Destiny's Daughter

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  She ignored his insults. "Why have you kidnapped me? What do you intend to do to me?"

  He stared down at her with a chilling smile. "Amazing. Even in your weakened condition, you manage that haughty air. And even in this dirty rat hole, with blood streaking your hair, I find you desirable."

  Annalisa swallowed back the fear that threatened to choke her. He reminded her of a sleek, glossy spider watching his victim dance in his web.

  "I didn’t expect you to stoop to such levels, Charles. Robbing helpless women?"

  "You helpless? Ha. You and your women have become local heroes." He stood above her, his hands on his hips, and gave her a long, thorough look. "Money is money. It matters not where I get it."

  "I thought you were a wealthy man. What need have you for the money my women earned?"

  "Some of the things I’m involved in are costly. I have a need for a great deal of money."

  "But why did you kidnap me? You can’t keep me here forever. My friends will be searching for me. How will you defend your actions when I tell them what you’ve done?"

  "My dear Miss Montgomery." He knelt on one knee and touched her cheek. Instantly she tossed her head to avoid his touch, and felt the punishing stab of pain. "I will keep you here for as long as it pleases me." His smile widened at the look of loathing that came into her eyes. "And when I no longer have any use for you, I will have you quietly disposed of."

  His tone became briskly businesslike. "I’m afraid I had to hit you rather hard." Indicating a basin of water and several cloths, he added, "That will have to do for now. Bathe that wound. It’s a nasty one. And then rest. When I return, I will have clean clothes, more suitable for my woman."

  She felt herself shudder inwardly at his crude suggestion. "Your woman? Never."

  "I think you can be persuaded to change your mind, my dear." Placing the candle on a wooden table, he strode to the steps, then turned. A wide smile gave him a Satanic look. "You’d best rest now. You’re going to need all your strength when I return."

  He pulled the door firmly shut behind him. She listened as the key grated in the lock.

  "Oh, Hattie Lee." In her weakened condition, Annalisa felt the tears roll down her cheeks. "Where are you? Where is Chase?" She hadn’t meant to speak his name. Even thinking about him caused her heart to contract painfully. Memories of those whispered phrases came back to haunt her: Don’t worry about the woman. I’m irresistible.

  Had it been Chase? she wondered. Was he the one who had assisted the attackers? Had he slipped back inside just in time to prevent her from catching the thieves? Instantly she dismissed the thought. He might be many things, most of them evil. But he wasn’t a murderer. Though he apparently could betray her without remorse, he could never physically harm her. Of that she was certain.

  Sinking back against the blanket, Annalisa wept uncontrollably. This was a nightmare. It was all a bad dream. When all her tears had been shed, she felt her lids grow heavy. She would just sleep for a little while. And when she awoke, everything would be all right.

  * * *

  Nothing would ever be the same again. Annalisa lay in the bed, watching the flickering light of the candle as it burned lower. Soon it would go out, leaving her in darkness in this dreary place.

  Sweet little Delia was dead. Annalisa felt a sob rise in her throat. She herself was the prisoner of a madman. And she had been betrayed by the man to whom she had given her love.

  The pain in her head had subsided to a dull throb. Yet she refused to leave her filthy bed. Her limbs felt heavy, her heart heavier still. Never had she known such despair.

  Sitting up, Annalisa waited until her head cleared, then stood. Despite the pain that flared at the simplest movement, she forced herself to wash. Charles Montagnet would return as promised. And when he did, she would have to be strong enough to fight him, or clever enough to outwit him. Using all her charm, Annalisa was determined to ferret out every scrap of information. And to escape this hell.

  * * *

  The key turned in the lock. Annalisa blinked against the light, as Montagnet descended the steps carrying a torch. He held it up, studying the figure crouched in the corner with the blanket wrapped about her. Setting the torch in a niche in the wall, he placed a covered tray in front of her.

  "Lafourcade has an excellent French chef."

  Lifting the silver dome with a flourish, Montagnet indicated the steaming bowl of soup. "A rich beef broth with little slivers of fresh vegetables. Quite remarkable. And the bread is still warm from the oven."

  Annalisa glowered at him.

  Lifting an elegant gown draped over one arm, tissue rustled as he smoothed out the folds.

  "I chose this gown myself. Made in Paris by the finest seamstresses." He held the gown closer, so that Annalisa could admire the ivory silk shot with gold threads. "It cost a fortune. I ordered it the first time I laid eyes on you."

  She sucked in her breath and studied him with one delicately arched eyebrow. "But why would you do such a thing?"

  "Why?" He smiled at her, and she felt a chill race up her spine. "Because, dear lady, when I see something I want, I must have it."

  At her stunned look, he added, "I saw you on a riverboat many months ago."

  Annalisa felt a trembling begin in her stomach. She had not imagined it. The feeling that she was being watched, the shadow at the railing, the figure that had tried to enter her darkened stateroom. Montagnet.

  "I attempted to have you then, but you managed to foil me. Ever since then, I have bided my time, knowing that in the end, I would win." His voice lowered dangerously. "I always get what I want. And I’ve wanted you for a very long time."

  Seeing the look that came into her eyes, he decided to taunt her further. Changing his tone abruptly, he acted as if he hadn’t even spoken in anger. Placing the gown at her feet, he dusted off his hands and glanced around the darkened room. "Foul place. Have you seen any rats yet?"

  Seeing her eyes widen, he chuckled. "Ah, well. If you decide to cooperate with me, I may allow you to leave this dungeon. My suite of rooms here at Lafourcade’s house is quite elegant. Of course," he added, turning away, "it is entirely up to you, my dear."

  "You’re leaving?"

  He turned, pulling on a glove. "Sorry to see me go?" At the look of fury in her eyes, he laughed again. "I have to attend a political function with Lafourcade. But I’ll be back in the morning. Unless, of course, I have need of you tonight. Enjoy your dinner."

  When she heard the key once more turn in the lock, Annalisa exhaled the breath she had been holding. Thank heavens he’d left the torch. At least now she could search this room for some means of escape.

  Ignoring the exquisite gown, she glanced at the steam rising from the bowl of soup and paused. Though she was in too much turmoil to feel like eating, she knew she needed to keep up her strength. She would force herself to eat everything on the tray, even if it took her hours. And in the meantime she intended to search every inch of this vile place until she found a means of escaping this filthy prison.

  As she began to slowly sip the broth, she felt her strength return. Not only her physical strength, as her body took in nourishment, but a strength of will as well. Montagnet wouldn’t win, she told herself firmly. She would find a way to thwart his evil scheme.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  "You can count on me." Jessie towered in the doorway, with one arm around Hattie Lee, who was still too shocked at the news of Annalisa’s kidnapping to comprehend. Stunned, she simply stared at the jumble of rifles and guns assembled on the table.

  Chase looked up from the rifle he was loading. "Thanks, Jessie. I could use your help. Choose a weapon."

  "Poor little Annalisa. What will they do to her?" Gabrielle was slumped on a sofa, sobbing hysterically.

  "Hush, child." Grateful for something to do, Hattie Lee crossed the room and wrapped her arms around the crying woman.

  "I’m going with you." In the commotion, Luther had entered the parlor
and stood leaning heavily against the wall. Eulalie stood beside him, her eyes wide with fear.

  "You’re too weak," Chase said.

  "I’m strong enough to hold a gun. And you’re going to need every gun you can get."

  Chase glanced at Luther’s grim features, then nodded his assent before continuing to check his rifle.

  "I’m going, too." Francine strode to the table and lifted a carbine to her shoulder.

  "I think you would be better off here," Chase said gently, admiring her strength. "The women in this house could be in grave danger. I hate leaving you without protection, but I’m going to have to trust you to take care of yourselves."

  "Don’t worry about us, Chase," Hattie Lee said quickly. "Just find Annalisa."

  "I intend to."

  Tossing a gun to Luther, he strode from the room, followed by the two men.

  "Do you have any idea where she might be held?" Jessie asked.

  "None."

  "Got a plan?" Despite his wounds, Luther managed to keep up with Chase’s hurried strides toward the barn.

  "Not yet. We’ll have to improvise." Giving his friend a grim smile, he added, "It won’t be the first time."

  Luther grinned in the darkness. "You’ve always been able to think on your feet."

  Listening to their conversation, Jessie realized that these two men were more than casual acquaintances. Their friendship obviously went back a long way.

  They saddled their horses and mounted. As Chase followed the moonlit path toward town, his mind raced. Annalisa. His beloved Annalisa. There’d been considerable blood on the floor of her office. How badly wounded was she? What would they do to her now that they had her? If those bastards . . .

  He forced himself to put away such thoughts. They would only distract him from the immediate task. Find Annalisa. Get her safely away. Then destroy the men who would dare to harm her.

  From the beginning he had known the enemy. Montagnet. And now he would have to stop him. Permanently.

  Where would Montagnet take her? The governor’s aide had no permanent residence in New Orleans. He couldn’t hold her against her will in an inn. If he kept her in town, someone was bound to see her. The report had been accurate. Montagnet was becoming desperate. And careless.

  Entering Jackson Square, Chase glanced at the steps of St. Louis Cathedral and reined in his horse. Motioning for the others to follow, he paused in the darkness to watch as three figures descended the steps and entered a waiting carriage.

  "What do you see, Chase?" Luther slumped in the saddle, fatigued by the hard ride. Beside him, Jessie watched the carriage pull away and disappear into the blackness of the night.

  "The bishop, Montagnet, and our mayor-elect." Chase’s eyes narrowed. Lafourcade. Of course. His home on St. Charles was a showplace. Was it possible to hide a woman there and keep her hidden from the eyes of servants? "Follow me." Without bothering to keep to the shadows, Chase urged his mount forward.

  Leaving the horses tied, the three men circled the house, searching for any sign of Annalisa’s carriage and horse.

  "They must have abandoned it somewhere nearby," Chase whispered. "They couldn’t afford to be seen carrying a bleeding woman." To Luther he said, "Check the barn. I can’t believe they’d be bold enough to keep her carriage inside, but we are dealing with desperate men." And desperate men, he told himself grimly, can be driven to do foolish, dangerous things. Even kill blindly. "We’ll need that carriage to take her home if she’s unable to ride." The sound of his own words caused his heart to turn over. Please, God, he prayed. She had to be all right.

  To Jessie, he said, "You take that side of the house. I’ll take this side. Get in any way you can. I’ll take the upper floors, you take the lower. I want every room searched, every closet, every cupboard. We don’t leave until we have Annalisa.

  Jessie nodded and moved away, blending into the darkness.

  Finding a trellis, Chase climbed, pulling himself over wrought-iron balconies, until he was at the upper story of the house. Slipping through an open window, he disappeared inside.

  The attic room was a dormitory for the female servants. On narrow cots, half a dozen against each wall, their sleep was punctuated by soft sighs and muffled breaths. Tiptoeing between the beds, Chase studied each face, searching for that one familiar face that could make his heart resume its beating. His heart fell. She was not among them. When he had satisfied his curiosity, he slipped from the room and walked to the next floor.

  There were four bedrooms on either side of a long hallway. Beginning at the front of the house, Chase was determined to work his way carefully through each room. The first rooms proved easy. Lafourcade’s suite of rooms was empty, as well as guest rooms along one side of the hall. From the expertly tailored clothes hanging in the wardrobe, Chase decided that this must be where Montagnet was staying. When Chase opened the door to the first room across from Lafourcade’s, he was surprised to find a young boy, of perhaps twelve or thirteen, lying wide awake in the bed.

  The youth sat up in surprise. "Who are you?"

  The lie came easily. "A friend of Monsieur Lafourcade," Chase said in a whisper.

  The boy didn’t seem surprised. "He’s out for the evening. He didn’t tell me to expect guests."

  "He probably forgot. He has so much on his mind these days."

  The boy tensed. "Did you wish to wait for him in here?"

  Something about the boy’s eyes disturbed Chase. There was a lack of innocence there, a knowledge that seemed out of place in one so young.

  "No. I’ll wait downstairs. This is business."

  The boy visibly relaxed. "Good night, then."

  And then Chase knew. A knot of anger tightened in his midsection. He left the room quickly, before the boy could read the knowledge in his own eyes.

  As he searched the rest of the rooms, he found several more young boys asleep. Because their doors were locked, he had to use great care to break into each room. The windows, he noted, were secured with scrolled, wrought-iron bars.

  Creeping down the stairs, Chase felt his fist clench and unclench as he digested what he had just seen.

  There had been whispers about Edmond Lafourcade. Rumors. Decadence. Debauchery. Chase had thought them fabrications by his political opponents. But now he knew them to be the truth. Though Lafourcade frequented Hannah Elliott’s House of Pleasure to be with his friends and indulged in harmless games of chance that cost him little, his real fascination lay with very young boys. Since the war there were so many homeless lads. He offered them a life of luxury for a few short weeks or months. When Edmond tired of them, he simply disposed of them. There was no one to miss them, no one to search for them.

  Chase felt sweat dampen the back of his shirt. Faster. He had to move faster to find Annalisa. If she was in this house of evil, he had to save her. There was no time to lose.

  Reaching the main floor, he found Jessie standing in the shadows.

  "Nothing?"

  The black man shook his head. "There is a lower floor, used for a storage room. I searched it thoroughly. Nothing."

  "And below that?"

  Jessie shook his head. "There may be a cellar. I found no steps."

  "You’re certain?" Chase felt a surge of despair.

  Jessie nodded. "What about outside?"

  Chase brightened. "Of course."

  The two men hurried out the front door, closing it softly behind them. As they rounded the side of the house, they found Luther seated in Annalisa’s carriage.

  "Where was it?"

  "Just like you thought," Luther called. "In the barn with Lafourcade’s horses."

  "Then she’s here. Come on."

  As the men raced around the house, Jessie stopped. Kicking aside a tightly woven mat of reeds, he uncovered a wooden door.

  "Here. A cellar."

  The other two ran to his side as he lifted the wooden lid covering stone steps. Chase nearly flew down the steps into the darkness below, followed by Lut
her and Jessie. Against the far wall, a torch had burned dangerously low.

  He saw her lying motionless on a folded blanket. Dear God, she was so still. As he moved nearer, he noted her pale skin. In the flickering light, it looked like alabaster. Was she breathing? Had he detected a slight movement in her shoulder? Terrified of what he would find, determined to get it over with quickly, he spanned the short distance separating them. When he was almost beside her she leaped up and faced him. In her hand was a pointed stick broken from the leg of a rickety chair. Her hair, bloody and matted, streamed about her face and shoulders, giving her the appearance of a wild, demented soul. Her skin was as white as the nightshift that clung damply to her, outlining the slender, almost fragile body beneath.

  "Thank God you’re alive."

  Annalisa was so stunned to see Chase she couldn’t speak. Her mouth formed his name, but no words came out. As she continued to stand rigidly against the wall, her arm sagged slightly.

  Chase took a step closer. "It’s all right, love. You’re safe now."

  "Safe? You think I don’t know you’re one of them?"

  Shock, Chase thought, his mind racing. She was too shocked to make sense. As he reached for the stick, he felt her fingers frozen around it. Gently prying them, he dropped the stick. It fell to the dirt floor with a dull thud.

  The trembling began in her legs, then moved upward until her entire body was trembling uncontrollably. Tears welled in her eyes, and still she couldn’t speak.

  "I’ve brought Jessie and Luther with me," Chase said softly. Seeing her gaze shift to the other two figures, he took a step closer and saw the fear leap back into her eyes.

  "I . . ." She moistened her lips, then tried again. "... thought you were Montagnet. I was prepared to kill him. Or die trying."

  "I know, Annalisa. I know." Chase took another step, and then another, and then he was standing directly in front of her, holding out his arms to her.