was standing out in the open on a very public expanse of white beach.
Voices could be heard off in the distance and she could only assume that they belonged to Christopher’s men. She could not go on like this. He was hot one minute, and cold the next. Not knowing what to expect from him, was beginning to deeply affect her.
He stopped kissing her long enough to slowly trail his hand along the one side of her plump breast. Her nipples hardened, due to the cold, and what he was beginning to stir within her. She knew that she should be protesting, but he had saved her from the water, and she needed to feel safe. This was cruel madness. Why did she have to be so strongly attracted to such an irksome man?
“Why you silly woman,” he murmured, as he nibbled delicately at her earlobe.
“Pray, excuse me,” she whispered, pushing away from him. “Why did you have to do that? You always spoil it whenever we get close.” She grimaced. Her voice was strained with fatigue and frustration.
“No, my dearest, you normally do that.”
“You spoiled the moment by calling me silly!” she accused, placing her hands defensively against her chest.
“You were silly to have wandered off with that strange man.” She certainly didn’t like the way he was looking at her. Strange man. Why of all of the detestable nerve! The man was even stupider than she had thought.
“He wasn’t a strange man, you lack wit. He was the man that you had assigned as my guard. Honestly, Christopher, you are giving me a headache the size of the colonies!”
“Yes, well we found your true guard a short distance away from Gladys. He had been put into the bushes.”
This was too much for her to handle. She took a tremulous breath. “Is he unharmed?” Suddenly, she wanted to get as far away from him as was possible. She walked away from him, only stopping to pick up a seashell. She inspected it, considered pelting it at him before she dropped it back onto the sand.
“No. He was found with a dagger shoved through him. They killed him. That is why you are such a silly girl. You could have been killed today and then what would I have done?” His voice was strained, and though she was tempted to turn back to him, and give him a row, she didn’t want him any sorer with her than he already was.
It had to end. The suffering had to end, and she was the only one that knew how to accomplish that nearly impossible feat. “I would like to write to his family.” Finally she turned to face him. She stared down in consternation at her feet, as her foot scraped against something rough. In the confusion, she had somehow lost one of her slippers.
“You can’t.”
Sighing, she asked, “Why can’t I?”
“He has no family to write to.”
“I see,” she murmured, was all that she could say without breaking down and crying in front of a man that definitely didn’t need to see her in such a vulnerable state. She was death. Everyone that got too close to her—met the same fate, death.
“Travis knew what he was getting himself into when he joined the service. The work is usually dangerous, and not everyone comes home. But he will be mourned by the friends that he has made.”
“Take me home to Wisteria House.” She was bone tired. Without realizing what she was doing, she placed her hand against his shoulder.
She gasped when he gave her a soul searching look. “I believe that you will make me a good wife, as long as I can endeavor to trust you.” His midnight blue eyes, glittered, and her heart sank. If only they were filled with a love that was meant for her alone.
“And I believe that you will make me a hateful husband, and,” she paused. “You might not become my husband. We shall see how it will all end once we reach London.”
Chapter Eighteen
Isabella awoke the next morning to find out from Jason that Christopher had been called back to London and that he had set off without them. To add insult to injury, he had told her that Christopher would procure their special license while there. There would be no way for her to slip out of this wedding now, and in a way, she wasn’t sorry for it. Being married to the man would simplify things for her, and she would have to spend most of her time with him over her family and that didn’t make her sad because she didn’t want to see her family in any sort of peril because of her.
Her heart sank, and she and Maria went about trying to find something suitable for her to wear. Maria had given her the wedding dress she’d married Theo in, and while it wasn’t as fashionable as what she was accustomed to wearing, she took it with gladness in her heart for Maria believed she was giving her a most cherished possession.
The days flew by and she was having such fun with Jason, Maria and Theo that she had almost forgotten her impending nuptials and the fact that Christopher would return. When she saw him riding back into town, her heart did a little jump in her chest, and she sighed. Mayhap, being married to him wouldn’t be as bad as she’d originally believed, for tomorrow would be her wedding day.
****
Isabella heard the gentle rapping on her door, and moaned, as she turned over in the small bed, pulling her plump pillow halfway over her face. It was too early to get up, and blast it, she was still tired. She closed her eyes again, and was just about to doze off again, when she heard the door cautiously creep open.
“Your Grace,” Maria, softly called out, tiptoeing into the room. “Isabella, wake up.”
“Oh, do go away, I wish to sleep a little longer.” Isabella closed her eyes, again and daintily muffled a yawn. She stretched her legs languidly through the sheets.
“Oh, you haven’t forgotten the day have you? Pray forgive me, but it is half past seven in the morning, and you will be married shortly.”
“No, I won’t,” she murmured, as she let a huge yawn escape her. She scratched her nose, and then rubbed at the sleep in her eyes. Finally waking up, she considered Maria’s words. She bolted upright and stared incredulously over at Maria. “I can’t marry him. I barely know him, and he despises me.”
“Oh, but you must. Whatever would Jason say if he found out that you were going to be disobedient?” Maria placed the fresh white towels she was carrying onto the mahogany dresser.
“Blast him.” Isabella had made her decision. Nothing, not even her furious cousin could drag her to the altar. Christopher could not become her husband. She fluffed the pillow up behind her so that she could lean against it. She sneezed, and then placed her finger to her temple, as her breathing became laboured. “I feel quite ill. Go and tell the two village idiots that I am too sick to be married today. Upon my word, I do not even believe that I can pull myself out of bed.” Even though she was making a mountain out of a molehill, she did feel a bit poorly. It had to be the emotional upheaval of the last few days. Too much had
happened to her to expect otherwise. Perhaps, her health was even being affected because she’d lost a part of what made her the woman she was. She’d lost her gift, and she didn’t know if it would ever return.
Seemingly worried, Maria settled herself onto the side of the bed, and reached out to feel Isabella’s forehead. “You do not seem warm,” Maria wrinkled her brow. “I shall fetch Theo. He is visiting with Lord Wyndham, at the moment but he will be most willing to come and attend to you.” Maria jumped up and began running towards the door. Isabella was so tired, that she was only half-heartedly listening to Maria.
“You do that, yes, indeed,” she yawned, closed her eyes, and immediately fell back asleep.
Isabella heard the infernal pounding, and placed her pillow over her head again in an attempt to drown out the hideous noise. What did a woman have to do to get her beauty sleep? It was impossible! In France she rarely rose before noon, and even then she sometimes awoke with a headache. She heard the door being flung open and assumed that it was Maria returning. She heard an oddly familiar male voice issuing out another one of his confounded orders, and wonders of wonders, Maria and her husband were actually going to obey them. She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Return my powers to me now, and I promise I’ll use them to rid myself of a rapscallion.”
She pretended that she was asleep, and prayed that he wasn’t so ill bred as to not leave her alone. She groaned when she felt him approaching the bed, and surprisingly that one sleight on her part was the one thing that gave her away.
The Duchess and the Spy Page 19
