What had frightened her was his threat of her aunt being harmed. The question was, should she escape? She had seen a number of cottages when they arrived, but now at night she doubted the vision of the guards would be adequate. If her assumption was correct, she could escape to the nearest town where she could seek help.
Yet, what if she was caught? Would he immediately send word to have her aunt killed?
She stopped her pacing and glanced around the room. She did not want to spend another moment here, that much she knew. Escape would be worth the risk, for if he wished to receive money from Aunt Eleanor, he could not have her killed outright. The threat could remain, of course, but his means of seeing the ransom paid would be gone, and he would receive nothing. Yes, it was most certainly worth the risk.
Placing two pillows beneath the blanket, she arranged them just so in order to make it appear as if she were sleeping, something Juliet had taught her. The window made a loud groan as she pushed it up, and she stopped to listen for any sign that the man in the other room had heard. She was uncertain how long she listened, but detecting no sound, she pushed the window until it was wide enough to crawl through.
She lifted her leg over the sill and stopped, her heart racing. “Do not be frightened,” she whispered to herself. “Imagine that Juliet is with you and you are sneaking out of Scarlett Hall.”
Taking a deep breath, she lowered herself out the window and squatted low to the ground. The moon gave the nearby fields an eerie glow, and she squinted as she looked toward one of the neighboring cottages. No lights glowed in the windows.
“They cannot see me,” she assured herself. Keeping low, she moved across the drive, hoping her steps were not as loud as they sounded to her ear. Then she stopped. She had forgotten to close the window! If he were to wake and find it open, would he notice sooner that she was missing?
“It is too late now,” she said and continued her movements.
At the end of the drive, she stopped and glanced around. She was uncertain where the closest village was located, and if what Edward had said, the cottages that surrounded them were filled with guards. If she headed left, returning in the direction from which they had come, she did not recall any villages for a least two hours. And that was by carriage. Therefore, she decided to go right.
She had not gone far when a gruff voice came to her ear.
“What are you doing out here alone?”
Annabel thought her heart would jump from her throat when a man as tall as Edward and nearly as wide appeared from behind a bush. He was in simple shirtsleeves and his breeches were covered in a variety of patches.
“I…I was just…” Fear held her tongue hostage, and she wondered if she would faint.
“You know it’s dangerous for a lady to be out and about alone, don’t ya?” The man’s breath reeked of spirits, making her stomach roil all the more.
She nodded, and although she wanted to leave, any strength she had managed to muster was now gone. “I…I am sorry.”
The man nodded and then sighed. “It’s the way of you young girls these days wanting to escape into the night. You want to see what lies beyond. I can assure you that night is not your friend, no sir, and it’s definitely not a time you should be out, is it?”
“N-no, sir,” she stammered, her breathing choked by a fear so great she worried it would send her tumbling to the ground right there. Then a thought came to her. She could attempt to appease the man in some way. “If I were to give you a small kiss on the cheek, will you say nothing about me being out?”
“A kiss?” the man said as he rubbed his chin. “I won’t say no to a kiss.”
She raised herself onto her toes and touched his cheek with her lips. The stubble on his chin tickled.
He gave her a wide grin. “I won’t say a word, miss.”
“Thank you, sir.” She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment. “Do you promise?”
“I do,” he said, placing his hand over his heart. “It’s not every day a man gets a kiss like that.”
Thankful for her ability at quick thinking, Annabel turned and hurried back to the cottage. With every step, she scolded herself for making an attempt at escape. It was foolish on her part, for she had no idea where she was. And she feared she would be required to give away more kisses if she tried such a thing again.
Crawling back through the open window—she was glad she had left it open after all—she pulled it closed once more. This time, the noise it made sent her scurrying to the bed and pushing one of the pillows aside as she pulled one under her head. She did not even bother covering herself with the blanket. No sooner had she laid her head on the pillow than the door swung open and Edward stormed into the room.
“What was that noise?” he demanded, his voice slurred to the point she could barely make out the words.
“I wanted fresh air,” she said. “However, when I opened the window, I thought perhaps you would be angry at me, so I closed it.
Edward sighed. “I do not care if you wish it to be open, but next time…” He squinted. “Why are you wearing your boots?”
Annabel looked down and cringed. “I…”
“You were attempting an escape!”
Panic rose inside her. “No!” She sat up and tried to match his glare. “I…” What lie could she possibly tell that he would accept? For some reason, the image of Robert Mullens, the cobbler, came to mind. “I was afraid he will escape from prison and find me.”
“Who?”
“One of the men who forced a kiss on me,” she said. “He was sent to prison, but I fear he will one day come after me. Therefore, I sleep in my boots in case I must kick him.” She batted her eyelashes, another trick she had learned from Juliet, and relief washed over her when the anger in his eyes dissipated.
“I can assure you that he will not find you here,” the man said. “As for now, you are in my care and no harm will come to you.”
He turned and left the room, and Annabel heaved a sigh. Yet, his words confused her. No harm will come to her? Yet he was the one who had taken her away. What type of man he truly was remained uncertain, but one surety was that the guards outside would make any escape possible.
At least any time soon.
Chapter Thirteen
Annabel lay in bed the following morning, eyes filled with sleepiness. She had not slept well the night before and woke contemplating her life thus far. Not that she wished to dwell on what was bad in life, for she did make every attempt to keep her thoughts on the good. However, in her current situation—and with nothing else on which to focus—she could not help but review what life had dealt her.
One question that entered her mind was, how was it her parents did not want her? She was left behind at every turn, and although they provided her with clothes, food, and a place to lay her head, it was their time she coveted. If she had not known Aunt Eleanor and her love for her children, Annabel would have thought her life normal. Yet, to see her cousins loved by their parents intensified the lack of caring her parents had for her.
Another question she contemplated was why men who showed interest in her did so in an attempt to only steal a kiss. Was it wrong of her to expect a bit of decency from those who showed favor for her? Had she, herself, done something to influence such behavior? Not once could she recall indicating a desire to be mistreated in such a way, nor had she ever given the slightest inclination of said desire.
Then came this man, this handsome man for whom she had risked punishment by sneaking out of the house in order to look at the stars, a man who pretended to have an interest in her only as a means to line his pockets.
Sighing, she thought of Lord Lockwood, a man who had been as nervous as she. Apparently, he had been the right choice for her, but like many choices in life, Annabel had misjudged and thus put her in her current situation.
Oh, she did not mean to feel sorry for herself. The fact of the matter was she considered these questions objectively. One should be allowed to ask such th
ings, as long as she did not spend her time bemoaning what she did not have or the bad choices she had made. Not too much, that is. No, a gloomy outlook would not get her rescued, nor would it save her life. If she was meant to die in this cottage, she would not do so with tears in her eyes.
She sat up in bed and attempted to smooth wrinkles from her dress. She had slept in it rather than her shift, first because of her attempt to escape, but after because of her fear the man in the other room would take it upon himself to join her in the bed and take advantage of her. He could say he would not do such a thing all he liked, but she did not believe him for a moment.
One thing was certain, she would not attempt to escape again, for it would only put her aunt’s life in danger. Aunt Eleanor had always treated her as one of her own children, and Annabel refused to put the woman in harm’s way to save her own skin. What sort of payment for her aunt’s kindness would that be? No, she would remain and try to make the best of the situation. When the day came when Edward collected his money, she would not put up a fight when he decided to kill her. She had no delusion that he would set her free.
Juliet had once told her of a woman who was kidnapped and held for ransom. In the end, the woman had been returned to her family without incident. That, however, had been a tale she was certain, and what Annabel was experiencing was not.
In the midst of all these thoughts, her aunt’s voice spoke to her. “You do have confidence, my dear,” her aunt had said. “And it is a great strength inside you. My father once told me that it is something on which one must call in times of trouble.”
Trouble had indeed risen, and she had a choice. She could either collapse in self-pity or she could summon that strength of which her aunt had spoken.
Rising from the bed, she went to the chair and placed a hand on the dresses. They were not of the fine fabrics of which she was accustomed, but they were clean despite their drab coloring and course texture. She at least had her shift to place beneath them.
One dress, however, was different from the others. Light blue in color, it was made of a softer linen and would be much more comfortable. Yet, as she looked down at the dress she wore, she decided to remain wearing it, for it reminded her of home.
The pitcher held cool water, and she splashed some into the bowl and washed her face. In the drawer of the stand, she found a brush and ran it through her hair. There was no mirror, but she managed to pull her hair back and tie it with a kerchief. Satisfied that she looked decent enough for a rogue, she left the room.
Edward lay sprawled on the sofa, one leg hanging off the side and his chest rising and falling beneath the blanket. How innocent he appeared as he slept. Well, he certainly was not that! In fact, he was a horrible man. All she could feel for him was pity.
His eyes blinked open and then he looked up at her in alarm. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long,” she replied, undaunted by his tone. “I was uncertain what you wished me to do once I woke.”
He pulled himself to a sitting position and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He wore only his shirtsleeves and breeches, and Annabel realized how strong the man truly was. His chest was broad and the muscles beneath the shirt were taut. Such muscles came from a man who labored and not from a man who allowed servants to do his bidding.
“Why do you look at me in judgment?” he asked.
She did not realize she had been staring at him. Did he believe himself above judgment, especially after what he had done? To have him ask such a question nearly made her laugh. Nearly. She doubted he would see the humor in what he was asking, although she was unsure if she did despite her desire to laugh.
“I am doing no such thing,” she replied.
“And yet you stare at me like I am some sort of spectacle. Why?”
She shrugged. “I do not know.”
He stood and walked to her, and she had to fight the wish to run away. Had he changed his mind and now wished to ravage her?”
“I suppose you have no idea how to cook or prepare any sort of food, do you?”
She shook her head.
“What about tea?”
Her cheeks burned. “No. I have never been expected to do such things.”
Edward shook his head. “It was a foolish question. Sit down and I will prepare something for us to break our fast.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
His glare made her hurry to the sofa. “I am not being kind,” he retorted before stomping off toward the area designated as the kitchen.
As she waited, she took in her sparse surroundings. Then her eyes fell on the bookcase, and she smiled. Six leather-bound tomes were stacked one atop the other on the top shelf, and she took one and flipped through the pages.
“There is poetry here!” she said, surprised that a kidnapper would have such material for reading. “Perhaps later we can read it together.”
He laughed. “You, Miss Annabel, are many things, but I have never met a girl as naive as you.”
The words prickled, but she pushed them aside. Honey and flies and all that. “You do not enjoy poetry?”
Edward slammed down a wooden plate, hurried over to her, and plucked the book from her hands. “I do not like poetry. Have you not figured this out? All that I told you about myself was a lie. I am not Spanish, nor have I served any king. I care not for stars nor orphans. And I certainly do not care about you!” He stared at the book for a moment before returning it to her. Or rather he nearly threw it at her.
“I am sorry for upsetting you,” she said as she pulled the book close to her breast and sank deeper into the couch.
“This is not an excursion or a holiday,” he snapped. “You are being held for ransom. That means you are a captive, and I am your captor. We are not friends. We are not even acquaintances. We are nothing to one another. Do I make myself clear?”
He did not have to be so cruel! “I know this,” she snapped back, doing all she could to remain calm despite the fear that ravished her. However, she was tired of everyone treating her as if she was less than she was! “I am obeying every word, or at least doing the best I can. I simply do not understand how I have made you so angry.”
He took a deep breath and placed a hand on his forehead. “It is because you are acting as if this were like any other day, and it is not. Do you not see the danger you are in?”
She had had enough of his browbeating. “Yes, I do,” she said with a glare, the fear now replaced with frustration. “I know that my last days on this earth will be in this cottage with you. Yet, I have no idea who you are. If it is my destiny to remain here until I die, then I will no longer weep for myself. Instead, I will make the best of the situation. I do this not to give you peace for what you have done, but for myself.”
What she expected was him to lash out, to tell her how wrong she was, or to perhaps strike her. Yet, he did none of that. Instead, he simply shook his head and returned to the kitchen, mumbling as he walked.
Rather than waste time on concern for the feelings of such a man, she opened the book and began to read, the words soothing her. The poem spoke of a rising sun that brought promises of a better day. However, despite how nice it was to think such things, Annabel knew no such day would ever be hers. And she would have to live with that.
***
That evening as she and Edward sat at the small table in front of the sitting room window, Annabel considered her plan for the coming weeks. Making the best of her situation was of the utmost importance, to be sure, but she decided to learn more about the man who would be her companion for the duration of her time in this world.
“Brandy,” Edward mumbled as he looked into his empty glass. The word was slurred, and as he went to stand, he swayed on his feet. One thing she had learned about this Edward was that he certainly enjoyed his drink.
“No, please sit,” she said, standing and taking the glass from him. “Allow me.”
His eyes narrowed as he remained half standing. “Yo
u would do this for me?”
“Of course,” Annabel replied with a sniff. “You have made both meals today, and I should do something to show my appreciation.”
He grinned at her as he returned to his seat, and Annabel went to the kitchen where he kept a variety of bottles. It was not that long ago that her aunt had hired a chaperon to stay with her and Juliet while Aunt Eleanor was in London. Juliet had used the woman’s weakness for sherry to get her drunk in order to garner information. That was exactly what Annabel would do.
She took a second mug from the cupboard and carried the bottle of brandy to the table. “I hope you do not mind if I share in a drink with you.”
He waved a hand at her. “I have no reason to refuse. You can drink the entire bottle for all I care.”
She poured the drinks, taking one for herself and returning to her chair. “I must say, although we are here under circumstances I did not desire,” she said with a smile, “I find myself enjoying it far more than I expected.”
Edward gave her a sideways glance. “Are you no longer frightened?”
Annabel shook her head and sipped at the drink. “I suppose a woman could be kidnapped by a man not as handsome as you. I must admit, when we first met and I thought you were Don Ricardo, my first thought was, ‘How can a man so handsome look my way?’.”
Edward placed a hand on hers. “When I told you I had never seen a woman more beautiful than you, I spoke the truth. Do you believe me?”
She could not help but smile. Not for the compliment, although it did send a light shiver down her spine, but rather for the fact that her plan was working.
“I do believe you,” she replied. “It is madness to consider someone like you saying such a thing, but I do believe you.”
His eyes glittered in the low candlelight. “When I said you were naive, I meant that, as well.” He went to stand and leaned forward so that his face was near hers. “But I? I am not naive. I assure you, your words of flattery mixed with drink will not make me weak.”
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