by Vanda Vadas
‘There,’ said Julian. ‘My wife can spare me for one night.’
Guilt pressed heavily on Eloise’s conscience. ‘Catherine, I’m sorry to take him away from you, especially when you’re with child.’
‘Nonsense. Your sight is of the utmost priority.’
Eloise sat opposite Gareth in the carriage. Beside her, a gentle snoring indicated Maisy had fallen asleep. A lull in their conversation gave Eloise time to think, to process the topic of their discussion. Earlier, over the morning meal, Julian had informed her that last night thieves had attempted to steal her mare, Charity.
The horse had kicked the stalls and whinnied loud enough to wake the stablehands. When they arrived on the scene the thieves were already making a run for it. Julian had laughed during the retelling of the melee, saying Charity had reacted in the spirit of her mistress and fought off her would-be kidnappers.
The mention of her mare made Eloise long for the thrill of riding at breakneck speed over the fields and meadows. She would miss the friendly yet fierce competition between her brother and herself. They would often challenge one another to a race, putting both horse and rider to the test. Without sight she would no longer experience these amiable sibling duels. As someone who so valued her independence and freedom, she resented her sightless prison.
She startled at the touch of Gareth’s clammy hands grasping hers.
‘Are you all right, Eloise?’
She smiled warily. ‘I hope to be.’
His thumbs stroked the back of her wrists, a gesture she considered forward and intimate. It had an unsettling effect on her, especially without the watchful eyes of her companion. She brushed off her paranoia. When his breath touched her face, too close for comfort, she turned her cheek and slipped her hands free of his.
‘Don’t despair,’ he said. ‘I believe the eye physician is the best in his field, and I’m confident your sight shall return.’
She had a mind to wake Maisy. ‘I pray it does.’
The carriage slowed to a stop. Relief swept through her. ‘Julian has caught up to us.’
‘So soon? I doubt it. I’ll investigate this delay.’
Eloise discerned disappointment in Gareth’s voice. The carriage shifted. The door clicked open. She didn’t hear it close. Gareth’s booted footfalls slowly faded. Anxious, she waited for her brother.
Zach sat astride his horse. Masked in the garb of a highwayman, he aimed his pistol at Gareth’s heart. Taut nerves urged him to unleash a wrath long denied release. Countless times he’d played this scene over and over in his mind. How he loathed his half-blood relative.
Pride forbade he reveal himself, or anything of the cruelty and hardship he’d endured a world away from home and country. He suppressed the compulsion to leap from his horse, to press his thumbs against the traitor’s windpipe and snuff out his life.
His index finger caressed the pistol’s trigger. A quick death would be an easy reprieve for Gareth’s sins. Better he suffer a slow agonising dissolution of his world and be stripped of all he lorded over.
Zach revelled in the idea of removing his mask. How satisfying it would be to wipe the arrogant smile from his brother’s face. To witness shock and surprise replace conceited superiority. Not here. Not now. All in good time. Today’s outcome would see Zach reclaim an heirloom legally his.
Gareth raised his arms in surrender. His gaze darted left and right. ‘My coachmen! Where are they?’
‘Spoken like an overindulged child,’ taunted Zach. ‘Never mind, Your Grace, your coachmen are the least of your concerns.’
‘We have money, jewellery. Take it and be damned with you!’
‘We?’ said Zach.
Gareth glanced back at the carriage. ‘My … betrothed and her companion.’
‘Betrothed?’ Zach laughed, triumphant. His informants had advised him of the duke’s journey today, yet he never expected to be hand-delivered a trump card, a hostage to use as bargaining power. Something Gareth loved. Or, more likely, stole from another man.
‘Your Grace?’
Zach’s gaze swung towards the carriage at the sound of a woman’s voice.
Gareth appeared anxious. ‘I must attend her. She is … unwell.’
‘Your weapon. Drop it where you stand,’ ordered Zach.
‘I’m not carrying one!’
The click of a pistol being cocked caught Gareth’s attention. He looked to his left and found himself staring down a double-barrel pistol in the steady hands of a second highwayman.
The man barked an order. ‘Drop it! Or draw your last breath.’
Gareth muttered darkly to himself, reached inside his coat and produced his pocket-sized firearm. The instant it hit the ground, Zach nodded towards the carriage. ‘Go to her.’ He urged his horse forward and followed.
Eloise grew restless; she could sense something was amiss. Laughter reached her, but its deep timbre was unfamiliar. She removed the irritating bandage from her eyes.
Feeling her way, she located the carriage steps and found the safety of terra firma. Her hands ran along the open door and its frame, gently closing it so as not to disturb Maisy.
She called out, ‘Your Grace?’ and waited. She prepared to call out again, only to be startled by his brusque warning and being roughly turned into his arms. ‘Eloise, we stand at the mercy of highwaymen!’
She gasped at the touch of his hands at her neck. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Jewellery and money. That’s what they’ll want.’
She fought against him. ‘No! Not my locket.’
‘Enough! Should our valuables be insufficient pickings they might seek compensation by way of a little sport.’ His fingers pressed into her shoulders, his voice urgent. ‘You might find yourself at the mercy of two ruffians.’
Horror struck. Never would she have thought to cling to Gareth for any reason other than his protection. She hugged him close and pressed her cheek against his chest.
Maisy’s groggy voice sounded close by. ‘Your Grace? Is everything all right?’
‘Highwaymen. We’re being robbed. Stay where you are.’
‘Dear Lord!’
Eloise recognised fear in her companion’s voice.
A man spoke above the clip-clop of horse shoes on hard-packed earth. ‘How very touching.’
Something about his voice caught her attention, though she kept her face hidden.
‘Here,’ said Gareth, ‘take the lady’s jewellery.’
Eloise stifled a cry. Gareth’s body jolted against hers when he tossed her locket away. The chain jingled as it fell on the ground. Pain struck her heart. The memory of her parents lived in that locket. The piece would no doubt be hocked for far less than its sentimental worth.
‘And take my money!’
The heavy pouch of coins landed with a dull thud.
‘Aren’t you forgetting something, Your Grace?’ said the highwayman.
Gareth’s silence unnerved Eloise. His arms and body tensed around her. She whispered against his chest. ‘What does he want?’
‘I’ve no idea. Maisy, if you’ve anything of value to bargain for our lives then do so now.’
The woman’s voice trembled. ‘I’ve nothing, Your Grace.’
Eloise found the courage to plead with their tormentor. ‘We’ve nothing more. Be on your way and leave us be.’
‘Not just yet, my lady. The duke wears a ring. I want it. Either he gives it to me or I’ll slice off his hand.’
A horrifying threat. Eloise saw the irony of the situation. Gareth had thought nothing of snatching the locket from her throat as down payment in bargaining for their safety. Yet he would risk their lives and selfishly withhold his ducal ring. His actions offended her. She stepped out of his embrace, turning her back on Gareth and the outlaw. ‘Give it to him!’
The gold ring made a pinging noise as it hit the gravelled road.
‘A wise move,’ said the highwayman. ‘Now, you in the carriage. If you value your mistress’s l
ife, you’ll stay put and keep quiet. Understand?’
Eloise heard not a sound from Maisy and could only assume her companion too petrified to speak.
‘The men are bound.’
The unfamiliar voice alerted Eloise to there being a second highwayman. Just how many were there? The leader replied, ‘Then let’s not show this gentleman any favouritism. Take him away.’
‘Wait! Your word,’ implored Gareth. ‘You will not harm the women.’
Gareth surprised Eloise. It seemed he had suddenly developed a conscience. She held her breath until the highwayman replied, ‘You have it. And remember, Your Grace, I am a man of my word. Now move!’
She felt the pressure of Gareth’s hand over hers, a reminder of his previous warning. ‘Do not antagonise him,’ he whispered in her ear.
Where once she would do anything to discourage his touch, she now longed for the security of his arms around her. His footfalls stomped away. Vulnerability and fear stretched her nerves tight.
‘Turn and face me,’ said the highwayman.
That voice. It held no trace of ill temper as it had when he’d addressed Gareth. Quite the contrary; she discerned a tone far less threatening. Regardless, her imagination took over. She envisaged an ugly, unkempt man whose breath reeked of the ale he acquired through his ill-gotten gains.
They just might seek compensation in the way of a little sport! Nausea weakened her. She jumped at the sound of boots hitting the ground behind her. He’d dismounted. Her arms hugged her waist.
‘I’ll not harm you, my lady.’
Him!
It was him. Eloise made the startling connection between the man at her back and the masked man she’d confronted the night of her birthday ball. The realisation should have paralysed her with fear. At the very least she should loathe and resent him. Instead, his familiar voice aroused an involuntary smattering of pleasurable sensations reminiscent of the night he’d embraced and kissed her.
She focused on holding him responsible for her loss of sight. Now he’d trapped her a second time with no means of escape. He would surely recognise her if she were to turn around.
She heard him step closer. He repeated his promise. ‘I won’t harm you. You have my word.’
And if she refused to face him? What then? He’d said that, should they meet again and she disobeyed his command, he’d kiss her. The memory of that kiss made defiance seem the more attractive alternative.
She had to trust him, that he’d respect her virtue. Let him take their valuables and be rid of the scoundrel.
He might have the upper hand, yet her pride would remain intact. She prepared herself for whatever her fate may be.
Slowly, in defiant equanimity, she turned to face him.
Chapter Four
Zach stepped back as though he’d taken a direct hit from a twelve-pound cannonball. Momentarily, he lost his tongue. Had he been in the thick of a melee when boarding a prize, such a careless pause could have cost him his life.
It was the second time this woman had caught him off guard. He’d seen a mixture of fear and daring in her eyes three nights ago. Now, he read nothing.
He recalled the image of her lying at the base of the terrace steps. When Gareth had scooped her up in his arms and held her close. So, she was engaged to his nemesis.
Envy needled Zach.
‘We meet again, my lady. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?’
‘My name is of no use to you. Our money and valuables are. You have them. Now go.’
His hackles rose at her brusque dismissal. He stepped forwards. She stood unmoving, as stoic as stone. ‘You’re in no position to trifle with me.’
She flinched and raised her hands as if to push him away. ‘Indeed. Our unfortunate first meeting made sure of that!’
He caught her wrists. Her wide-eyed stare sat at odds with her fearless reply. Was it beneath her to extend him the courtesy of looking him in the eye?
‘Unfortunate? I thought our meeting ended quite well. Mutually satisfied is how I’d describe it.’
A blush stole over her cheeks. ‘I’m talking about my … disability.’
His sharp gaze took in her able body. He didn’t take her meaning.
‘Well? Are you as deaf, as I am blind?’
He appraised her. ‘You lie.’
‘I’m not in the habit of lying.’
Zach experienced the same sickening dread as he had a few nights back. Now he understood why her stare was off-centre.
He freed her. As a test, he took a step back. He took another wide step quietly to one side. ‘I’m not responsible for your loss of sight. You should not have been so foolish as to follow me.’
Her head turned in the direction of his voice, yet her gaze failed to pinpoint him. Oppressive guilt fell heavily on his shoulders.
Zach’s lieutenant reappeared. ‘The men have been taken care of. What shall we do with her?’
The woman reacted in fear and crossed her arms over her chest. She turned her head from left to right. ‘Your Grace? Where are you?’
An unintelligible grunt distressed her. ‘What have you done to him?’
‘A lot less than he deserves,’ said Seth.
She stepped forwards haphazardly, arms outstretched. ‘Your Grace?’
The lieutenant caught her as she stumbled. ‘Watch your step.’
‘She can’t. She’s blind.’ Zach turned on his heel and swung up into the saddle. He used his legs in place of the reins, to command the horse’s obedience. He leaned down and lifted the woman up onto his lap. His broad chest butted up against her side and one arm maintained a vice-like grip around her waist.
Awareness rocked him. Her bottom moulded scandalously to his groin. His thighs flexed in response. Unlike the pleasurable sensation brought on by such intimacy, her piercing screams left him with no choice but to clamp one hand over her mouth.
She retaliated, flailing her arms and kicking her legs. Her teeth sank into his hand. The horse pranced sidewards, startled by the sudden movement and noise. Zach used his legs to regain control.
He feared the woman might become hysterical, given her vulnerable state. Best to subdue her without harming her. His forearm locked beneath her breasts and squeezed with enough subtle pressure to force the air from her lungs. Unable to draw breath fast enough, she swooned and fell limp against his chest.
Zach seized the reins. His gaze searched the ground for the one thing he’d come for. ‘Seth, the ring.’
He took it from his lieutenant and tested its weight in his palm. He eyed the ornate design bearing the family crest. The handiwork of a fine craftsman. His fist closed about the masculine ring, embracing memories and the knowledge that his father had once worn it with pride. A treasure now returned to its rightful heir. A piece to be used in his crowning move when he finally revealed himself to Gareth.
He tucked the ring deep in his coat pocket. His quest for justice and honour prevented him from slipping it on his finger. Not until I am proclaimed innocent.
‘Captain.’ Seth pointed to the jewellery and money pouch on the ground.
‘Keep it safe. I’ll return it to the lady when she’s in fairer spirits.’
A movement in the carriage caught their attention. The older woman stared at them through the window with an expression of fear and hatred. Zach gave her a gentleman’s smile and bowed his head in a show of respect.
‘And what about her?’ asked Seth.
‘We need time to make good our escape. Loosely secure the carriage door from the outside and ensure the window is sufficiently opened to allow air flow.’
Zach pressed the flanks of his horse and trotted to the head of the carriage. What he saw there made him laugh. Gareth had been securely tied to a tree and stripped to his underclothes. His jacket, breeches, wig and accessories hung precariously from one of the carriage horses. He’d been gagged with his own cravat, denying him the satisfaction of cursing his tormentors. Slate-grey eyes burned with humiliatio
n.
Seth reined in alongside him wearing a grin, sure and smug, and not the least bit remorseful. Zach gestured to the bound footmen sitting on the grassy verge. ‘I’m glad you didn’t extend the same hospitality to those men. I’ve no quarrel with them.’
He urged his horse forwards and glared from the unconscious woman in his arms, into Gareth’s mutinous eyes. ‘How much is she worth to you?’
Gareth struggled against his bonds.
Zach ran his fingers slowly down the woman’s cheek. Something stirred deep inside him. A reaction, a feeling ever so slight, that he gave it not a second thought.
He stared down at his traitorous half-brother. ‘I look forward to our next meeting, Your Grace.’
The sound of thundering hooves sent bird life scattering from the woodland treetops. Julian rode his horse with practised skill, avoiding hazardous ruts here and there in the worn dirt road.
His sister’s future remained a priority. He felt duty-bound to ensure her happiness through a respectable marriage. What better suitor than the Duke of Arlington? Eloise would do justice to the title of duchess. Why couldn’t she see that? By some sweet miracle she might even learn to love the man.
His loud cynical laugh mocked the thought. Love. And loss. Eloise could not speak of one without the other. Could he blame her? No child should have to endure, as she had, the horror of losing one’s parents. Such tragic circumstances had left wretched scars on her innocent soul; never to be healed, it would seem. The roots of abandonment had taken hold, bound so thick and hard around her heart that no suitor had been able to penetrate it. If only she would let in light, where darkness had made its home. Were grief not her constant companion, she might be more open to marriage and a family of her own.
He leaned lower over the horse’s neck, deliberating other pressing concerns: the masked intruder, his sister’s accident and last night’s attempted theft of Eloise’s mare.
How to make sense of it all? There’d been no incident or verbal reproach he could recall; nothing to incite someone to seek revenge on him or his family.
Employing extra men to guard the stables, the house, and to watch over Catherine and her parents in his absence brought him little comfort. To what lengths would criminals go to get what they wanted?