“A woman telling someone he’s a useless lump of coal. A man grumbling, almost as if he’s in pain. I would be too if I had to listen to the harridan.” Her lovely features grew vacant, but she continued. “There may be a maid or a daughter—too old for our pair. She’s shouting about a shoe. There are two men talking to each other, possibly in a barn or stable since they mentioned oats and stall and I can hear a horse whicker.”
“That’s three men and two women,” Will counted. “No children?”
She frowned. “I hear what sounds like animals snuffling. But the clanging pots and pans are louder. It was quieter on the moors.”
“They may have gagged the girls, or they could have fallen asleep. Or the wagon could have gone elsewhere. I’ll take the dogs behind the buildings, see if they catch a scent. Will you feel safe with young Mapleton?”
“I don’t feel safe anywhere,” she said flatly. “It’s one of the hazards of my position.”
Aurelia knew she shouldn’t have said it the moment she saw Mr. Madden’s jaw tighten. She couldn’t take it back—she’d spoken the truth, after all. But now she’d laid all that guilt and worry on his shoulders. She wouldn’t blame him for leaving her behind.
So she took herself off after her escort and left Mr. Madden to do what he did best—talk to dogs.
Blessedly, the young man Lord Dare had chosen to guard her remained silent while they waited for a signal from Will or the groom he’d taken with him. Aurelia strained to hear what was happening. A man capable of stabbing a puppy was capable of anything. Will’s firearms didn’t make her feel any more confident.
The mare beneath her nickered and stomped restlessly. Without Mr. Madden to distract her, all the rustlings in the hedges as well as the distant calls of birds and cattle grew increasingly louder. She pressed her temples and tried to concentrate on Mr. Madden’s progress, but she could hear her escort’s breathing better. The wretched dog trainer was a vacuum of silence.
He’d had more than enough time to walk around a barn ten times over before she caught a sharp sound that was so alarming she almost toppled from the saddle. That had sounded like a gunshot.
She couldn’t bear it any longer. What was the point of existing if she could never do anything? Without consulting her companion, she kicked Bridey’s mare and trotted back to where she’d left Mr. Madden.
It wasn’t hard to discern the path he and the dogs had taken, but the rising discord in the distance caused her to throw caution to the wayside. She spurred her horse into a gallop across open field. Mr. Mapleton didn’t dare grab her reins to stop her. All he could do was follow.
She focused on the strangely muffled cries and sobs. They were almost indistinguishable beneath the harridan’s nagging and other noise from the farm house. The thumps and thuds and now, curses, seemed to be in the same direction as the sobs—past the barn where two field hands did their chores, oblivious to the distant noise only she could hear. She saw no sign of Mr. Madden, his horse, or the groom.
But those were definitely the dogs growling in the distance. Aurelia swallowed hard and slowed down as they reached the crest of a hill. The rocky slope descended into a shadowed dale. At the bottom was a crude stone hut built into the next hill.
Mr. Madden’s horse had been tied to a fence rail. The rifle was still tied to the saddle. The dogs leaped and scratched at the hut’s only door, growling but not barking. Normally, Bridey’s hounds howled at anything that moved. Was Mr. Madden mentally silencing them? Why?
Well, she knew the answer to that—to keep her from knowing he needed help. The fool man meant to do everything himself. If she knew any rude words, she’d use them.
She spurred the mare along the crest, looking for the groom who was supposed to act as messenger. Mr. Mapleton started to speak, but she held up her hand. Was that a groan?
The hut door crashed open and two men tumbled out. There was no mistaking Mr. Madden’s large form pounding his fist into a man wielding a wicked knife. The dogs finally started howling, and Aurelia kicked the mare into action, with Mr. Mapleton hot on her heels. It didn’t matter that she had no weapon or strength. Numbers had to count.
The clatter of hooves on stone caused both men to glance up. Mr. Madden was faster to react. Grabbing the knife-wielding arm, he twisted until the knife fell, then rolled his heavy weight on top of his opponent.
Aurelia could almost swear she heard bone snap before the man shrieked in agony. The dogs rushed to jump on the prostrate kidnapper while Will shoved up, grabbed the knife, and ran toward the hut.
“The window!” Aurelia cried, pointing. “There’s one going out the back.”
Mr. Mapleton spurred his horse around the hut while Will dashed inside. Aurelia rode to the open front door, heart thumping in terror. She still could not hear the girls clearly, even though they had to be hysterical.
She clenched her teeth as she rode past the man curled on the ground in agony. The hounds pranced on him as if he were prey, holding him down. They didn’t appear to be biting. She wished she could tell them to snap off the rogue’s nose.
The hut had no mounting block. Not seeing the groom, she disentangled her skirts and ungracefully slid down, thankful for the fashionable riding undergarments concealing her stockings.
Totally out of her element, she was practically shaking in her boots by the time she stumbled for the door. Mr. Madden still wasn’t making any noise, but whoever was inside the hut was howling as loudly as the dogs. As sheltered as she had been, she never went anywhere alone, but she could not just stand here waiting for someone to show up. She shoved at the door.
Inside, she had to let her eyes adjust. She could see a small window framing Mr. Madden at the rear. His bulk effectively blotted any light inside, but she decided he tangled with the scoundrel trying to escape and wasn’t in any danger. Neither man appeared to be wounded, so the gunshot must have gone astray. She hoped.
Attuning her hearing to the muffled sounds, and holding to the wall for guidance in the gloomy interior, she edged toward what might be a wardrobe. With the dogs baying, one kidnapper cursing and crying, Mr. Mapleton shouting outside, and what was apparently a second kidnapper screaming in fury, it was a wonder she didn’t sink to the floor or run for the hills. She trembled all over, but she clenched her teeth and held her course.
The wardrobe was locked. An ornate iron bolt held two wooden doors together. If she had an axe. . . she might split heads or chop off a hand. She needed a key.
Mr. Madden apparently won the battle of the window. Clasping the back of the man’s coat, he tugged him back inside and flung him toward the center of the dirt floor. Now that he wasn’t blocking the light, Aurelia could discern a ramshackle table and chairs before a crude hearth. The kidnapper hit one of the chairs, toppling it. Silver gleamed in his hand. She shrieked in horror.
With the muffled cries of two little girls ringing in her ears, she couldn’t think, only act. She grabbed the remaining chair and slammed it down on the knife-wielding hand of the kidnapper. He went down again in a cry of pain and fury, and the weapon flew into a dark corner. Before he could rise again, Will stomped his big boot on the arm she’d smashed. The stranger screamed like a baby.
“The key,” Aurelia shouted at Will when he bent to grab the man’s shirtfront.
Shooting her what appeared to be an angry look in the dim light, he lifted the struggling man up, slammed him the against a wall, and rifled through his coat pocket.
Having an awful thought, Aurelia raced out the front door just in time to see the first man run for the hills, holding his broken arm against his chest, the dogs at his heels. There wasn’t any way she could gain her saddle fast enough. “Stop him!” she shouted.
To her amazement, the dogs instantly raced after the escaping rogue, bringing him down, face first into a pile of rocks. Mr. Mapleton was a little slower reaching him since he’d been on the other side of the hut.
“Look for a key,” she called to him.
&nbs
p; “The groom needs help,” her escort shouted. “He’s around back.”
Grown men had to take care of themselves, Aurelia decided, returning inside the dark hut. The children came first.
Mr. Madden was trussing the tall, lanky kidnapper with his neckcloth. “I searched his pockets,” he told her. “No key.”
His captive began to curse, and in one effortless movement, Mr. Madden cuffed his jaw with a big fist. The man slumped in his grip. Tightening the binding of his linen around the villain’s wrists, he let him drop to the floor. He stood there in in open shirt, looking like a woodcutter more than a gentleman.
He’d routed two kidnappers without killing himself or them. She didn’t know whether to be astounded or faint. “I don’t know if Mr. Mapleton needs help, and he said the groom is hurt,” Aurelia said, standing there in shock, feeling helpless.
Will glanced out the door. “Mapleton is doing fine. The groom had the breath knocked out of him. He’s chasing his horse now.” He gestured for her to move away from the wardrobe. “Stand aside.”
Bracing himself, he slammed his shoulder against the old wardrobe. The wood cracked.
The muffled cries on the other side escalated. Oddly, Aurelia couldn’t distinguish a single word, but she knew the girls were in there. She looked around for a fireplace poker or anything that might help but the hut had apparently not been lived in for years.
She glanced out to see if Mr. Mapleton might have the key yet, but he had apparently fetched a rope from one of the horses and was tying up the injured wretch. She assumed that meant no key. Surely there had to have been a key to lock the door.
With nowhere better to look, she start searching the stones surrounding the hearth. Mr. Madden slammed into the door again. The crack widened.
“Damned sturdy chest,” he muttered, rubbing his shoulder.
“Wood rot hasn’t set in. Do you think there’s a third man who has the key?” she asked.
“Let’s hope not.” Will favored her with a disgruntled look at the thought and returned to pounding the door with his shoulder.
She supposed he was upset that she’d disobeyed his orders, but she didn’t care. She might be shivering in her boots, but she was done being helpless. Aurelia tugged at stones, until one fell loose and tumbled from the hearth. She cried out her surprise, then searched the opening with her gloved hand. “I found it. Oldest trick in the world.”
Rubbing his shoulder, Mr. Madden stood aside so she could do the honors. She studied the ornate iron lock in dismay. There was no keyhole.
The girls were whimpering in terror. Mr. Madden muttered a litany of curses beneath his breath.
Feeling dwarfed next to his muscled bulk, Aurelia took a deep breath and shouted loudly enough she hoped even Rose could hear. “It’s just me, girls, we’re looking for a lock. You’ll be out soon.”
Recalling an intricately carved medical cabinet in her father’s study where the keyhole had been hidden behind a sliding bolt, she removed her glove and began pushing the carving, hoping for movement. “There!” she said in satisfaction as the metal gave way.
The bolt slid to one side, revealing the keyhole. Biting her bottom lip, she poked the key at it until she finally found the right position and it slid all the way in. The lock was rusted and wouldn’t turn.
Impatiently, Mr. Madden grabbed it, shoved hard, twisted even harder, and broke through the obstruction. The door fell open. Aurelia breathed a sigh of relief—until she realized the wardrobe was empty, and she panicked.
“We need light,” Mr. Madden said, not sounding as hysterical as she felt.
His assurance gave her time to take a deep breath. “They’re in there. I know they are.” With no fire and no candle, Aurelia had no means of creating light. Instead, she stepped inside the narrow, dark closet and began slamming her hands against the back panel, until it moved. She grasped the edge and tugged, nearly falling back out the door in the process.
Mr. Madden caught her waist and lifted her free. His scent of male sweat and bay rum caused her to close her eyes and simply inhale while she tried to quiet the jumble in her mind. He held her a moment too long, as if he might be enjoying the moment too. She’d known it. He’d enjoyed their kiss. The wretched man simply wouldn’t admit to having feelings.
“Let me remove the backing,” he murmured near her ear, still holding her.
She could hear the children. They were safe, she thought, just trapped.
She prayed that she might have arrived in time to be useful.
Not allowing herself to feel jubilant yet, she steadied herself on Mr. Madden’s big body, enjoying the masculine scent of his skin. Hearing the pounding of his heart mixed with the muffled cries of the children, Aurelia backed off. The children needed him now. She had to be strong on her own.
While Will ripped at the wardrobe panel, Mr. Mapleton returned, dragging the wretch with the broken arm, who had mercifully passed out. He threw his prisoner down with the other and helped to lift the panel clear of the wardrobe doors. The cries were less muffled now—two of them, she felt certain.
The men were too large to look into the small dark hole behind the panel. Aurelia had to get down on her hands and knees and crawl into the opening to pull the girls free. “Root cellar,” she called, rejoicing as she found Rose’s small foot and helped her wiggle out. Rose’s arms were bound and her mouth gagged. Tears streaked her dirty cheeks, but her eyes widened in recognition and relief, causing Aurelia to finally weep. She’d done it! This time, she’d arrived in time to help save the girls. She wasn’t utterly useless.
Tears of joy rolled down her cheeks.
Will lifted Rose out so Aurelia could reach Emma, who had been similarly treated. She, too, was tear-stained but wide-eyed as Aurelia handed her over for the men to free their bonds.
Rose flung her arms around Aurelia’s legs the instant she was free. She had to kneel down before she toppled. Crying in her jumbled words, Rose buried her face in Aurelia’s shoulder and wouldn’t let go. She hugged and rocked the child, glancing helplessly to Will, who had his arms full of weeping four-year old.
“Bbbddd mmmnnn,” Rose kept repeating. Then finally catching sight of the bound men on the floor, she shoved free of Aurelia’s arms and ran over to kick one on the thigh. “Bbbbbdddd, bbbdddd.”
The man groaned and tried to kick her away. Rose fled back to Aurelia’s arms.
Holding Rose’s sturdy body, watching Emma clinging to Will, Aurelia thought she’d never been so happy in her life.
Unfazed by Will’s large size, Emma was covering his bristly face with kisses. He didn’t look the least uncomfortable with an urchin clinging to him. He’d obviously rescued people before, Aurelia realized. This was what he did—saved people. It must be amazing to hold the power of life and death in one’s hands.
“What should we do with the rogues, sir?” Mr. Mapleton asked.
“Question them,” Will answered curtly. “Once the groom catches his horse, the two of you can tie the scoundrels to your saddles and lead them towards the abbey. We’ll ride ahead with the children and send men back to meet you.”
“Shouldn’t we question the farmer?” Aurelia asked, setting Rose on her feet and taking her by the hand.
“I’ll do that, if I might,” Mr. Mapleton said. “I know Roger. I don’t think he was involved. I’ll leave these two with the groom and just go round and ask about the tenants.”
Will looked to Aurelia—she had to think of him as Will now. She felt closer to him than to her own father. She even knew what he was asking with his look.
“I think he’s right,” she told him. “Nothing I’ve heard says otherwise, and the lot of you made enough noise to wake the dead.” She would tell him that the farmer was currently complaining about barking dogs and about to come over the hill with a pitchfork, but that would set tongues to wagging later.
Will inclined his head in acceptance. “Then we’ll see how well you balance on a sidesaddle with a six-year old on
your lap.”
Since Rose refused to free her grip on Aurelia, that seemed the best solution. Remembering the bundle of buns she’d tucked into his capacious pocket, she reached in as if she had every right to be so familiar with his person. The bundle was crushed, but she opened up the linen to offer the girls food. They fell on it as if starved.
“Big breakfast for everyone when we reach the abbey,” Aurelia said, daringly winking at the man who had forsaken his meal for two little girls.
She thought Will’s rough jaw might actually have reddened just a little. But a moment later, he swung Emma to his shoulders and jogged out. “You said the magic words. C’mon, girls, let’s see if we can race the lady home.”
How easy it would be to love a man who understood children! After their horrifying experience, the girls needed reassurance that life would return to the normality of breakfast and adults who would take care of them. Aurelia wiped Rose’s face with her handkerchief and led her out to the horses, feeling fulfilled for the first time in forever.
Chapter 12
Once back at the abbey, Will left the women to fuss over the girls. He needed to distance himself from Lady Aurelia and the hug she’d shared and the bold wink that had nearly knocked him off his feet. The best way to return his boots to the ground was to take a decidedly grim Pascoe back down the road to meet the culprits. Dealing with challenges was his reality, not the feminine enticement of tears and winks and hugs. The lady would melt his spine to putty and expose his worst instincts.
While he waited for Pascoe to finish hugging Emma and his wife, Will tested one of the scent identifiers he’d thoughtlessly squirreled away in his pocket a couple of days ago. He offered both hounds a whiff of the drunken lord’s handkerchief. Linking his mind, he couldn’t scent any recognition in theirs. That didn’t rule anyone out. It just didn’t identify anyone. He fed the hounds extra treats and returned to his horse when Pascoe stomped out, looking like court executioner. They rode silently in the direction of the lane where Will had left Dare’s men with the injured scoundrels.
No Perfect Magic Page 13