In her chamber, she removed her cap and tidied her hair, smoothing frizzy red strands until she appeared respectable. It was time to check on her mother. When she turned into the corridor leading to her mother’s suite, the screams started. Jocelyn sighed and hastened her steps. She burst through the doorway, took one look at her mother and relaxed a fraction when she could see nothing major amiss. Completely random things seemed to set her off, and Jocelyn had given up trying to discern the reasons behind her mother’s erratic behavior.
Jocelyn placed her hands on her hips, taking time to catch her breath. “Is there a problem?”
“Elizabeth wishes to walk in the gardens. I think she should wait until the morrow.” Tilly glowered at her charge.
Jocelyn studied the stubborn jut of her mother’s jaw. The heightened color in her cheeks indicated more to come. Another raucous screech started Jocelyn’s ears ringing, almost before she’d completed her thought. “Mother, really! What sort of example is this for Cassie? Do you want her to learn bad habits from you?”
“But I want to go for a walk.”
Jocelyn strolled over to the window and peered down at the garden. “That’s impossible right now.” She turned back to her mother. “Come and look out the window. Look at the mist rolling in. You won’t see your hand in front of your face shortly. I hear it’s easy to become disorientated.”
Elizabeth stamped her foot and drew a sharp breath.
“Do not scream. Please, Mother. I have a pounding head.”
Elizabeth’s breath whooshed out. “I am feeling a trifle tired. Perhaps I will stitch some more clothes for Cassie’s doll,” her mother said in one of her lightning-quick changes of moods.
“That’s a good idea. Perhaps Cassie can spend some time with us this afternoon.” Crisis averted. Jocelyn beckoned for Tilly to join her outside. “Why don’t you have a rest? I’ll supervise Mother.”
Tilly smothered a yawn, the dark circles beneath her eyes telling of her fatigue. “The bang on the head doesn’t seem to have slowed her down. I have a horrid feeling this is just the start.”
“Please don’t say that.” Jocelyn tried to tamp down her concern because she understood exactly what Tilly meant. The periods of rationality were becoming less frequent, and Jocelyn couldn’t help but worry about the future.
Strategically placed lanterns lit the way, a twinkling path through the darkness of the abbey. Leo watched from the hillside, taking in as much as possible in the gloomy ruins. Finally, he slipped his mask into place and half slid, half walked down the hillside to join the line of drunken men and women traipsing deeper into the abbey. He joined the few laughing stragglers, so drunk they could scarcely walk straight.
Like him, each of the men and women wore a mask to conceal their identities, their long capes obscuring their clothing and personal items that might hint at their names.
Leo drifted along with the group and ended up in a part of the abbey that was still intact with walls and a ceiling. Separate cells divided the spacious room, which was used by monks before the dissolution of the monasteries. Lanterns lit the some of the cells. A low chanting drifted from the far right corner while moans of passion came from in front of him. He stepped nearer, the flash of a pasty bum almost blinding him with its whiteness. The rhythmic grunts and thrusts brought an answering feminine cry.
In the next cell, a masked woman knelt before two men, tonguing and sucking on their cocks while the men carried on a low conversation. The woman, obviously tired of being ignored, lifted her head. The men paused and one of them placed his hand on the woman’s head, guiding her mouth back to his dick.
Leo wandered on, nodding at the masked people he passed but not stopping to speak to anyone. He walked into another room, this one larger and filled with people. Sconces held flickering torches and a strangely sweet scent carried on the air. Palpable excitement filled the abbey, fuelled by sexual tension and the copious amounts of wine served by women wearing transparent gowns. Their masks were more substantial than their clothing.
One of them sauntered up to him. “Like a drink, love?”
Leo gave a curt nod and accepted one of the glasses from her silver tray. She pranced away with a twitch of her scantily clad arse.
“Want some company?” A woman hooked her arm through his, tugging him to a stop. “You’re a fine figure of a man. I could show you a good time.”
“I’m searching for someone special,” Leo said.
She cuddled her breast against his arm. “I could make you change your mind.”
Leo didn’t recognize her voice. “Not tonight. I have particular needs in mind.” He removed her arm from his and stepped away. His scan of the room showed several people wearing maroon cloaks and masks. Edging closer, he propped himself against the wall, taking intermittent sips from his glass.
A shrill whistle cut the din and the excited chattering faded. The men and women standing around Leo turned to face a man standing on a dais. A maroon cloak disguised his form. Eagerness pulsated through the abbey, most mouths curved in leering grins. The women to Leo’s right appeared plain bored. Leo turned his attention back to the man, noting a large square item beside the man’s makeshift platform. A thick maroon cover hid the contents from view.
“Fellow monks,” the man hollered. “We have a very special event for you tonight.” He paused, the final notes of his husky voice still echoing through the central room. Leo couldn’t place him. The pause lengthened as the man skillfully played his audience, stoking expectation. No one shuffled or quaffed their drinks. No one spoke to break the silence. Instead they focused on the man, waiting for his announcement.
“Let me present, Marguerite!”
On uttering the words, he gestured at two monks on his right. They whisked the maroon cover off the large object next to the dais to reveal a gilt cage. Inside a woman perched on a tall chair. Practically naked, she wore a transparent chemise, her rouged nipples showing clearly through the thin fabric. Her dark hair rippled down her back, a contrast to her creamy skin.
Along with everyone else, Leo stared at Marguerite, mesmerized by the image presented. She looked vaguely familiar. Who—? The answer sprang into his mind.
This was Ella.
He studied her afresh and wondered why she was sitting so calmly, then recalled the unidentified sweet scent. They’d drugged her into submission.
“This morsel of feminine loveliness is available to the highest bidder. I’m sure you’ve noticed her beauty.”
“Is she a virgin?” someone asked.
“Of course. Why would you suggest anything else?” His toothy smile encompassed the entire audience. “Her virgin status brings added value.”
A low buzz of chatter filled the room before the man lifted his hand. “Let the bidding begin.”
Leo tensed, as the bidding raced to a rapid start. He lifted his hand to indicate a bid of his own.
Chapter Ten
He lost out to another man. The victorious bidder swished his maroon cloak aside and pushed his way up to the dais to receive his prize. The man conducting the bidding produced a key from his pocket and, with great ceremony, unlocked the cage.
He reached inside and took Ella’s hand. She stumbled as she exited, only her contact with the man helping her to maintain her footing. The man handed her off to the winning bidder, sending her on her way with a familiar pat on the arse.
Leo didn’t hesitate. He plunged through the crowd, shoving his way past the masked men and women. Instead of stopping at one of the cells, the man towed Ella out of the ruins and lifted her into a waiting carriage.
“Damn,” Leo muttered. His horse was tethered over the hill out of sight. Leo raced to catch up. For a while he managed to keep up with the carriage but once the road leveled out, the horses increased their speed from a trot to a canter.
Leo stopped following the road and cut across the moor. He plunged through a copse of trees and ran around piles of stones. The contour of the land changed radica
lly, but the steep slope barely gave him pause. He raced down, desperate to cut off the carriage before he lost sight of it. Mud splattered his evening clothes. His cloak flared out behind him, his pistol thumping against his hip in painful digs.
Gasping for breath, he screeched to a halt with the carriage almost on him. Glad of the mask, he pulled out his pistol and stood square in the middle of the road.
Now Leo was closer he recognized the matching chestnut horses—Sir James Harvey. Leo knew him as a man who treasured his reputation, even though he was a rake. That might work to Leo’s advantage.
The driver saw him, saw his raised pistol and visibly hesitated. The team shied and slowed.
“Stand and deliver.”
The driver pulled on the reins, slowing his team further.
Keeping a wary eye on him, Leo opened the carriage door and brandished his weapon. “Out.”
“We have nothing to steal.” The masculine voice contained a thread of fear.
“Get out of the carriage.” Sir James obeyed, albeit unwillingly. “I’ll take your money pouch,” Leo said, taking care to lower the timbre of his voice. “Who is inside the carriage with you?”
“No one important.”
“Out.” Leo gestured with his pistol. When Ella didn’t stir, Leo pointed his weapon at the baronet. Stealing the carriage wouldn’t work. Everyone would know it was Harvey’s carriage. He’d have to get Ella away on foot. “Both of you—out of the carriage.”
The man cursed under his breath. “You won’t get away with this.”
“Do it. Now.” Leo tensed, watchful and ready for Sir James to make his move.
Sir James took a step toward the carriage and spun around, springing at Leo without warning. Leo blocked a punch and backhanded the man. Shorter and slimmer than Leo, he was no physical match. Leo’s second punch knocked him cold. The man fell to the side of the road and didn’t stir when Leo kicked him with the toe of his boot. He wrenched the maroon cloak off the man and rapidly amended his plan. He reached inside the carriage and covered Ella with Harvey’s cloak. She didn’t react.
Scowling, Leo closed the carriage door and climbed up beside the driver. “Drive us down the road.”
The driver clicked his tongue, urging his horses into motion. In tense silence, the horses trotted down the narrow lane. They slowed at a hill and at the top Leo ordered the driver to halt.
“Wait while I get the passenger. Once we’re gone you can return to collect your master.”
The driver gave a curt nod, and some of the tension released from Leo’s shoulders. He swung down and wrenched open the door. Ella lay sprawled along the seat, the drug or whatever they’d given her still in her system.
“Easy there, I’m not going to hurt you.” Leo moved cautiously toward her, not wanting to traumatize her anymore than she was already. To his relief, she scarcely blinked when he scooped her up into his arms and backed out of the carriage.
With rapid steps he carried her into the cover of trees, out of sight of the driver. He paused and set her on her feet, while waiting for the man to drive off. After several long moments, he heard the driver’s guttural click to the horses and the creak of the carriage. Still not safe, but at least he’d managed to grab Ella.
She lay passive in his arms, her face a deathly white. Each of her breaths came in a shallow pant. Leo hastened his steps. The walk to Merrivale was a long one, and treacherous, since he’d need to keep to the back paths and cut across the moor.
“Can you walk?”
Ella stared at him, not appearing to comprehend. She hadn’t recognized him, and he was thankful for the mask screening most of his face.
Leo grasped her arm and took two steps. She staggered and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. He cursed under his breath and swept her up in his arms. With a purposeful stride, he followed the narrow sheep track through the trees and deeper onto the moor.
Dartmoor was a silent place in the small hours of the morning—inhospitable and unforgiving to the naïve.
“At least there’s a little moonlight,” he said.
Ella didn’t reply, but he could see she was awake, her eyes wide and staring. Leo frowned and cautiously moved down a sheep track. He set one boot down after another, testing his footing before distributing his full weight.
Time passed and clouds skittered across the moon, plunging the moors into darkness. Leo spat out an oath, took two steps and stumbled. He staggered, thankfully regaining his balance. Part of him wanted to take shelter and wait out the rest of the night. It wasn’t safe. Sir James would have raised the alarm now. He mightn’t feel he could make a report to the parish constable, but he could seek help from his fellow monks.
Doggedly, Leo trudged along the track, aided only by his night vision. As they crested a hill, the wind struck them, biting cold despite the summer month. The trail ended abruptly, and he hesitated, unfamiliar with the terrain in this area. He took two steps and sank to his knees in bog. Ella’s extra weight threw him off, sending him lurching forward. She screamed when he sprawled on top of her. She struggled weakly, wriggling beneath him, sobs of terror filling his ears. Each frantic move sucked her deeper into the bog.
Water and mud soaked into their clothes, splashed their faces. And the entire time Ella thrashed. Leo attempted to soothe her, but like a terrified horse she fought wildly, placing them both in danger.
No time for him to panic. He battled mud, backing cautiously away from Ella. His pulse raced, urgency thrumming through him. Damn. He didn’t intend to die in the night, sucked under by a Dartmoor bog. He kept edging away, an inch at a time.
It took him a moment to realize he’d hit firm ground. Thank God. Trembling, he turned his attention to retrieving Ella.
He groped in the mud for her hand, gave up and grabbed one of her legs despite the impropriety.
“Help.” Her cry was weak, ineffectual.
“Cease your wriggling.” He’d had his fill of screeching females. After making sure he had solid purchase, he put some muscle into his yank. A grunt escaped him when she freed her leg and kicked him square in the chest.
“Damn, woman. Stop fighting. I’m trying to help you.” He heaved again, and she came free, sending him tumbling onto his arse.
They landed in an ungainly heap, Leo cursing again when her foot made contact with his balls. He grasped her arms and pushed her forcibly away before the ungrateful woman made a eunuch of him.
Her screech cut off abruptly, and she curled up like a hedgehog under attack. Understandable after what she’d suffered.
The moon peeked from behind a cloud, allowing him to see more of their surroundings. The nearby pile of rocks would offer shelter from the wind until daylight broke.
Gripping Ella’s arm, he dragged her toward the tor, relief striking him once they reached protection.
“Let me go.” Ella wrenched her arm from his touch, eyes fearful and still showing no recognition of him. “Please let me go.”
Leo gave her the illusion of freedom, but watched her closely in case she decided to bolt. Her slight body tensed and she tried to stand. Her legs failed, toppling her back to the ground. He winced at the loud clunk and her groan of pain. But at least she ceased her fidgeting.
Exhausted, Leo scanned their surroundings, searching through the gloom for danger.
The hours passed, and gradually faint rays of sunshine lightened the horizon. In the growing daylight, he studied Ella. She looked pale and thin. Her eyes were closed and purple shadows highlighted her exhaustion. A trail of dried blood decorated her right temple and ear.
Now able to discern the borders of the bog, he nudged Ella awake. Her eyes opened, and she climbed sluggishly to her feet, teetering the whole time. Her gaze remained unfocused, confused. What the hell had they done to her?
Taking her arm, he skirted the marsh, relieved when they reached safe ground. This time she didn’t struggle, merely let him lead her. Leo picked his way through the landscape, using both vision and g
ut instinct to guide them to safety.
A holler drifted to him. Leo froze and scanned their surroundings, finally making out two figures in the distance. Damn, this was going to complicate matters. The shout sounded again, and he ripped off his mask, shoving it into the waistband of his breeches.
Leo started walking again, half dragging the girl when she stumbled. She fell, and he wrenched her arm, trying to help her regain her footing.
She whimpered, her eyes wide in an ashen face. “Don’t hurt me. Please let me go!”
Leo released her arm, and she dropped to the ground. The air whooshed out of her, and when he offered a hand to help her up, she cringed and let out another whimper.
“Oy, you there! Leave her alone.”
Leo recognized the voice and backed away.
“Turn around. Put your hands above your head where I can see them.”
Leo complied, angling his body to face Captain Cartwright, the parish constable.
“What are you doing with this girl?” Cartwright asked, his face devoid of expression.
“It’s not the baker’s daughter,” the village blacksmith said, his eyes narrowing, large body poised to attack. “But seems the rumors are true.” He lunged at Leo, ham fists swinging.
Pain struck Leo’s shoulder, the force of the blacksmith’s blow sending him off balance. He tripped on a stone and staggered. The blacksmith darted forward to repeat the punch, but Cartwright gripped his arm and wrenched him to a stop.
“Wait,” he said harshly.
“He’s a murderer.”
“Wait,” Cartwright repeated.
Leo fingered his jaw while meeting Cartwright’s gaze. “This is Ella, the maid missing from Merrivale.” He climbed gingerly to his feet, keeping a wary eye on the blacksmith.
“Murderer,” the blacksmith snarled, and he turned his back on Leo and Cartwright to help up Ella. She flinched when Leo moved, shaking her head back and forth, distressed moans issuing from her. Her cries made the hair at the back of Leo’s neck prickle.
Mistress of Merrivale Page 14
