by Holly Bush
Jennifer gagged, shook her head, and began to back up. She turned and ran down the dark hallway into a kitchen, lit only by a sliver of light coming through a window. She could hear Rothchild laughing and following her. Her hand swept across a wooden counter, dishes and cups clattering to the floor until she touched what she’d been looking for. She waited there then, her back up against the counter, glass from the broken dishes cutting through her slipper and the skin of her bare foot with each step or movement.
“I see you are much anticipating the kitchen chair,” Rothchild said with a laugh, putting his jacket on the table and rolling up his sleeves. “Drop your skirts now, Jennifer. There is nowhere to run.”
She drew a shaking hand up her side, watching his movements in the dim light, and picked at the buttons fastening her skirts to the bodice. One gave way and she pulled at another. “I can’t get them to unbutton,” she said and swiped at the tears rolling down her face.
“Use both hands, Jennifer. There is no need to prolong your misery. Let us get this first coupling out of the way as it will most likely not be pleasurable for me and I’m certain it will not be pleasurable for you.”
“I’ve cut my other hand on a broken dish. It is bleeding badly.”
“You poor, dear,” he said and walked toward her. “Do not get any blood on your skirt, Jennifer. We will be arriving late at the soiree. There will be little doubt then that we will be marrying when the men smell the sex on you. Even your father. He will know, and if he doesn’t, we will endeavor to lead him and others into a room where he will find you on your knees with your mouth taking the full length of my cock. You will have practiced a few times before we arrive so you will know exactly what to do. We’ll be married by tomorrow noon.”
* * *
Zeb hurried from the station the minute the train rattled to a stop. He hailed a carriage for hire and told the driver to take him directly to the soiree. He fingered his gun in its holster and knew with some clarity that if Jennifer had made it to the hotel, she would be relatively safe. Danger lay ahead if she hadn’t arrived. He told the driver to take him to Willow Tree instead, as fast as he could drive. He jumped from the carriage, pounded on the door, and waited until Bellings opened it.
“Mr. Moran. It is good to have you back at Willow Tree.”
“Where is Miss Crawford?” Zeb asked in a rush as he stepped into the foyer.
“She’s gone to the Hospital Soiree with her mother, Mr. Moran. She left more than thirty minutes ago.”
“Was Luther with her?”
“No. Very unusual. We believe Luther was drugged, sir.”
“Moran!” Zeb heard through the open door.
“Miss Crawford’s been taken!” an older man shouted as he limped up the front steps, a handkerchief over a large, bleeding gash in his head.
Bellings shouted to a young servant to get Dr. Roderdeck from Luther’s quarters as Zeb helped the man into a chair and knelt in front of him. “We’re going to get you to a doctor, but please tell what you know. Where is Miss Crawford?”
“I rode up with the driver. Weren’t Jasper. New man instead. I asked the man where we were going when I seen we weren’t going to the hotel. He hit me in the head with something heavy, knocked me off the bench, and kept going.”
Bellings handed the man a glass of water, and he drank every bit down, making Zeb want to yank it out of his hand, take him by his homespun collar, and shake him until he told him the the last place he’d seen Jennifer. The old man handed off the glass.
“I got pushed out at Green near Third Street. By the time I could stand up, the carriage was gone but I saw him turn onto Fifth Street. I hightailed it back here for help.”
“They’ve taken her, haven’t they?” O’Brien said as she hurried across the foyer, followed by her father. “Where is she?”
Zeb stood. “Miss O’Brien?”
“I heard Luther was drugged. He told me he was to look out for Jennifer, and then I heard he could not go with her this evening.”
“Hadley says he saw the carriage carrying Miss Crawford turn onto Fifth,” Bellings said.
“Fifth near Green? Yes?” She looked at Zeb. “Father has made recent inquiries for me. Rothchild’s secretary lives on Fifth. Jefferson. Bernard Jefferson is his name.”
Zeb ran out of the house to the carriage still waiting. Thomas O’Brien grabbed his arm.
“I have a horse saddled. It will be faster. I’ll leave Kathleen and Sean here with my man. Hadley and I will follow in the carriage. Go! Go! Time is wasting!”
“I don’t know Boston! Where is Fifth?”
Thomas gave him hurried directions as he climbed into the carriage with Hadley.
Zeb ran down the steps just as a young boy came around the side of Willow Tree riding a massive beast of a horse. The boy slid down the horse’s side and handed the reins off to Zeb, barely in the saddle and stirrups and already kicking the horse into motion.
“Yaw!” he shouted. He ran the horse down city streets, carriages pulling out of his way and one horseless carriage blowing a horn, making his mount rear up on hind legs. He got the horse under control and saw the street ahead that he was looking for, making a sharp, dangerous turn as fast as the horse would take it. He thundered down the next street, praying that he was not too late, that he would see his Jenny, rescue her and keep her safe for as long as they lived. But there were no guarantees as he was well aware, and he steeled himself for whatever heartbreak that might be ahead this night.
He followed the final direction Hadley had shouted to him and turned onto Fifth Street, slowing his mount and peering into the shadows of trees down a long avenue, with no idea which door Jennifer was behind. A man and woman stood on a stoop, he could see from the gas streetlight, arguing, the woman shaking a finger in the man’s face.
“I’m searching for a woman. She’s in trouble. Have you seen anyone while you were out of doors?” he called to them.
The woman pulled a wrap tightly around herself and hurried down stone steps. “Yes! There was a woman screaming for help when I put me cat out just a few minutes ago. I’ve been trying to get my husband to look for her.”
Zeb jumped down and grabbed the woman’s shoulders. “Where? Where did you see her? Do you know which house belongs to Bernard Jefferson?”
The woman shook her head. “They went up the steps of one of the houses right there,” she said and pointed down the street. “But I’m not sure which one. I ran back into my house for my husband and didn’t see where they went.”
Zeb hurried down the street, looking and listening for anything that might tell him where to look. Something blue caught his eye as the moonlight cut through the trees, giving off a silver reflection. He ran up the steps and picked up a shoe. A woman’s shoe, covered in pale blue satin, new but scuffed and torn along the side and heel. Jennifer!
Zeb ran full tilt at the door, ripping some of the frame away from the brick. “Jennifer!” he shouted. “Jennifer! Where are you?” He ran at the door again, throwing his shoulder and side at the wood near where the frame was loose.
* * *
Jennifer blinked away tears and tried not to focus on the vile description that Jeffrey had just given. To think her father would see her on her . . . Stop! Stop allowing Jeffrey to frighten you when you need your wits about you, she said to herself. Save yourself! She let the tears tumble then and dropped her shoulders, acquiescing with her body to his pronouncements and praying that he would come just a few more steps closer. She had but one chance and she would not lose it by giving into the emotion and terror that she was feeling. Let him think he had the upper hand as he always had! Let him think she was weak and cowardly!
Jeffrey took a step closer and undid the button she’d been struggling with, letting her skirts fall around her knees. He ran his hand gently through her hair as she held her breath, not daring to look him in the eye. With one smooth motion he wrapped his right arm around her, pulled her close, twisting the fingers of his
left hand in her hair, pulling back sharply on her head. “Get ready, my dear.”
Jennifer welcomed the pain as he yanked her head back, growled low in her chest, and bared her teeth at him. “Never!” she shouted and brought the cooking knife up from her petticoats in a swift motion, the tip entering Rothchild’s side. She met his eyes then, now shocked, as he stumbled away from her, looking down at his stomach where the knife was buried to the hilt and his ripped shirt was turning crimson.
“Jennifer! Where are you?” she heard.
“Zeb! Zeb! I’m here!” she shouted, as she stumbled out of her petticoats and skirt, and pushed her way past Rothchild as he pulled the knife out of his body.
Jennifer went down the hall just as Zeb came through the door, landing on the broken wood of the frame and jumping to his feet.
“Jennifer!”
“Help me,” she said, then crumbled to her knees, tears streaming down her face.
But Zeb was not looking at her. His eyes and gun were trained on Jeffrey Rothchild as he staggered out of the kitchen behind Jennifer, raising his hand holding a bloody knife and staring at her back. As his arm began its descent, the sudden quiet was broken by a gunshot from Zeb’s pistol. Rothchild pitched wildly and landed, eyes open in a dead stare, beside Jennifer.
Jennifer gasped out a few horrified breaths as she looked into the face of her tormentor, just inches from her, blood pooling in his mouth, running down his cheek, and dribbling onto her chemise caught under the weight of his soon-to-be dead body. And then everything in her world went black.
Chapter Fourteen
Six Months Later
Zeb handed his hat to Max’s butler and turned to Bella. “I am starved,” he said to his sister. “I don’t remember eating anything all day.”
“You need to gain two stone to begin to look like the brother I know and love. Your cook is not lacking, though, I’ve found.”
“I’m very glad of your company for this upcoming week,” he said and pulled her arm through his as he led her down the hallway to Max and Jolene’s dining room. He could hear laughter and conversation already, and Max’s booming voice above all.
“It is no wonder!” Bella admonished. “You work twelve hours a day and nearly fall into bed from your exhaustion. That poor young man, Luther, begins before you in the morning. When one’s stoic brother writes that he’s adrift, it is time to speak to him face to face. I got your letter and went directly to my room to begin packing.”
Zeb squeezed her hand where it lay on his arm. “I did not mean to be dramatic.”
She stopped and looked up at her brother, now sporting tired lines around his mouth, set grimly as she was unfortunately becoming accustomed to seeing. His shirt collar was a tad loose, and even though he was looking at her, she sensed he was not seeing her, that his mind was far away with a woman he’d not spoken to in nearly six months.
“You’re breaking my heart, Zebidiah,” she whispered. “You’ve mostly been a man of few words, but you were never sad like you are now. You are so unhappy and I’m afraid I am unable to help you.”
“I’m fine, Bella,” he said and smiled down at her. “I’m much better for your being here.”
“So this is the sister you’ve been hiding from us,” Max said as he came down the hallway.
“Senator Shelby,” Bella said with a smile and held out her hand. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“A Southern belle!” Max said. “I’ve forgotten how lovely a woman sounds when she hails from Atlanta. Don’t tell my bride, though. Those Bostonians think they are the most perfect women, but then I do, too!”
Bella laughed, and Zeb followed Max, now leading his sister through the dining room doors. He saw Jolene stand from her chair and walk to Bella with a welcoming smile. He looked around the room, hoping Melinda had been allowed to stay up and eat with the adults. But his gaze did not travel far. His eyes were arrested by a woman. The most beautiful, delicate woman he’d ever known. Would ever know. He felt tears at the back of his eyes at the sight of her and concentrated on getting his emotions under control. Jennifer stood, facing him across the table, her lip trembling.
“Hello, Zeb,” she whispered.
“Miss Crawford,” he said when he found his voice. He did not take his eyes from her, as she was once again seated. Wishing to drink in her likeness, commit it to a permanent memory, so that her vision in his head was fresh and new when he lay down to sleep that night. She was wearing a daring dark green dress, low-cut and matching the exact color of her eyes. He was still standing when Max stood and touched his arm.
“How about a bourbon, Zeb?”
He shook his head. “No. No thank you,” he said, finally taking his eyes from Jennifer and seating himself.
Soup was served, and Bella answered Max and Jolene’s inquiries about her home and town. Zeb heard little of it. He could not stop himself from looking across the table, and she returned his regard but made no movement other than to sip her wine and nod to Max or Jolene. Dishes were cleared and Zeb stood abruptly, bringing a servant forward to catch his chair. He walked around the table, oblivious to the now awkward silence filling the room.
“May I speak to you, Miss Crawford?” he said when he stopped beside her chair, napkin still in his hand.
She nodded. “Please do.”
“Perhaps I can call on you tomorrow. We could take a drive through the city or a walk if the weather is amenable.”
“If you wish,” she whispered as she glanced around the table.
It was then that Zeb realized what he’d done. Max was staring at him, elbows on the table, hands folded together as if in prayer. Jolene was looking at the wineglass she was picking up with pursed lips and raised brows.
“Zebidiah?” Bella said. “The main course is being served. Perhaps you can pour me a sherry.”
* * *
Jennifer’s hands stopped shaking and she felt confident enough to pick up her wineglass and bring it to her lips. She laughed at a silly comment Jolene made and even asked Bella Moran a question. She meant to avoid looking at him, at Zeb, but couldn’t stop herself. He still was everything true and right. He was her hero and savior and still as handsome as could be, his blond-brown hair a little longer than usual. He was still broad shouldered with an angled, masculine face, now looking at her with his water blue eyes.
She had missed him so! Yet when they adjourned to the parlor for desserts and coffee, she seated herself beside Max on a settee, leaving no room for Zeb to be near her. When he and his sister rose to leave, he walked to her and sat on a hassock nearby.
“Would the afternoon be convenient for you to step out with me tomorrow? Maybe we can visit a museum or a shop?”
“Perhaps your sister would like to join us,” she said.
“Certainly,” he said, and looked at Bella.
“I’m sorry to spoil your plans, but Bella and I have already arranged to visit the theatre tomorrow. Isn’t that right, Bella?” Jolene asked.
“Yes. Yes. We have already made plans,” Bella said. “I’m sorry Zebidiah. I won’t be able to join your party. Another day, perhaps?”
“Yes. We will all go another day. It will just be Miss Crawford and I tomorrow if that is agreeable to her.”
Jennifer thought Zeb looked triumphant with his response. He rose, eyes on her, finally turning to leave, when his sister prompted him to do so. Jennifer happily wished that the floor would open up and she be swallowed up in nothingness and quietly leave with the memories of all those who were dear to her. But wasn’t that exactly what Mrs. Jenners had spoken to her about? Why should she slip away? She had survived!
Max kissed Jolene’s cheek and patted Jennifer’s hand when she held it out to him. “I’m exhausted. If you ladies don’t mind, I’d like to relax and do some reading in my study before retiring. I’ll check in on Melinda and Andrew before I go to bed.”
“I’m going to sit up a bit. Jennifer? Will you join me? I could have coffee and desser
ts brought to my sitting room where there are two cozy chairs for a pair of sisters who have not seen each other in ages to curl up in and gab!” Jolene said.
She shook her head. “I’m very tired, Jolene. Perhaps another night?”
“Oh. Of course. How thoughtless I’m being. Traveling can be quite exhausting.”
Jennifer knew her sister was disappointed. She’d said earlier, shortly after Jennifer had arrived, how much she had missed her and was looking forward to talking to her. What a coward she was! But she wasn’t one really, was she? And what was she scared of? The same things that had kept her sleepless for the last half year.
They climbed the marble steps together, and when Jolene was about to enter her bedroom, Jennifer called out. “Wait. Tea and a cake sound good, and I can sleep late tomorrow.”
Jolene walked to her smiling. “Are you sure? I know your trip was arduous.”
“I slept a bit before dinner. I’m fine. Really. I intend to do nothing more than stare at your newest child on this visit. Andrew is already quite handsome.”
“He takes after his father in looks and is a sweet child. I’m so glad you are here to meet him,” Jolene said just as a maid came on to the landing. “Please have Mrs. Trundle send our desserts and a drink cart to my sitting room.”
Jennifer followed Jolene to her rooms and slipped off her shoes, digging her toes in the soft carpet under her feet. A maid knocked and rolled in a cart of pastries and a steaming pot of tea. Jennifer pulled her feet under her and stared into the fire.
