Someone grabbed Elizabeth roughly by the shoulder and yanked her to her feet. “Get on wi’ ye,” a man ordered. Her weary mind didn’t know who was speaking to her and she didn’t care. She took a step and stumbled.
“Easy there,” Captain Thomas said, lifting her off her feet. His mask was gone. “You’ll feel better after we get these wet things off and something hot into your belly.”
A pretty dark-haired young woman held a lantern high. “Jackie?”
“Aye, Tess,” Thomas replied. “We’ve company for you.”
“God’s bowels! What have ye done now?” the woman demanded shrilly. She led the way ahead of them, her light bobbing to and fro as they threaded their way through fallen timbers and piles of litter.
Down a flight of stairs and through another doorway Thomas strode, carrying Elizabeth as though she were a small child. At last they came into a firelit room, and he lowered her gently to a high-backed oak settle near the hearth.
“Have ye lost whatever wits ye ever claimed?” Tess fussed. “To bring her kind here?”
“Enough,” Thomas rumbled. “Where’s your manners? The lady’s wet and cold. Find her a blanket and something dry to put on.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Would you care for a sip of brandy?”
Elizabeth held out her hands to the fire. Nothing had ever felt as good as the warmth of those flames. Her teeth began to chatter, and she was seized with tremors. Thomas thrust a flask into her shaking hands, and she drank without thinking. The strong liquid burned a fiery path down her throat, and in a few seconds, she felt warmer.
“Here.” The woman threw a blanket at Elizabeth. “Put this around ye and strip off that fancy gown. God’s bowels, Jackie, look at all the blood. Ye might have pulled the gown off her before ye tried to murder her. What a waste of good silk. The dress won’t fetch a quid in that condition.”
“Leave off, wench, before I slap some manners into you,” Thomas said. “The blood’s not hers. Her maid was killed in the game.”
Elizabeth tried to speak, but her teeth were chattering so hard she couldn’t get the words out clearly. “I . . . I can . . . can’t take off the—”
Tess swore a sailor’s oath and sliced the lacing at the back of Elizabeth’s gown with an eating knife. The gown fell forward, baring Elizabeth’s shoulders, and she stood to step out of the ruined garment. Vaguely, she was aware that Thomas was still in the room and staring at her, but she didn’t care. The petticoat strings were so wet that they had to be cut away too. Next, Elizabeth removed her shoes and stockings and stood before the fire clad only in a thin linen shift.
“The rest of it,” Tess ordered. “Must I undress ye like a babe?”
Elizabeth turned to look at the highwayman. “Sir, if you please,” she managed, exhausted and near tears.
“Madame.” He gave a half bow. “I will give you the courtesy of my back.”
Quickly, Elizabeth shed the rest of her wet clothes and pulled a coarse linsey-woolsey shift and gown over her head. Tess bundled Elizabeth’s garments into a ball and carried them away.
Elizabeth gazed at Captain Thomas. He was a rather handsome man, younger than she had first supposed, with a large nose, a squarish chin, and laughing blue eyes. “What are you going to do with me?”
He approached the hearth and took the opposite chair. “You heard what I told your husband, m’lady. I intend to hold you here until he pays the ransom. Then you will be returned to your family unharmed.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He took another drink of brandy. “I’m not a cruel man. Have you ever heard that Captain Thomas was cruel?”
“I put little faith in the honor of a highwayman.”
“Aye, put yer faith in steel, I say.” The other two outlaws entered the room with a great stomping of boots and flinging of wet cloaks. The man who had shot Betty was speaking. Without the mask, Elizabeth saw he had thinning brown hair with streaks of gray and a scar puckering the left side of his mouth.
“Or lead and black powder,” the other added.
“You have met me, but you’ve not been properly introduced to my companions,” Captain Thomas said to Elizabeth. “This is Will.” He indicated Betty’s killer. “And Shiner.” Shiner grinned, exposing two missing front teeth.
Tess returned with several mugs of ale and a great platter of roast pork and bread. “Thought ye might be hungry,” she said. “It bein’ such a nasty night out.”
“There’s my good girl,” Thomas replied. She set the food and drink down on a stretcher table, and Thomas pulled her into his lap. “Give us a buss, Tess.” She giggled and kissed him on the mouth.
The men began to eat, and Tess offered Elizabeth a portion. She shook her head. “No, I couldn’t.”
“Suit yourself,” Tess said. “Starve fer all I care.” She returned to sit on Thomas’s lap again, sharing sips from his ale and trading small talk with the men.
Elizabeth pulled her chair closer to the hearth and wrapped herself tightly in the blanket. She was warmer now, but still miserable. Her eyelids felt heavy, and her whole body ached. I must not sleep, she thought, but the more she concentrated on staying awake, the more difficult it became.
Captain Thomas’s gentlemanly behavior did nothing to alleviate her fears. What if Edward doesn’t pay the ransom? What then? She had seen the faces of the highwaymen and she knew their names. Could they afford to let her live, even if Edward produced the thousand pounds?
The penalty for highway robbery was death by hanging. Elizabeth knew it, and she knew well that her captors knew it. They’ll kill me. No matter what happens, I’m going to die.
And worse than the thought of death was the sure knowledge that she would never see Cain again.
It was two hours before dawn, and the chief huntsman at Sotterley lay snoring beside his wife in their sturdy plank bed. The fire on the hearth had burned down to dying coals, and the single room of the timber-framed cottage was dark.
The floorboards creaked, and one hound stirred in his sleep, then settled back down, its nose touching the still-warm hearth. A shadow detached itself from the blackness and moved silently across the room to the wall where the huntsman’s bow and quiver of steel-tipped arrows hung on a rack of deer antlers.
Cain took down the great English longbow and balanced it in his right hand, gauging the weight and the strength of the cast. Then he slung the quiver over his shoulder and removed a steel hunting knife, sheath, and belt from the hook. He glanced over at the sleeping couple and smiled, then crept from the room as quietly as he had come.
The first rays of dawn filtering through the oaks found the Lenape warrior, clad only in moccasins and breechcloth, crouched over the spot where the robbery had occurred the night before. The man called Robert had told him what had happened and that Lord Dunmore seemed little concerned by his wife’s kidnapping.
“It ain’t natural, I tell you,” Robert had protested vehemently. “The Lady Elizabeth be worth every penny of a thousand quid. Were she mine, I’d give the whole shooting match for her, I tell you.” Robert had sunk down on his bed in the servants’ quarters and buried his face in his hands. “My Bridget will have my hide that I let those outlaws away with her mistress, not to mention the killing of the little one.”
Cain had listened to every word, keeping his features immobile, hiding the pain that threatened to rip him in two. “Where happen?” he had asked the footman. “How far?”
Robert’s detailed reply had led Cain to this place. The fresh mud told the story clearer than the white man’s paper-that-talks could ever do. Here was where the coach slid from the road. Cain put his fingertips into the prints left by Elizabeth’s shoes. She had taken only a few steps, and then her trail vanished. Yet the tracks of a mounted horse sank deeper into the roadway here. Clearly, this man had taken Elizabeth up on the animal with him, as Robert had said.
Cain’s lips thinned as he studied the hoof-prints. The animal had shifted from side to side and reared, proving th
at something or someone had startled it. Elizabeth had fought her captor. There were three horses, but only the one carrying his woman concerned him. A horse, like a man, had a print different from all others of his kind. The horse would lead him to the warrior who had taken his wife, and that man would give her back before he died.
“Eliz-a-beth,” Cain whispered in the Lenape tongue, “I know you carry our child, even if you do not.” He had been a father before, and he had witnessed the changes in a woman’s body when she conceives. He had felt Elizabeth’s swollen breasts and seen the hint of deep rose around her nipples when they made love in the forest. “I should have spoken.”
He paused for a moment in the shadows of an ancient oak, dropped to his knees, and offered a prayer to the Great Ones.
“Give me strength,” he prayed. “Give me courage to do what I must do. And if I am far from my own land, the distance should be as the width of a bee’s wing to you who knows all and created all. Give me back what is mine or let me die with honor.”
Only then did Shaakhan Kihittuun take the tiny paint pot from the medicine bag he had reconstructed so meticulously over many nights. With the skill of an artist, he performed the ritual of donning full war paint. At each step, with each change of color, he repeated the ancient chants, handed down from warrior to warrior among his people for time out of time.
When the ceremony was finished, Shaakhan Kihittuun rose and began to follow the highwaymen’s trail. Behind him he left marks of his passing so plain that a blind man could follow them. If he was killed before he rescued Elizabeth, he must be certain that Edward’s people would find her.
Elizabeth lay on a pallet on the floor in the dark. She had slept since Captain Thomas had brought her here in the late hours of the night, awakened, and slept again. She had no idea what time it was, or even if another day and night had passed.
She’d been frightened when he’d risen from his chair and taken her arm. “Come, m’lady, ’tis time you were abed.”
“No. Leave me be,” she’d protested, knowing all the time that she was at his mercy, knowing that she might face rape or worse.
“The lydy thinks ye mean t’ tumble ’er,” Will scoffed.
“I’ve never ’ad a gentlewoman,” Shiner said.
“No,” Tess said, “and ye never will. Ladies such as ‘er fancies their men wi’ full sets o’ chompers, even if they’re made o’ wood.”
“Hold your foul tongues, the lot of you!” the captain ordered. “There’s no need to frighten the lass. Come along, Lady Dunmore, your honor’s safe enough with me. I fancy my women willing.”
“Willin’ or not,” Tess said, “keep yer hands to yerself, Jackie me boy. If ye’ve any energy left tonight—it’s fer me.”
Captain Thomas had taken a candle and led the way to a small room that must have once been a buttery, a storeroom for provisions and bottles. There were shelves, a built-in table along one wall, and even a fireplace. The shelves were bare now, except for a few empty bottles and a broken cask. There was one door and no window, and the floor was relatively free of debris. Rolled up in one corner was a pallet and a blanket.
He’d handed Elizabeth the candle. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you finer accommodations, but this is the only room I can lock you in and be certain you’ll still be here when I come for you. You’ll be safe enough from Will and Shiner. Pay no heed to their talk. You can slip the bolt on the inside of the door if you please. Just don’t try and lock it on me. It ruins my disposition for the day if I have to break down doors in the morning.”
“When can I go home?”
“We’ll give your lord a day or two to stew in his own juices, then I’ll send a messenger to ask for delivery of the money. You’ll go home as soon as I get it.”
The candle had burned out during the night. Elizabeth had risen once and felt her way around the room. She’d thrown her weight against the two-inch-thick oaken door, but it had only creaked. The bolt on the far side held firm.
No one had come with food or water, but that didn’t matter to her. She wasn’t hungry. In fact, she was sick to her stomach; she hoped she wasn’t getting ill from the wet ride and the cold. Her head didn’t feel hot to the touch, but she was nauseated. Even the thought of food was enough to make the room spin.
The darkness was unnerving. What if they leave me here to die? If she had to die, she hoped they would have the decency to shoot her. Even the air here was stuffy. Would it get worse and worse? She wondered how long it took a woman to die of thirst. After the time in the open boat, she’d never wanted to experience that feeling again. I’ll take my own life before I die that way.
But she knew she wouldn’t. She would fight death as she’d always fought the injustices of life.
Suppose I’m with child? Cain’s babe?
She got up again and went to the door. “Is anyone out there?” she cried. “Let me out!” She pounded on the door with her fist. “Let me out of here!”
Upstairs, Thomas heard the banging and turned over in bed. Tess lay facedown beside him, her nude buttocks only partially concealed by a blanket. “Wake up,” he said. “Our guest seems to want her breakfast.”
“The hell, I will,” Tess mumbled into her pillow. “Ye so worried about her highness, ye can get up and wait on her.”
Thomas slapped her bottom playfully. “Up, wench, and do as I say. You’re in this as much as I am, and I have to do all the work.”
Tess pushed a tangled lock of black hair out of her face and stared at him with bloodshot eyes. “Taken a fancy to her, ye have, I believe. Ain’t gettin’ cold feet, are ye?”
“No, pet,” Thomas replied lazily. “Unfortunately, the beautiful lady must die as soon as we get our hands on the gold. This is the last hand of my game, and I intend to play it well to the end. She’s seen our faces, and she could testify against us in court. It’s regrettable, but I’ll have to shoot her.”
“See us swing, she would. No more pity fer the likes o’ us than a Christmas goose. Not to mention that she’d soon say ye weren’t—”
“The real Captain Thomas,” he finished for her. “No, this way is much cleaner. We get the thousand pounds, and Captain Thomas, the dashing highwayman, gets the noose for the murder of Lady Dunmore.”
“David Thomas will shit hisself when he finds out what ye done. But he deserves it, the sot. He never did treat ye right, Jackie. Never give ye an honest share when ye were ridin’ with him.”
Jackie Moore, alias Captain Thomas, reached for the blond wig and settled it on-his close-cropped head. “I make a handsomer Captain Thomas than he ever did, and I can shoot straighter than the wily bastard.”
Tess rolled out of bed and retrieved her crumpled shift from the floor. “Don’t know why I got to fetch and carry fer her when she’s gonna end up crow bait.” She dropped the shift on the mattress and began to pull on a stocking. “What o’ Will and Shiner? That thousand quid would look bigger with only ye and me to share it, Jackie me boy.”
He lay back on the bed and crossed his arms behind his head. “That mind of yours is always thinking, isn’t it? That’s what I love about you. Bee-stung lips, curves in all the right places, and a head on you a bishop would envy. You touched on a weak point in our plan, girl, but not one I haven’t been considering. Thomas, the blackguard, was greedy. Once he had his hands on Lord Dunmore’s money, he turned on his companions and murdered them too.”
“David?”
He laughed. “No, Tess. David doesn’t kill them. We do. It only looks like David Thomas did the foul deed.”
She giggled. “No end to his evil, is there?”
“Oh, there will be. Rest assured. The King himself will be incensed at this ruthless kidnapping and murder. Captain David Thomas will be hunted down like the dog he is and swung from a Tyburn tree. And that”—he grinned—“will be the end of his life of crime.”
An hour later, Tess unlocked the door to Elizabeth’s prison. In one hand she balanced a bowl of porridge and a mug
of ale, and in the other she carried a half loaf of bread. “I’m comin’,” she shouted. “I’m comin’. No need to make such a racket. Ye’ll wake the dead.” When she opened the door a crack, Elizabeth hit it with the full force of her shoulder.
The door flew open and struck Tess. The food went flying, and Tess fell backward. She opened her mouth to scream, and Elizabeth hit her over the head with a bottle.
Elizabeth dashed down the shadowy corridor and up the flight of steps. The door was missing at the top of the stairs, so she pressed her body against the wall and listened. Nothing. Heart racing, she retraced her steps of the night before to the room with the fireplace. It, too, was empty. She was halfway across the chamber when Tess screamed.
Elizabeth made a break for the far entrance as Captain Thomas entered the room. “What’s this?” he said. “Tired of our company so soon?”
She tried to dodge past him as he lunged for her, but he was too quick. He grabbed her wrist, and she swung the bottle at his head.
“None of that now,” he cautioned, capturing the other wrist. He tightened his grip until she gasped with pain and dropped the bottle.
“Let me go!” she screamed futilely. “Let me go!”
“All in good time, puss.” He twisted her arm behind her back until she stopped struggling. Tears of anger ran down her cheeks.
Tess staggered into the room, a trickle of blood running down from her hairline. “Kill the bitch,” she screamed. “Yer gonna kill her anyways—ye might as well do it now!” She rushed at Elizabeth, and Thomas turned to block her with his body. “Yer dead!” Tess taunted. “Dead as a butcher’s dinner.”
Elizabeth snapped her head to stare into Thomas’s eyes. He flushed. “It’s true, isn’t it?” she cried. “You do mean to murder me?”
“Come along, m’lady. You’re much too noisy,” Thomas said, ignoring her question. “First thing you know, you’ll have Will and Shiner all upset.” He shoved her back to the stairs and then down to the buttery.
Lovestorm Page 24
