Willard assisted Natasha into the box of the wagon. Her heart pounded. She worked her way to the front end and lay on her stomach, the side of her body against the front of the wagon. Growing up, the twins teased her over her lack of height, but now she was thankful. There was plenty of room without her head or feet touching the sides. She felt the warmth of the blanket as it covered her. It offered a small amount of comfort given the situation.
“You have been covered with hay. I fear you’re not comfortable, but pray tell me you’re able to breathe.”
“I’m content,” she assured him.
“Goldie will lie on the hay beside you.”
Willard called the dog. The wagon jolted and then Natasha heard the sniffing. Goldie jumped up.
“Good girl, Goldie. Lie down and guard your friend.”
Goldie snuggled tight against her body. The heat of the dog’s body warmed her. She would not be cold during the journey.
The wagon creaked. Willard’s soft words of prayer for a safe, quick journey drifted back to where Natasha lay. The wagon was in motion.
They had not travelled far when the wagon slowed. It was a still, quiet night. A stern voice ordered Willard to stop.
“Are you travelling alone, sir?”
“Me and my dog.”
“Your destination?”
“Home.”
“At this hour?”
“I’m the foreman, and we’re behind schedule. I had paperwork to complete.”
“I’m on official business from the king. Remove yourself from the wagon.”
Goldie moved away from Natasha’s side and growled.
“Official business?” Willard questioned. “I have not—”
“Does the animal bite?” the guard interrupted.
“If she feels threatened.”
Goldie growled for a second time.
Laying in complete darkness, Natasha felt movement on the wagon. It wasn’t the same movement as when Goldie jumped up. What’s happening? Dear God in Heaven, don’t allow the guard onto this wagon.
Vulnerable, Goldie was gone from her side. Where is the dog? She wished for Stewart. Goldie growled. She twitched.
“Control your beast!”
Nothing. There was silence. An eerie silence. What is happening? She forced herself to assume Willard was settling the dog.
“Remove your animal from the wagon.”
Natasha’s heart stopped. Goldie had to remain on the wagon to protect her. If the guard discovered her, Willard would be hung. The dog would be killed. She would be banished to the castle, forced to face the wrath of her father. She would never see Stewart, Hope, or the Donovan family again. Natasha’s nose tickled. Focusing her attention, she heard something. What is it? Was someone joining them? Another guard? The corners of her eyes became itchy. Her nose twitched. Dust? She closed eyes and crunched her nose. It didn’t stop the tingling. This is no time for a sneeze. No. She clamped her lips together as tightly as possible, praying she could smother the sneeze. That it wouldn’t cause the wagon to shake.
“Choo.” It was the quietest sneeze of her entire life. Her effort to stifle it left her a little light-headed. She craved fresh air but that was impossible. She listened for some inkling of what was going on in the roadway.
“Move the animal, or I’ll dispose of it myself,” the guard yelled.
“Sadie, come. Get down, Sadie.”
Is he attempting to confuse the dog by using a strange name? Natasha was able to feel Goldie leaning against her side. What in the name of heaven is Willard up to? The guard will kill the dog if he doesn’t obey the order.
“She has been trained to stay in the wagon until we reach home,” he apologized.
“Remove it,” the guard demanded.
“Sadie, come.”
Natasha waited for movement in the wagon, but there was nothing. Then she felt Goldie shift back. Her warm body pushed into her side. Goldie’s hip bone dug into Natasha’s ribs. She struggled to breathe.
“You’re scaring the dog,” Willard protested. “Your harsh voice and mannerism. She isn’t accustomed to that. It’s causing her aggression.”
Goldie moved from her position at Natasha’s rib cage.
“You cannot kill her,” Willard cried in panic. “She is only doing her duty! What shall I tell my children? Never trust the king or his men? They do not show remorse, but simply enjoy killing? I question whether you possess a heart. My children will be heartbroken when they see the bloodstain.”
You cannot appeal to his sense of decency, to his honour. Father is heartless. Dear God in Heaven, help Willard. Please, I beg of you, help us.
“That is not my concern.”
Natasha’s heart pounded. Fear rushed throughout her body followed by an intense flush of heat. Nausea hit. We’re going to die. Willard, Goldie, and I.
“I am not armed. My dog is on her property. You are not threatened where you stand.”
“It’s a thick bed.”
“Indeed it is. The dog is my companion while at home and work. I offer comfort for the journey. Sadie is tired and hungry, as am I.”
Natasha began to pray, willing words into the guard’s head.
Think reasonably, rationally. You are not a stupid man. The king’s only daughter. Would a common foreman bury a princess in a pile of hay where she could barely breathe? Search elsewhere, and let us move on. God, I beg of you. Help us.
Goldie growled. It vibrated against her thigh.
Natasha heard a gunshot. To her ears, it sounded distant, but hidden under hay and a blanket, she couldn’t be certain. Her nerves could be playing tricks on her. Then another, and another gunshot.
“Jacob?” A man’s voice bellowed. She trembled at the sound, and then silence. Eerie silence.
“Jacob!”
The second bellow broke the silence. Is the guard calling for assistance? What’s happening? Is Willard shot dead? I’ll never forgive myself if Willard is dead.
The wagon jerked forward. Oh my God. Who has control of this vehicle? Was something said as the dog growled? Think rationally. My face has not been revealed. But Willard argued with the guard. Was that enough to anger the man? Has the wagon been confiscated with Goldie and me on it? Why wasn’t the dog removed and left with its master? Why would the guard want the dog? It was without a doubt the worst night of Natasha’s life. Stewart had left with their daughter. Are they alive? Did a guard look at our little girl and see the resemblance to her momma? Father will have control over Hope if that happened. This is not part of my dream of a better life. Our lives would never be the same. We will never experience the Donovan love again.
Natasha manoeuvred her hand toward the dog’s back and gave it a gentle rub. The dog was her one and only friend, given the uncertainty of the moment. Her heart pounded.
The motion of the wagon stopped. Panic and fear threatened to overwhelm her. Where are we? What’s going to happen to us? Goldie’s tail thumped against her hip. Was her tail wagging? Was the dog excited, or trying to warn her? Her trembling intensified. Terrified and confused, she struggled to breathe. She never moved. The wagon swayed. She heard a male voice. Unable to decipher the words, terror penetrated her being and ripped through her soul. The blanket was pulled down. Opening her eyes, Natasha saw her father-in-law looking down at her. Overwhelmed, she burst into tears of gratitude and relief.
“We are safe,” he assured her.
She rolled onto her back and pushed herself into to a sitting position. Willard knelt down, resting on his knees. He gathered her into his arms.
“I, too, was frightened. Cry, my dear Natasha.”
Willard kissed her forehead and held her, only releasing his grip once the sobbing subsided. He retrieved a hanky from his pocket.
“It is a beautiful clear night,” he whispered as she wiped her face. “Lie down and appreciate the moon and the stars. I want to continue home in haste. Our family awaits our arrival.”
“Indeed, yes. I wish to see our f
amily.”
Natasha rested on her side and put her arm around Goldie as she snuggled tightly against her. She vowed she would never allow Stewart’s family to be placed in danger again. She attempted to relax during the remainder of their journey home, but it was impossible.
“We’re home,” Willard finally announced.
Natasha sat up. She saw the house and Stewart, Vicki, and Eliza running out the front door to greet them. The wagon was still in motion when Goldie jumped down and ran to greet Vicki. Willard hopped down. Stewart jumped onto the wagon and embraced Natasha. She gripped him with a desperate ferocity.
“Hope?” she demanded, still trembling from the experience. “Where’s my baby?”
“Sleeping,” Stewart assured her, holding her head against his chest. “Poppa, you said you would leave shortly after our departure. Were you detained at the cottage?”
“No, but I would prefer being indoors before we speak of our night.”
Stewart jumped from the wagon and assisted Natasha to the ground. Eliza ushered her indoors as the men dealt with the horses. With her heart still pounding, Natasha ran up the steps with her mother-in-law behind her. She could see Hope sleeping peacefully as they stood at the doorway to the bedroom.
“She’s sleeping like an angel,” Eliza whispered. “She rested her head against her poppa’s shoulder as she was carried to bed. Take a deep breath, Natasha. You are safe.”
They descended the stairs, entered the parlour, and joined the men on the sofas. Vicki sat on the floor and snuggled her dog.
Stewart stood, walked over to the cabinet, and opened a bottle of wine. After glancing at his sister, he turned to his attention to his parents.
“Vicki may have a taste this evening,” Eliza announced. “After the anxiety of the trip, it will assist to settle her nerves. Allow her to relax enough to sleep. A quarter of a small glass.”
Stewart sat on the sofa beside Natasha, sipped on the wine, and spoke of their experience. Neither Willard nor Natasha were pleased to hear the guard had touched Vicki.
“Momma and I were proud of Vicki. She doesn’t possess a shy disposition, yet the guard was convinced she was very shy.”
Willard pushed himself from the sofa, squatted beside his daughter, and put his arm around her shoulders. He kissed the side of her head.
“You possess the inner strength of your momma,” he praised, and then gave her a kiss on her cheek. He stood and took his place beside his wife, putting his arm around her shoulders. “It is fortunate indeed Hope did not wake, look at Vicki, and cry for her momma, knowing the close bond they share.”
“Poppa, what was the cause of your delay?” Stewart asked.
Tears filled Natasha’s eyes as her father-in-law relayed the events of the evening. She reached for her glass and sipped the wine. Within minutes she tasted the last drop of the liquid, consuming it far too quickly. Stewart reached for the second bottle and tipped it toward her empty glass. With vivid memories of an upset stomach and headache, she placed the palm of her hand over the glass.
“No, I will not be embarrassed for a second time.”
Stewart gave her hand a gentle push and poured more wine.
“I won’t allow that to happen,” he assured her. “If I recall, you became giddy. This evening, your nerves are badly shaken. You will not rest until you are able to relax.”
“I missed you, love,” Willard informed his wife. “You possess the ability to keep me focused and calm. To think clearly. You often tease that I shuffle my feet when feeling stressed. Either that or scratch the back of my neck. I caught myself shuffling.”
“I sneezed while lying in the wagon. It may have been from the hay. I’ve never been as silent in my life as when it erupted. I was light-headed for a few moments.”
Willard’s hand went over his eyes. He groaned. “Such an innocent act could have cost us our lives.”
The room went quiet.
“I thought I heard gunshots. Multiple gunshots.”
“You did. The shots came from the direction of the home being searched. When the guard did not receive a response to his call, he ran toward to the home to assist. I did not wait for permission to leave, nor did I hear the guard yell when I climbed back onto the wagon and rode off.”
Once again the room went quiet. Natasha looked at the ceiling. I asked for assistance, God, and believe you responded. I pray no one was hurt, but I thank you and owe a debt of gratitude.
* * *
“Yikes,” Keeghan said as the scene ended. She turned her attention to Alexander. “Don’t send her back to the castle, and don’t you dare kill Willard or Goldie, or anyone else.”
She looked at Will and then rubbed Constable’s head. Alex pointed back at the screen.
* * *
Later, Natasha joined Stewart in his narrow childhood bed. She took his hands in hers.
“I cannot recall a time in my life when I was as terrified,” she whispered. “I will never place myself or your family in a similar situation. I will face my father before—”
“We must stay the course, persevere, and never give in,” Stewart argued. “Your father may possess great power, but he is yet to see the true Donovan spirit. We also possess pride and determination. Have faith in our love, my dear, sweet Natasha. You are loved by many. With your brothers’, Nanny’s, and my family’s assistance, you will be safe. We will be more cautious.”
“You knew the guards were close.”
There was no response.
“Stewart?”
“No. Not that close. Marcus and Joshua have kept me informed of the search.”
“Nanny was also aware of this, yet no one spoke to me.”
“Nay, we did not wish to upset you. You have been able to relax and enjoy life while we lived at the cottage. I enjoyed spending time with the Natasha from university.”
“You must keep me informed. I’m not a child.”
“My humble apologies, but we are safe, and we are together. Allow me to hold you, to comfort you.”
Natasha wasn’t pleased but snuggled her back into his chest. Unable to sleep, she lay awake for the longest time, staring into the darkness before finally drifting off.
She woke before dawn, wrapped a blanket around her body, and wandered into the next room. Hope was sleeping. She went down the steps and out the door. Retrieving her diary from the wagon, she returned indoors, sat at the dining table, and wrote about the dreadful night.
Dear Diary,
I will never allow Stewart’s family to put their lives in jeopardy again….
* * *
Once the household woke, Eliza left for Nanny’s sister’s residence. Four hours later Nanny had arrived and sat with the family in the parlour.
“I was not followed,” she assured them. “I enjoyed lunch with my sister and did errands before coming here. Matilda is assisting by seeking another apartment for you. Marcus visited this morning. The guards were instructed to revisit the area, having found a number of vacant residences.”
Two days later, with arrangements made, Stewart, Natasha, and Hope moved into a small apartment complex in a low-income district.
Chapter Forty-Four
Life in seclusion was a difficult adjustment. Petrified to step outside, Natasha never let her guard down. Father’s men could be just around the corner. Although she craved solitude, Stewart refused to leave her alone. Natasha’s hatred of her father grew stronger. Dread and anxiety plagued her. She could see no way out of the situation that did not end badly. Gloomy thoughts were never far from the forefront of her mind. In short order they overwhelmed Natasha. She floundered in the throes of deep depression. It just didn’t seem possible they would ever experience freedom again.
Stewart attempted to console her, reminding her the living arrangement was temporary. They would return to the cottage. She could not find it in her heart to believe him. It all seemed so hopeless.
Eliza was sitting on the sofa with Natasha when Stewart returned from a
n outing with Hope. The little girl ran to her momma, excited to speak of her adventure.
“One day I expect Hope to inform me women at the park are flirting with her poppa. They will assume our daughter is without a momma.”
Chuckling, Stewart joined her on the sofa, leaned over, and kissed her cheek.
“That is unlikely when our little girl calls out, ‘Watch, Poppa. Tell Momma.’”
Once Eliza left for the day, Hope crawled onto Natasha’s lap.
“Swim, Momma.”
The innocent request shattered Natasha’s already fragile heart. Her daughter missed the cottage and the freedom it offered. She deserved better. Her husband deserved better. Stewart reached over, took his daughter in his arms, and carried her into the next room to play.
Dear Diary,
My heart yearns for a normal life for my family. My entire being is filled with anguish….
* * *
Natasha was finishing a letter to Nanny as Stewart closed the door to Hope’s room.
“Hope is settled?”
“Yes. She is sleeping
She reread the last line.
‘Father must end this ridiculous search. I am a grown woman wanting a life with my husband. He must listen to reason.’
She stood, handed the note to her husband, and walked into their bedroom.
* * *
Nanny arranged to have Natasha use a telephone at the local mercantile. They arrived in casual dresses and large bonnets, and were led to the odd looking contraption. Natasha watched Nanny grip one piece, place it on her ear, and lean toward the box with the protruding odd-shaped ball. Her companion seemed comfortable with the use of the new technological advancement. Nanny spoke into the ball and then handed Natasha the ear piece. Nanny stepped back, ensuring Natasha was not interrupted.
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