He spurred his horse into a gallop and rode past her down the road. For half a second, she sat frozen. Did he really mean to end this now?
Perhaps she should agree to his terms. Wouldn’t it be better to take the chance that he would keep his word, rather than risk the possibility of Amalie disappearing forever and Victor and his men never being able to find her?
Separately, we remember our weaknesses and our self-doubts and we falter . . . Gerhart said those things to make you doubt yourself . . . We have to hold firm to what we know, what we believe: that together we can save our daughter.
Believe in yourself.
She did. And her every instinct cried that Gerhart was bluffing—that if she gave up the diamonds now, she would never see her daughter again.
Turning her horse, she rode back in the opposite direction. Her heart was hammering in her chest; her blood ran like sludge through her veins. Oh God oh God oh God, she prayed, please don’t let this be the end. Please let me be right about Gerhart.
After what seemed like an eternity, she heard hoofbeats behind her and Gerhart rode up alongside her. She’d won this round!
Gerhart glowered at her. “Follow me,” he ordered. “I’ll bring you to her. But if you don’t have those diamonds on you, I’ll make you both regret it.”
She had no doubt of that.
Whirling the horse back around, he set off at a gallop. She followed, fear gripping her chest. The men had their horses with them in the woods, but they couldn’t follow through the dense growth on horseback, and they dared not follow on the road unless they kept far enough behind for Gerhart not to see them. Which meant they’d have to stay far enough behind not to see her.
So how would they find her, especially if he left the road?
She squared her shoulders. She would simply have to lead them to her.
♦ ♦ ♦
VICTOR WAS FIT to be tied. Isa had ridden past his spot what seemed like hours ago, though it had probably been a few minutes. She’d been alone. And just seeing her perched on the horse, back straight and face bloodless, roused his every protective instinct.
Where the devil was that bastard Gerhart? Would he show? Or had he figured out that they were up to something?
The longer he stood there, the more terror gripped him. For the first time, he understood what Max’s father must have felt when his son had disappeared. How fitting that Victor should suffer the same. Though it hardly seemed fair that he—or his innocent daughter—should be punished for his father’s sins.
He wouldn’t let that happen, damn it! He would hunt Gerhart to the ends of the earth first.
Several more minutes ticked past. Then he heard a vaguely birdlike cry. He thanked God for his training as a soldier; otherwise, he wouldn’t have recognized Lochlaw’s birdcall as the same signal they’d agreed upon. He could only pray that Gerhart hadn’t noticed it.
Moving as swiftly through the woods as he could with his horse, he came upon Lochlaw pacing in his designated spot. “Thank God!” the young man cried when Victor reached him. “Your wife rode past with some fellow just a short while ago. He was in front of her, and she was following him.” He cast Victor an anxious look. “Neither of them had Amalie.”
Victor’s heart stopped. “Damn that bastard! I knew we couldn’t trust him.” Creeping up to the road, he gazed down it, but there was no sign of anyone.
Within moments, Tristan and Dom, who’d also heard the cry, were at his side. Lochlaw began telling them what he’d seen as Victor brought his horse onto the road.
When Victor mounted, Dom grabbed his reins. “You don’t want to be seen by him.”
“I know,” Victor said. “But I can’t let him get too far ahead of us either, or we’ll never find him. He has my wife and child, damn it!”
“You don’t know that for certain,” Tristan said quietly as he brought his own horse up onto the road. “Lochlaw saw no sign of a girl. Perhaps this really was all about the diamonds. Perhaps Amalie is still in school, and your wife is just joining her family with a fortune in stolen jewels.”
Victor cast him a hard stare. “I thought you believed her.”
Tristan’s expression was pitying. “Those diamonds are worth at least seventeen thousand pounds. You said that yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Victor said. “She’s not stealing them. That much I know.” He snatched his reins from Dom. “So you two can help me, or you can sit here. But I’m going after my family.”
Lochlaw thrust out his chin and mounted his own horse. “So am I.”
“Either way,” Dom pointed out to Tristan, “we have to retrieve the jewels, old man.”
Leaving them to climb onto their mounts, Victor spurred his horse forward, but he’d only gone a few feet when he spotted something white fluttering in the growth beside the road. “Hold up,” he said. Halting his horse, he climbed down to find Isa’s fichu caught on a thistle.
Had it flown off in her mad dash after Gerhart? No, that couldn’t be. He’d seen her pin it on securely this morning. So what the devil—
Ah. A slow smile curved his lips. “Come on,” he told the others, jumping back onto his horse. “My wife is leaving us a map.”
They rode silently, four abreast, scanning the road as they went. First they found a ribbon, part of the trim from Isa’s gown. Then a garter. Then some lace that had clearly been ripped from her petticoat.
After that, however, the articles of clothing stopped. “Devil take it,” Victor muttered as they pulled up after riding awhile without seeing anything. “She must have run out of things to discard.”
“I only saw one garter,” Tristan said. “I believe most women wear two.”
“Good point,” Victor said. “We must have missed something. We should retrace our steps and broaden our search to beyond the road.”
Within moments, they’d found a scarf caught on a branch next to a half-hidden track through the woods. But it was on the side of the road near the river.
Victor’s heart sank. They were headed to the river? That didn’t bode well.
He rode swiftly down the cart track, leaving the others to follow. The fact that she’d left her scarf worried him. Gerhart could notice such a thing. God only knew what he would do then.
Fear for her spurred Victor on. He didn’t have to go far before he spotted her other garter on a tree branch. And shortly after that, he heard voices arguing ahead. Reining in his horse, he tied it off and drew out his pistol as he crept closer on foot, not wanting any noise to alert Gerhart to his presence.
Then again, Gerhart was shouting so loudly, Victor wasn’t sure the man could hear anything. He caught snatches—“Jacoba, you’d best . . . now . . . the child will”—before he got near enough to see what was going on.
And it struck him with terror. In a small clearing near the bank of the river, Isa faced down Gerhart, who stood clutching a golden-haired girl against him.
His own girl. Amalie—oh God.
Gerhart had one arm about the child’s middle and his forearm clamped against her throat, as he must have done with Isa earlier in the day, and it was all Victor could do not to vault into the clearing to knock the bastard down and throttle him to death.
But he knew better than to let emotion guide him right now. Too much was at stake. Before Victor could reach him, the former wrestler could easily break Amalie’s neck. And Victor’s gun was no use with Gerhart holding the girl so close. He dared not risk hitting his daughter.
Fighting for calm, Victor tried to determine how best to proceed.
“Gerhart, I did everything you asked,” Isa choked out. “You have the diamonds now. Just let Amalie go! Don’t hurt my baby!”
“He won’t hurt her,” Jacoba said, sounding anxious. “You won’t, will you, my love?”
“He hurt me,” Isa snapped. “How do you think I got these bruises on my neck?”
Jacoba looked shocked. “Gerhart, you didn’t . . . you wouldn’t . . .”
�
��Stay out of this, Jacoba. The girl will be fine as long as Isa does what I say,” Gerhart growled. “I just need the child a while longer.”
“Please, Uncle Gerhart,” Amalie squeaked in a girlish voice that made Victor’s heart twist. “I don’t want to go in the boat!”
Then Victor spotted a dilapidated skiff, half hidden by the trees, pulled up on the bank. God rot him, Gerhart meant to go out on the river in that thing. And take Amalie with him!
He would beat the bastard to a bloody pulp!
“Listen to me, my dearest,” Jacoba said, clearly unsettled by her niece’s pleas. “We don’t need either of them anymore. Just give Amalie back to Isa. We can be well away in moments. It’s not as if my sister can stop us once we’re on the river.”
“Perhaps not, but her damned husband is bound to be lurking about.” He dragged Amalie back toward the skiff. “Clearly she left her scarf somewhere to show him the way, and I daresay he’ll find her soon enough. Having the girl with us will just ensure that he lets us get away.”
“And then what?” Isa cried.
“We’ll leave her in a safe place—assuming we aren’t pursued.”
“But Gerhart—” Jacoba began.
“Come over here and get in the damned boat!” he cried.
Victor felt rather than saw Dom, Tristan, and Lochlaw edge up beside him. The baron couldn’t hold back a gasp when he saw the scene, but fortunately Gerhart was too intent on dealing with Isa and Jacoba to notice. Casting Lochlaw a warning glance, Victor pressed his finger to his lips.
Tristan jerked his head in the direction of the boat. Guessing what he intended, Victor nodded. As Tristan and Dom slid through the woods toward the river, Victor indicated to the baron to stay put.
Time for a distraction. Gerhart wasn’t expecting anyone other than him, and he meant to keep it that way while Dom and Tristan got into position.
Victor watched, heart pounding, until the other two men reached the riverbank and slipped into the water. Then, dragging in a deep breath, he walked out into the clearing with his pistol drawn.
23
ISA NEARLY HAD heart failure when she saw her husband enter the clearing. What was Victor doing? Gerhart would never release Amalie now!
“Let her go, Gerhart!” Victor ordered. “Or I swear I’ll shoot you where you stand!”
Gerhart paled, but his grip on Amalie tightened. “You don’t dare. Not while I’ve got your precious daughter in my arms.”
Amalie’s face clouded in confusion. “Mama?” she said, staring at Isa. “What does Uncle Gerhart mean—daughter?”
“We’ll talk about it later, dearest,” Isa said, forcing calm into her voice. “For now, just do whatever your uncle says.” She scowled at him. “Surely you won’t hurt your own niece. What kind of monster are you?”
Gerhart’s face was implacable. “This is what happens when you don’t follow my rules, Isa.”
Fear made her light-headed, and only through strength of will did she not faint. “I have no control over my husband, as you should well know by now.”
“Then your daughter will suffer for it.”
When Isa uttered an unintelligible cry, Victor stiffened and called over to Jacoba. “Look at your sister, damn it,” he said, never taking his eyes from Gerhart. “Look at what your husband is doing to her. She’s your blood, for God’s sake. Do you really mean to tear her child from her?”
Jacoba watched him with indecision in her face. “It’s not my fault! You shouldn’t have come. If you don’t let us leave, we’ll both hang!”
“I swear that you won’t,” Victor said. “Not if he releases the child right now.”
Isa wanted to scream. Her sister would never go against Gerhart. She’d abandoned Isa for him long ago; why did Victor think that was going to change?
Something moved just beyond Isa’s vision, and she glanced over to see Mr. Manton in the water, his head just showing above the surface past the boat. When he was sure she’d seen him, he moved behind the skiff.
Isa’s blood thundered in her veins. So that was why Victor was drawing Jacoba’s attention. Whatever the men were planning, he clearly had a hand in it.
She swallowed tears. He wouldn’t let their daughter be hurt by Gerhart. He wouldn’t! She had to trust to that.
“Jacoba, come over here now!” Gerhart ordered. “Or I swear, I’ll leave you here to be hanged!”
“Do as he says,” Isa said quietly to her sister. “I don’t want my girl alone with him.” And whatever the men were up to, it clearly involved getting Gerhart and Jacoba into the boat or the river or something.
Jacoba looked wary, but she hurried toward her husband. Together the pair crept back to the skiff, dragging Amalie with them. Gerhart ordered Jacoba to shove the vessel off. Then he followed her into the river, still holding Amalie.
“Get in the boat,” he ordered Jacoba.
Once she was in it, Gerhart seemed to realize that he might have trouble holding onto Amalie and climbing into the boat at the same time. So he hefted her onto his shoulders, obviously confident that Victor wouldn’t dare to shoot him as long as he was holding up Amalie.
Pushing the boat as he went, Gerhart backed into the water. The current was already catching the vessel. All he would have to do was toss Amalie into it and hold on to it while the water swept them downstream out of reach.
That had obviously occurred to Mr. Manton, too, for Isa saw him moving through the water behind Gerhart. Thankfully, Jacoba was too intent on Victor to notice.
But Isa wasn’t taking any chances. “Curse it, Gerhart, she can’t swim!”
“Then you’d best not let your husband shoot me, aye?” he cried.
“Stop!” Amalie called in a panic, gripping Gerhart’s head as he backed shoulder-deep into the water. “Stop . . . stop . . . stop . . .”
Then everything happened at once.
Mr. Manton rose up to snatch Amalie off Gerhart’s shoulders from behind as Mr. Bonnaud lunged into Gerhart from the side, knocking him off his feet. While Mr. Bonnaud struggled to subdue Gerhart, Jacoba screamed and jumped out of the boat to help her husband.
Isa was already running for her baby, who was screaming, too, and fighting Mr. Manton as he carried her to the shore. Within moments he’d handed Amalie to Isa, who immediately began sobbing and clutching her baby to her.
Mr. Manton waded back to help Mr. Bonnaud with Gerhart and Jacoba, but before he could join the fray, Gerhart broke free and lunged for the shore.
He didn’t get far, for his way was blocked by Victor, standing with a gun trained at his head.
Gerhart froze, his eyes going wide.
“Give me one good reason not to kill you,” Victor ground out. “Because I damned well can’t think of any.”
When Gerhart seemed incapable of speech, Isa caught her breath. The coldness in Victor’s eyes and the stiffness of his stance told her that her soldier husband was on the verge of committing murder right then and there.
And she would have let him, too—if not for their daughter. “Victor,” she called out, “think of Amalie.” The last thing their little girl needed to see, after what she’d been through, was her uncle being shot dead before her eyes.
That reminder was all it took. Victor hesitated long enough for Mr. Bonnaud to seize Gerhart from behind. Then Victor lowered his pistol, and Isa let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
As the three men restrained Gerhart and Jacoba, Isa cuddled her baby close. “Everything’s all right now, dearest,” she murmured into her daughter’s tangled curls.
“Oh, Mama,” Amalie cried, clinging so tightly to Isa’s neck that she could scarcely breathe. “I’m so glad you came! I was so scared.”
“I know, baby, I know.” Isa showered kisses over her daughter’s sweet cheeks and brow and hair.
“I don’t like Uncle Gerhart,” Amalie said. “He’s mean.”
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Isa asked hoarsely, glaring over to where
Gerhart was struggling against his captors.
“Only when he grabbed my neck.”
That brought it all back again, and Isa had to check her baby’s throat and arms and everything to be sure she really was all right. But she wasn’t going to feel perfectly at ease until Dr. Worth could examine Amalie and determine that she was unhurt.
Then Rupert entered the clearing. “Glad to see that you’re safe, Amalie.”
“Lord Lochlaw!” Amalie cried, lighting up at the sight of a familiar face.
“Rupert helped to rescue us,” Isa explained.
“Did he really?” Amalie slipped out of her mother’s arms to run over and give him a hug.
Rupert turned a bright red as he ruffled her hair. “Well, I only did a little bit. Your father and his friends did most of it.”
Amalie gaped up at him, then raced back to gape at her mother. “M-my father?”
Oh, dear. Everything was happening so fast.
Isa pointed over to where Victor and Mr. Manton were searching Gerhart’s clothing while he fought their attempts. “You see that tall man there, the one in the blue coat? That’s your papa.”
Amalie blinked. “You told me my papa was dead,” she accused.
Now came the hard part. “That’s because I thought he was lost to us—but he wasn’t. Your Uncle Gerhart and Aunt Jacoba lied to me about him. And lied to him about me.” She smoothed Amalie’s hair from her eyes. “But he found us anyway. It just took him a long time.”
“Is that why Uncle Gerhart kept calling you Isa instead of Sofie? Because of the lying?”
Isa sighed. “Yes, dearest. I . . . I came to Scotland to start a new life, so I changed my name. My real name is Isabella Cale.”
Amalie frowned and stared down at the ground. “You could have told me.”
“I didn’t tell anyone, not even Mr. Gordon. I was afraid that Uncle Gerhart and Aunt Jacoba would find us and hurt us if they ever learned where we’d gone. You can see that I was right to be worried. But now that they’re going to gaol, I don’t have to worry anymore, so I’ll be returning to my real name. And your father will call me Isa, as he used to.”
When the Rogue Returns Page 26
