Seducing Eden

by Allison Lane

“He will fear that she escaped – he will not believe that you would abandon her. Nor will he think we know where she is or who abducted her. So he will make sure she is still there. We will follow. Let’s go – and hope no one decides to explore the woods this afternoon.”

  Half an hour later, he led them through Foley’s gates, then left Jeremy on watch while he moved Eden and the horses deeper under cover. Jeremy knew Percy by sight.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Eden stared as Alex emptied a bag of paint pots onto a stump. “You said you were going to sleep,” she hissed.

  “Later.”

  “You have to be exhausted. Did you sleep at all last night?” She blushed, recalling why he’d not.

  “Some.” He scrubbed his face with a towel until his scars gleamed white against reddened skin. When she again tried to protest, he met her eyes. “Enough, Eden. I won’t fail you. There will be time to sleep when this is over.”

  “I know that, but—” She sighed, for he was no longer listening. “What are you doing?”

  “Changing my appearance.”

  “That’s obvious.” He was daubing color on his face. Reds, whites, and blues that expanded his scars until they covered the entire cheek and part of his forehead, puckering the skin into grotesque blobs. He looked like the victim of a terrible fire. She could barely stand to look at him. “Why?”

  “I have to make sure Percy is still here.”

  “You said he was playing billiards.”

  “So he was an hour ago. He was swept into a game when he returned from Derby, but he could have extracted himself by now if he wanted to.”

  “But surely— You can’t mean you are going in there!”

  “Of course.” He glanced up at her. “How else am I to learn if he’s there? I can hardly ask the butler.”

  “I know, but—”

  “I must also find out how many servants he has and explore the house. We can’t see all the entrances from here.”

  Her mouth was hanging open – from surprise as much as fear for his safety. Fascinated, she watched him put the finishing touches on his new face, worried that someone would notice that it was fake. But he was a skilled artist. The few imperfections revealed by close scrutiny would not be seen by a casual observer. Few would take a second look. Society hated deformity. Those with infirmities learned to stay in the shadows.

  He pulled a livery jacket from his bag.

  “You can’t mean to walk in the door!”

  “Would you rather I climbed in a window?”

  “Of course not, but won’t someone stop you?” she asked. “How do you know that is the Foley livery?”

  “With so many visiting servants, few will question yet another strange face. Nor will they question mismatched livery. I saw at least three designs while watching the house this morning.”

  “They will certainly remember you, though.”

  “No. They will remember this scar. Remember what I said about giving people something to focus on? Few will look far enough to recall the color of my hair. Most will turn away the moment they spot it.”

  Clever, she realized. No one would actually study his features. The scar was too obvious. “Be careful,” she said as he repacked his bag.

  “Of course. Stay here and rest. I’ll need you to be fresh this evening.”

  “I—” She threw her arms around him, loath to see him go.

  “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Don’t smear my face.” He pulled back, raising her hands to his lips for lingering kisses. “I should be back in an hour or two. I’ll rest then.”

  He tied the bag to his saddle, then shuffled away, his demeanor so like an outcast footman that she felt her jaw drop. How could he have left a position that let him use such magnificent talent? He must miss that part, at least.

  Half an hour later, she joined Jeremy, too nervous to sit on the stump a moment longer.

  “What are you doing here?” he whispered.

  “I needed to stretch my legs. Is anything happening?” She nodded toward the house.

  “I think they are eating. Several groups returned from morning excursions. No one has yet left for afternoon activities. A straggle of servants arrived half an hour ago, probably the ones staying in the village.”

  “How many?”

  “Six. Two looked like secretaries. The other four were footmen. One had trouble maintaining a brisk pace, but the others wouldn’t wait for him, which is why I suspect they are eating. Extra footman are needed to serve at meals, but not at other times. Turning up late could cost them vails.”

  Eden nodded, silently congratulating Alex for his brilliant timing. She stared at the house so Jeremy wouldn’t see that she was barely containing laughter. Despite watching Alex’s performance last night and noting his skill with stage paint only an hour ago, Jeremy hadn’t recognized him, seeing only what he expected to see.

  She remained for some time, but nothing stirred at the house, so she eventually returned to her stump, nibbling bread and cheese to hold her fears at bay.

  Another hour passed.

  She was so tense that every rustle made her cringe. Had someone penetrated Alex’s disguise? Was Percy already seeking her?

  A twig snapped behind her.

  She whirled, a hand stifling her scream.

  Alex stepped into the clearing.

  “You’re safe!” She threw herself against him, relief turning her knees to jelly.

  “Of course.” He turned her head up to expose damp eyes. “What’s all this, sweetheart?”

  “I’m sorry. But you were gone so long…”

  “It’s all right, Eden.” He kissed her gently.

  She tried to deepen the kiss, but he held back. “Later,” he promised. “I had to serve at lunch, which was more protracted than I’d expected. But I answered all my questions – except where Olivia is. Here.” He handed her a package.

  “Wha—” Delectable odors wafted out.

  “Leftovers,” he explained, grinning. “I’ve eaten, so you and Jeremy can share these while I take a turn on watch.”

  He cleaned his face, donned his merchant’s coat, then disappeared into the trees.

  She dumped several lumpy napkins onto the stump. One held chicken, another lobster patties. A third contained cakes and lemon biscuits. But the pièce de résistance was a dozen delectable strawberries, swamping her with memories of that dinner in London…

  * * * *

  “He’s back.” Alex shook Jeremy awake.

  His excursion indoors had done more than confirm that Percy remained at the manor. He’d identified Percy’s valet. Thus he’d recognized the man who had headed for Derby to collect the stone.

  While waiting for his return, Alex had brought Jeremy and Eden to the watch post so they would be together when Percy received the bad news. Then he’d readied the horses and forced Jeremy to sleep.

  It was gratifying that he’d judged the man’s nature correctly. The valet had timed his departure so he would arrive at the King’s Arms at sunset. But he had not returned when no package awaited him. Instead, he’d stayed. And stayed. And had undoubtedly drawn attention by repeatedly asking the innkeeper if he was absolutely certain that nothing had been delivered.

  The valet left his horse standing at the front door and rushed inside as if his tail were on fire. Another mistake, preventing Percy from leaving undetected. The butler and at least two footmen now knew something was amiss.

  “We have to be careful,” he reminded Jeremy and Eden. “If Percy suspects we are following him, he will either avoid Olivia’s hiding place or kill her the moment he arrives. He has nothing to lose, for he already faces hanging.”

  Eden paled, but nodded.

  Jeremy clenched his fists.

  “Hold your temper,” he added to Jeremy. “This is no time to let emotion override sense.”

  “Right.”

  He must take his own advice. Never had he found calm so hard to achieve. It didn’t help that he was wageri
ng Olivia’s life on assumptions he could no longer trust. Would Percy take his valet’s horse rather than call for his own? Panic should override sense, but the man had been methodically pillaging and killing for twenty years. He would have learned to plan for all contingencies. So he would have prepared a story to explain his sudden departure.

  Yet madness had its own logic. And Percy’s certainty that power would soon be his might make him careless. Alex hoped so, for an orderly departure with coachman and valet would make it harder to follow him in secret, to say nothing of rescuing Olivia unharmed when they arrived. Eden might be stubbornly courageous, but a female and a budding dandy wouldn’t be much help against three men.

  He’d convinced himself that he should slip into the house and was actually rising when Percy emerged, stalked down the steps, and leaped onto the horse. His fury was obvious. Foley’s servants must wonder why.

  “He is going to kill Olivia,” choked Eden, lunging toward the drive.

  “Shhh.” He pulled her close even as relief swept over him. This was the first evidence that Olivia might be alive. “His fury is good. It will muddle his senses, which will make following him easier.”

  Percy was already galloping down the drive.

  “I hope he doesn’t have far to go,” said Jeremy. “He’ll founder the horse if he keeps that up.”

  “Watch the gate,” ordered Alex. “Which way will he turn?” If Olivia was already dead, he might head for Ridley to attack Eden.

  A narrow gap in the trees offered a glimpse of the estate entrance.

  “Left,” said Eden.

  “Left,” agreed Jeremy.

  Ridley lay to the right. Heart light, he tossed Eden into her saddle. “Let’s go.”

  By the time they reached the gates, Percy was barely visible in the distance. If not for the full moon, they would not have seen him. Wind whipped the trees, covering his hoofbeats – and hiding sounds of pursuit.

  * * * *

  Half an hour later, Alex halted his companions in the narrow lane they’d been following for two miles. A momentary lull in the wind had brought a curse to his ears. Percy remained furious.

  Dismounting, he crept to the next corner and peered around the hedge.

  Percy stood a hundred yards away, swearing at his horse. Perhaps the brutal pace had strained something. Or the beast may have picked up a stone. Whatever the reason, it was dead lame.

  Alex exhaled fully. The weak point of his plan had always been that following Percy meant Percy would arrive first and could have Olivia in his control before they caught up.

  Now, finally, they had a real chance to save her.

  The moon broke from behind flying clouds, illuminating a low ridge with three cottages scattered along its base. None displayed lights.

  Percy glanced in their direction, again cursed, then set off on foot, leading his lame horse.

  Alex hurried back to the others. “This way,” he whispered. “We need to get ahead of him.”

  He backtracked to a gap in the hedge, then circled toward the ridge. “Stay low,” he murmured. “He’s between the hedgerows, but there are plenty of gaps. Don’t make an obvious silhouette.”

  The moon cooperated by ducking behind another cloud. Objects only a short distance away disappeared.

  Alex’s sense of direction had always been good, as was his night vision. In minutes, he reached the first cottage. Percy remained a quarter mile away, still cursing.

  “Around back,” he whispered.

  Posting Eden to watch for Percy, he tried the back door. It opened to his touch. A quick search showed no residents larger than mice. Evidence of Percy’s planning. The other cottages would also be uninhabited. Percy wouldn’t risk anyone hearing cries for help.

  A stream followed the base of the ridge fifty feet away. Trees grew along its banks, offering cover to anyone on the far side. He slipped across, then hurried to the second cottage.

  It was also empty.

  “One more time,” he whispered when he returned to the horses. The hedgerows had ended at the first cottage, giving Percy a good view, so Alex had to stay beyond the stream.

  The ground rose as they picked their way around several outcroppings, seeking turf to muffle the horses’ steps. Every minute stretched longer than the last. He finally crossed back and dismounted under a large beech. The third cottage stood a hundred feet away.

  “Leave the horses here. Their shoes are making too much noise.” He tethered his to a sapling, then looked for Percy.

  The lame horse must have been slowing him too much, for Percy no longer led the beast – which explained why the night seemed quieter. Anticipation pushed him to a near run. Already he’d passed the second cottage.

  He was wearing Arthur’s sandals.

  “We can’t break in without making noise,” whispered Jeremy. “This one won’t be open.”

  “No.” Alex frowned. He didn’t want Eden in the cottage until he knew what they would find. “Stay here and keep the horses quiet,” he told her. “Highbottom, you take the back. Do whatever you must to get inside. Understand?”

  Jeremy nodded.

  “I’ll delay Percy. Just don’t make any noise until you get there.”

  He ran along the stream, Jeremy on his heels.

  * * * *

  Eden stared after them, biting her tongue. She would not endanger Olivia, but there was no way she was staying safely out of sight. The horses were fine.

  Scooping up a pair of fist-sized rocks, she followed, careful to stay on grass. The bubbling stream hid her footfalls. Shadows cloaked her movement.

  Alex left Jeremy testing the back door and slipped around the far wall. Percy was hurrying toward the front, clearly visible in the moonlight.

  Eden shifted to put the cottage between them, then followed Alex.

  “Stay where you are, Montagu.” Alex’s voice sliced through the night, deeper than usual and chillingly forbidding.

  “Who the devil are you?”

  “I am Sarsos. How dare you claim my power?” He’d adopted a strange accent. “You know my curse. Death to he who seeks gain. Agony to he who causes harm. Think you that hiring others protects you?”

  “No-o-o-o!” Shock permeated the shout. And fury.

  Eden edged closer to the corner.

  “You lie,” screamed Percy. “I am Sarsos, protector of a proud heritage. I seek restoration of order. Only those who oppose justice need fear my power.”

  “Did Emerson oppose justice? Or Peterson? Higgins certainly didn’t,” intoned Alex. “My power never does harm, no matter what the cause. It is over, Montagu.”

  “Never! I am Sarsos, more powerful than any king. The curse is mine to repeal, the power mine to use as I will.”

  Eden peered around the corner. Percy stood by the front door, pointing an accusing finger.

  Alex paced slowly forward, pulling the stone from his pocket. It glittered strangely in the moonlight. “It is not yours, Montagu. It will never be yours.” He shoved the stone out of sight, pinning Percy with a glare. “Enough—”

  A crash reverberated as Jeremy attacked the rear shutters.

  Percy lunged for the door.

  Alex charged.

  Eden gasped.

  For all his size, Percy was fast on his feet. Quicker than a blink, he whirled, sidestepping Alex as he pulled a pistol from his left pocket and fired. Alex crashed to the ground.

  “No!” screamed Eden, hurling a rock at Percy’s head. It bounced harmlessly off his shoulder but distracted him from smashing the pistol into Alex’s face.

  “Damn,” grunted Alex, scrambling to his feet. “I told you to watch the horses.”

  * * * *

  Alex circled warily. He could have grabbed Percy while the man was unlocking the door, but Eden’s gasp had turned him around. Now he’d twisted away again.

  The ball had hit his left arm, leaving it practically useless. But he couldn’t let Percy harm Eden. Or Olivia.

  Again he charged, p
lowing a fist into Percy’s gut and trying to wrestle him to the ground. The man was slippery as an eel and strong as a lion – legend credited madmen with uncanny strength. It didn’t help that Percy was several inches taller. A giant indeed.

  Alex dodged a kick, then planted a shoulder in Percy’s stomach, bowling him over. But he couldn’t pin him. In moments, they were rolling down the hill, accompanied by a series of crashes from the cottage.

  Mistake! screamed his instincts. Revealing the stone had been a huge one. Instead of creating confusion, it had tapped the mad core that believed in magic.

  “Thief,” Percy growled, clawing at Alex’s pocket. “Surrender. You have no chance of beating me. I hold Merlin’s power as well.”

  “Fool!” Alex landed a blow to Percy’s jaw, scrambling to his feet when Percy flinched. “Those sandals were made last month in Leeds.” He had to end this soon. The blood pouring from his arm was taking his strength with it, leaving him sluggish.

  “Liar!” Percy reached past his guard to grab an ear, nearly tearing it off.

  “Never!” Two blows bounced harmlessly off Percy’s shoulder. He circled to find an opening.

  Percy tripped him. Alex landed a facer as he fell, but Percy was on him before he could roll away.

  “Got you now,” he crowed. “No one defeats Sarsos.”

  Alex narrowly avoided a finger in his eye. But he was fading fast. A foreshortened punch barely brushed Percy’s jaw. He couldn’t pull a breath past the weight on his chest.

  Then Percy closed his hands around Alex’s neck and squeezed.

  Alex tried to break the grip, but he couldn’t move, and blows in such close quarters lacked power. His sight dimmed. Imagining Eden unprotected gave him a last burst of energy…

  Eden whacked Percy on the head, then grabbed his hair, jerking with all her might.

  Percy’s fingers loosened.

  Gasping, Alex smashed Percy’s temple, repeating the blow with more force as Eden held the man’s head steady.

  Percy sagged.

  “Are you all right,” she gasped, shoving Percy aside to reach Alex.

  Alex sat up, sucking in a ragged breath. “I’ve been better. Thank God you don’t follow orders. I hadn’t expected a pistol.”