That really was the crux of his dilemma. Why did he not want her to escape? Why keep her here at all? If she had a lover, which appeared to be the case, why not let her go to the man? Their marriage was not consummated, and it had been entered into under conditions that would make an annulment, though embarrassing, quite possible. So why did he not simply allow it to end?
Even as he asked himself the questions, Gareth knew the truth. He was truly in love with her. He loved her and still held out hope that she might be innocent. Hope that became more distant with each passing moment.
He left the study and briefly considered simply going to his chamber and dealing with the problem of Faith in the morning. He could just as easily post guards on her chamber door as he could on his own. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t get any rest either way. If he didn’t bring her into his room, he would wonder all night long if she had slipped past her guards and escaped.
Of course, if he did place her in his room, in the struggle to control his body’s reaction to her, he would still have no peace. Contemplating his options, he slowly headed up the stairs.
Faith eased the door to Gareth’s chamber open and peered out into the corridor. The door from the bathing room to the master bedroom had been locked, the bolt thrown, but it had not been pulled entirely closed. After listening carefully for a few moments, she decided Gareth wasn’t in the room beyond and cautiously eased it open. Once there, she tiptoed to the door that opened to the corridor and stuck her head out, finding the hall gloomy and deserted. With another quick glance in both directions, Faith slipped out of the room and walked quickly down the hall, thankful for the thick, expensive carpet that swallowed the sound of her footsteps.
The entire day had been beyond bizarre. Her emotions had veered between happiness and confusion and anger before finally slipping into blessed numbness. She did not understand the man she had married, but now strongly felt she had to escape before his behavior became even more frightening. She did not think he would hurt her physically, but she wasn’t entirely certain. He’d been acting so oddly. Her heart clenched as she thought of the tender, gentle way he had nursed her back to health from her head injury. No, she didn’t believe that man was capable of physical violence toward her. But, her sense of logic reasoned, he also wouldn’t imprison her.
The only thing she could think to do was run—find a way back to London before she was no longer able to do so. She’d seek protection from Grace and Trevor. She cringed a little when she thought about the friendship Trevor and Gareth shared, but hoped Grace could make her husband understand Roth had gone quite mad.
Silent tears slipped down her cheeks as she glanced furtively about and tiptoed down the dark stairs. She heard conversation coming from behind the closed door of Gareth’s study and recognized her husband’s voice. Holding her breath, she ran softly across the foyer and eased open the front door, hoping he wouldn’t emerge while she was in sight. Luck was with her. Nobody stirred as she left the house and crossed the grounds to the stable.
Once there, she realized she had no idea how to saddle a horse. She knew how to ride, if only passably, but she had always left the saddling and such to the Ackerly grooms. She didn’t have Grace and Mercy’s passion for riding, and could do little more than keep her seat when moving at anything above a canter. Looking over the selection of mounts, she decided on a rather smallish, gentle-looking gray mare. Dubious about executing her plan, she stood for a few moments, biting her lip.
“M’lady?”
Faith whirled around. A young stable hand stood in the darkness, looking at her oddly.
“Did y’need something, m’lady?”
Faith thought quickly. “Why, yes,” she averred, her mind racing. “I rather fancied a moonlight ride around the water’s edge. Do you think you could saddle that mare for me, please?” She pointed at the little horse, smiling as sweetly as she could at the nervous young servant.
The stable boy had never seen someone so pretty. Awestruck, the only thought in his head was of pleasing the new mistress of Rothmere. He nodded quickly and ran off toward the tack room. “Sprite’s a right pretty filly, m’lady, and gentle-like, too. I’ll’ave’er set up right fer ye in no time.”
“Thank you,” said Faith, grateful. She looked outside nervously. All remained quiet at the dark house.
The mare nickered softly while the young man worked. Before she would have imagined it possible, he led the beast over to Faith and helped her up into the sidesaddle. She smiled down at him kindly. “What’s your name, please?”
He blushed. “Ben, m’lady.”
“Well, Ben, thank you again. I am pleased to have met you.” Then she nudged the mare forward, walking her sedately out of the stable and into the moonlight.
Faith forced herself to remain calm and headed off in the direction of the two man-made lakes at the front of the house. She guided Sprite down the drive until it curved and she was sure she was out of sight of the house and the stable. Then she urged the mare into a light trot. She forced herself not to think, not to consider what she was leaving behind or to imagine the dangers that lay ahead. She would stay on the road for as long as she could, then move into the trees.
Her husband would come after her. Of that, she had no doubt.
Gareth stood silently in Faith’s bedchamber. Her empty bedchamber. He looked around at the perfectly neat room and wondered for a moment if she had ever even been there. There was certainly nothing to indicate the room had been occupied. No lingering scent. No evidence of personal items, save for the unopened trunk in the middle of the room. The bed wasn’t even wrinkled.
He felt nothing, not even anger. The door to the connecting bathing room between his chamber and hers stood open, giving him the only indication of her escape route. He had locked the door from his side, but the lock was flimsy and easy to manipulate. He wondered if he had subconsciously overlooked that fact on purpose.
Not that it mattered.
Walking to the window, he stood staring out into the night, half-expecting to see his wife’s golden hair glowing in the waning moonlight as she fled his estate. He saw nothing, of course, and wondered how long she had been gone. She couldn’t have made it far on foot. He thought of the dangers that might exist for her, a gently bred woman alone in the dark. He couldn’t think of a single article of clothing she owned sensible enough for a trek through the country. She had no survival skills and had never been exposed to the rigors of outdoor life. He shook his head. Obviously, he would have to retrieve her—if only for her own safety.
A muted shout reached him. Three floors below, he saw two of his men running across the darkened grounds in the direction of the stables. Curious, he looked to see what had caught their attention. An odd orange light was flickering behind the distant building, a light that looked like…
Fire?
With a muffled curse, Gareth strode from the room. Already, chaos was erupting on the lower levels of the mansion. His mind raced ahead to the obvious conclusion: Faith had set fire to the stables as a diversionary tactic. Was that possible? Could she truly be so devious?
He swept down the stairs and outside, issuing commands to everyone he passed. “The horses first! Get all the animals out of the stables, and then we’ll see about the fire!”
When he ran across the expanse of lawn between the main house and the stables, he saw that most of the horses had already been moved, thanks to some quick-thinking stable hands. The stable itself was not on fire. Two small outbuildings used for storing tack and feed were burning separately. The fact that both buildings were on fire confirmed that they had been deliberately set ablaze, he realized. The fires were quickly being contained, however, and it appeared there would be very little structural damage.
Gareth’s eyes swept across the corralled horses, counting and taking stock. “One is missing,” he stated. Even as he said it, he knew the little mare wasn’t going to be found. One of the grooms confirmed his suspicions a moment later, saying Sprite
was nowhere in the area.
“Saddle Calypso for me,” Gareth told the man in a dipped voice. He looked down the road that led from Rothmere.
He hoped he could manage to control his temper when he finally found his wife.
Twenty-seven
Faith jumped when she heard something rustling in the bushes to her left. Her imagination had been working overtime since she’d left the comfort of the open road for the relative safety of the trees. She stayed close enough that she could still see the road, for she had no idea where she was. She did not know if the way she traveled even led eventually to London. All she knew was that it had taken two days for them to reach Rothmere traveling by coach. She imagined the return trip would take far more time than that, considering her lackluster riding skills.
The mare was a treasure, though, unerringly choosing the best path through the trees despite the novice guidance of her rider. Sprite nickered softly in response to the sporadic conversation Faith was having with her.
“I’m certain,” the marchioness said, “that you realize how foolish and illogical it is for us to be taking this trip. I do hope you won’t hold it against me.” Faith grimaced as yet another leafy twig slapped her in the arm, and ducked just in time to avoid a rather low branch.
“I’m not sure what I’ll do when day breaks. I’ll have to find something for both of us to eat, of course.” She looked down at her delicate attire, realizing that she couldn’t possibly knock on someone’s door and explain her plight. A woman traveling alone was an uncommon event, even among the peasant class. Her clothing marked her as someone of quality and would, ironically, raise more suspicion than if she were more simply dressed. Her only option was to keep moving until she found a village or an inn, and to hope Gareth hadn’t already been there and inquired about her.
He’d look for her, of course—and he would be able to travel much faster, as he knew the area and had no need for stealth. Since he was an expert rider, she had little doubt he’d catch up to her quickly. Indeed, she’d been listening for him to do so for the last two hours. She considered briefly moving farther into the trees and praying for him to unwittingly pass, but knew that progress was her only hope.
She had another, more pressing problem. Dawn was beginning to streak the sky with shades of pink. It was one thing to travel close to the road during the night; during the day, she’d be exposed. Leaving the road, however, might result in her becoming utterly and completely lost. That thought terrified her.
It was no different, really, than the old fear she’d felt when she was in the maze. The woods were dense here, and she had no idea how far they extended. She imagined, too, that all sorts of wild creatures lived in these woods, wild creatures that would likely consider her and Sprite a rather delicious meal. So, she imagined, it was prudent to stay close to the road.
“You know, Sprite, I have decided to look upon this as a grand adventure,” she told the horse somewhat shakily. “Just think of the freedom we suddenly have. We could become anything we want today. I could be a wild Gypsy, and you a beautiful unicorn with a golden horn.” The little mare snorted doubtfully, and Faith laughed. “Well, it’s fun to dream.”
An errant spiderweb that stretched between two trees chose that moment to pop up in her path. Faith gave a small shriek as the gossamer strands adhered to her face. She twisted in her saddle and let go of the reins, scraping desperately at the sticky silk, terrified the spider was still in residence and would take grave offense to Faith destroying her home.
Her actions caused Sprite to dance nervously to the side. Faith, already precariously perched in the sidesaddle, lost her balance and slid to the ground in a heap. A moment later, more disgusted with herself than hurt, she got to her feet and walked over to Sprite, who stood patiently waiting for her near a tree.
“I don’t suppose you have any idea how I should go about remounting, do you?” She gave the mare a wry look, then stiffened as she heard hoofbeats coming up the road at a frightening clip.
Faith froze. It could only be Gareth. She had seen nobody else, not a single soul, in the entire time she’d been traveling, and no one else would have reason to travel so quickly this early in the morning—at least, not as far as she could imagine. She put her hand on Sprite’s bridle and began stroking the beast’s nose, whispering soothing words, hoping the mare would stand quietly until the rider passed. With a grimace, she turned to watch the patches of road she could see through the trees, knowing full well that if she could see her husband, he would most certainly be able to see her. All it would take was a glance in her direction. Between the bright periwinkle color of the gown she’d worn for almost twenty-four hours now and the soft gray of Sprite’s coat, she and her mount didn’t exactly blend into the foliage.
The rider finally appeared, mounted on an enormous black stallion. Faith could tell even from a distance that it was indeed Gareth. She watched the way his head turned as he scanned the forest on each side of the road, and knew with a sinking heart that she would easily be seen.
Sure enough, just before he drew even with her position, Gareth pulled on the reins, slowing his stallion, turning the mount, and walking it back to the edge of the road. “Faith,” he called in a calm voice. “You might want to consider coming out of there on your own. I can promise you’d rather I didn’t come in to get you.”
At his words, logic and reason fled. Faith knew a sudden anger like none she’d never before experienced. Without bothering to respond, she turned and began to walk deeper into the woods, leaving Sprite standing where she was. Faith didn’t look back, not even to see if Gareth knew what she was doing. All she knew was that she had to get away from him, had to find solace and think of some way out of this situation.
Gareth watched his wife disappear into the trees and shook his head. He led Calypso into the woods and looped his reins around a branch near Sprite, then headed calmly and purposefully into the underbrush after Faith. Though he couldn’t see her anymore, he could hear her ahead, moving slowly through the branches and undergrowth, hampered by her inappropriate clothing and the fact that she hadn’t a clue how to go about choosing the easiest path. If he hadn’t been so angry with her, he might have been amused by her futile attempt at flight.
She heard him just as he caught sight of her, less than a hundred yards away, trying to untangle her hair from the thin branches of a sapling. She turned her head as much as possible, redoubling her efforts when she saw how close he was. However, the more she struggled, the more hopelessly tangled she became, until she finally gave up in disgust and turned her back on him. She simply stepped closer to the trunk of the young tree and waited.
He didn’t say a word, just stepped up behind her and began loosening her tangled hair with deft fingers. In a matter of moments, she felt the tension on her scalp disappear. She took one step away, but he grasped her arm just above the elbow and spun her around to face him.
“Have you nothing to say?”
His voice was calm, so she glanced up at him, trying to assess his mood. She raised her chin a notch. “Thank you.”
“Thank you?”
“Yes. Thank you.” When he continued to look at her, as if waiting for her to elaborate, she added, “For releasing my hair from that branch.”
He shook his head and turned, tugging on her arm to get her to follow. When Faith dug in her heels and refused to budge, he simply put both hands on her waist, picked her up, and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Stop it! Put me down!” She balled up her fists and pounded at his back, wriggling and trying to kick her feet in protest at the undignified way he was carrying her. Gareth just tightened his arms around her upper thighs and ignored her complaints. When they got back to the horses, he perched her in Calypso’s saddle and swung up behind.
Faith sat stiffly erect and refused to look around. “I can ride Sprite, you know.”
Gareth bent forward and grasped that mare’s reins, giving her enough lead to
follow comfortably. “I know you can, princess.” He pulled her back against him so she could sit more comfortably in her small portion of the saddle. “I just don’t trust you.”
He dug in his heels, and his stallion started forward. The group stepped back out onto the road and turned in the direction that continued away from Rothmere.
“Where are we going?” Faith tried to twist around to look at him, but her husband was holding her too securely against his chest.
“There’s an inn a short distance from here. I rode hard to catch up with you. Calypso needs a rubdown and something to eat, and we all need some rest before we start back.”
Faith looked down at her wrinkled and smudged attire, giving a grimace, but didn’t argue. She remained quiet until they reached the inn, worried thoughts tumbling around in her agile brain. He’d been angry with her before she’d run away, but that had felt different than now. Last night, his anger had simmered below the surface, and though she still didn’t really know what had triggered it, the reaction in him had definitely been driven by emotions. Today, he was distant. Cold. Almost indifferent.
And yet, he’d come after her. Was it for pride, or something else?
They reached the inn. Thoughtful, Faith stood quietly while Gareth issued instructions to a man who came to take care of their horses. And though he didn’t spare her a glance when he’d finished, she obediently followed him inside the inn, no longer concerned about her appearance or what anyone might think. She continued to ponder the situation, lost within her thoughts all through the breakfast Gareth ordered, only speaking when manners and force of habit dictated—both times to thank the serving girl, who appeared to deliver dishes and then to take them away.
Faith Page 18