Troy came immediately. Michael pushed the door wide open and reached for the reins. Stroking the animal’s velvety nose, he pulled softly on the reins and whispered, “Come on, girl, walk on. Remember Spain? The little house?”
Troy nudged her nose against his hand, gingerly took one step forward and stopped. She lowered her head, inspected the threshold with a thorough sniff, before she advanced another step.
“Good girl,” Michael praised her in a low voice as he put one hand on the crest of her neck. His fingers played with the horse’s thick mane. “Just keep your head down, girl, and you’ll be fine.” Clicking his tongue, he moved backwards and Troy willingly followed—her withers passing just one inch below the lintel, the saddle’s knee rolls scraping along the door frame. What was he thinking? He should have taken her saddle off first.
The hollow clomp of her shod feet on the wood floor matched the drumming of the rain on the roof. The wind and thunder made for a bass symphony he was not in a mood to appreciate. Michael turned, scanning the room in disbelief. Lollie had disappeared.
He would have been afraid if there’d been any other way out of the cottage, but there wasn’t. He’d checked that before. She could not have gone far, must be hiding somewhere, waiting to attack.
He was not sure if it was the sight of the horse in what had once been a parlor or the sound of the deluge that had escaped the clouds, but a minute later she came out from behind the door, holding his gun at her side.
“Even the smartest horse in the world has no business in a house.”
There was no accommodation in her voice. But she was distracted.
“She will add warmth to the room. We need that more than we need good manners.”
“Humph,” was as close as Lollie came to admitting he was right. “Will Troy tell us if she needs to go out?”
“Like a dog that is housebroken?” He did not laugh but pretended it was a reasonable question. “No, but I can tell.”
“All right.” She thought about it for a moment. “Does that make you as smart as Troy?”
Michael did not even bother to answer her. He knew a trick question when he heard one.
When she raised the gun, he thought maybe he should have let her win.
“You knew this place was here. You are one of them. Did you think I would not remember it?”
“Lollie, I swear to you I have never been here before. Yes, I did realize that this is the place where you were held and yes, I was hoping you would not recognize it.”
If her thoughts were as pitiless as her eyes it would be a death wish to turn his back.
“We can talk about it. But first let me start the fire. There is plenty of wood here.” He tried to sound practical. “I had no time to check the roof but there are no water stains so it may well be watertight.” He made sure that Troy was between them and turned from her to finish building the fire, prepared to fend off the attack of a wild-eyed gun-wielding woman.
PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE. The word played through Olivia’s head like a chant. Please help me. She moved to a corner of the room and crouched down, making herself as small as she could. This was only a bad dream. A nightmare. To have escaped her captors only to run into their leader and wind up here again. To have believed him, and now find him the worst liar of all.
Please let me close my eyes and be home. Let there be a miracle that will sweep me home with Big Sam nearby. There will be some chicken soup and my special honey tisane for my throat. She closed her eyes and waited but knew that nothing changed.
If she was going to survive this she would have to save herself.
First she had to find a way out before he could tie her down. If she was tied again she knew she would die. Olivia put her hand out to push herself upright and found the ropes in the corner with her.
Fighting a sick feeling in her stomach, she sat down hard and tried to come up with a way to take control. Holding the gun tight against her chest she knew that if she used it right it could save her life.
She could knock him unconscious using the butt of the gun and tie him up so that she would be the one in charge. Would she be a kidnapper then? It didn’t matter. She would call it self-defense.
He was having trouble with the fire. The logs were too big for the faint coals. Olivia watched as he used a knife to shave off some splinters from one of the logs to use as kindling.
Now was the time to act.
She stood up and moved as quietly as she could across the old wood floor, the barrel of the gun in her hand, the butt raised. Just as she prayed for strength enough to hurt him, someone bumped her arm. With a screech, Olivia whirled to confront her second attacker, only to find Troy watching her with woeful eyes.
“You see, she is the smartest horse in the world. I will have to add this to the times she has saved my life.”
With the horse at her back and Garrett right in front of her, she was trapped. “I was not going to kill you. Only knock you unconscious and tie you up.”
“I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.”
“Are you joking? Do you think this is funny? You must be one of them,” she said, all doubt erased by his uncaring attitude. Why was he standing there with his arms crossed, not even trying to take the gun from her? “You brought me back here and they will be returning any time now. You will tie me to that bed again.”
She turned the gun so that the barrel was pointed at him. “Do you think my womanly sensibilities will keep you safe? I assure you that I am more than willing to take drastic action to save myself.”
He said nothing, but watched her, his eyes considering but not at all concerned. What would it take to convince him that she was a force to be reckoned with?
“If this gun was loaded I would not hesitate to use it. With the barrel so close to your chest I could not miss no matter how poor my aim is.” She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger to prove that she could do it if she had to.
The sound of a shot echoed through the room. She screamed and dropped the gun. “No! No! No!” What had she done! Reaching for his jacket, she pulled it open, buttons popping off as she did. “Do not die. Do not die.” Where was the blood? Had the bullet gone through him?
He grabbed her and shook her, none too gently. “Stop it, Lollie. Stop it! It was thunder. The gun is not loaded.”
Another flash and boom convinced her. She dropped to her knees on the floor at his feet; her screams became sobs. “I am no better than they are. I could have murdered you. I would have murdered you. Take the gun. I never want to see it again.”
“That is quite enough drama, my girl.”
The ice in his voice cut through her despair. She choked back a sob, sat back on her heels and looked up. His eyes showed the concern that was missing from his voice. That calmed her more than his coolness.
“I am not your enemy, Lollie. Fetch the ropes and we will throw them on the fire. That way neither one of us will be tied up.”
Her chin quivered and Olivia bit her lip to keep the tears inside, turning her face away from him.
He had saved her life, held her to warm her and let her ride his horse. It sounded generous. Standing up she closed her eyes and tried to sort out her feelings. Suddenly the significance of her despair struck her.
She was hysterical at the thought she had hurt Michael Garrett.
Was she worried about the men who had kidnapped her? No. She hoped they were dead or, better yet, had been hit by a tree that was felled by a bolt of lightning and were dying slow painful deaths.
She was tired. Her throat hurt. Her feet ached. She could not reason when she was so distracted, but she did not need a reasonable explanation. With life at its most basic all she had to do was listen to her heart. He was her rescuer. She struggled to her feet.
“Listen to me.” He would have taken her by the shoulders again, but she stepped back and he dropped his arms. “We are only here by luck or God’s grace.”
Olivia nodded, too tired to do more; besides
, he was angry now. Not the kind of anger that meant fury, the way those men had acted when she tried to fight them off.
“Lollie, I was so cold and windblown I had very little idea where we were going except for direction.”
His anger was more like David’s when he’d had enough of her chatter. Or Jess when they played partners at whist and she was the reason they lost. Exasperation. That’s what it was.
“You recognized this place,” he said again, “and yet I still believe that you told me the truth when you said you were blindfolded the whole time.”
As she considered his words, Garrett strode to the corner and grabbed the ropes. Walking back he tossed them on the fire. They writhed like snakes, flamed up and disappeared, sending sparks up the chimney and leaving a vastly unpleasant odor behind.
“Sit down and think. Use your head and think,” he insisted as though he thought women never used their heads. “I am going up to the loft to see if I can find anything useful.”
He stopped on the first rung and put his foot on the floor again and said more gently, “I know this place is full of bad memories. I expect they are the worst that you have ever had to deal with. I hope they are the worst you ever know.”
She nodded as she sat in the chair closest to the fire.
“Think about it, Lollie, and if you have any sense at all you will realize this is the best place for you.”
8
OLIVIA CLOSED HER EYES, but listened as he carefully tested the rungs of the ladder before he put his full weight on them.
Troy came close and nudged her shoulder and she realized that she was crying. Not the big sobbing kind of tears but a steady stream of water down her cheeks. With a wavering breath she raised a hand, wiped away the tears and whispered, “I wish we could go home.”
The horse nodded. Troy was further proof that Mr. Garrett was an honorable man. No animal this smart would be loyal to a villain.
It occurred to Lollie that Troy would be much more comfortable with her saddle and bridle off. Relieved to find something familiar to do, something that would mean she was as much help as burden, Olivia jumped up from her chair and went through the routine, wondering if Garrett had a brush or currycomb to groom her. It did not look like there would be any oats for Troy and the rain would make foraging impossible. How did animals handle hunger?
Lollie undid the girth and pulled at the saddle. It was heavier than she expected, much heavier than the one she had learned on. When she tugged it off, she fell flat on the wood floor, the saddle on top of her.
The ache in her middle paralyzed her. She could not breathe, could not scream. A moment later, Garrett appeared and lifted the saddle off of her, but it did not help. Her lungs were frozen.
“Where are you hurt?”
She shook her head and pressed a hand to her middle. Her heart thundered, her blood rushed in her ears, she tried but there was no breath to catch. It was not her sore throat that kept her from speaking.
“I understand the discomfort. It will pass.”
She felt him loosen the greatcoat around her and she knocked his hand away. “It’s—all—right…” She forced the words out, one at a time, as she exhaled each newly found breath.
He said nothing, but nodded and went back to the fire.
Troy nudged her shoulder and Lollie reached out a hand to pat the horse’s cheek.
Lollie lay back on the floor and stared at the ceiling. The pain eased and she was able to breathe more naturally.
The smell of the place filled her nostrils. That was how she had recognized it. It smelled of dust, emptiness and wood smoke. And now Troy. She closed her eyes and breathed again. The smell of the place was forever ingrained in her mind. Even with her eyes closed, especially with her eyes closed, she would recognize this spot even ten years from now.
The sooner they left here the better. Once they were within sight of Pennsford it would be best if he left her on her own to make her way home.
Garrett came back and squatted down near her. “Now do you trust me enough to allow me to give you a hand up?”
MICHAEL WOULD NEVER KNOW what convinced her to accept his help, even in this small thing, but she nodded, still very cautious but less tense.
“Good. Good.” But not perfect.
“All I want to do right now is drink some more brandy so I do not sound like I swallowed sawdust and sit close to the fire and warm myself. You should, too.”
“As soon as I am sure we have enough wood and are secure for the night.”
“You will not go outside. It is too dangerous.”
“I think I preferred the Lollie who did not care what happened to me.”
She drew a deep breath as though breathing was her greatest joy but was not smiling when she spoke again.
“You are worse than my brothers. Much worse.” She fumbled in the pocket of the greatcoat, pulled out the brandy and took a sip.
“Any one of them or your Big Sam can try to beat me to a pulp when we are back wherever you call home.” He brought a chair close to the fire. “No matter what you command, I am going to take Troy out and draw some water from the well for her and for us.”
“It may not be raining but the trees are still dripping.” She sounded vastly disapproving. “The wind is still blowing. You will come back wet and cold.”
“Such womanly concern is so unlike you, Lollie.” He knew how to make her huffy again. “I think it is because you are developing a tenderness for me.” He shot her a wry smile.
“Yes, I suppose it would seem that way to someone like you, but it is no more than worry for my own well-being that makes me care what will happen to you.”
“I will wager a guinea that all your brothers are older than you.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You learned the great art of extremes somewhere, Miss Lollie. You are the most confounding mix of sweetness and willfulness. Something well learned when trying to win out over older brothers.”
“You think you know me so well? I will tell you what I know about you. You are too used to being independent and not having to consider what someone else wants. Despite your age, you have never been married, though any number of women have found you irresistible.”
“Despite my age? How old do you think I am?”
“Much older than I am,” she said, smiling sweetly.
“I asked for that.” He shook his head, grinning, which was as close as he would come to admitting defeat in their war of words. “There is some truth to what you say, Lollie, especially the part about the women. What a shame that my good manners will keep me from showing you exactly how irresistible I can be.”
With a word, he led Troy through the door as though the horse made calls on a regular basis and before Lollie could think of a retort scathing enough.
OLIVIA WENT TO THE FIRE, added another log before she sat down and realized that Mr. Garrett was a worthy adversary, her brothers, except for Lynford, having given up arguing with her long ago. That was enough to convince her that he was as different from her captors as it was possible to be.
They had been nervous. She realized that now, if only because Mr. Garrett was not.
They had done nothing but tie her up and wait. Mr. Garrett did not wait. He took decisive action. Was that from his war experience?
If Michael Garrett was in charge of an abduction, he would have chosen villains with steadier sensibilities than the men who had almost strangled her and slept on the job, allowing her to escape. He was not in league with her kidnappers, not their mastermind. The reason he frightened her had nothing to do with that.
Her fear grew from the feeling that he was even more dangerous than they were.
It was more than the slight scar on his cheek and the damaged earlobe. No, it was because he insisted he was going to see her home. No matter how difficult it would be to explain, no matter how ruined her reputation, he would make sure she was safe before he abandoned her. He did not seem to understand
one critical fact.
He was the kind of man whose mere presence could ruin a woman’s reputation.
He would neither understand nor believe her if she tried to explain that. Michael Garrett was intractable. He would do what he thought must be done. If she refused to cooperate he would force her.
The better part of an hour passed before he came back. She looked out the window twice and the door once. He and Troy were in the shelter of the trees, Troy munching at some grass and Garrett picking up and discarding branches of varying size.
He came back without Troy. “There is a better shed on the other side of the house. There is even some hay that I suspect your captors might have left behind. The weather is clearing and Troy will be happier there.” Pulling off his jacket, he draped it on a branch he stuffed into the stack of logs. His white shirt was not wet, but very fine. She could see the muscles of his back work as he sat down, pulled off his boots and set them in front of the fire.
She pulled the brandy out again and took a sip, her throat suddenly dry. “Do you think they mean to come back? They left a candle, the ropes, wood for the fire, and now you tell me there is hay.”
He took the brandy from her and put the cork in the bottle.
“They will not be back tonight, I promise you that.”
She closed her eyes and pretended to accept his words with a nod.
“Lollie, I will keep you safe. I promised and I can.”
“All right, Mr. Garrett.” She would not ask him how many other women he had been called on to protect, how many others had believed him and if they had survived. “They will not be abroad tonight and we cannot leave here until the morning. But I will be ready, for you see, I have a plan.”
He set the second chair on the other side of the fireplace. Before he sat down he took some of the logs and made a small pyramid so she could rest her feet more comfortably. She wished she had some water to wash. Bare feet were even more embarrassing when they were dirty.
Mary Blayney Page 31
