by Carmen Caine
Her step faltered. “Really, Eliza,” she admonished. “He’s an earl. You’re a governess. This can’t end well.”
But the memory of his gentle lips on hers swept all thoughts away. What had she to fear? Never had she met so honorable a man. He’d shown nothing but honor from the start. How many men would accept social disgrace in order to spare their nephew pain? During those moments at the ice house, she’d never found a man more handsome in her entire life.
She quickened her pace and arrived at the stables to find men pitching soiled hay into a cart.
“Good day, Miss.” One raised his hand to his hat. “How can I help you?”
Dipping her head in greeting, she smiled and replied, “His lordship bade me join him here, sir.”
The man drew his brows together. “His lordship’s already done with his morning ride. He’s back up to the castle.”
Of course. She’d overslept. Eliza thanked the man, then hurried back the way she’d come. Might she return to the nursery to find him there? She entered the castle, wondering what next to do, when she met Foster in the hallway and showed the old piper the letter.
“His lordship is in his study,” he said. “Come with me, Miss.” He led her down the hallway.
Alistair’s study came into view up ahead. The door stood open.
“So, the owner of the hat is Thomas?” Nicholas’ voice drifted to them. “And the source of his newfound wealth is Lady Kennedy. What is Lady Kennedy paying the town drunk for?”
“Something happened in that icehouse, yesterday.” Eliza recognized Alistair’s deep tone. “We now know that Thomas was there, and Lady Kennedy could not hide her interest in the place when she spoke with me. She must have been there as well. Perhaps the lad stumbled across—”
Eliza and Foster reached the room and she looked through the open doorway. Alistair lounged in a brown, wingback chair with one booted foot propped on a small side table. He radiated such lazy grace and primal heat that butterflies danced in her stomach. He wore a white linen shirt, and the gray trousers hugging his long, muscular legs were outright indecent.
As the piper motioned her forward, Eliza entered. Alistair’s gaze met hers. He jumped to his feet and crossed the room in three long strides. Her fears faded at once.
“Eliza,” he murmured. “What a pleasure to see you. What brings you here? Surely, Oliver hasn’t gotten into mischief yet again?” He smiled.
“Oliver is studying, my lord.” She smiled back and extended the letter toward him. “I…came because of this.”
He took it from her hand, and threaded his warm fingers through hers. She allowed him to tug her to the chair he’d vacated by the fire, keenly aware of Nicholas’ curious gaze.
“What letter is this?” Alistair asked, turning the letter over curiously as she sat down on the chair.
That surprised her. “Meg said you left it for me.”
Alistair frowned. Quickly, he flipped it open and scanned the contents. His brows inched up in surprise. “I didn’t write this.”
Nicholas plucked the letter from his hand and read it. “The mysteries in this house multiply by the day.” He turned his ice-blue eyes on her. “When did Meg receive this?”
“I assumed this morning, but I can’t be certain.”
“Odd,” Alistair murmured.
“Allow me to speak with Meg,” Nicholas offered. With a curt nod, he strode to the door and vanished into the corridor.
Uneasy, Eliza stood. “I shall not interrupt you, my—”
“Alistair,” he interjected. “My Alistair. I like that.” His expression clouded as he reached down and absently twisted one of her wayward curls around his finger. “This letter alarms me.”
“Who would write such a thing?” She frowned.
He cupped her cheek with his palm. “We’ll find out.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Sit,” he gently ordered.
She obeyed and he strode to the fireplace.
Silence fell.
Eliza remained in the chair with folded hands as he added wood to the fire. The flames crackled in a mesmerizing dance of light, drawing Eliza’s thoughts far away, until it seemed only a moment later before the baronet returned.
Nicholas held the letter up between two fingers. “We have a mystery. Meg found this last night on the table in the nursery. She meant to give it to Miss Plowman but, as Miss Plowman returned late…” A small smile hovered over his lips.
Concern flashed across Alistair’s face. “Who would draw Eliza out to the stables at night, and for what purpose?”
“Something smells foul,” Nicholas agreed.
Alistair turned to Eliza. “Have you an enemy here?”
An enemy? She shook her head, even as her thoughts went to Lady Kennedy. The woman had been angry over the accidental meeting on the beach. She wondered if she should mention it.
“I shall look into the matter.” Alistair took the letter from Nicholas’ hand. “Surely, someone must have seen who delivered this.”
Eliza rose. “Then I shall return to the children, my lord.”
He caught her smoothly by the arm and pulled her close. She tensed when he planted a kiss on the top of her head, then melted when he said, “Stay close to the castle and do not walk alone until I get to the bottom of this.”
“I will,” she promised. Keenly aware of Nicholas watching, she took her leave.
Eliza hurried down the corridor. She’d just placed her foot on the bottom step of the servants’ stairs when a familiar, and unwelcome, voice spoke behind her.
“Eliza.”
Captain Edwards stepped up beside her. Wearing a dark blue, squared-cut tailcoat, he held his hat in his hands as his fingers fiddled with the brim.
“May I have a word with you, Eliza?” he asked in a quiet voice.
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Why?”
He hesitated, then drew a long breath through his nostrils. “I…owe you an apology.”
Her mouth dropped open. Never had she expected to hear the man utter those words.
A maid passed them and hurried up the stairs. He waited until she’d vanished before continuing, “Please, Eliza. I’m leaving soon. I wish…to part on friendlier terms. I have much…to seek forgiveness for. I beg you, spare a few moments.”
Again, another maid appeared, this one carrying an armful of linens. Eliza stepped aside, allowing her to pass.
Captain Edwards took a step forward. “Surely, you can find enough charity in your heart to spare me a short walk?” A bitter smile tugged at his lips as he waved his hat at the door. “It’s not quite so busy there.”
Her gut screamed ‘no’, but years of polite society prompted her to say, “Only a short walk, Captain. The children are waiting.”
He didn’t hide his relief. Bowing his head, he murmured, “I thank you.” He led her down the stairs to a side door near the kitchen that opened to the castle lawn.
Drawing her pelisse close, Eliza stepped out into the bright, sunny day once again. “What do you wish to say?” she asked, once they’d gone a suitable distance from the door.
The Captain kept walking, and heaved a sigh, as if overwrought with emotion.
Eliza frowned but followed, skipping to catch up with him. “Tell me, please.” She glanced back at the castle and added, “My charges are waiting.”
They neared the wall running along the cliff’s edge. Did he intend to follow the path beyond the wall leading to the shore?
She stopped. “This is far enough, Captain Edwards. Say what you have to say and have done.”
He halted and looked at her with such dejection that her heart twisted. She picked up her skirts and hurried to his side.
“Forgive me, Eliza,” he said.
“Forgive?” she repeated. There were so many things he should seek forgiveness for, she frankly didn’t know of which one he spoke.
His eyes flicked past her. A shadow fell over his face, but before she could respond, he clamped a hand o
ver her mouth.
Then her world went dark.
* * *
Eliza groaned. Her head throbbed, her back ached, and her limbs felt stiff and cold. She blinked into focus the dim light of a flickering torch in an iron bracket bolted high on a rough stone wall. The smell of damp earth and the sea filled her nostrils as the rhythmic, distant roar of waves surrounded her.
She slowly sat up and pushed her tangled hair out of her face. It took a moment to recognize where she was. She sat on the floor of one of the sea caves.
Eliza froze. Captain Edward leaned against the cave wall directly across from her. Torchlight cast shadows on his face, making him appear large, formidable. He watched her with cold, glittering eyes.
“You’re awake, at last,” he said. “You’ve made this difficult. It would have been so much easier if you’d simply come to the stables after dinner last night, Eliza.”
Eliza shook her head in confusion, then winced when the small movement sent a ripple of pain down her jaw. Understanding struck.
“You left the letter?” He was a madman.
“You’ve always walked the brazen side. It’s time you learned your place, Eliza.” He crossed to where she sat on the ground. “You’re weak. You need a man’s strength. You’ll come to understand, one day, and thank me on your knees. I’m taking you from this place, willing or not. You’re mine.”
He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. She tried to twist free. He drew back a hand. Too late, she understood his intention. He slapped her hard across the cheek. The sting splintered through her cheek. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“I’ll let no other man touch you,” he snapped. “You’ve kept me waiting too many years. Its high time you paid, and pay you shall, now that I see just how brazenly you behave with—”
With all her strength, she brought her knee up into his groin and shoved him back. He howled and stumbled backwards, arms flailing, then fell on the cave floor. Eliza backed up, peering through the darkness in search of the entrance. She had to go. Now. Picking a direction, she hopped over his thrashing body and fled.
“Eliza!” the Captain shouted in a strangled voice. “Come back here. That is an order.”
His words only spurred her to greater effort. She tripped on the uneven cave floor and swore under her breath, managing to catch herself before she fell. She pressed on. The dim torchlight soon faded and she stopped, surrounded by suffocating darkness. Her heart pounded. She was lost. She groped until her fingers contracted cold rock. Blindly, she felt her way forward, refusing to succumb to fear. The dull, distant sound of crashing waves seemed to come from all sides.
“Elizaaa,” Captain Edwards’ voice echoed.
He was hunting her.
Up ahead, a shaft of light streamed through an opening in the cavern ceiling above. Relief flooded. She lunged toward the light, but reached the spot to find that it was only a small hole in the ceiling. Tears slipped past her resolve, but she forced herself to continue.
“Eliza,” the Captain called again, this time, much closer.
She altered course and headed deeper into the caves in an attempt to get away.
“Answer me,” Captain Edwards commanded.
The nearness of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. Faint light flickered on the wall.
“Stop this madness. Come here, at once!” he shouted.
A shaft of torchlight swept over the low, slanted ceiling above her. She caught sight of a jagged hole in the rock wall to the side. She raced to the small opening and fell to her knees. Frantically, she crawled through the opening into yet more darkness and stood. Fear stabbed. Stale air assaulted her nostrils. She reached out and gingerly trailed her fingers along the damp cave walls.
She’d taken no more than three steps when something unexpectedly brushed her face. She screeched and jumped back. Her foot slipped in loose gravel and she lost her balance. She pitched forward, her shin striking something hard as a burning shock of pain traveled from her ankle to her knee.
“Eliza?” Captain Edwards’ voice sounded so much closer now.
Torchlight fell through the passage.
Chapter Thirteen
The Piper
Alistair stared out his library window. Dark gray clouds covered the late afternoon sky, bringing a cold, driving rain and an early evening, requiring that candles and lamps to be lit far earlier than usual.
“I wager we will find your personal seal in Lady Kennedy’s care.” Nicholas stretched in the chair where he lounged before the fire.
Alistair shook his head. “I fail to see how she could have a hand in the matter. What does she have to gain by stealing my personal seal to falsify a note simply to send Eliza to the stables? No. I fear it is another sort of mischief.”
“Mischief.” Nicholas’ eyes lit. “I—”
“Uncle,” a small voice gasped, “it’s Eliza.”
Alistair looked around in alarm. Oliver stood by the door, bent over, holding his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. Mud stained the knees of his trousers and a stream of water dripped from his wet hair.
“What do you mean, lad?” Alistair crossed to him in three long strides. “Speak, at once.”
“I can’t find Miss Plowman,” Oliver gulped. “Anywhere.”
Alistair forced himself to take a calming breath. The castle was large. She could be in the kitchens, or the library. “How long have you been searching?” he asked.
“Since afternoon tea,” Oliver whispered. His face began to crumple. “I slipped away from Meg to find her. I’ve been looking everywhere, Uncle. I thought she was taking too long to come back from seeing you. One of the maids said she saw her leave the castle with Captain Edwards, but I’ve—”
Captain Edwards? Alistair didn’t hear the rest. He was already headed through the door.
In short order, he roused every man in the house, including the guests, and organized them into search parties. After dispatching them in all directions, he took command of the party to scour the sea caves and shore.
Cold rain drove down in icy sheets, stinging his face as he lifted his oil lantern high and shouted for the men in his party to follow. He’d just turned to lead the way when a small figure darted through the rain and reached his side.
“Go back, Oliver,” Alistair shouted over the wind and the shouts of the men behind him as they headed for the cliff trail.
The boy stubbornly shook his head. “No. I’m a Kennedy and I belong with the clan.”
Alistair hesitated, then realized the boy was right. He clamped his hand down on the lad’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Stay near me. Understand?”
He nodded.
Facing the bitter winds head on, Alistair reached the slippery path that descended the cliffs to the rocky shore below. Behind him, the line of men gripping oil lanterns snaked down behind him. His mind raced.
Captain Edwards.
Cold anger seized Alistair’s soul. He should’ve thought of the man sooner. No doubt, he was behind the forged letter, as well. He should have turned the man out of the house once he’d learned he was the captain Eliza had been engaged to—be he Lady Brexley’s chaperone or no.
They reached the shore and fanned out to scour area. Alistair led Oliver, Nicholas and a group of men over the rock pools towards the sea caves. Gusts of wind whistled through the yawing cave entrances like the ghostly skirl of pipes.
Alistair lifted his lantern high and picked a path over the boulders and sharp, jutting rocks until he stood, at last, in front of the ruined arched door leading into the dark network of caverns beyond. He slowed and glanced at Oliver. The young lad stood strong and resolute. Pride flooded Alistair. The boy was a Kennedy, indeed.
The main chamber stood empty, as did the smaller chambers off to the side. As he wound his way up to the second level of caves, he spied a pin prick of light glancing off the ceiling ahead.
“There,” he shouted to his men.
The light snuffed out, but he’d seen
it. Alistair dashed forward with his men close behind.
“Eliza!” he called as he ran, his voice echoing off the walls.
He ascended another level when a shout went up. Hope leapt in his chest. Sprinting forward, he caught sight of flickering light an instant before he rounded a corner. Alistair’s heart fell. Two men dragged, not Eliza, but Captain Edwards between them, his clothing torn and blood trickling down from a cut on his forehead.
An instant later, Alistair reached them. He seized the Edwards by the throat. “Where is she?” he snarled. “Where?”
Feeling the man’s throat muscles struggling to work beneath his fingers, he released his grip just enough to allow him to wheeze, “She ran, deeper into the caves.”
It was all Alistair could do to keep from pummeling him to the ground. The only thing that prevented him was knowing he might need him in order to find Eliza.
“If one hair on her head is harmed, I’ll kill you.” Alistair shoved him against the cave wall. “Hold him here,” he thundered to his men.
He whirled and pushed on, penetrating deeper into the caves than he had ever been, Nicholas and Oliver close behind. He refused to think any harm might have befallen her. He called her name, again and again, with Oliver and Nicholas echoing her name as well.
Then he heard it. A small voice, panic-stricken and hysterical, coming from the darkness ahead. “Alistair? Alistair?”
He raced ahead, Nicholas and Oliver on his heels, and burst into a small chamber.
“Alistair.”
Her voice filtered through a small hole close to the ground. Alistair dropped to his knees and shone his light into a small chamber. He glimpsed the hem of her skirt. Fear twisted his belly. He was too large to fit through the opening. He glanced at Oliver, but discounted the idea.
“Can you come out?” he called to Eliza.
She limped closer and fury swept through him when he realized she was injured. Alistair held his breath as she knelt. His light illuminated her face. Dried blood caked her face and hands.
“Is that really you, Alistair?” she whispered.
