Rescued by a Duke
by Ruth J. Hartman
Published by Astraea Press
www.astraeapress.com
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2013 RUTH J. HARTMAN
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
RESCUED BY A DUKE
Copyright © 2013 RUTH J. HARTMAN
ISBN 978-1-62135-129-0
Cover Art Designed by Book Beautiful
To Kim Bowman, Rachel Van Dyken and Gunnar Grey.
Thanks for all of your help and encouragement!
Prologue
Samuel wrapped his arm around the slim waist of his latest conquest. He licked his lips in anticipation of what was to come next, when he took her to the nearest bed. He was so foxed her name escaped him. Carlotta? Celina? He shrugged as he leaned in to nuzzle her soft neck. No matter. His memory faded soon after he tired of each woman he bedded, but there was always another waiting in line. Oftentimes, he brought them here, to one of his favorite inns.
The woman giggled when Samuel closed his eyes, nipping at her earlobe with his teeth. Pulling her closer still, he took possession of her ripe lips, not caring who stood nearby to watch them.
He'd done this before. Many, many times.
As quickly as Samuel placed his lips on the woman's, she was gone, leaving him to pucker up only to the stale air. His eyes popped open. "What the…?"
Another man, dressed in expensive breeches and coat, now had his arms around Samuel's woman. Samuel gritted his teeth, the very teeth that had only moments ago been clasped on soft feminine skin. Now, they bit down hard. On his tongue.
Cursing loudly, Samuel lunged at the other man, pushing the woman aside in the process. "Get your filthy hands off of her. She's mine!"
The man narrowed his eyes, knocking Samuel's hands away from his person. "You are of no consequence to me." He glanced at the woman, his eyes roving over every voluptuous inch. "I like what I see. She is now mine."
Samuel's blood boiled. Heat flooded his face. Vision now blurred from anger and ale, he lowered his head and raced forward, intent upon knocking the other man senseless.
Strong hands once again pushed Samuel away, hard. Staring up at the dirty ceiling, Samuel shook his head, trying to force the room to stop spinning.
Clump. Clump. Clump. Footsteps… that last quite close to his ear. Turning his head, Samuel gasped. How easy it would be for the other man to kick him in the face! He forced himself to a sitting position. Perhaps his swirling vision would calm. Surely he could stand. He must. There was no way he was letting his woman walk away with someone else. And away from him. Yes, there had always been another waiting for his favor, but suddenly it was important he possess this woman, on this night. It was a matter of pride that he not let her be taken away.
Samuel braced his hands on the floor until he had steadied enough to get his feet under him. Silence in the room had replaced the bawdy laughter of but a few moments ago. Of course, that would be the case. The patrons loved nothing better than to bet on a fight.
The sound of coins being exchanged all about him couldn't peel his eyes from the man standing in front of him. It was now or never. Any show of fear on his part might diminish future chances with other women if word got out that he'd acted the coward. A quick glance to his right showed the woman smiling, eyes gleaming, excited to be the object of such a feud.
Bone smashed bone as a fist knocked his head back, once again setting the room to a twirl. Samuel shook his head, blood now pouring from his nose. More blood ran down his throat. He coughed and spat. Red now colored the dirty floor.
Clenching his fists, Samuel attacked the other man, pounding him again and again about the face and chest. Now they'd find who would win the woman. No way he would give up. It was do… or die.
The man cursed, wiping blood from his chin. Enraged, he grabbed Samuel's shirtfront, propelling them both toward a grouping of rickety wooden tables. Samuel broke their fall, his back smacking onto the nearest tabletop. Pain lanced through his spine, jarring every bone and muscle. A firm grip lifted him from the table and threw him on the floor in a dusty, bloody heap.
Samuel turned his head. A black boot pulled away from his head, then propelled forward, smashing into his temple.
His world faded to black.
Chapter One
Outside Hammersmith, 1807
Pain. Pain lanced through her entire body. Her ankle throbbed as if her heart pulsed in that exact spot. And cold, so cold, as if she lay upon damp, raw ground. Sasha Douglas clenched her hands into fists. Her stomach roiled with nausea. Where am I?
Were her eyes open? In the near darkness, it was impossible to say. She squinted against the headache pounding behind her eyes and glanced up. And up. A tiny shaft of sunlight fell across the opening of wherever she was. Dots of fluffy white clouds hung lazily in the blue sky.
She sat up, despite the pain in her head and leg, and tugged her cloak tighter against the chill. Water trickled along from somewhere beside her. A few inches of water splashed around her boot and seeped into her dress. What happened? Think, Sasha!
A sharp cry echoed from way above the opening. Sasha dug her nails into her palms. Was it the red-footed falcon she'd watched earlier? Why did the bird's call cause panic in her heart? It had never bothered her before. She closed her eyes and slumped forward with her head and arms over her knees. Her ankle throbbed again. Perhaps if she rubbed it… no, it didn't help.
Wait. Where was her left boot? She checked her other foot. Leather and lacings, just as it should be. Her left foot was cold. And wet. The pain throbbed again, from her knee to her ankle and toes. Her stomach knotted in response and she shivered.
Her fingers caught on a large tear in her old walking dress. When she pulled back her hand, something sticky seeped through her gloves. Blood? She must have scraped her leg when she fell into this cold, black hole.
Her teeth chattered in the chilly dampness. Breathe, Sasha, just breathe.
Memories of earlier in the day flashed across her mind. She'd been walking along a valley as the green expanse of grass swayed in the breeze. Crickets had hummed their peculiar tune. The air was crisp and cool even though the sun shone. The red-footed falcon had cried overhead. She'd not been paying attention to where she was going as she watched the falcon dip and sway in the wind, its feathers gleaming in the sun's reflected rays. Then she'd stepped forward into empty air, and she gasped again as her stomach lurched from the memory.
Fear had flashed through her like icy water. She'd grabbed for support… at nothing. She'd screamed, and it had echoed as she'd hurtled down the shaft. Had she bounced from the stone surface before she'd crashed against the cold, wet ground? Sasha remembered nothing else. Nothing at all until the first, pain-wracked moment when she'd woken. What have I fallen in to? The hole hadn't been visible from a distance in the tall grass. She hadn't noticed what must have been a fairly large opening for her to go through, as she'd watched the hawk. How would she get out? What if she couldn't get out? Will I die down here in this dark, damp place? Please, no. No!
Surely someone would be along to find her, wouldn't they? Please let someone find me. "Help! Someone! Please help me!"
Silence answered.
Sasha glanced up again at the small p
atch of sky. I need to get out of here! But the distance was too great, and there wouldn't be anything to grasp onto, since the cobblestones along the wall were slick. Unless someone found her, she would die here, hurt and alone. Thoughts of starving or freezing to death caused new chills to wrack her body.
Someone someday might find her bones. A shepherd seeking a lost sheep? A mason sent to fill in the old well? Would they bury her? She shuddered again.
Circumstances as they were now could not be any worse. Her life would be forever changed. Sorrow gripped her heart at the thought of Samuel. Why? Why did he have to die? Since their parents' deaths, it had been just her and her brother.
Now it was just her.
Since she no longer had a family, there would be no one to even remember who she'd been. Or that she'd even crossed the earth. She had no one, absolutely alone in the world. Samuel. The physical hurt collided with the anguish and anger of her loss.
Why had he gotten into the fight in the inn? He had always been in some kind of trouble and always had promised her each time would be the last. But he'd never kept his word to her. Couldn't he have just walked away and ignored the taunts of the other man? Then she wouldn't be here. Alone. He'd only been gone a few days, but… Samuel, I need you.
She slumped against the cold cobblestones, shivering but too miserable to move. Tears dripped down her cheeks and plopped onto her dress. She grieved heavily for her last remaining family member. Nevertheless, she should have been more aware of her surroundings. Look where it had gotten her! Alone and lost. And possibly soon to die below the ground.
No one would have to dig her grave because she was already in it.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Sasha swallowed hard. What was that? She sat up straighter.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Vibrations through the dirt became stronger and more pronounced as the seconds ticked by. The ground trembled. Small stones, from somewhere in the wall above, pelted her arms and head, but any discomfort was dwarfed by the pain in her ankle.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Sasha peered upward. Someone's coming! Was it a horse pounding its hooves on the ground? Did the horse have a rider? She shivered, torn between excitement and fear. "Hello! I'm down here!" No one answered. Were they too far away to hear?
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears, competing with the noise above. She needed to still her mind and heart. Holding her breath, however, wasn't successful, only serving to make her suck in mouthfuls of cold, damp air.
Sasha took a deep breath, letting it out a little at a time, and she calmed. She clenched her filthy fingers together. If the horse had a rider, she'd yell for all she was worth. It might be her one chance for life!
But her energy drained away, weakness creeping through her body and mind. Dizziness swirled her vision and thoughts. How much blood had she lost? Someone please help me.
****
Garrett Rothchild Cantlebury, the Fifth Duke of Ravensworth, slowed his horse, Ashe, when he spied something small and black lying next to the edge of the old well. Was it an animal? A piece of cloth? Wait, the slab covering the well had been moved. He gritted his teeth. He'd had it mortared closed after he'd seem some children showing interest in the well. And he'd been certain that would keep the slab down tight. Had they chipped away at it over time, loosening the seal little by little?
He didn't care that they believed the well was haunted by some ghost. If he ever caught them… but that wasn't likely. With the old house torn down, leaving a wide-open field, he'd be hard pressed to sneak up on them.
Garrett swung down from the saddle, left his horse ground tied, and squatted down. Pebbles skittered into the well. It was a boot, a woman's tattered boot. Crushing pebbles surrounding the opening, he picked up the boot, its broken laces caught beneath the edge of the slab. Sun warmed his face as he gazed around the old Bennett farm. He frowned. Why would someone go off and leave her boot out in the middle of his property? Had someone been using the nearby bushes for a tryst?
He stood and examined the boot more closely. It was of inferior quality, presumably worn by a servant. He turned the boot over. The leather was scuffed and the sole paper-thin. But the boot was still usable.
Garrett glanced toward the well's yawning black mouth. No, surely not. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. What if someone had fallen down there? It would be on his head, since he was the one ultimately responsible for the condition of his property. His farm manager was organizing the job of filling in the well in several months, but that took time. He shook his head. Too much time.
If only Garrett had ordered it filled in years ago. Years ago when… No, he wouldn't dwell on it now. Couldn't. It had taken him a long time even to be able to ride past the well without memories from the past assaulting him.
He dropped the boot, hoping with everything in him that he was wrong. Garrett leaned over the gaping hole and peered into its darkness.
"Is there anyone down there?" He held his breath. Please don't let anyone answer. Let the owner of the shoe be far from here and safe. Let it be—
A whimper, such as an injured animal might make, floated up from the depths of the hole. Garrett scooted closer to the opening. "Hello? Is someone there?" He leaned as far into the opening as he dared, closed his eyes, and waited. His breath caught in his throat as the seconds ticked by.
"Y-yes. Help. Help me, please."
No! Garrett widened his eyes, scrambling away from the well. His heart thumped and sweat formed on his face and beneath his shirt. As he paced back and forth, he ran his hand down his face, wiping away the perspiration. It was as he'd feared. A woman's voice had been his answer. But… the last time he'd had to go into that well… when another woman had been found there… Garrett hurried back toward the opening.
"Miss? Are you hurt?" Garrett clenched his fists and waited.
"I think… there is something wrong… with my, ah… a-ankle." Her voice was weak. Was she having trouble breathing? Was Garrett too late to help her?
"Miss, I need to go for help." There was an old gate from his paddock he could use to carry her on. And blankets, ropes, several grooms to help…
"Please… I don't want to… be alone. Is there a way…?"
Garrett frowned. "But I need assistance. Someone to—"
"I'm not… as badly injured as I first thought. I—" A sob rose from below. "Please."
Poor woman. She must be so frightened. Garrett closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. He had not the heart to leave her. He bit back a curse and stood. "Stay still, miss. I'll fetch a rope from my saddlebag." He hurried toward Ashe, wrenched the bag open, and yanked on the end of the rope he always carried for emergencies. Garrett swallowed hard and shook his head. This was most certainly an emergency.
His hands shook as he strung out the rope. What if he couldn't rescue her? He couldn't just leave her down there to die. There must be a way for him to accomplish this task. Garrett eyed his horse as an idea formed. Would it work? Fortunately, he had a horse that was obedient to a fault. Will Ashe stay true to his reputation?
He tied one end of the rope through the D-rings on Ashe's saddle and hoped the girth wouldn't break or slip. He led the horse closer to the edge of the hole and gave Ashe the signal to remain still.
Then Garrett crawled to the well's opening, cupped his hand around the side of his mouth, and shouted. "I'm coming down for you. I'll try to land as near the center as I can. Please stay toward one side of the well." He waited.
"I'll try."
Relief flooded Garrett's body. The woman was at least still coherent.
He tightened his grasp on the rope and slid over the top on his stomach, feet first. Ashe staggered back a few steps when Garrett's weight hit the rope.
"Ashe. Stand."
Garrett walked backward down the well's wall, letting the rope out hand over hand. The rope burned his palms when he lost his grip and slid for a few seconds. His hea
rt jumped and he sucked in air. What a catastrophe it would be if he fell and injured himself as well.
The farther he descended into the pit, the lower the temperature dropped, and his earlier perspiration vanished. In its place were cold chills, like icy fingers down his back. How long had the poor woman been down there? It would be a miracle if she didn't end up with an illness, if she even survived the experience.
Garrett's muscles strained as he gripped the rope in his gloved hands. His boots squeaked against the damp stone wall. Would the rope hold up under the weight of two people? He finally touched solid ground under one foot and loosened his grasp on the rope, but didn't let go.
She had to be here somewhere… He waited a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There, behind him, a shapeless form huddled against the wall, her breathing loud like that of a frightened deer.
"Miss? Are you in tremendous pain from your ankle?"
Garrett's eyes finished adjusting. The woman was small. Long dark tendrils of hair hung loose from her hat. Large, wide eyes glistened in the gloom, disappeared when she blinked, then reappeared. Blue, brown, green? Impossible to tell in the low light.
"Yes, sir, I'm afraid so." Her eyes glistened. Was she crying? "I thank you for rescuing me. I thought…" She glanced up toward the top of the well. "How will we get out? It's too far and I c-can't climb with my injury."
"Leave it to me. I have a plan. Can you stand?"
She shook her head. "I'm not sure."
"All right, I'm going to lean down close to you and help you up. Are you ready?"
"I think s-so."
Garrett leaned down and took her hand. Her fingers were icy. He gently pulled her toward him, gritting his teeth when she gasped from the pain. She lifted her face to him, closed her eyes briefly, and then nodded. "I c-can do it."
He shook out the rope's kinks, watching her chest rise and fall. One breath, two… the third slower and deeper. She straightened against the stone wall, balancing on one foot, holding the other foot just above the ground and leaning her palms against the wall.
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