A Taste of Paradise

by Connie Mason

  “Let me go and I’ll forget this ever happened,” she pleaded.

  “Do you think I’m stupid? I’ve booked passage on a ship sailing to Jamaica tomorrow. I’ll release you in the morning and not before. I expect Caldwell to come for you long after I’ve left the cottage.”

  He grasped her arm and pulled her toward the bedroom. “Come along, I fancy you in a bed.”

  Sophia dug in her heels. “I’ll fight you.”

  “I’m stronger than you are. I can hurt you if you refuse to accommodate me.”

  “If you hurt me, you’ll hurt the innocent babe I’m carrying.”

  He stopped abruptly and stared at her middle. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Your stomach won’t get in my way. It’s up to you whether or not you get hurt, Sophia.”

  “Please,” she begged, “don’t do this.”

  “There’s no escape,” Rigby sneered. “I want you beneath me, just like Caldwell promised. Not just once, but many times. We have until daybreak.”

  He set down the lamp, grabbed her arm with both hands and dragged her into the bedroom. Sophia punched him with her free hand and aimed for his groin with her foot. To her surprise, she connected. Her success prompted her to kick him again. Rigby roared and clutched his privates with one hand while maintaining his grip on her with the other.

  His face turned white with pain. “Wildcat! You’ve unmanned me. You’ll pay dearly for that.”

  He shoved her to the floor and limped out of the room. Sophia fell hard, clutching her stomach to protect her babe. “Come at me again and I’ll make sure you never assault another woman,” she threatened with more bravado than she felt.

  The door slammed in her face, leaving her in total darkness. She heard the key turn in the lock. “You can’t escape—the windows are shuttered,” Rigby called through the door. His voice sounded unnaturally high. “As soon as I’ve recovered, I’m coming in with a rope to bind you. Then we’ll see how brave you are.”

  Sophia picked herself up from the floor and huddled in her cloak. It was cold in the bedroom; no fire had been lit in the fireplace. Had kicking Rigby bought her sufficient time for help to arrive? Her hopes rested on Chris’s ability to find Rayford. Knowing Ray, he would cave in during questioning and reveal her location. But only if he could be found.

  It was growing dark when Caldwell returned to his lodgings. Hiding in an alley way beside the building, Chris could tell that Ray had been drinking by the way he staggered through the door.

  “There he is,” Justin said quietly. “I was beginning to fear he wasn’t going to show up.”

  “I was prepared to wait forever. Caldwell is the only lead we have. Let’s follow him up to his room.” Chris’s lips curled in a grim smile. “Our business with him is best conducted in private.”

  Apparently, Caldwell didn’t see them as they followed him up two flights of stairs. It took him several tries to find the keyhole, but when he finally unlocked the door, Chris pushed him inside while Justin entered behind them and closed the door. A chambermaid must have been in earlier to light a lamp, for dim light chased away the dark inside the tiny room.

  “Wha—” Caldwell said, staring bleary-eyed at Chris. “Get out of my room.”

  “You call this a room? I’d call it a pigsty,” Chris said, kicking debris out of his way. “You really have fallen low, haven’t you? Where have you taken my wife?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Chris grabbed Caldwell by the collar and shoved him against the wall. “You’re lying.” A menacing growl rumbled low in his throat. “I want the truth, Caldwell. My servants saw you carry Sophia off in your carriage. Where did you take her?”

  “Why do you care? You’re not together. Did you think I wouldn’t know? You never did care about her, did you?”

  “You’re wrong, Caldwell, dead wrong. As dead as you’re going to be if you don’t tell me where you took Sophia and why.”

  Caldwell gave him a mutinous glare. “He’ll kill me if I betray him.”

  “Not if I kill you first.”

  Chris dragged Caldwell to the window and threw open the sash.

  “Wha . . . what are you going to do?”

  “Remember how we used to play pirates when we were young, Justin? We would make each other walk a plank and jump into the lake.”

  “I remember,” Justin answered.

  “I’ve a fancy to make Caldwell walk the plank. Since we don’t have a plank, this window will have to do. And in lieu of a lake, the cobblestone courtyard below will have to suffice.”

  Caldwell’s face contorted in fear. “You can’t throw me out the window.”

  “Of course not,” Chris replied. “You’re going to jump.”

  “I won’t do it.”

  Calmly Chris removed a wicked-looking blade from his boot and pressed it against Caldwell’s throat. “Either you jump or I’ll slice you up piece by piece, starting with your ears, which I’ll toss to the dogs below.”

  Caldwell began to blubber. “I can’t tell you. He’ll kill me.”

  “I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

  “Get on with it, Chris,” Justin said, stifling a yawn as if bored with the whole business. “We’re wasting time.”

  Chris made a small nick behind Caldwell’s ear but stopped short of removing it. “Tell you what, Caldwell. I’ll make a deal with you. Tell me where to find Sophia and who paid you to abduct her, and I will see that you are escorted aboard a fast mail packet to France. Your marriage will be annulled soon, and you can find a rich Frenchwoman to wed.”

  Caldwell glanced down at the courtyard, two stories below. “Do you swear it?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. Talk, Caldwell, and it had better be the truth.”

  Caldwell sagged, apparently overcome with relief. “Rigby has her. He paid all my outstanding debts. In return, I was to bring Sophia to a cottage he rented in the country. I had no choice. My creditors were hounding me. I was one step away from debtor’s prison.”

  “There is always a choice, Caldwell,” Chris spat. “What is Rigby doing in London?”

  “He’s here on business, same as you. He left Jamaica shortly after you did.”

  Chris cursed violently. “Bastard! Tell me where to find Rigby.”

  Caldwell gave him directions to a cottage near a little village north of London. “It’s a two-hour drive by carriage,” Caldwell revealed.

  “I can make it in one,” Chris vowed. “Justin will remain here to guard you. If I return without Sophia, your life is forfeit. If I find Sophia unharmed, Justin will purchase passage for you to France and see you off.”

  “Good luck,” Justin called as Chris hastened from the room.

  “It may be too late,” Caldwell muttered after Chris had left.

  “You’d better start praying that Rigby hasn’t harmed Sophia,” Justin replied.

  Chris left London and rode north at breakneck speed. If Caldwell had lied to him, he would cheerfully strangle the man. And if Rigby had hurt Sophia, he was as good as dead. Chris would make sure of it.

  Chris blamed himself for Sophia’s problems. Had he stayed with her instead of storming off and finding separate lodgings, he would have been able to stop Rigby’s nefarious plan. But no, he had stubbornly refused to acknowledge his love for Sophia. Had he spoken the words she wanted to hear, none of this would have happened.

  Chris would be eternally grateful for the full moon. It shed enough light for him to avoid the pitfalls in the rutted road. He passed through a small village, pushing his horse to its limit. Nevertheless, it took more than an hour for Chris to locate the narrow lane leading to the cottage Caldwell had described.

  Sophia knew the moon had risen, for ribbons of light streamed through the slats of the shuttered window. She had heard nothing from Rigby in a long time and hoped she had done him permanent damage. Her ho
pes were dashed when she heard movement in the main part of the cottage.

  Stumbling in the darkness, she had searched the room for a weapon. There was no pitcher, no bowl, nothing with which to inflict damage. She had only her wits to rely upon. She watched the door with growing apprehension. Rigby was a strong man. It wouldn’t take much for him to subdue her.

  Revealing her delicate condition hadn’t deterred him, nor had it dampened his enthusiasm for assaulting her. Rigby was bent on revenge. Was there some way she could hurt him again? Unfortunately, he would be more alert to her tricks now and less likely to succumb.

  Sophia heard the key turn in the lock and the door-knob rattle, and braced herself. Frantic, her gaze flew from one dark corner of the room to the other, searching for nonexistent help.

  A sense of self-preservation told Sophia to flatten herself against the wall behind the door. The door opened. Muted light spilled through the opening. Rigby entered the room; he carried a coiled rope over his arm.

  “Where are you?” Rigby bellowed, blinking in the darkness. He advanced into the room. “Don’t think you can hide from me. This time I’m going to tie you to the bedposts and spend the remainder of the night taking my pleasure from you.”

  His back was turned to her. Sophia knew that if she hesitated she’d be lost. Holding her breath, she eased around the open door and out of the room. Her first thought was to flee into the night. But hard on the heels of that thought came another. Spinning around, she slammed the door and turned the key in the lock, imprisoning Rigby inside.

  “No! Bitch! Stupid bitch,” Rigby screamed. He began pounding on the door. Sophia backed away. Was he strong enough to batter the door down? Quite possibly he was. As Rigby cursed and kicked the door, Sophia fled. She had no idea where she was or in which direction to run, but she knew she had to get as far away from the cottage as possible.

  Sophia ran down the lane, halting when she reached the road. She looked both ways, trying to decide which way to turn. Just then she heard hoofbeats pounding toward her and wondered if she should flee or wait for the horse and rider and plead for help. It wouldn’t take long for a man Rigby’s size and girth to kick down the door. He might already be free and closing in on her.

  Her gut told her to wait for the rider and ask for help. Nothing could be worse than falling into Rigby’s hands again.

  Sophia hovered in the shadows at the side of the road as the horse and rider approached. The horse slowed as it approached the lane leading to the cottage. She stepped from the shadows and waved her arms.

  Chris pulled on the reins. Frightened, Atlas reared. Chris brought him under control and leaped from the saddle.

  “Sophia! Is that you? Thank God.” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her so tightly, Sophia feared her ribs would crack. But she didn’t complain. Her prayers had been answered. Chris cared for her enough to come to her rescue.

  “Where is Rigby?” Chris asked. “How did you escape?”

  “Please take me away from here. I’ll explain later.”

  Chris lifted her onto Atlas’s back and mounted behind her. Then he reined his mount back toward London. Sophia leaned against his solid, comforting form, too happy to break the silence. She was free of Rigby and in Chris’s arms, exactly where she wanted to be. The tension of the past few hours caught up with her. She rested her head against Chris’s chest and fell asleep.

  Sophia didn’t awaken until she felt herself being lifted from the saddle. She opened her eyes. “Where are we? We couldn’t have reached London already.”

  “We’re stopping at an inn. You can’t go on, you’re exhausted, and I need to find a constable. I’m not about to let Rigby get away with kidnapping you. Can you walk?”

  “Of course, put me down.”

  He eased her onto her feet and, keeping his arm about her waist, conducted her into the inn. The innkeeper met them at the door.

  “We’d like your best room,” Chris said in a commanding voice, “and a bath for my wife and supper for two.”

  The innkeeper sized Chris up, came to a conclusion and grinned. “Immediately, sir, whatever you wish.” He plucked a key from a drawer and picked up a candlestick. “Please follow me.”

  Chris’s hold tightened on Sophia as they followed the innkeeper up the stairs. The innkeeper unlocked the door, entered ahead of them and set down the candlestick.

  “This is our finest room,” he said proudly. “I’ll order the bath and send up a maid to start a fire in the grate to take the chill off the room. Meanwhile, I’ll set my wife to cooking your supper. She’s an excellent cook. I think you’ll be pleased.”

  “Thank you. The room is better than I expected for such a small village.”

  Beaming, the innkeeper bowed himself out of the room.

  Chris led Sophia to a chair and knelt before her. “I want to know what that bastard did to you before I find the constable.”

  Sophia twisted her fingers in her lap. “He didn’t touch me. When he tried, I kicked him.”

  A laugh gurgled in Chris’s throat. “You kicked him? Where?”

  Sophia sent him an answering grin. “Where it hurt him the most. Then he locked me in the bedroom and threatened to return with a rope.”

  “You kicked him in the balls?”

  Her smile widened. “Twice. He was limping when he left the room and didn’t return for a long time.”

  Chris sobered. “But he did return.”

  Sophia nodded. “He returned with a rope in his hands and vengeance in his heart.”

  “Dear God, how did you escape him?” He searched her face, saw the purple bruise on her cheek and cursed. “He hurt you!”

  Her hand flew to her cheek. “Not too badly. He—”

  A knock interrupted their conversation. Chris went to the door, admitting the maid who had been sent to build a fire in the hearth. When flames danced merrily in the grate, the maid bobbed a curtsy and left. Chris returned to Sophia’s side and crouched before her.

  “Tell me what Rigby did to you.”

  “He slapped me—nothing more.”

  Chris visibly relaxed. “How did you escape? You said he returned to the bedroom with a rope.”

  “It was quite simple, really. I hid behind the door. The room was dark and he didn’t see me. When he charged deeper into the room, I slipped out the door and locked him inside. He couldn’t get out without breaking the door down. I didn’t wait around to find out if he succeeded. I turned and fled.”

  Chris gave her a hug. “You’re amazing. I raced to your rescue only to find you’d rescued yourself. Your courage is one of the reasons I love you.”

  “What? What did you say?”

  A very unwelcome knock forestalled Chris’s reply. “Later,” he said. “That will be your bath.”

  He opened the door to servants bearing a tub and buckets of hot and cold water. “Enjoy your bath, my love. I’m going to rouse the constable from his bed and explain the situation. With any luck, Rigby will rot in Newgate for what he’s done this night.”

  Sophia watched the man she loved leave the room. This time, however, she knew he would return and they would be together forever. She smiled dreamily as the maid removed her cloak, helped her to undress and climb into the tub. She dismissed the girl, sank down into the water and closed her eyes.

  Chris loved her. She had heard him say the words. She hadn’t been dreaming. The words still rang in her ears. I love you. No words had ever sounded sweeter. Her ordeal with Rigby faded from her memory, replaced by Chris’s tender gaze as he’d spoken the words she had waited forever to hear.

  The door opened. Chris stepped into the room. “Still soaking in the tub?”

  “Hand me the towel and I’ll get out.”

  Chris found the towel on a bench near the blazing fire and held it out for Sophia to step into. She walked into his arms and felt the warm towel surround her. He dried her with loving hands, then carried her to the bed and placed her beneath the covers.

  “
I’ll bathe while we wait for supper.”

  He undressed, eased into the tub and washed quickly. Sophia watched him, a half smile curving her lips. No man should be that good to look at. His firm, tanned flesh held her spellbound. An aura of power, sexuality, confidence and virility surrounded him.

  His eyes smoldering, Chris said, “Keep looking at me like that and we’ll never get to our supper.”

  Sophia was about to say she didn’t care about supper when someone rapped on the door. “That must be our food,” Chris said as he stepped out of the water, quickly dried himself and pulled on his trousers.

  Sophia dragged the sheet up to her neck as Chris admitted the innkeeper.

  “Just set the tray on the table,” Chris instructed.

  The innkeeper did as Chris directed and left. Wrapping herself in a sheet, Sophia sat down in the chair Chris held out for her. They both ate heartily of potato soup, delicate white fish, plump sausages and slices of freshly baked bread dripping with butter. They washed it all down with a decent red wine. For dessert, the innkeeper had provided juicy fruit tarts.

  “Did you find the constable?” Sophia asked after she had eaten her fill.

  “He wasn’t too happy to be roused from his bed, but he promised to gather some men and take Rigby into custody.”

  Sophia merely nodded. Rigby was no longer her problem. He had done his worst and failed. Nothing mattered now but Chris, her unborn child and their future as a family. It was time to tell Chris he was going to be a father.

  Chris’s eyes darkened with desire, his voice husky as he asked, “Have you finished eating, love?” Sophia nodded. “I’ll tuck you into bed. You’ve been through a lot today.”

  “Christian Radcliff!” Sophia scolded as she rose to her feet and faced him squarely. “You finally tell me you love me and expect me to sleep? Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not getting off that easily.”

  Chris’s eyes twinkled. “I thought you were tired.”

  “You thought wrong. Do you know how long I’ve loved you?”

  “No, tell me.”

  “Practically forever. I fell in love with you the day we met at my debut.”