She almost gave in to the desire, then Phoebe shifted in her sleep. Elizabeth feared what would happen to the child if she capitulated. A glance at their unwanted companion confirmed the man had yet to remove his eyes from the sleeping girl.
But instead of his absorption being sinister, there seemed to be something else driving it. Either way, Elizabeth fought anew the urge to slip into oblivion.
After the lack of success with her first attempt, she hadn’t tried to further engage a conversation with their abductor. Consequently she knew nothing more about where they were headed than when she’d first stepped into the carriage.
The storm might be creating mayhem on her body, but at least it bore some benefit. Given the bumpy ride and slow pace, the heavy rain must have turned the traveling path into a muddy mess. Combined with the strong winds, that meant they couldn’t have journeyed far from Gabe’s estate.
None of this would have happened if Gabe hadn’t be hunting the very man sitting across from her. Panic mingled with her confidence that they’d be rescued before they disappeared into the night. Even so, Elizabeth refused to surrender.
I must remain cognizant until help comes.
As she pulled a few calming breaths into her lungs, a sudden jarring shook the carriage, sending it tilting to the left. Phoebe tumbled across Elizabeth’s lap as the conveyance jerked to a sudden stop.
“Stay here,” their captor rumbled before he exited the carriage.
The door had barely slammed shut from the strength of the wind before Elizabeth turned to Phoebe. The hard jostle had awoken the tiny girl and her sleepy eyes, full of confusion, settled on Elizabeth.
“Hello, sweet. I see you are awake.”
She didn’t get a chance to say anything else as the door reopened and with it blew in a rainy gust of wind. Their abductor stepped through the frame, blocking the elements.
“One of the wheels is stuck. We need to free it. Don’t leave the carriage,” he warned, before he stomped away.
Elizabeth stared at the door for a moment and thought about what impression she had gleaned of the man. Other than stealing Phoebe in the first place, he’d not threatened nor used a harsh hand on them.
She had struggled with him in the garden that first night, yet he could have hurt her far worse. As it was, she had resisted his hold, frightened of what he would do, which caused her harm rather than evil intent on his part. However, none of that explained his presence in London. Or why he was fixated on Phoebe. And why he had followed them to the country.
As much as she wanted answers, she wasn’t about to hang about and discover what he might be capable of.
“Want to outsmart a pirate?” she whispered to Phoebe.
As if sensing the situation, Phoebe stayed silent and only answered with a quick nod.
“Good. But we have to be quiet.”
With Phoebe’s acquiescence verified, Elizabeth needed a plan of escape. Unless someone else had magically appeared, Elizabeth assumed the “we” the man had mentioned included himself and the driver. With those two outside the carriage, sneaking away would be difficult. Hopefully not impossible for a woman and a child to creep away into the night without anyone being the wiser.
As for figuring out what they’d do once they were away, Elizabeth would tackle that later. The hammering in her head was too strong for her to think through more than one life threatening predicament at a time.
If the ever increasing racket of the storm were any indication, the weather continued to rage around them. Aware they’d need a barrier against the rainfall, she gathered the dry blankets as she whispered to Phoebe, “Almost time.”
As prepared as possible, Elizabeth and Phoebe waited. The deafening thunder muffled most of the sounds from outside the carriage, but if she turned her head just right, she could isolate the men’s voices from nature’s symphony.
Absorbed with filtering the voices through the noise, she wasn’t prepared to ward off the effects of a particularly violent crescendo of sound that seemed to explode through the walls of the carriage. Blackness edged her eyesight.
Not now! Not when she was so close to breaking free of her internal prison. If she could withstand the agony for a trifle longer she would be free of the carriage and no longer under the power of her infirmity. A few moments longer was all she asked for.
When several good, chest expanding breaths didn’t make the darkness recede, she focused on Phoebe. On the defenseless child who at this moment had no one else to protect her from the evil in the world. If she failed to do this one thing, she not only failed Phoebe but she also failed Gabe.
Somehow she had to find the strength to beat it.
At last, silence. She thought they’d never stop moving about. With the men gathered to the other side of the carriage, their chance to escape had arrived.
“Here we go. I’m going to lower you out the door. Once you hit the ground, run to the trees. I’ll be right behind you,” she whispered to Phoebe, hoping there were trees wherever they were.
In steady movements, praying the carriage wouldn’t bounce and give away their intentions, Elizabeth sidled to the opposite door, and motioned to Phoebe, steadying the handle against the strength of the wind. Her idea of stealth didn’t involve the door crashing against the side of the carriage.
She had opened it only a crack when it was ripped out of her hand. Oh no! Not even the storm of the century would be able to mask the sound.
A few seconds passed before she realized there hadn’t been any noise beyond the hum of the storm. The door had never made contact with the carriage. Something—or someone—stopped its progress.
The idea of who that someone was froze the blood in her veins. There was no time to formulate a new plan, for a dripping wet male blocked their only escape route; large and dark in the shadow of the lamp.
She pushed Phoebe behind her and eased from the door. How had she not realized someone else had been outside the carriage? She swore there had been only two different voices.
“Hurry, Minx. We don’t have much time. Nate will be upon those miscreants any moment now.”
“Gabe?”
“Papa!”
How had he found them? How had he managed to slip up to the carriage without being noticed?
She didn’t have time for anything besides concentrating on the uneven, slippery ground as Gabe rushed them from the carriage and to the waiting horse.
It wasn’t until Gabe tossed Phoebe onto Brutus’s back and turned to do the same for her that she thought to ask, “What about those men?”
“As soon as I have you and Phoebe safely away, Nate and the others will deal with them.”
Elizabeth didn’t need to see his eyes through the heavy rain to know they were filled with vengeance. She almost felt sorry for her captor. Almost.
Any other questions, she swallowed with a gulp when Gabe hoisted her onto Brutus’s solid back and joined her. With three to carry, the stallion’s imperial strength became evident.
Gabe grabbed the reins, easily able to reach around her and Phoebe. Though he was equally wet, the heat of his body warmed her through her thin dress as soon as he encased her in his arms. The sweet sensation almost caused her to forget about the letters that spoke of Gabe’s love for another woman. A woman he cared for to the point of spending the rest of his life with her.
She shrugged off the thought. Now was not the time to dwell on her lack of future with the only man who would ever possess her entire heart.
There would be plenty of time to submerge herself in despair when they were safe and dry.
Chapter 42
Gabe’s pounding heartbeat didn’t slow until he swept Phoebe and Elizabeth into the house. Even then he wasn’t convinced they were out of danger. He’d rescued them from their kidnapper but given the way
Phoebe shivered in his arms, they were chilled through, something that could be deadly if not addressed immediately.
“Thank God you’re safe!” Millie exclaimed as she rushed to Elizabeth’s side and grasped her niece’s hand. “Oh dear heavens, you are frozen. We need to get you warm.” She rubbed her finger against Phoebe’s cheek. “You too. Upstairs, both of you. Now.”
The speed at which Millie took charge made Gabe feel as if he’d been hit by a cannonball. But as she organized two hot baths and some sweet-smelling, warm concoction for them to drink, he admitted defeat and bowed to her greater expertise.
Even so, with the situation well in hand he couldn’t help but feel inadequate and in the way. He had desired to be the hero, anything that would deem him deserving of their love. Something that would—just maybe—prove he wasn’t the complete scoundrel his father had molded him into.
His yearning to be more was why he found himself in his study, pacing the rug before a fire with a medicinal glass of brandy in his hand, replaying the events of the day. He struggled to find an answer as to how he could have prevented any of it.
“Damn,” he swore to the empty room as he tried to run his hands through his hair, only to end up with his fingers twisted in the wet tangles.
A wise man would have stopped by his room and changed into dry clothes before retreating to the study. He apparently lacked the proper intelligence.
How the hell had his day evolved into such a disaster? The morning had been so promising. His first real conversation with Phoebe, and then their ensuing ride, had given him hope their father-daughter relationship had begun to fall into place.
He’d never foreseen the turn of events the rest of the day had taken on.
His glass empty, Gabe abandoned his pacing for a quick refill. For once in his life he wasn’t drinking with the intent of becoming inebriated; to find oblivion on the other side of a few topped-off glasses of auburn liquid.
Tonight he had more practical purposes. A deep warming sensation to chase away the chill. A much-needed distraction from the thoughts of a lithe body covered in creamy white skin soaking very nakedly in a hot bath.
Those visions nearly had him taking the stairs two at a time so he could assist with those hard to reach—yet delicious—places. The need raging through his body, with the same intensity as the storm howling outside, cared nothing if he had to push past Millie in order to do it.
Which proved how crazed he had become.
He’d started across the carpet when the partially-closed door banged against the wall and a very muddy and sopping wet Nate entered the room, toting an equally muck-covered criminal.
Gabe smothered a grin. He couldn’t recall ever seeing his stylish brother in complete dishevel. As much enjoyment as he got from Nate’s untidiness, more important things needed his attention.
Specifically, the criminal dangling from Nate’s fist.
The change in the young man was amazing. Gone was the calm uncertainty from a few short hours earlier. Before Gabe stood a man shrouded in defeat.
His eyes remained downcast, avoiding Gabe’s stare. The wet clothes plastered against his body made him appear thinner than he had this morning, as if he’d recently lost weight.
“Did you have any problems apprehending him?” Maybe a bit of conversation would cool some of Gabe’s burning desire to snatch the man by the neck and twist the last breath from his body.
“You doubt my capabilities?” Nate offered a cocky grin as he landed a hefty shove to the back of his prisoner, hurling him into the room.
Much to Gabe’s chagrin, the young man righted himself and stayed on his feet. Gabe would have like to see him sprawled across the floor. He found it so much easier to boot a man in the arse when his backside was level with his foot.
In all his life, he had never resorted to kicking a man while he was down. He wouldn’t allow this bounder to taint one of the few favorable qualities he’d maintained.
“Well, I’ve learned to never put anything past you.” Gabe stepped closer to the trash his brother had hauled in. “I don’t know why but for some reason I’m feeling oddly generous, so I’ll allow you one chance to explain yourself before I decide your fate.”
The man’s head snapped up. Below the flatness of his eyes burned a low flame of hate. Gabe had a distinct feeling he was personally responsible for the simmering burn.
At the man’s stubborn silence, Gabe demanded, “Who are you?”
“Charles York.”
Nate sauntered over to him as if he wore the finest evening wear instead of rain soaked breeches and coat. “Charles York, perhaps you’d care to explain yourself before my not so even-tempered brother exhausts what’s left of his patience.”
“You have something that belongs to me,” York replied. His stare burned directly at Gabe.
What he might have done to peeve the man, Gabe hadn’t a clue. Then again, Elizabeth had been involved in both of York’s attacks. Did the man believe he had some claim to her?
“Elizabeth?” he asked.
As soon as Nate’s sharp eyes turned in his direction, Gabe realized his blunder.
Damn. With the implication that Elizabeth belonged to him, why not just announce his feelings? And given Nate’s narrowed eyes and rascally grin, his bloody brother had come to the proper conclusion, that Gabe loved Elizabeth. And not with the same lukewarm affection he had when she’d been a child.
“I don’t know what you are talking about. Who is Elizabeth?”
That silenced Gabe. He’d been so sure it was Elizabeth. If not, then why attack her? Why abduct her tonight?
Nate jumped in as Gabe ruminated over what the something could be. “Allow me to enlighten you. Elizabeth is the lady you first attacked and then kidnapped.”
York’s eyes widened as the color drained from his face. “Attack? Kidnap? I did no such thing.”
The man must be crazy. Gabe could think nothing else. First, he raged about retrieving something that belonged to him—something Gabe was beginning to think didn’t even exist. Then, he denied his obvious role in two serious crimes. Only a raving lunatic would profess such falsehoods.
“If that is so, then what would you call forcefully grabbing and subsequently injuring a defenseless woman? Or even better, how do you explain Elizabeth being held in your carriage?” Nate pressed.
Gabe had to admire his brother’s interrogation techniques. He didn’t use force, but got right to the point. Of course, Gabe wouldn’t be against the use of some aggression.
“You mean that lady in the garden? I never meant to harm her. I was only trying to keep her from screaming. I tried to tell her I wouldn’t hurt her,” York said with a growing scowl. “Damned lady wouldn’t stop fighting long enough to listen. I only grabbed her the way I did to keep her from scratching my eyes out.”
Gabe struggled with the urge to smile at Elizabeth’s pluck. He didn’t doubt if need be, she would fight with all she had. Only now was not the time to tally all the reasons he loved the exasperating woman.
“And what about kidnapping her? Was that also a misunderstanding?” he demanded.
“I never forced her to follow. The only reason I allowed her to come was so she wouldn’t sound the alarm.”
“If what you claim is true and Elizabeth wasn’t your target, then exactly where were you planning to take her and my daughter—”
The pieces of the puzzle snapped into place and Gabe froze. It never had been about Elizabeth. Or some mysterious object.
Phoebe. The man had been after his daughter.
Chapter 43
Without thinking, Gabe lunged at Charles York but Nate stepped between them before he could reach the blackguard. That didn’t stop him from reaching for the bastard around Nate’s arm.
“How dare you! What wer
e you planning to do with her? An innocent child? My daughter?” Gabe shouted as awful thoughts whisked through his mind. He’d heard dreadful stories of children being taken for all types of nefarious plots.
Each possibility raised his anger to a fulminating boil. If not for Nate holding him back, he would have snapped the man in two.
“Gabe. Think,” Nate insisted. “Next to you there is no one who wants to personally escort this man to the afterlife more than me. However, I don’t think even the Duke of Wesbrook can bolster his way out of a murder conviction.”
It took a few moments before Nate’s words penetrated Gabe’s rage. When it finally did, he stepped back and sucked in a few breaths to gather his temper.
When he was confident he’d be able to restrain himself, Gabe raised his head and pinned York with a ferocious glare. The man had the good sense to look nervous.
Through clenched teeth Gabe managed to force out, “Choose your words carefully when you answer. What were you planning to do with my daughter?”
“She isn’t your daughter!”
Of all the answers Gabe had been expecting, that hadn’t been one of them. He gaped at the madman before him as York ground out, “She is mine.”
This final declaration hadn’t even been in the realm of possibilities for Gabe. The sheer preposterousness of it caused him to laugh aloud.
“Your daughter? I suppose you also claim to be the Duke of Wesbrook.”
Nate joined in with a few chuckles of his own, but York remained stone faced.
The man actually believed his announcement. Gabe sobered as fast as his mirth had appeared.
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