by Jamie Carie
“And yours are?” Kendra demanded, twisting from his tight hold.
“Actually, I believe they are. We will be married immediately. I have it all planned.” He sounded genuine in his excitement about the prospect. “After tonight you will be all mine.”
Kendra gasped as his meaning sunk in. “You are deranged if you think I would ever marry you.” She struggled against the hold on her arm. “Let me go.”
“I’m afraid you will have little choice in the matter. We are to be married by the magistrate, a, er, friend of mine, and then off to a pleasant inn for the consummation.”
“I will never agree to wed you. You can’t force me to say vows and no magistrate would condone to marry us without my cooperation.”
Martin chuckled. “This one will, I’m afraid. Let us just say that he has a penchant for gambling and now owes me a great sum of money. He gladly agreed to perform the ceremony without your willing participation in exchange for the removal of his debts.”
Kendra shook her head in a desperate attempt not to believe it. “Why do this? I’ll not make you a good wife. I don’t love you. I loathe you.”
He leaned into her face so that his breath wafted over her. “I have every confidence that you will learn to desire me. You’re such a . . . bright girl.”
Kendra pressed into the cruel pressure of his arm around her back. “You will regret this, let me assure you. Unhand me!”
Martin released her in a sudden move that caused her to stumble and fall back on the bed. She saw him raise his hand in the air but it was too fast to stop. She remained frozen, unable to move as he slapped her across the cheek. “Don’t fight me, my lady. I will break you to my harness if need be, but I must confess I had hoped you would come willingly. It will be so much more enjoyable for both of us if you do.” He bowed, suddenly polite, and tipped his hat toward her. “Think about it.” Kendra watched in stunned silence as he walked from the room, shut the door, and slammed the bolt into place with a loud click.
Kendra crumpled into a little ball, trying to hold back the tears. Her cheek throbbed, the inside raw against her teeth. Oh no! Would a magistrate really marry her without her consent? How could that be legally binding?
She had to escape. There must be a way, but how?
The scraping of the door being opened sounded a few moments later. Kendra sat up as a serving girl made her way into the room. Shutting the door behind her, she turned and gave Kendra a broad, gaping smile. “I’m Maybelle,” she began. When she saw Kendra’s face she clucked her tongue. “Ya must ‘ave done somethin’ purty bad for Martin to hit ya like that, miss. I ain’t never seen him hit a woman before.”
Kendra stared at the woman, shocked further by her speech. Would she help her if she knew what Martin was planning? “Please, I only refused to marry him.” Kendra scooted to the side of the bed and stood up. “He’s holding me captive here. Please, help me escape!”
Maybelle chuckled. “Martin said ya was given to theatrics and that ya can’t help yourself. Now don’t be givin’ Maybelle any trouble, ya hear. Martin wants ya cleaned up and dressed in this here weddin’ gown for your upcoming nuptials.” She opened the bag she was carrying and pulled out a garish-looking gown.
Kendra took one look at the dress and wailed. This couldn’t be happening. Why would he bother to buy her a dress when this wedding was such a farce? Kendra shook her head. “I won’t wear it. Take it back down to him and throw it in his face or I swear I will tear it into a million pieces.”
A look of momentary shock passed over Maybelle’s face and then her eyebrows drew together in a stubborn, angry way. “Ya listen here, miss high and mighty. Any girl would be lucky to have Martin as a husband. Girls four counties over and more have been tryin’ to get their hands on him for years. Ya needs to stop these hoity-toity acts of yers and be thankful.”
Kendra curled toward her middle in frustration. “Maybelle, listen to me. Whatever he told you was a lie. He has abducted me and is planning to force me to marry him. I’m . . . I’m in love with someone else. Please, I beg you, you have to help me escape.”
Maybelle took in her pleading eyes and shook her head again. “Enough of this, miss. Let’s get you ready for the magistrate. He’ll be here within the hour and you’ll be wantin’ to look yer best for yer own weddin’.”
Kendra gave up on Maybelle’s assistance. “I don’t care what you believe. Just take the dress back to him and tell him I won’t wear it because I’m not going to marry him. Tell him that. Now go!” Kendra advanced as she spoke, her voice getting louder and louder.
Maybelle’s eyes grew wide as she backed away, clutching the dress to her ample bosom.
Kendra watched with some satisfaction as the servant rushed from the room. Unfortunately, she didn’t forget to latch the door.
Not more than five minutes later Martin stormed into the room. His face was red with rage, his hands balled into fists. Kendra backed away but he caught her and pushed her back on the bed. Placing both hands on either side of her, he leaned into her face and ground out the words. “If you don’t put that dress on right now, I will strip you down and put it on myself.”
“Please, leave me be.” Tears filled her eyes.
“I had thought to give you Maybelle’s assistance getting dressed but if you prefer mine, I will be happy to oblige.”
His head descended toward hers with the look of a hungry tiger and she knew she had no choice. Jerking to the side before his mouth touched her lips she rasped out, “Alright, I’ll wear it, but only if you cut these ropes from around my wrists.”
Martin leaned back and considered her. “Making demands already, are we? Very well, Lady Kendra. As a testament to my good nature I will accommodate you. If you will stand up, I’ll unbind you.”
Kendra held out her arms. The touch of his hands on her wrists made her shudder. As soon as her hands were free she walked across the room, as far from him as possible, and shook her arms in an effort to restore proper circulation.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes with the magistrate. You had better be ready.”
Chapter Twenty
Dorian came to with a jerk and a groan. He sat up, dizzy, disoriented, but with a sense of panic connecting the images and thoughts flashing through his mind. The garden, someone had hit him. Kendra! Where was she?
He reached up and probed into his hair at the place of most pain. A giant, throbbing lump and a gash as long as his finger. His hand came away sticky with blood. Rising from the ground he searched the garden, calling out for Kendra. When his search proved futile he came to the conclusion that whoever had bludgeoned him over the head had abducted her. But who would have taken her? And why? Whoever it was, they had known Kendra was at the Colburn house.
Dorian took off his neck cloth, wadded it into a ball, and pressed it against the bleeding gash on his head. He hurried back to the house, yelling orders to the servants as he passed them. “Locate John and have our horses saddled! Lanterns, food, and water. Millicent”—he nodded to the wide-eyed maid—“if you would be so good as to hurry!”
She jumped to obey. “But yer head is bleedin’ like a sieve, sir. Shouldn’t I fetch your mother?”
With a sigh, he nodded. He did feel a bit dizzy. “Yes, yes and some bandages and a bowl of warm water.” She turned to go. “And a needle and thread,” he shouted after her. His mother was an old hand at stitching up wounds. Everyone for miles around called on her for doctoring and she would no doubt demand to stitch him up before he began the search.
It didn’t take long for the news to travel throughout the house party. Amelia collapsed into a chair and burst into tears when she heard that her niece had been taken. Dorian’s sisters rushed to comfort her with patting hands, soothing words, and a ready bottle of hartshorn. Dorian gritted his teeth and sat under his mother’s ministrations.
John looked on, wincing every time the needle pierced Dorian’s flesh.
“You say you were sitting on the bench and h
eard a rustling from the bushes behind you?” Clayton asked.
“Yes. Before I had time to turn around I was hit. I must have blacked out. I don’t remember anything after that, just waking up with this headache.”
“I’ve questioned the other guests. No one has seen anyone suspicious and everyone is accounted for,” John said. “We must make haste before the trail grows cold.”
Dorian shot him a dark look. As if he didn’t know that they were wasting precious time. But there was no use going off ill prepared and leaving a trail of blood in their wake.
“It’s going to be difficult to track her in the dark,” John asserted with a frown.
“We’ll have to spread out. I’ve gathered every able-bodied man in the stable yard. We’ll find her.”
His mother tied off the thread and Dorian stood. The world started to whirl around him and darkness crept into the corners of his vision. “Blast this dizziness,” he murmured, leaning down to regain his equilibrium. John was at his side in a moment. “Easy, old man. It won’t do to pass out on us again.” He tried to take his arm but Dorian brushed him off.
“I’m fine.”
“Well, your face is as white as a ghost’s.”
“I’m fine, I say. Let us be gone.”
“Wait!” Amelia stood up, her face splotchy with tears. “I–I think I know who took her.”
Dorian crossed the room to stand in front of her, his brows together in a scowl. “Does Franklin have something to do with this?”
She nodded, her eyes full of fear and shame. “He and Martin Saunderson. They’ve been planning this for weeks. I overheard them talking before we came. I didn’t know they meant to take her here. I thought Martin would show up and keep her attention away from you, but I didn’t know they meant to actually kidnap her!”
“Where, Amelia? Think back to the conversation. Did they mention a place?”
She nodded. “Hanover. Martin said he knew of an inn there. I think he means to force her into marriage.” Her bottom lip began to quiver.
“You’ve done the right thing, Amelia. Thank you. We won’t let them get away with this.”
Dorian and John headed out to their horses. It was decided that the other men would fan out as planned, just in case Amelia was wrong.
They followed a set of carriage tracks on the road north toward Hanover, riding fast and hard. By morning they’d reached the little village.
Please God let her be here. He didn’t know why or how, but he felt like God was helping them and as grateful as he was, it made him uncomfortable too. It made God alive and personal. It made Him care . . . and Dorian just wasn’t sure he really believed that. God hadn’t cared enough to stop Molly. Why care now? Why with Kendra?
The town was small—a mercantile, a boarding house, a couple of taverns, a livery, a blacksmith, a constable’s office, a church, and a few other small, scattered establishments. They headed toward the livery to feed and water their horses. A tall youth ran out to assist them.
“Sir, what a fine horse! Might I brush him down?”
Dorian clapped the lad on the shoulder and nodded. He had ridden Trista, one of the Andalusian mares, and had begun to regret it. The beautiful gray attracted too much attention as evident by this starry-eyed youth. Dorian dug some coins from his pocket and passed them to the young man. “Take good care of them both and keep them out of sight, will you?”
He looked up wide-eyed. “Yes, sir.”
“What’s your name, boy?”
“Stephen Fowler.”
“Your father own this place?”
“Yes, sir. My ma is fixin’ to have a baby and he stayed with her this morning. I’m watching over the livery.”
“You know horses? Been doing this awhile?”
“Oh yes, sir. Been around horses since I could walk. I’ve a natural way with ’em, I’m told. You can trust me to take good care of these fine animals.”
“Glad to hear it.”
John passed over the reins of his mare. “Where’s the inn around here?”
Stephen pointed toward a weathered plank building. “Aunt Judy’s Boarding House. She serves breakfast if you’re lookin’ for a meal. She usually has plenty.”
As they walked toward the boarding house Dorian made their plan. “As much as I would like to bust in, guns blazing, let’s sit down for breakfast, ask questions, and have a look around the place.”
John patted his stomach. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
Minutes later they were seated near a window with a good view of the street, drinking strong coffee and waiting for their promised apple tansy, fried eggs, and pork.
“How’s the head feeling?” John tipped back his chair and looked at Dorian over the rim of his coffee cup.
“Feeling like someone bludgeoned me with a hammer.” Dorian’s tone was dry. He looked out the window at the townsfolk passing by and clenched his teeth together. “John, what if she’s not here? What if we can’t find her? Amelia isn’t exactly an excellent source. We have so little to go on. I . . .”
“You love her, don’t you?” John asked in a quiet voice.
Dorian jerked his head up to look at his friend. “What?”
“You’ve been like a man possessed since you clapped eyes on her on England’s shore. Admit it to me, at least.”
Dorian stared at John for a long moment, anger and frustration rising to heat his face. “I don’t want to love her.”
John chuckled. “Not what you thought it would feel like, is it? You’d think falling in love would feel good, but most of the time it feels like your guts are all tied up in knots. It’s downright painful at times.”
The arrival of their breakfast stopped the conversation. The serving girl set their plates in front of each of them and gave them a broad smile. “You’ll be wantin’ some more coffee, I suspect. Goodness gracious, but this town is full of folks lately. What with the doc in town for Mrs. Fowler’s baby and that new couple, they’re so elegant and mysterious! And now two handsome gents like you. I ain’t ever seen Aunt Judy’s so busy.”
Dorian’s head snapped up to look at the girl. “An elegant couple, you say? We’re looking for someone. A young woman with blonde hair. She was wearing a blue gown. She has an English accent and goes by Lady Kendra Townsend?”
The girl nodded, wide-eyed. “Oh, yes sir. I didn’t see her come in, but I heard Maybelle, the other serving girl here, talking about her. Maybelle took a tray to her room this morning. She came in with a man who is near famous in these parts.”
“What’s his name?”
“He’s a gambler and so handsome.” She patted her chest. “Martin Saunderson. You heard of him?”
“Yes, I have.” So Amelia had been right. Thank God.
“Would you like me to go and fetch him for you?”
Dorian leaned in and murmured in a low voice. “No thank you, miss. What’s your name?”
“Marie, sir.”
“Marie, Martin Saunderson is very dangerous. Can you show us to the room where the lady is staying? I need to see that she is safe.”
Marie edged closer, eyes wide as saucers. “You think she’s in some sort of trouble with him?”
“Yes, I do. Will you help us?”
“Oh, sir! You’re making me afraid, but I reckon I could sneak the two of you up the back stairs. Go on outside, to the back of the building. I’ll let you in that door.”
John took a giant bite of his apple tansy as he stood, gazing down at his food with a look of longing. “Can you wrap this up for later?”
Dorian frowned at him and tossed down the appropriate coins, handing an extra one to Marie.
“Come on, John. I believe the good Lord is rolling out the carpet with His help and I aim to take Him up on it. There will be time for breakfast later.”
Kendra stood, knees locked and shoulders back, chin up and jaw clenched, wearing the awful dress and waiting for the sound of the bolt on the door to slide open. She shook with fear and anger but de
termined not to show it. Martin must find her strong and determined. When he entered with the magistrate they must both find her steadfast and resolute against them. No tears. Resolute. It was all she had left.
She waited for long moments, breathing so shallow that she felt faint. Finally, the door scraped open. A tall man with slumped shoulders and wearing all black walked in ahead of Martin. He was perhaps thirty, brown nondescript hair, a long face and somber eyes. His pinched face appeared afraid and sad and . . . guilty. His gaze darted from her eyes to the floor as Martin pushed him further into the room. He bowed, a short action of head and shoulders, his gaze lingering on her bruised cheek. Martin must have noticed it as he stepped up to he and grasped her elbow with a tight squeeze, pulling her arm against his chest, and smiled down at her. He brushed his hand against the throbbing cheek. “So clumsy, that fall.” He looked at the magistrate. “She had a small accident, but will be fine in a day or two. Isn’t that right, my dear?” Martin raised his eyebrows and dared Kendra to defy him.
The memory of him striking her was like another blow. She exhaled, lips trembling as she looked from Martin to the magistrate, mute, knowing that anything she said would be turned against her.
“Shy, are we?” Martin propelled her toward the magistrate in the center of the room. “A bride’s nerves, you know. Let us get on with it.”
The magistrate nodded his head with a bewildered expression and opened the leather-bound book in his hands.
Martin secured Kendra to his side with a strong arm and rasped into her ear, “It doesn’t matter if you speak or not, we will be wed.”
Kendra pretended not to hear as she stared at an ugly brown stain on the wall in front of her.
The magistrate paged through his book with shaking fingers and then launched into a lengthy speech about marriage. He did not once look at Kendra.
Martin grew impatient, fidgeting beside her. “Yes, yes, get to the vows, man. We haven’t got all day.”
