The Viscount's Salvation (Honorable Rogue Book 3)

by Vikki Vaught

  When he thought about what could happen to them, it was difficult to keep the terror at bay, but he had to, for their sakes. He had to remain strong, to turn off his emotions, to return to the warrior he was when in battle. Whether it was the earl or the marquess, he would make them pay for threatening his loved ones. There would be no place on earth where they could hide from his wrath if one hair on either of their heads was harmed.

  As the temperature continued to drop and the skies grew even more ominous, he figured they were about an hour away from the hall. His horse was winded and so were the other mounts. They could carry them no further. They had no choice; they had to stop.

  When they came to the next coaching inn, he called a halt. They had to find fresh horses before they traveled on. A stable hand ran out to them as he dismounted. “We need fresh mounts for all of us, can you accommodate my request?”

  The man stroked his jaw. “Ye be in luck, milord. I happens t’ have enough hacks, but I reckon they tain’t equal t’ these fine beasts. How much farther do ye have t’ travel?”

  Now that he was on the ground, his ribs ached like the very devil, but he shrugged off the pain. Time was of the essence. “We’re traveling to an estate a few miles south of Northampton. How far away would that be?”

  The old groom mused, “Be ’bout fifteen miles. I haves a brother up ’round that way. What be the name of the estate? I might have heard o’ it.”

  “Winston Hall.” he replied. Since it was a small estate, the chances that the man knew of it were slim.

  The man scratched his head. “I knows where it be. Me brother used t’ be a groom there afore th’ old lady that owned t’ place died.”

  What a fortunate coincidence. Perhaps this man could help them. While he was fairly certain he could find the estate, any additional information would be helpful. “Could you give me a landmark to look for?”

  His brows furrowed. “Hmm. Lets me think a minute.” He drummed his grimy fingers against his temple. “There be a huge boulder right afore ye turn in th’ drive. Ye can’t miss it.”

  Cortland drew out a coin and handed it to the groom. “Thank you, my good man. You’ve been most helpful. How long will it take you to ready the fresh horses?”

  “Be ’bout ten minutes. Go inside th’ inn and I’ll come fer ye as soon as I haves them ready.” He whistled and two young lads came running from the stables. They took the reins of the horses and led them inside out of the cold.

  Cortland’s party went inside, and he paid the innkeeper for the hacks. While they waited, they drank a mug of hot cider and warmed their hands before the fire. Alex, Billingsley, and Cortland, along with Lord Robert, put their heads together and discussed ideas on how they were going to get Mary and Aimee out safe. They all came to the conclusion that, until they arrived at the hall, they could not come up with any solid plan. Cortland refused to become discouraged, believing the right course of action would show itself to them when they needed it.

  Before too long, the old groom returned to let them know their horses were ready. They rushed outside and mounted up. The brief respite had helped, and their renewed energy gave them what they needed to trudge on.

  Cortland just prayed they would arrive in time.

  They rode on for another hour, then Cortland spied the boulder the groom had mentioned. Turning on the drive next to it, they reined in. He told the others, “Stay here while I ride ahead and see what the lay of the land looks like.”

  Alex spoke up. “I had to rescue my stepson from a similar situation. I’ll go with you, so we can assess the situation together.”

  “Excellent.” Staying among the oaks lining the drive, they silently moved forward. The house came into view. Fortunately, the residence had plenty of shrubs and trees around it, which would make it easier to remain unseen. Dismounting, they tied their horses to a tree and proceeded on foot, keeping to the bushes.

  When they made their way to the back of the house, no one was guarding the rear, so they stealthily advanced forward and went down the steps to the kitchen door. Cortland turned the handle and found it unlocked.

  Alex whispered, “We need to go back for the others before we enter.”

  “I’m not waiting,” he hissed, keeping his voice low. “I’ll just go in and check out the situation while you go get them.”

  His brother-in-law touched his shoulder and admonished, “It’s not wise to go in on your own. If someone sees you before we return, we will lose the element of surprise. I know you’re impatient to get to them, but it would be wise to wait until we bring the others.”

  Alex had the right of it. He had to think smart, not go off half-cocked. “Devil take it,” he swore under his breath. “All right, but I’m waiting here in case.”

  “I knew you would be a reasonable man.” After squeezing Cortland’s shoulder, Alex slipped back into the darkness. It took everything in him to wait. He listened at the door, but did not hear a sound beyond his own breathing. Just when his patience was at an end, Alex returned with Billingsley and Lord Robert.

  “Where are the other two?” he whispered.

  Keeping his voice low, Alex explained, “They’re guarding the front of the house for us. In case the culprits try to evade us.”

  Cortland nodded, then placed his finger to his lips and silently turned the handle. Slowly pushing inward, the door swung open. It began to creak, so he stopped when it was cracked enough to slip through the opening.

  When he entered the kitchen, he found it empty. The hearth burned low, but gave off enough light for him to glance around. He saw a door on the other side of the room that must lead to the stairs which would take them to the main level. Motioning for the others to follow, he crept up the back stairs.

  When he made it to the top, he stepped into a dimly lit hallway. Not seeing anyone, he moved forward, careful of creaking floorboards. He reached the small foyer and found it deserted. Cold sweat trickled down his neck and under his neck cloth. This was too easy. Surely there should have been someone watching.

  Someone touched his shoulder, then leaned in and whispered, “Careful. It may be a trap.” He nodded in response to Alex’s caution. Looking ahead, he saw four doors, two on each side.

  Pointing toward the doors on the left, he murmured, “I’ll check those rooms, if you’ll check the ones on the right. Stepping into the foyer, they each moved forward. No sound came from either of the doors he checked. He turned toward his brother-in-law, as Alex pressed his ear to the second door and motioned him over. He mouthed, “Someone’s sleeping. I hear snores.”

  Alex pulled out a wicked-looking blade and Cortland followed suit. Quietly turning the handle, they peeked through the crack in the door. A huge man sat by a table. His head dropped forward on his chest, sound asleep if the snores coming from him were any indication. An empty bottle lay at his boots. Obviously, the thug had drunk himself into a stupor.

  With a nod of his head, Alex slipped behind and pulled out his pistol, then brought it down so hard on the man’s head, Cortland heard a crack.

  Damn. I hope he didn’t kill him.

  The man slipped to the floor, and his brother-in-law checked for a pulse, then nodded. Cortland let out the breath he had not realized he held.

  Billingsley and Lord Robert joined them. He turned to the second man and asked, “Will you watch out for anyone who shows up, and make sure they are detained?”

  Lord Robert nodded, pulled out his knife and slipped into one of the empty rooms, leaving the door ajar.

  Something thumped above, and Cortland looked upward. There was nothing left to do, but go up the stairs and pray he was in time.

  Oh, God, please let me find them unharmed.

  ****

  “Remove her gag, Blakely,” Lord Worthington barked. Her abductor untied the dirty, sweat-stained gag and dropped it to the floor. Mary sucked in gulps of air, swallowing rapidly to try and moisten her dry throat. She would almost be willing to sell her soul for a glass of water. Open
ing and closing her mouth several times, she moved her jaw to loosen it after the abuse it had suffered.

  The marquess grabbed her and pulled her against his massive chest and corpulent belly. Mary tried to jerk away, but the man’s strength was much greater than hers. His putrid breath filled her nostrils, turning her stomach as he sneered, “If you fight me, I’ll have the brat killed. Now that I have you, she is expendable.”

  She froze…unwilling to put Aimee’s life at risk. Hugo asked, “Ye want me to snap ’er neck, milord?”

  Aimee’s eyes held stark terror, pleading with Mary to save her. “No,” she cried, “I promise, I’ll give you no further trouble.”

  “See that you don’t,” the marquess retorted. “Take the little brat to the wine cellar and lock her in with the rats.”

  “Please don’t,” Mary pleaded. “Can’t she stay with me?”

  The vile man let out an ugly guffaw. “You would not want her innocence destroyed by seeing me between your splayed thighs, would you, bitch?”

  Oh, saints preserve me.

  He pointed to Hugo and ordered, “Get her down there, then come upstairs and watch this main floor.” The thug tossed Aimee over his shoulder and headed to the back of the house where the stairs would lead him to the cellar. No telling what condition it was in. It had been years since any wine had been stored there. She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked to keep the tears burning her eyes at bay.

  Please, Lord, keep Aimee safe.

  The marquess leered down at her, and her blood turned to ice when she saw the depravity in the depths of his obsidian eyes. She’d heard syphilis could make a man insane. Surely that was the case with Lord Worthington.

  “Now, shall we join your father upstairs?” he sneered. “I’m sure he’s anxious to see that you are alive and well. After all, he is such a loving parent, so worried over his only daughter’s safety.”

  Mary’s heart sank to her toes. Her father was involved. Of course, she’d accepted that, as soon as she’d learned they were coming to the hall, but a glimmer of hope had filled her when he had not been with the marquess.

  Lord Worthington grabbed her bound hands and dragged her behind him up the stairs. She stumbled and almost lost her footing, but quickly righted herself, making sure that did not happen again. When they reached the landing, he grabbed her upper arm, digging in his nails. She could even feel them through her cloak. Then he pulled her toward a door at the end of the hall.

  Throwing it open, he pushed her inside, sending her down on her knees, hard. Although her hands were still tied, she managed to struggle to her feet and saw her father standing in front of the fireplace. Blakely had followed them inside and barred the door.

  The earl frowned at her. “So…you’ve finally arrived. I’m glad to see you are safe, daughter. Once this nasty business is over, we will put all this unpleasantness behind us.”

  His eyes held what looked like remorse. Did he regret getting her involved in this mess? She probably imagined it.

  She stared at him and stiffened her backbone. “This nasty business, as you so politely put it, is all your fault. If you hadn’t offered me to Lord Worthington in exchange for a gambling debt—”

  The earl cut her off. “Enough. I’m not sure how you became privy to that particular piece of information, but it matters not. You have made your bed, now you must lie in it. After your husband’s demise, you will marry the man I chose for you. Now, I shall leave the two of you alone so you can become better acquainted.” He glared at the marquess. “I have your word as a gentleman…my daughter is safe from your…attentions until you wed.”

  Lord Worthington inclined his head. “Of course. As I promised. She is perfectly safe…for now.” The marquess glanced at Blakely. “See that the earl departs immediately.”

  Her father marched from the room without a backward glance. He was actually leaving her completely alone with this despicable man. The ache in her heart grew to unbearable proportions.

  Once the door closed behind him, she noticed an evil gleam in the marquess’ eyes. Her skin crawled as one of his cold fingers stroked her cheek, then he pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Now…at last we are alone. You will no longer have to worry about your father’s penchant for gambling, or anything else, for that matter.”

  His demonic tone sent chills down her spine. “W-what do you mean?”

  “Your father will be involved in a duel,” he sneered. “He will not be the victor. Of course…neither will your husband. Unfortunately, they will fire at the same time and each will hit their intended target. So tragic. You will become an orphan and a widow on the same day.”

  The horror of what he had planned flashed before her eyes. This man was truly mad, but why? What did he have to gain from such a diabolical plan? “Why are you doing this?”

  He let out a maniacal laugh. “Because…no one takes what is supposed to be mine. Your father should never have offered you to me unless he was sure he could deliver. Your husband stole your virginity from me. It was my right to either accept or reject you. Since you robbed me of my decision, I will rob you of all you hold dear.

  “Once they are dead,” he told her, “I’ll have complete control over your brother and the wealth he will inherit upon the earl’s death, and all that your husband leaves you upon his demise.”

  He walked to the door, locked it, and pocketed the key. Turning back to her, he rubbed his hands together like a child excited over presents on Christmas morning. “Hold out your wrists, so I can untie them.” A shot rang out. “Alas, now I do not have to break my promise to your father. A promise made to a dead man has no value to the living.”

  “No, no, no,” she quietly sobbed. Even though her father was a cruel, cold man she did not want him dead. She wanted to scream, to kick the marquess in the shins, but she dared not, lest he order that vile man to strangle Aimee.

  She would have to use cunning to escape from this lunatic’s evil machinations. If she did not run and she let him untie her wrists, then if a chance arose, she might be able to get away from him. By the gleam in his eyes, he surely planned to rape her, at the very least. Recalling what she had overheard those maids whisper about him, waves of revulsion raced through her.

  She held out her hands to him, and he unbound the ropes tying them together. Red welts marked her pale skin. As the bindings fell to the carpet, pins and needles pricked at her fingers as blood surged back into them.

  “Now take off your cloak, then strip off the rest of your clothing.” To give herself time to think, she complied. With trembling fingers, she unbuttoned her cloak, and it slipped to the floor.

  While fumbling with the buttons on the front of her gown, she surreptitiously glanced around the chamber and looked for something to use against the marquess. A marble statue of a Greek god stood on the mantel. If she could get to it, she could smash it over his head.

  Making a snap decision, she raced to the hearth and grabbed the statue. Before she could swing it, the marquess twisted it from her hands, sending it crashing to the wooden floor. He backhanded her across her cheek and she saw stars.

  Grabbing her shoulders, he shook her until her teeth rattled. All the while hissing, “You will pay dearly for that, you bitch.”

  He picked her up and threw her on the bed, then fell on top of her, clawing at her clothing. He managed to rip her bodice to the waist, sending buttons flying all over. He licked his fleshy lips. Then he jerked the flimsy garment down, exposing her breasts.

  Before he could touch her, she balled her fists and pounded them against his chest. He growled. “That was another mistake.”

  Clasping both her wrists in one of his hands, he pulled one of the ropes holding the bed curtains back and quickly re-tied her hands to a finial on the headboard. No matter how much she pulled against the binding, all she accomplished was adding more abrasions to her already damaged wrists. In fact, she felt a trickle of liquid, so she must have broken the skin.

&n
bsp; “Now, for your reckoning.” He reached for the hem of her skirts and pushed them, along with her petticoats, up to her waist. In all the twisting and turning, he managed to wedge one of his beefy thighs between hers. When he rammed his fingers into her, she could no longer keep the tears at bay.

  Oh, Lord, help me.

  She opened her mouth to scream.

  ****

  Cortland, along with Alex and Andrew, took the steps two at a time. When they reached the landing, he turned to the right and saw two men grappling over a pistol at the end of the corridor. As they drew closer, he could see that one of them was Mary’s father, and he had the gun.

  The other man was none other than Blakely, the steward he had dismissed. Shock and disbelief reverberated through him as his ex-steward continued to grapple with the earl. The pistol went off, and the dastardly man crumpled into a heap at the earl’s feet.

  Mary’s father slumped to the floor and clutched his chest. Cortland ran to him and dropped down beside him. “Are you all right? Where’s Mary?”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Her father dragged in air. “She’s in the room…at the other end…of this hall.” The earl grabbed his cravat and would not let go, even though Cortland attempted to jerk free. “W-worthington. He h-has her. I never thought…he would betray me.” The earl sucked in another breath and pointed to the dead body. “That m-man pulled that p-pistol out and p-planned to shoot me.”

  Before he could say anything else, a bloodcurdling scream rant the air. Cortland pushed with all his might and broke the earl’s hold on his cravat, then took off at a run, with Alex on his heels. Another scream rang out as he reached the door.

  He turned the handle, but it was locked. “Mary, Mary, I’m coming,” he screamed, praying his wife could hear him through the thick wood. Throwing his weight against the barrier, he heard a crack, but the lock held.