A loud thump suddenly echoed behind her. Anna surged to her feet and spun around. She blinked into the darkness but had difficulty seeing anything discernible. It was possible that she had placed her book precariously on the edge of her reading table and it had merely fallen to the floor…
The dark, sinister form of a man appeared before her now-opened window, and fear prickled up her spine, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.
“Lane?” she whispered cautiously into the darkness.
It was a foolish question. She knew it wasn’t him; Lane stood tall and proud, his hair and familiar body clearly discernible, even in the darkness. This man—whoever he was—was a colossal, looming man; his hair was dishevelled and he hunched to one side.
The dark mass moved closer, and her heart plummeted. Anna instinctively reached to her night table and fumbled for her candlestick, her gaze trained on the man in her room. Oh, Lord. The familiar, ghastly scent of acrid body odour wafted toward her, and she abruptly realized who had entered her bedchamber—who had returned for her.
She took a cautious step backward, gripping her paltry choice of weapon tightly in her hand. She must reach her bedchamber door. Keeping her rapid breaths as silent as possible, Anna took another step backward.
Her back pressed firmly against a solid, decidedly human form, and her hope fled. Terror clawed its way through her.
Anna took a deep breath and prepared herself to scream, but a firm, filthy hand covered her mouth before a sound could escape. She knew what would come next, and she wanted no part of it. She would have to fight her way out. And if she did not succeed, she intended to do a significant amount of damage while trying.
She pushed past her repugnance at his unclean hand, opened her mouth wide, and bit him as hard as she could. The man howled, yanking his skin from between her teeth.
Anna rounded on him with the candlestick. She hit him everywhere she could, as quickly as she could, before she hurled her weapon at the approaching second man. She picked up her skirts with one hand and ran for her bedchamber door, screeching as loudly as her voice allowed.
Her hand scarcely touched the door’s handle, when she was caught from behind and dragged backward. Anna kicked and flailed her arms, inflicting as much damage was possible, her voice growing hoarse from her screams.
Surely, she had made enough noise to alert someone?
She heard movement below stairs, and hope flared in her chest. The man with his arms around her body tightened his grip as the second man quickly bound her wrists and ankles, despite her struggling. She bucked and continued to scream until fabric was wrapped over her mouth and tied at the back of her head. Double drat.
Anna stared, wide-eyed with hope, at her bedchamber door, willing Charles to come to her aid. Mama and Papa slept through most anything, but Charles…
One man’s breath brushed her ear as he groaned, lifting her in his arms. In a joint effort, the men hefted her bodily and tossed her out the opened window.
Time slowed. Anna’s heart all but halted in her chest as she fell through the air. This is it. This is my last moment alive.
A muffled scream followed her descent; she was certain that the sound was hers, but she could not know for certain.
She waited for the ground to break her fall, but two large male arms caught her out of the air. The man lifted her over his shoulder with a grunt. Relief briefly rushed through her as she realized that she would not die…but dread quickly followed.
She was being kidnapped…again.
* * *
Major Charles Bradley sat behind his desk and attempted to read through a very disconcerting letter. Not only had his men been unsuccessful in searching for Anna and Lane’s abductors, but The Boss had also sought him out to issue threats once more. Damnation! He would have to increase security.
A thump sounded above his head and he glanced toward his study’s ceiling. Anna must have dropped a book on the floor. He turned his attention back to the letter in his hand.
He felt guilty about his comportment tonight, but he’d had no other option. If this letter was any indication of the peril that loomed over his family, he should have secreted them away a fortnight ago. As for his behaviour toward Lord Devon… the man deserved far worse than what Charles would give him.
A deep howl and a screech sounded above him, bringing him to his feet. Was that Anna? The screeching continued, accompanied by heavy thumping.
Charles dashed to his study’s door, tugged it open, and ran down the hallway.
“Tim!” he called as he ran.
He sped through the hallways and a flight of stairs, until he came to Anna’s bedchamber door. He tried the handle, but it was locked.
“Anna?” He listened at the door, but heard nothing. “Damn.”
He took several steps back and ran at the door, hitting it with his shoulder. He heard a small crack, but stepped back and hit the door once more.
“What in heaven’s name is going on?” Mama shuffled down the hall wearing a robe and her large lace bedcap. ‘Why are you hitting Anna’s door, Charles dear?”
“Because my intuition tells me that Anna is in trouble.”
He ran at the weakened wood and hit it with his smarting shoulder one final time. With a loud crack, it splintered from the doorframe.
“Oh, my!” Mama gasped as Papa appeared behind her, blustering.
Charles’ stomach sank as he looked about the room, then at the opened window. He ran to it and saw a hook, often used on naval ships, curved into the window’s frame, a rope dangling from it.
The predawn light lit the back garden well enough that Charles could see that Anna and whomever was with her were no longer in sight.
“Bloody rotten hell.”
“Language, Charles,” Papa chided. “Though I share your sentiments entirely.”
Mama pointed to the floor with one slender finger. “What do you suppose this is doing here?”
Charles rushed to her side and stopped her before she picked the item up. “Just a moment, Mama.” He knelt down to examine it. “It is the candlestick that Anna keeps on her bedside table. And it has blood on it.”
Charles ignored his mother’s fearful gasp as she clutched to Papa’s side, despite the fresh fear burning through his own heart. This could only mean one thing. The Boss had returned for Annabel.
Chapter 39
Lane Mason, Earl of Devon, stepped down from his phaeton and onto a covered and discrete section of Holland Park. There was a chill to the air, and a low mist had settled overnight, creating a calf-deep blanket of fog.
He had not slept in the hours since he had left the Bradley town house, though it was very likely that he would enter into the eternal sleep very shortly. He’d spent the past hours sending letters to his estate, his family, his solicitor, and preparing his last will and testament, ensuring that he included his and Anna’s unborn child in his entails.
Peters descended the phaeton behind Lane, the box containing his duelling pistols under one arm. Lane genuinely wished that he had not put his valet in this position; of course, if he was making wishes…
The rumble of heavy hooves pounding toward them took Lane out of his reverie. He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and turned to face Charles as he rode, hell bent, up the path. Charles, however, was not accompanied by a second, as Lane had expected. In fact, he appeared pale and drawn.
“There will be no duel this morn,” Charles stated baldly as he pulled to a stop.
Lane’s heart beat frantically in his chest. No duel? What could possibly have occurred to change his mind? Anna?
“I accept, but—”
“Anna has been taken,” Charles announced.
“Pardon?” His heart stopped. “No. No, this couldn’t be. It must be some mistake. She must have found an isolated place to read, or—”
Charles grimaced. “I heard her struggles, Lane.”
A nauseating lump for
med in Lane’s stomach. “We must find her. What clues have you?” He strode back to his phaeton, motioning for Peters to follow.
Charles shadowed them on his horse. “I have already concluded that it is the same group of villains that abducted you both in April. But I must inform you now that I simply came here to call off the duel. I must find her on my own.
Lane froze, then turned to stare incredulously at Charles. “Like hell you do!”
“I understand that you had a…a physical relationship with my sister, but it must go no further than that. I would prefer you not accompany me in searching for her, and I would prefer it if you did not come calling on her any longer, either. The ‘friendship’ between the two of you, and between our families must be dissolved.”
Lane’s heart tripped over in his chest. “The devil you say!” Anger joined his fear and anxiety, as he glared up at Charles. “There is nothing that anyone can do to keep me away from Anna. She is the woman I love.” He disregarded Charles’ scowl. “She means everything to me. I understand and acknowledge that you disapprove of our union; however, that will not stop me from pursuing her to the ends of the Earth. She has already agreed to become my wife, and I intend to have her, no matter what you have planned to keep us apart.”
Charles’ horse shifted under the tense pressure of its rider.
“It seems we are at a stalemate.” Lane held his hand out to Charles. “Shall we agree to disagree?” He waited. “We are wasting valuable time…”
The man growled before extending his hand and shaking Lane’s. “This does not mean that I condone a relationship between you and Anna. This is simply an acceptance of your offer for help in finding her.”
Lane nodded his understanding. “I intend to stop at my town house to retrieve my horse, as with him I am able to keep up a more punishing pace. Do you suspect that they will attempt to continue their journey to Dover?”
Charles gave a terse nod. “I expect that is the case.”
“I shall need to pack a saddlebag, then. Perhaps it would be wise for you to pack a fresh set of clothes for Anna, as well. She would likely appreciate something clean to wear when we find her.”
“I will meet you at the docks in half an hour. If you are late, I shall ride on without you.” With a click to his horse, Charles was off down the path.
Lane stepped up to his perch on the phaeton and waited until Peters was settled before he picked up the reins and drove them home.
He would find Anna. No matter what it took.
* * *
Anna brought the goblet of water greedily to her chapped lips and savoured every last drop. She hadn’t a concept of time since these men had taken her again, but she suspected that several hours had passed since she had been kidnapped from the comfort of her bedchamber. She could guess the time from the hunger gnawing at her stomach, and Lord, but she was hungry! She hoped she vomited on one of them; they certainly deserved it.
Billy reached across the hack and took the goblet from her trembling fingers. She heartily wished that they had given her a piece of bread with the water, but she supposed she must be grateful for the small relief she was provided. Patience was a virtue, after all.
Charles was likely searching for her, and in that she took comfort. He had spent many hours searching for these very men since the moment she had been abducted with Lane eleven weeks ago.
Had Lane and Charles followed through with their duel? Had either of them been injured? She hoped that they were both safe.
She shifted in her seat. It felt as though each hack she entered was increasingly ill sprung.
“Quit yer squirmin’ missy.” The man she remembered as Toby nudged her in the ribs.
Anna mumbled an apology and gazed out the grease-streaked window. Clouds hung low in the sky, threatening rain.
She had been through this and had found a way to escape before; she could do so again. This time, however, she did not have the protection and companionship that Lane had offered her during her last experience with these barbarians.
She surreptitiously glanced at each of the men. Toby was as large as she recalled, with undistinguishable matted-brown hair and squinty eyes. Billy’s broken arm had obviously healed, but he used it hesitantly. Frenchie eyed her with vindictive intent. He was evidently harbouring resentment and anger at her and Lane for having escaped them. The fourth man drove the hack but was one that she recognized. She did not know his name; his face, however, was one that could never be forgotten, with his flaming red hair and horrid scars…
Anna returned her gaze to the scenery that moved swiftly by. The hack jostled them as it hit a rut in the road.
She could not put all of her hopes on being rescued. Did these men intend to interrogate her…or kill her? She had faith in Charles, but Anna suspected that she must rely on her own wits. She needed to find a way to escape. Quickly.
* * *
Lane nudged his knees into Pegasus’ ribs, causing the beast to break into a run. Despite the constant ache of worry in his chest, he relished the raw power of his black gelding running beneath him, the wind flying through his hair, sending the tails of his coat flapping behind him, the sound of Pegasus’ panting breaths, and the constant ache through his body from hours on travel. He was on the road, on his way to finding Anna, and that thought kept him pushing forward.
What a sight he and Charles must make; both wearing all black, so as not to be noticed come sundown, and both riding large black mounts. Charles’ stallion was a larger beast, but Pegasus was just as swift. Charles also wore his sword attached to his belt, as though it were another appendage. Comfortably.
They galloped side by side as if the hounds of hell were after them. They had stopped at several inns, and until they had reached the North Star Inn, Lane had begun to fear that they would not find their trail. Thankfully, the friendly barkeep had seen the unforgettable visage of the fourth kidnapper, whose name Lane had not learned. This confirmed their suspicions that the kidnappers and Anna were once more headed southeast toward Dover.
Lane did not know for how long they had been travelling. At least one night had come and gone, but his lack of sleep had melded days into one. They had eaten and taken short refuge at few inns at Charles’ insistence. If it had not been for Charles’ argument that their horses required water, feed, and rest, Lane would have foregone respite altogether.
He pushed harder, keeping pace with Charles, until he heard a loud “Ho!” He glanced sideways, slowing his mount to match Charles’.
“What is the problem?” Lane shouted over the rush of blood in his ears.
Charles nodded down the road. “Ahead.”
Lane followed his line of sight and saw a rider barrelling toward them. He immediately put a hand to his ribcage, resting over the comforting form of his pistol. In the interest of arriving prepared, Lane had placed one pistol in his coat pocket and one in the back of his breeches. Those, in addition to the dagger he’d hidden in his boot, were the only weapons on his person, but they should be enough.
“At ease, Lane. I know this man.”
Lane returned his hand to Pegasus’ reins, his kidskin gloves grinding as he squeezed.
“Mr. Thomson,” Charles called to the approaching rider.
“Hyd—er…Major Bradley.” He saluted Charles then turned and nodded to Lane. “Lord Devon. I come with news.”
This was the mysterious young man with whom Charles had been travelling all those weeks ago.
“The young miss and her captors have travelled to Canterbury, where I believe they mean to stay the night. They have acquired a hunting cabin and a small estate. The two sit nearby one another; Miss Bradley resides in the cabin and the four villains in the other. I believe it is possible to retrieve Miss Bradley without alerting the men.”
“Good work. Please pass the message on to Brown and Davis. Rendezvous at the hunting cabin once you have completed your duties. You know what to do.”
Mr.
Thomson saluted. “Yes, sir.” He bowed his head at Lane. “My lord.”
Lane inclined his head. “Mr. Thomson.” The man galloped away, and Lane turned to gaze questioningly at Charles. “Who was that man, and how did he know to look for Anna?”
Charles shrugged as he pushed his horse into a canter. “He is an acquaintance who owes me a debt. I sent a missive to him when I returned home to retrieve a fresh frock for Anna.”
Lane followed, disbelieving. “He would ride out in the light of predawn merely at your behest?”
Charles’ gaze was shuttered. “He owes me a very great debt.” He clicked to his mount, pushing him faster. “We know the destination we are to reach before nightfall, Lane. Let us not tarry. On to Canterbury.”
* * *
Their journey was long and arduous. Charles was cross with him; that much was evident. The tense silence Lane had endured since they departed, however, was nearly more than he could handle.
His love lay in God knew what sort of peril, at the hands of men who, no doubt, felt bitterness and resentment towards her. Lane hoped that they kept their hands to themselves. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, the likelihood of Anna’s escape was very slim. Those men had already been outwitted and would presumably fortify their efforts at keeping her in their clutches. Lane still embraced the hope, however, that Anna was well and fully safe.
Charles slowed his horse, and Lane followed suit, pulling up to a canter beside him.
“Knowing what we do about these men,” Charles called, “I believe we could safely assume that they are on the outskirts of Canterbury. That they would doubtless take roads not oft travelled to reach their destination.” They pulled their mounts to a halt at a crossroads. Charles looked down a dirt road to their right and then back at Lane. “What are your thoughts?”
Lane blinked; taken aback that Charles would think to ask him his opinion. Charles had taken the lead since they had begun their search; it was unlike him to seek advice. What were his motives? “Do you inquire because you genuinely wish to know my thoughts, or simply to be polite? If it is the latter, you are wasting valuable time.” He had not intended to sound so noncompliant.
Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) Page 25
