A Forbidden Love

by Alexandra Benedict

  Anthony’s gaze settled on Lord Handford. The periwinkle blue of his waistcoat jabbed him in the eyes. “Hideous taste in fashion.”

  “Lord Middlebrook? Osbourne? Thorncroft?”

  His gaze skipped over each of the suggested candidates. “Unattractive, a miser, a greater rake than I am.” With a supercilious air, he’d dismissed them all—and felt like a wretch for having done so. Here he was, judging and condemning each man for faults, real or imagined, based on society talk, without bothering to acquaint himself personally with any of them. He was doing to them just what the rest of the world was doing to Sabrina. He was deciding who was fit and worthy of his sister’s hand based on appearance and gossip, not character and integrity.

  “Tut, tut, Lord Hastings,” came the soft admonishment. “The way you do go on about your own kind. One would think you’d rather spend your time with uncultivated peasants.”

  His tight lips parted in exasperation, but he hadn’t the chance to make any disparaging comment. The bell clanged in the distance.

  “Time for the cascade!” Cassandra flashed him a dazzling smile. “I wish you luck in your search for the perfect mate—for Cecelia.”

  A clump of her skirt secured in her gloved hand, she swept up the train of her gown and gracefully flounced off to observe the entertainment.

  He let her go, grateful her voice was no longer chafing his ears.

  Heart thudding in his breast, Anthony took in deep and even breaths, watching the supper boxes drain of diners as the crowd amassed around the cascade. It was a fleeting source of entertainment, visible for only fifteen minutes each night, its start signaled by the sound of the tolling bell. The cascade was in fact an ornate construction of a mill, complete with gushing waterfall and mill wheel. The mechanical display set into motion when water poured over the wheel, bringing the whole animated scene to glorious life. It was a delight to all eyes. Fireworks sparked and exploded in the distance, a torrent of brilliant colors showering the earth.

  It was magical.

  And Anthony wished with all his heart that Sabrina was there to see it with him.

  Chapter 26

  L anky shadows and swirling mist did not look very inviting. It all gave Sabrina a sense of impending doom. Her doom.

  But she was just being foolish, she tried to convince herself. London was a foreign land. Of course she was nervous to wend through it on her own. But she had no choice in the matter. She had to get away from Anthony. She had to try to forget him. If she didn’t, her heart would be eternally chained to his. And that was a tragic fate indeed. To be tied to one man without any hope of ever being with him.

  It was too much for her to bear. She had to move on. She had to take a chance at a new life. She might even come to be happy again, if she ever found another gypsy home and family to join.

  Sabrina poked her nose past the front door. The street was deserted. Slowly, she peeled back the heavy oak barrier and slipped through it, closing it softly behind her.

  Safe. For now.

  Her bag of belongings flattened against her chest like a shield of armor, she hastily moved away from the grand dwelling, glancing down either side of the walkway to confirm she was indeed alone.

  The fog licked at her boots as she made her way in the direction of the north star. It was as good a bearing as any, she figured, the city as unknown to her as it was. She might as well follow that bright light in the sky and hope it guided her to some sheltered setting.

  But a shrill voice inside her head insisted she stop, turn around, and get back inside the safe haven of Anthony’s home. She didn’t listen to that voice, though. It had taken her much too long to sneak away undetected, and she wasn’t about to risk capture by slipping back inside Anthony’s abode. It was just the shadows, the silhouettes of the gloomy buildings in the distance, that rustled her fears. She was in a strange new world. A dark and threatening world. And she would have to learn to conquer her fear of it. There was no choice but to accept and get accustomed to the darkness and fog of London. Why not sooner rather than later?

  The sudden thought of always being alone in such a dour place made her pause and pivot. Her eyes went to Anthony’s townhouse. Soft candlelight flickered through the draped sheers of the main floor windows. Such a warm and inviting glow, she reflected, as her gaze lifted to the second level, where another streak of light spilled through Anthony’s bedroom window, a beacon summoning her home.

  What rubbish!

  She twisted back on her heels and headed stealthily through the shadows. Anthony’s home was not her home. She had to accept that. She had to move away from any illusions to the contrary.

  Sabrina lowered her eyes to her booted toes, watching them disappear beneath the churning mist with each hastened step. Her heels clicked the cold pavement in faint strikes. It was so hushed, it was a wonder she didn’t hear the footfalls behind her before it was too late.

  A hand broke through the thick shadows, smothering her lips before she could scream. She didn’t think to struggle, not once she felt the cusp of steel prick her in the back.

  “Rather good of you to come out of there,” rasped a harsh voice by her ear. “Saves us the trouble of having to go in after you.”

  Us?!

  Nerves humming, Sabrina listened to the steady approach of creaking axle wheels.

  Sweat was pooling to the base of her spine. On impulse, she sent her heel swinging into her assailant’s shin.

  The ruffian cursed, lurched in reflex, but maintained his tight grip on her face, winding the blade around her waist and wedging it just under her chin.

  She sucked in a sharp breath, trying to make some room between the cold cutting edge and her neck.

  “Inside,” barked the voice, nudging her toward the now stationary carriage.

  The door opened from the inside, revealing another kidnapper, and the driver in the top seat made the band of three complete. Three villains. She could think of no one who would want her so desperately save Gillingham.

  Her eyes wide, her breathing heavy and loud, Sabrina rooted her heels in the pavement, pushing back against one assailant’s chest, while trying to evade the other’s reach.

  But a mighty shove sent her crashing to the floor of the carriage.

  She gave a piercing shriek in the seconds before a foul sack was draped over her head, suffocating her.

  “Stop with the hysterics or I’ll squeeze ’til you’re quiet.”

  And to support his threat, the fiend strengthened his hold on the sack, wringing the very breath from her lungs.

  Sabrina grasped frantically at his fingers, hard as rocks. Her neck felt as if it was about to snap, the pressure was so great. Before she lost all her waking senses, she stilled. Quiet as a mouse, she sat in trepidation at the cat’s feet, waiting to learn whether she would live or die.

  When those thick fingers loosened their grip on her throat at last, she slumped forward, weak and light-headed. Sputtering, wheezing, she gasped for precious air. But she didn’t touch the sack around her head. She didn’t dare. Wherever the goons were taking her, they didn’t want her to see where she was going. And she’d oblige them for now. She had little strength to defend herself against three hulking brutes. If she attempted to remove the sack now, she’d likely get a smack across the head for her efforts, and as dizzy as she still was, Sabrina couldn’t risk losing consciousness. She had to stay alert. She had to gather her strength. She would need both when the time came to escape.

  The carriage lurched into motion and took off at a high speed.

  But that chance of escape grew bleak with each passing moment. By the time the carriage had rolled to a halt, Sabrina not only had a sack still muffled around her head, but her wrists were tied as well, trussed with thick, coarse rope that chafed her skin and made it blister and bleed. The blood had stopped flowing once she’d ceased trying to wriggle free of the binds, little dry blood clusters having formed over her tender wounds.

  But she didn’t feel t
he pain. Drenched in a cold sweat, her belly in tight knots, she thought only of her one chance to escape. And it was upon her, that one chance. She sensed the door of the carriage swing wide open, the weight inside shift as one kidnapper stepped down.

  It was time, she thought. Heart throbbing, she waited for one brute to grab her by the ankles and haul her out of the carriage. The second her feet touched the ground, she was off.

  Bound and blindfolded, though, she didn’t get very far. Within seconds, two sturdy sets of hands pinched her upper arms, bringing her to a complete stop.

  But her stark fear wouldn’t allow her to submit quietly, and she kicked and thrashed ’til her toes stung.

  It was only when the same burly hand as before came to close around her neck and squeeze, that she gave up the struggle entirely.

  “So we have ourselves a little spit-fire fiend, do we?” The harsh laughter was followed by a wallop to her behind. “That was for trying to get away.” Another hard smack. “That was for all the kicks.” The brute then leaned in close to whisper, “And if you try any more tricks, you’ll get one hell of a beating—and you won’t have your skirt for padding next time.”

  The tears gushed forward, followed by the hot bile rising in her chest, burning her throat.

  Sabrina was dragged. She couldn’t fathom to where. But with each wretched step she was forced to take, the gripping hand of despair tightened around her heart.

  To offset the panic welling in her breast, her thoughts turned to Anthony. At least he was safe—for now. So long as Gillingham believed she had the locket, he would not harm the viscount.

  But the ruse could not go on forever. Gillingham wanted the locket. Since she didn’t have it, he would eventually go after Anthony. After all, she was seen coming out of the viscount’s home. Gillingham would naturally suspect she and Anthony were cohorts in some way, concealing the locket and its secret.

  A chill fell over her. The panic was back. How was she going to protect Anthony? How was she going to convince Gillingham the viscount was not involved in this whole miserable affair?

  There was a cruel irony to her present predicament. Having abandoned Anthony with the intention of forgetting all about him, she’d found herself in a situation where she could do nothing else but think of him. And fret over him. And yearn to be with him.

  Forget Anthony? She was a fool to have thought it was possible. How could anyone forget such a man, with eyes like shimmering gemstones and a smile to warm the soul?

  Sabrina was forced to stop. Orders were shouted to open the gates. And they were massive gates by the sound of the rattling wail of rusted hinges.

  But the true horror of it all didn’t nestle in her gut until she heard the moans. Moans of such misery, her heart sank to her toes in an instant.

  There were so many voices, so many whimpering pleas and aching howls. The din was like a death chant, suffocating her soul.

  A fierce tug at her arm urged her to move on. But she wouldn’t budge. Fixing her heels to the ground, she refused to go another step.

  “That beating is looking ever more promising,” came the gruff threat by her ear.

  Curse that devil and his promises of pain! Did he think she would simply walk into hell without a whimper of protest? She wanted to rail and brawl and cleave to the fresh spring air.

  But her captors were impatient and so much stronger than her, and she was whisked through the gates without a chance to resist, stumbling over her own feet in all the haste.

  The low boom of heavy wood doors closing behind her echoed throughout the room, her bones shuddering in response.

  Trapped.

  “This way!” came the barked order, and she was pulled along in a roughshod manner, still unable to see her surroundings.

  But her other senses were working just fine, and what she picked up on made her stomach churn.

  A dank stench filtered through the thick burlap sack. A bitter odor of sweat and filth.

  Her nostrils flared in offense of the stinging intruder, so foul, it made her choke and gag. She whisked her head from side to side in a desperate attempt to fan away the pungent scent. But the rapid movements only sent pain to her temples, and she was compelled to steady herself. Once she did, she took heed of the oddly soft floor beneath her feet, so slimy and clammy, she could feel the icy wetness seep through her leather boots and bite her toes.

  Sabrina shivered. Her salty tears brought her some mild relief, cooling her burning cheeks, all scratched and raw from the rough burlap sack.

  But tears alone could not alleviate the crushing weight that was pushing down on her chest, squeezing her heart. A weight of utter agony, as she moved further and deeper into the hell that would become her home for the next few…hours? Days? Weeks? She had no idea. God forbid it was years. Years of isolation and perhaps torture, until she turned into one of those groaning, howling voices herself.

  Another door opened.

  The hairs on her arms bristled at the sound of the whining hinges. With a swift movement, the binds at her wrists were severed, and she was shoved inside a room. A small room, for she collided with a wall almost straight away.

  The sack was the first thing to go, whipped off her head, the cool air dousing her flushed features.

  But in the moments it took her to get accustomed to the light, it was gone. Darkness fell over her once more, the door swinging shut with a thunderous thump.

  Alone.

  Sabrina just stood there, quietly staring at the thin, luminous crack under the door frame. How she wished she was small enough to fit through that crack and scramble on to freedom.

  But maybe there was another way to escape? She glanced around and quickly discovered her eyes were of little use to her. Instead, her trembling hands went up to press against the wall. A rutted and dewy stone wall. She moved along the frosty surface, dust and debris crumbling through her widespread fingers.

  Nothing.

  The space was so small, she had circled every inch of it in a matter of minutes and found nothing. No hole in the corner, no weakness in the door. Nothing to help her escape.

  Only a small barred opening high above her head provided the room with air and a faint source of light. Too faint to be practical. A ghostly pale glow from the outdoor lanterns filtered in, but with the vines twisting around the iron bars, obscuring much of the opening, only a bare trickle of illumination made its way into the…what? Dungeon? Is that where she was?

  Sabrina suddenly found it hard to breathe. She was, in fact, gasping for air, but she couldn’t seem to get enough of it. The thought that she might remain here, penned in this squalor for the rest of her days, ripped at her heart. She would die in confinement. Her entire life up to this point had been spent wandering in open spaces. Her spirit wouldn’t endure two days in captivity before it withered away.

  That, in the end, might be her sole means of escape, she concluded in sorrow.

  Wedging her shivering body in a corner, she sank to the soiled ground, her knees pressed up tight against her chest, her arms twisting around her legs. There she sat, rocking and cradling herself, weeping for comfort.

  God, how she missed Anthony. How much she ached to be with him at this very moment. To feel secure in his tight hold. To hear his husky and soothing voice. To see his beautiful green eyes smiling at her.

  Someone was coming.

  Gaze darting to the thin beam of light flickering under the door frame, Sabrina saw nothing yet, only heard the poundings of quick and determined steps making their way toward her cell.

  At last, shadowed feet appeared beneath the door.

  She took in a long, shuddering breath.

  The lock snapped and the door swung open.

  She instantly knew who it was. “Gillingham.”

  The rangy figure stepped into the dungeon, lantern in hand. He was alone. It would take only a second to slam her shoulder into his chest, send him stumbling backward into the corridor, and make a dash for her life.

&n
bsp; But she didn’t shift from her corner. One look into his eyes, murky brown pools of mud, and she was pinned to the spot.

  Sabrina knew that look well. A look of disgust and loathing. A look she had so often received from gajos throughout her life. But there was something more beneath his piercing stare of disdain. A reflection of cruelty. And despite his slender frame, she sensed intuitively that he would snap her in two if she tried to tackle him.

  The door closed softly behind him. “So you think you know who I am, do you?” His voice was scantly above a whisper, and yet so cutting, she could feel his every word jab her in the chest. “What is in a name? It reveals nothing about one’s character. It certainly doesn’t tell you anything about my capabilities—which are varied indeed.”

  Sabrina held her breath for a moment, as he set the lantern on the ground and crouched across from her. She saw more intimately the hard lines etched across his face. Lines of long-suffering frustration. And of resolve. Invincible resolve.

  “I believe you have something of mine,” he said in the same low tone, eyes dropping to her neck in search of the gold locket. “Where is it?”

  There was no sense in pretending ignorance. His aura of impatience and brutality convinced her it would be foolish to tangle with him. But she wasn’t about to reveal the truth either. To tell him that Anthony still had the locket would mean certain death for the viscount. And she would suffer grueling torment before she let any harm come to Anthony.

  “I don’t have the locket anymore.” And then before Gillingham could clout her for her willful response, she added hastily, “I lost it in the struggle with your men.”

  But he didn’t look like he was going to smack her. His fingers rested quietly between his spread legs. It was the fire stirred in his copper brown eyes that had Sabrina’s teeth clicking together.

  “So you’ve lost the locket? That is a shame.” With a shake of his head, he made a tsking sound. “And here I thought this was going to be a simple exchange. Your peaceful death for my locket.” He heaved a sigh of feigned distress. “I see it will prove more complicated than that.”