He laughed now and Rebecca tried desperately to figure out where he was, what direction he was coming from.
“Did you think you could escape? Where will you go, my Rebecca? You know you will not get far.”
He sounded as if he were coming closer but Rebecca did not know if that was just her mind playing tricks on her.
“I told you,” the shouting continued, “that I would kill you if you tried to escape. And I meant it.”
Rebecca closed her eyes and tried to take steadying breaths. She could not stay here; she had to try. Give herself a fighting chance.
Mustering the vestiges of her courage she shot out from behind the tree and started to run once more.
Rebecca knew the second he had spotted her.
He yelled in triumph before starting his pursuit.
“Rebecca,” he roared, “Stop.”
But she did not stop. The trees thinned out ahead and Rebecca knew that she was coming once more to the edge of the woods, albeit further away from the lodge. Surely there would be a road there and if there was even a small chance that someone would be travelling on it, she would be saved.
Once again, Rebecca ran with all her might. He was gaining on her; she could hear the pounding of his feet on the wet forest floor. She was so close to the edge of the trees now. There was a small dirt track that ran alongside it and, in the distance, what appeared to be a farmhouse.
She would never make it to the house. But if she could make it to a surrounding field maybe a farmer or perhaps a layman would be working and could offer assistance.
Her legs felt perilously close to failing her but on she pushed. She had just cleared the trees when she felt Simons weight crush her and they landed with a thump as he tackled her to the ground.
Rebecca hit her head on what felt like a rock or perhaps a protruding tree root. Either way it hurt like the devil and completely dazed her for a moment.
When her wits returned she realised that George Simons was looming above her and he looked terrifying. In that moment Rebecca’s control completely snapped and the full force of her panic pressed down on her. She screamed. As loudly as her lung would allow.
To her horror, Simons merely threw back his head and laughed. He had pinned her arms above her head and his knee was pressed painfully into her abdomen.
“You think someone will hear you out here? We’re quite alone. And I think it about time I taught you a lesson.”
Rebecca struggled with all her might. She felt a warm, sticky liquid run down her face from her head and realised with a fright that her head was bleeding from the fall. The world began to spin alarmingly but she could not lose consciousness now. She had to fight.
The candlestick had fallen in the scuffle and Rebecca twisted her head back to try and see it. It was mere inches ahead of her. She twisted and turned until she slipped out from under his knee then kicked out with the last of her strength and was satisfied to hear his grunt of pain as her foot connected with some part of him, though she knew not which.
He momentarily loosened his grip and Rebecca dived toward the candlestick. Simons had quickly recovered and dragged her back toward him. She hit out with the candlestick with all her might and miraculously made contact with the side of his head.
He immediately dropped his hands and stumbled backwards from the impact and the resulting dizziness.
Rebecca stumbled to her feet and staggered forward. Her vision was blurry and the world still spun sickeningly but she did not let it stop her progress.
The candlestick had only gained her seconds to make her escape. And she knew with a hopeless despondency that it would not be enough. And there was nothing left in her to fight with.
Looking up, Rebecca thought she saw something or someone rushing toward her but the darkness was claiming her again. As she felt George Simons’ hands close around her and drag her to the ground once more Rebecca knew that she was lost.
She almost welcomed the darkness now; it would help her hide from the horror that was about to befall her.
Perhaps the darkness had already come, she thought in wonder seconds later as she heard a riot of sounds above her before a vision of Edward swam in front of her eyes.
“Rebecca, my love, can you hear me? There is so much blood, Tom. I do not know what to do. Rebecca, Rebecca please. Please hold on. Please do not leave me. I love you.” His words ended on a broken sob and Rebecca vaguely wondered why her mind had conjured up such a pained image of her love before she finally lapsed into complete silence.
****
Edward rode until he thought his horse would collapse from the strain. He rode through the pouring rain as if his very life depended on it. And it did. If he were to lose her now, his life would be over. If she died, his heart would die right along with her.
He needed to save her for both of them. For he was nothing without her.
And he had not told her. Not held her and told her how completely perfect she was. Last night, when she was saying all of those hurtful things, he should have told her then. Told her that the only duchess he wanted was her. That she did not need to change a damned thing. That she was all he ever wanted.
He could not be too late.
They rode for what felt like days until finally Tom gave a shout and pointed ahead and to the right. The lodge! They had arrived.
Edward was just turning to tell Tom to go round the back while he, Edward went through the front when the noise of a gunshot rent the air. They both pulled their horses up to listen. An icy fear gripping Edward’s heart.
They strained to listen for any other noises and Edward thought he heard a shout. Then another.
“Tom,” he said desperately, “that sounds like a man’s voice does it not?”
Tom nodded his agreement and Edward signalled that they go forward more cautiously.
They had begun a slow trot when the distinctive sound of a woman’s scream filled the air.
Rebecca!
Edward broke into a gallop and flew toward the noise.
They rode past the house, for the sound had seemed to come from the small woods on the opposite side of the track they were on.
They kept their eyes trained on the trees up ahead and suddenly Edward spotted a figure stumbling out. The figure of a lady. My God, it was Rebecca!
He was about to call out when the figure staggered to a stop and swayed alarmingly. Just then, another figure reached out and dragged the lady back toward the trees.
A fury such as he’d never known burst through Edward setting his very blood on fire.
He would kill him. He would kill him with his bare hands.
Both Edward and Tom came to a stop at the same time, before the worst scene Edward could have imagined.
Rebecca’s eyes were opened but worryingly glazed, her hair matted to her face with blood, and George Simons was leaning over her and tearing at her dress.
With a roar of rage Edward grabbed him and flung him bodily away from Rebecca. Before the man could even sit up, Edward was on him, pummelling him with a savagery he’d never felt before in his life.
He could feel Tom’s arms around his chest, straining to pull him off the bastard but Edward would not be moved.
“Edward. Stop,” commanded Tom but to no avail.
“I will kill him,” Edward vowed ferociously, “I swear, I will kill him.”
“Edward, please,” Tom shouted, still pulling with all his might, “Rebecca. She needs you. She needs you Edward.”
It was the only thing he could have said that would cut through the red haze surrounding Edward. He turned immediately and flew to her side, dropping to his knees by her head.
Her eyes were open but he could tell that she was fast losing consciousness.
“Rebecca, my love, can you hear me?” He tried to move the hair from her face but it was completely matted and the blood was still flowing. Tom hurried over and knelt on the other side of her weakened body. “There is so much blood, Tom. I do not know what to d
o.” His voice was hoarse from fear, from the hot tears choking him, threatening to burst through.
He was losing her. He could see her eyes, her beautiful dark eyes, drifting closed. “Rebecca, Rebecca please. Please hold on. Please do not leave me. I love you.”
And then the proud Duke of Hartridge who had not shed a single tear since he was ten years old bowed his head and cried.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Rebecca awoke to unfamiliar sounds and smells, though the smells were delicious.
Her skull once again felt like it had been split in two and her mouth was dry as the Indian desert.
She was afraid to open her eyes, as she knew instinctively that the light pressing on her lids would hurt like the devil.
But finally her curiosity got the better of her and she lifted her lids cautiously, wincing as her thoughts were confirmed and the sunlight nearly blinded her. She blinked a couple of times trying to become accustomed to the light.
The source of the light was an open window to her right, the curtains billowing as a pleasant spring air floated into the room.
Looking around the room Rebecca knew that she did not recognise it. However, the fear of the last time she’d woken in a strange room was not present. The walls were white and clean. Simple, rustic and sparsely decorated. It seemed to be a farmhouse or cottage, she thought, as there were similarities between this and Martin’s family cottage back home.
Rebecca looked down at the coverlet covering her, a patchwork of bright colours and frowned. Where was she?
Her throat was painfully dry and she moved her head to the left in search of a jug of water.
Her throat closed altogether at the sight which awaited her.
Edward’s giant form was curled into a small wooden chair. His legs were stretched out in front of him and his head had dropped to his chest, his arms folded against his abdomen.
What is he doing sleeping by my bedside? she wondered, though the sight of him brought a happy smile to her face.
Her mind felt strangely muddled and she furrowed her brow as she tried to remember what had happened.
Gradually the pieces began to fall into place and her mind swam with images of the nightmare she had recently lived through. The drugging, the bedroom in the lodge, the terrifying chase through the woods. She remembered it all; remembered George Simons pinning her to the ground. The sickening thud as her head had met the rock. She lifted her hand now, gently to her forehead and was dismayed to feel a large bandage covering a large portion of her forehead and hair.
I must look a fright, she thought, and then giggled silently at her foolish vanity.
Finally, she remembered, though unsure if it were a dream or not, Edward’s wonderful face looking down at her, begging her to be well and saying that he loved her.
Surely a dream. But a beautiful one.
Had she not hoped with all her heart that he would come for her? That he would somehow find a way to rescue her? And he had. But how?
Rebecca was desperate for some answers, but first she was desperate for a drink.
Thankfully there was a pitcher and cup on a small table by the bed. As quietly as possible she sat up and was grateful to find that the room stayed in one spot, though the pain increased dramatically.
Closing her eyes and willing the pain to ease a little, she slowly reached for the pitcher of what was presumably water. On lifting it, Rebecca was caught off guard by how heavy it was and how weak she felt. She made a valiant effort to hold onto it but it was no use.
As if time slowed down, she watched as it slipped from her grasp and fell with a thump. The contents splashed out — and landed squarely on Edward’s lap.
He yelled in surprise and leapt from the chair in one short movement.
The water spilled down his breeches and Rebecca could only stare in horror as he gasped and spluttered and tried to recover from the shock of being woken from a sleep with a jug of water to his—
“What the devil?” he shouted making a futile attempt to brush the liquid from his clothing.
“I am so very sorry,” Rebecca croaked, surprised at how coarse her voice sounded. She really could have done with that water. “It was an accident.”
“Isn’t it always?” grumbled Edward, “How did you manage to—”
He stopped suddenly and his eyes snapped up from his clothing to her face. He stared at her for a moment before dropping to the bed beside her. He reached out a shaking hand and gently caressed her cheek.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered reverently, “you are awake.” Then he crushed her body to his and buried his face in her neck.
Rebecca thought she felt dampness against her shoulder as he pulled her tighter still.
“My darling, my darling,” he whispered brokenly, “you are awake at last.”
Much as she was pleased with the embrace, Rebecca was starting to feel a little lightheaded from the lack of oxygen.
“Edward,” she croaked, “when are you going to let me go?”
“Never,” came the fierce reply.
Which was lovely in theory but in practice, quiet worrisome for her lungs.
“How nice,” was her weak answer. “Only you are cutting off my circulation and it is a little difficult to breathe.”
Edward released her immediately and settled her back against the pillows gently, as if she were a doll made of finest porcelain.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his hand once again gloriously caressing her cheek.
“Ecstatic,” she answered with a sigh.
Edward chuckled softly.
“Are you in pain?”
“My head, a little,” she answered, “and my throat is terribly dry.”
“Well I would offer you a drink,” he quipped, “but I seem to be wearing it.”
Rebecca smiled a little weakly at his joke.
“Do not move,” he instructed as he picked up the pitcher and left the room.
He returned in moments with a fresh pitcher of water and an entourage.
Caroline, the dowager and Tom all rushed into the room after Edward.
Caroline and the dowager rushed to her side, both of them wearing huge smiles and tears on their faces.
“Becca, dearest,” sniffled Caroline, “I am so glad you are awake.” She grasped Rebecca’s hand and wrist in a tight grip and Rebecca was surprised at the stab of pain. She yelped and Edward, who had reclaimed his chair while the ladies greeted Rebecca, leapt up and was by her side in a split second.
“What is it? What is wrong?” he asked, worry etched on his features.
Rebecca smiled at his obvious concern. I could get used to this.
“It is nothing,” she assured him, “a small pain in my wrist.” She looked down and was shocked to see a ring of purplish bruises around not only that wrist but the other too.
“From the rope,” he told her gently.
She swallowed over a sudden lump in her throat. It was as if seeing the bruises brought the whole episode back in one swoop and she began to shake violently.
“Rebecca,” the dowager leaned over her in concern.
“I am well,” Rebecca assured her as much as she could, but there were tears building at the back of her throat and to her embarrassment they began to stream down her face.
“I am sorry,” she blubbered, “this is so silly.”
“Oh no, no it is not. After everything you have been through. Everything he did,” wailed Caroline and suddenly her quiet tears turned to noisy sobs.
Edward and Tom shared a startled look and turned to the dowager to calm the girls down. But the lady had pulled both of the girls into an awkward embrace and was wailing loudest of them all.
“My poor, brave girl,” she crooned over and over.
“Good God, they’ll flood the place,” said Tom in alarm, “do something.”
“Me? I do not know what to do. You are better with crying women. You do something,” retorted Edward.
They both looked back to the s
nivelling females as if hoping that the tears would have miraculously stopped. But on they went.
Eventually Edward tired of having to wait to speak to Rebecca about all of the things he wanted to say so he gently prised his mother away from her and pushed her toward the door.
“Tom,” he said pointedly, “be so kind as to ask the lady of the house to prepare some sweet tea for Mother. I believe she is in shock.”
Tom nodded and held the door open for the weeping woman.
Now, Edward thought grimly, the sister.
“Caroline I—”
“That is quite alright, Edward,” Caroline gulped. They’d reached a point over the last couple of days where titles and formal names seemed ridiculous. “I am sure you want some time alone with Rebecca.” She turned to Rebecca now who thankfully seemed to have stopped crying. “I will come and sit with you soon, dearest, if you are not too tired.”
Rebecca smiled and squeezed Caroline’s hand before the older girl swept from the room followed by a somewhat scared looking Tom. What is it about men and their fear of crying women? she thought distractedly.
“Are you well?” Edward approached her cautiously as if afraid she would become a crying mess again.
“Yes, I am quite well now, thank you,” she responded. “I do not know what came over me.”
“Delayed reaction, I would imagine,” he answered gently.
He filled the cup with water and held it to her lips. She drank gratefully and thought she had never tasted anything so delicious.
He put the cup down then sat on the bed and grasped her hand, staring at her in concern.
Eventually she laughed. “Edward I am well, you do not need to watch me so closely.”
He smiled a little self-consciously and Rebecca’s heart melted at the sight. Her arrogant, proud duke looking embarrassed by his concern.
“Where are we?” she asked, wanting to know everything that had happened since that last awful moment in the woods when— she froze. Oh God. Had George Simons — had he? She could not even think it.
Edward watched in alarm as Rebecca visibly paled.
He reached out and cupped her face in both hands.
An Unlikely Duchess Page 28
