by Wolf, Bree
“Thank you,” Christina told the duke with a grateful nod. Then she looked to her family. “Who will join us?”
Every one of her family nodded in agreement, their faces determined as they stepped forward. “Oh, no,” Phineas interjected though, placing a staying hand upon Louisa’s arm. “You are not going.”
A thunderous expression came to her face. “You cannot tell me what to do! Who do you think you are?”
Phineas grinned at her. “In case you have forgotten, my dear, I am your husband, and I swear I will tie you to the bed if you attempt to follow us. Not today. Not in your condition.”
Louisa glared at her husband as the rest of her family began to stare at her with wide eyes. “Your condition?” her mother mumbled, slowly stepping toward her and reaching for her hands. “Are you with—?”
“Yes, I am,” Louisa replied with a roll of her eyes. Then she turned an accusing gaze to her husband. “Thank you for ruining the surprise!”
Still grinning, Phineas feigned a formal bow. “You are most welcome, Lulu.”
Louisa huffed out an annoyed breath, then began to wave her hands in a shooing gesture. “Go! Now! You can all congratulate me upon your return. Now, go and fetch back Sam.” She turned and grabbed Phineas by the lapels. “You will pay for this later,” she whispered under her breath, a wicked grin coming to her face.
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Phineas replied, then placed a quick kiss on her lips before hurrying out the door with the others.
Touched by this simple, and yet profound moment between Louisa and Phineas, Thorne turned to look at his wife. After Christina exchanged a few words with Grandma Edie and Juliet, who would remain behind with Lady Whickerton—Beatrice!—to see to Mrs. Huxley and Owen, she was about to head out the door as well when Thorne reached out and held her back. As he pulled her closer, she looked up at him with wide questioning eyes. “I love you,” he whispered then, wondering what had made him wait so long to admit how he felt for her. “You know that, don’t you?”
A wide smile came to Christina’s face. “I had hoped,” she whispered, her hands reaching up to touch his face. “I believe I love you as well.”
Thorne felt his heart begin to sing with joy, and he quickly pulled her into a tight embrace. “Let’s go and get our daughter back,” he whispered into her ear before standing back and then planting a quick kiss upon her lips.
With eyes as bright and blue as a summer’s sky, Christina looked up at him, then nodded, her jaw set in determination. “We will find her. We will find her, and everything will be all right again.”
Thorne grasped her hand, and together, they rushed outside.
Chapter Forty-Four
Into the Woods
The sun was beginning to set as they thundered down the path toward the forest. Christina could see the duke upfront in the lead, closely followed by her husband as well as her brother.
The wind whipped her hair about, and she turned her head to brush it behind her ears. Her gaze fell upon Harriet and Leonora, leaning low over the necks of their horses as they chased after the others. Drake was not far from his wife’s side while Phineas and her father brought up the rear.
Harriet grinned at her as their eyes met, and Christina wished she could ask her sister how on earth she had met the duke. They seemed like day and night, and yet Christina could not help but think that, somehow, they had gotten to know each other well. How had this happened? Where had she met him?
In truth, that seemed to be the one question with a rather straightforward answer. After all, had Harriet not ridden out these past few weeks without a chaperone again and again? Sometimes, she had been gone all afternoon, only to return late, exhausted, but with a wide smile upon her face. Had she always gone to meet him?
The odd thing was that the Duke of Clement seemed…almost annoyingly proper. No matter what Harriet did or said, he seemed to disapprove. When Christina and her sisters had mounted their horses alongside the men, his gaze had swept over them before he had turned to Harriet and whispered, “You and your sisters are joining us?”
Harriet had simply laughed. “Does this truly surprise you, Jack?”
Christina had not failed to note that the duke tensed every time Harriet referred to him as Jack. She suspected that it was not the nickname itself, but rather the familiarity it inspired that displeased him. After all, it was not proper for her to call him by a nickname.
Upon reaching the forest, they slowed their horses allowing them to pick their own path through the thicket. “How much farther?” Thorne asked the duke up ahead.
“This is uneven terrain,” the man replied, casting a calculating gaze over his surroundings. “Yet it is the straightest path. I expect we shall reach the hut by nightfall.”
Christina felt her hands tense upon the reins. “I hope she’s all right,” she mumbled, not daring to consider what they would do if she were not.
Pushing her mount up next to Christina’s, Harriet said, “She will be fine.” The tone in her voice held utter certainty. “She’s tough and resourceful and she knows that we will come for her.”
Christina smiled at her sister. “How can she know that?”
Harriet frowned. “How can she not? We are family. Of course, we will come for her. It’s what family does.”
Christina held out her hand to her sister, and Harriet took it, squeezing it reassuringly. “Thank you for all your help,” Christina said to her sister. “I don’t know how we could have possibly found her without…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze drifted to the front of the little group where the duke rode beside her husband.
Harriet chuckled. “Well, I have long since suspected that there is a very persuasive upside to unconventional means.”
Staring at her sister, Christina laughed. “What on earth does that mean?”
Harriet merely shrugged.
“How did you meet him?” Christina whispered, urging her mount a little closer to Harriet’s.
A bit of a secretive grin came to her sister’s face. “Oh, that is a long story. I will tell you all once we have Sam back at Pinewood Manor, safe and sound.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
As the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, the path grew more treacherous. Darkness began to linger, and they could barely see their hands in front of their eyes. Christina could not say whether or not the moon shone overhead because of the thick foliage of the trees shielding them, but equally keeping them in the dark.
The duke stopped and jumped off his mount. “From here, we will have to continue on foot.” Only he did not move onward. Instead, he knelt down, and after a small while, Christina saw sparks flying. He lit four torches and handed three of them out to the other men: one to Thorne, one to Troy and one to Phineas.
Beside Christina, Harry chuckled. “Of course, he wouldn’t think to hand me one.”
Slowly, they continued onward, deeper into the forest. Christina was worried that they might simply walk past the hut in the dark; yet by the time she was close to giving up hope, she spotted a soft glow in the distance. “There!” she exclaimed, pointing in between the trees. “There’s a light there.”
Everyone stopped to look. “Is this the hut?” She heard Thorne ask, his voice tense and full of fear as well as eagerness to reach Sam and finally bring this awful day to a successful end.
“It is,” the duke confirmed, then he stepped toward them as they all gathered around him in a circle. “We should split up and approach from all sides.” In the dim light of the torches, his gaze came to rest upon Harriet before it moved to Christina and Leonora. “I suggest the ladies remain behind with the horses.”
All three of them instantly shook their heads. “I will not remain behind,” Christina stated vehemently. “She’s my…daughter. She’s my daughter.”
Again, the duke’s gaze fell on Harriet, and Christina could not help but think that something unspoken passed between them before he nodded and then gestured for the others
to follow.
As the duke had suggested, they split into four groups. While Thorne and Christina approached from the front, Drake, Phineas and Leonora turned to the right. Her father and Troy circled around back whereas the duke and Harriet proceeded to the left. They moved as quietly as they could to not give themselves away before they would be in position around the hut.
As they drew closer, Christina could make out muffled voices. With each step, they grew louder until a shriek tore through the night.
Beside her, Thorne tensed, his free arm reaching out to clasp hers before he swiftly pulled her behind him. “That was not Sam,” he muttered under his breath, casting a quick glance at her over his shoulder.
“Mrs. Miller?” Christina whispered. “Who else could it be?”
A loud bang echoed through the forest as though someone had tossed something heavy across the small space of the hut. Christina flinched, holding onto her husband’s arm, before they continued their approach, eyes fixed on the dim glow shining out through the hut’s window.
Step-by-step, they moved closer, and Christina cast her gaze from left to right, taking note of two other torches proceeding forward as well. She could not make out the people holding them, but at least she knew they were there. Only her father and Troy were hidden to her by the hut in their path.
“Where is she?” A male voice filled with outrage suddenly hollered from inside the hut. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” came Mrs. Miller’s fearful voice, now unmistakable. “I do not know where she is. I was asleep like you.”
Again, the sound of objects being flung about reached their ears, and Christina tugged on her husband’s arm, looking up into his eyes.
Thorne looked back at her with the same tense and contemplative look in his eyes. For a moment, they remained where they were, uncertain about what to do. Had Samantha somehow slipped out of the hut? Was she no longer there?
“I will go after her!” thundered Mr. Sullivan’s voice once more. “If I cannot find her, I will—!” His voice broke off the moment he flung open the door and his gaze fell on their flickering torch.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they stared at one another, the contours of Mr. Sullivan’s body illuminated in the door frame by the soft glow inside the hut.
As far as Christina could tell, he was a tall man, but haggard, not unlike Mrs. Miller. His clothing was disheveled, and a wild beard grew upon his face.
Out of the corners of her eyes, Christina could see the other two torches inching closer to their position. The duke and Harriet as well as Drake, Phineas and Leonora had to have noticed that the door had been flung open and that a confrontation was at hand. But where was Samantha?
Mr. Sullivan’s eyes opened wide as he took note of the number of people slowly collecting in front of the hut. For a moment, he seemed uncertain of how to react. Then, however, he suddenly reached back inside, and a moment later, pulled Mrs. Miller out and in front of him. “Stay back!” he yelled, then whipped out a blade and pressed it to her throat. “Stay back or I will bleed her dry!”
Christina flinched, and her gaze darted to Mrs. Miller, her face even paler than usually, her eyes wide as she clutched at Mr. Sullivan’s arm.
Beside her, Thorne straightened. “I have come for my daughter!”
Mr. Sullivan scoffed and pressed the blade deeper into Mrs. Miller’s flesh. “You can have her for a price! But you must leave first!” The hand holding the blade seemed to tremble, and Christina worried that she might not be able to keep the promise she had made to Owen.
“I will not leave without my daughter!” Thorne said loud and clear, his voice far steadier than the arm under Christina’s hand. “Show her to me! I will not move from this spot until I know that she is well!”
Christina felt her heart almost beat out of her chest. A part of her urged her to throw caution to the wind and just dash ahead and into the hut. Yet if Samantha was still in there…
But was she? If she were, would Mr. Sullivan not be threatening her instead? Where could she be?
Christina let her eyes sweep over her surroundings. In the dark, though, she could make out truly little. If indeed Samantha was nearby, would she not have already shown herself to them?
Frustration swept through Christina’s body when she suddenly paused. Her gaze lingered upon the torch to her right, no closer than before, but still a good bit away. Phineas was holding it, and Leonora stood at his side. Drake, however, she could not make out in the dark surrounding them. Where was he? Christina could not imagine he would leave his wife’s side in such a moment.
“You will leave,” Mr. Sullivan hollered, “and you will wait for my instructions. If you do not, I will kill this harlot right here on the spot.” He chuckled deviously. “And your daughter shall swiftly follow.”
Christina held on tightly to her husband’s arm as her gaze continued to search for Drake, her eyes squinted. She saw the trunks of tall-growing trees, interspersed with bushes and ferns. An owl hooted its objection to their disturbance of an otherwise peaceful night when…
Mrs. Miller made a choking sound, her mouth opened and closed as though she wished to say something. Mr. Sullivan, however, jerked the knife deeper into her flesh until he drew blood.
Christina turned away from the sight before her as the duke’s voice echoed through the night. “If you harm her or the child, you will not leave this forest alive. I suggest you choose wisely.”
Christina stilled as she saw something move in the dark. Her eyes squinted further, and she caught a glimpse of Drake’s tense face, a good distance from where he ought to have been. He stood shrouded in darkness, his head slightly bowed, and he seemed deep in concentration. His hands moved swiftly in front of him before he finally stood back, straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. Then Christina saw him lift his right arm and point it at Mr. Sullivan. She gasped when she saw a pistol in his hand. What was he doing? Did he truly intend to shoot the man? What if he hit Mrs. Miller?
And then Christina remembered something Leonora had once told her in confidence. Something that suggested that Drake knew well how to hit his mark. He had been in countless duels and always come out the victor. He was an excellent marksman…who never missed.
Christina could only hope that was true.
And then a shot rang out, and Christina was not the only one who flinched.
Chapter Forty-Five
A Flickering Light
Thorne all but felt the shot reverberate within his bones. His body jerked, and he stared at where the bullet had torn through Mr. Sullivan’s throat…only inches from Mrs. Miller’s face.
Without a thought, he thrust the torch into Christina’s hands and then dashed forward as he watched Mr. Sullivan’s eyes widened in shock, his hand tensing upon the blade while his other clamped around Mrs. Miller’s arm. The man’s legs were giving out as blood flowed from the wound in his throat.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Drake charging forward as well. Yet Thorne reached the few steps leading up to the door first. Vaulting toward the man who had kidnapped his daughter, Thorne grasped his arm before the knife could dig any deeper into Mrs. Miller’s throat. He twisted the blade out of the man’s hand as Drake grasped the woman’s arms and pulled her away.
Mr. Sullivan went down like a felled tree, his eyes wide as his breath gurgled with blood, then ceased.
“Where is my daughter?” Thorne yelled as he knelt down and grabbed the man by his shirt front. “Where is she?”
“She…She’s not here,” panted Mrs. Miller, her face pale as she clutched one hand to the cut on her throat. Drake’s hands were still holding her upright before he reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her.
Thorne surged to his feet. “Where is she? What did you do?”
Christina came bounding up the stairs, the rest of her family following close behind, her eyes wide, fearful as she rushed to his side. “Sam?”
Thorn
e shook his head and turned to Mrs. Miller. She pressed Drake’s handkerchief against her throat and then drew in a careful breath. “He fell asleep,” she whispered, casting a hesitant look at the body at her feet. “He had bolted the door, but there’s a small window in the back. I helped her slip out and told her to run.”
Thorne breathed a sigh of relief; yet it was a premature reaction, was it not? After all, his daughter was far from safe. She was out in the forest at night all by herself. Where could she have gone?
“I’m so very sorry for what happened,” Mrs. Miller sobbed, exhaustion repeatedly closing her eyes as she fought to remain conscious. “I never meant for this to happen. I never thought he would ever do such a thing.” She shook her head, a deep frown coming to her face. “He was so angry and kept muttering, ‘He said this would be easy’. He threatened my son, and I—” She suddenly froze before her free hand shot forward and grasped Thorne’s jacket. “How is he?” Fear stood in her eyes: the same kind of fear Thorne felt in his own heart. Fear for her child. “Is he a-alive?”
Thorne nodded, grateful to be able to put the woman’s fears to rest. “He is well. He has a bump on his head, but he is well.”
Closing her eyes, Mrs. Miller almost went down as her knees gave out. “He is well,” she mumbled over and over again as Thorne held her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know…” Tears stood in her eyes as she looked at him and then at Christina. “I’m so very sorry.”
Drake stepped forward then and eased the shaking woman out of Thorne’s arms. His gaze met Leonora’s, and she nodded, moving toward him. Settling the softly sobbing woman into his wife’s arms, Drake then headed back down the few steps and looked from the duke to Phineas, to Troy and then to his father-in-law. “The girl slipped out the back. Let’s fan out and find her.”
The others nodded and did as he had instructed, their torches held high as they began calling Samantha’s name. Harriet joined in.
