Seductive Wager

by Leigh Greenwood

  They had almost reached the door of the inn when a familiar voice hailed them from the lane. A racing curricle drew up abruptly, the horses practically coming to a stop on top of Kate, and she recognized young Peter Feathers.

  “I’ve seen children handle a team better,” Brett thundered, going to the heads of the plunging horses.

  “Don’t you try to drive that thing into my yard,” Mathilda barked, no more tolerant of ineptitude than Brett. “I’ll not have my gate knocked down.”

  Feathers’s attempt to defend himself was ignored, and Brett handed the horses over to the ulsters while Mathilda pushed him toward the door.

  “Never mind my driving,” he said, giving up. “I came to warn you that Martin and the sheriff are coming after you. He means to have you arrested.”

  “What does he hope to gain by that?” Brett asked as the women stared at Feathers in unbelieving surprise. “How did you find out?”

  “Overheard him last night. Should have known something was wrong at dinner, but after that brandy I had a devil of a head. Made all kinds of threats against you, but he was just too cheerful.”

  “Martin is always threatening to get even with somebody,” Kate added.

  “Went into the garden after dinner. Heard him talking in the library but didn’t pay any attention until I heard Brett’s name. Had to push through some monstrous big shrubs to get near a window. Your brother ought to trim those bushes, Miss Vareyan,” Feathers said, momentarily losing the thread of his story. “Full of thorns.”

  “Will you get on with it,” Brett exploded.

  “Yes, well, I heard Martin say he wanted Brett thrown into jail. I was so shocked I peeped in, but the man he was talking to had his back to me. Martin said some pretty nasty things about the both of you.”

  “There’s nothing unusual in that,” Kate volunteered.

  “I couldn’t see the man’s face when he finally turned around, those damned thorn bushes you know, but you can imagine my surprise when he spoke up and I recognized Frank Boyngton’s voice.”

  “He’s a fair man as far as his understanding goes,” said Brett. “Surely he wasn’t taken in by Martin’s ravings.”

  “Not at first, but when the housekeeper told her tale, he had no choice but to agree to come after you.”

  “But Isabella doesn’t know anything,” Kate stated, incensed. “She wasn’t even up when I left.”

  “I don’t know about that, but she said Brett had been paying you extravagant compliments and showering you with attention all week. Proper turned your head with his flattery. Talked you into going for an early-morning ride, and then abducted you. Martin said you were meaning to try for France before he could catch up with you.”

  Kate was too astounded to speak, but Mathilda did not suffer under the same handicap. “Well, I never! He ought to be clapped in irons for making up a story like that.”

  “Brett is the one likely to be clapped in irons unless he gets moving,” Feathers observed.

  “I wont let it happen,” Kate stated indignantly. “I’ll tell the sheriff how Martin drove me from the house.”

  “Unfortunately, your word won’t carry any weight against Martin’s. You’re underage and he’s your guardian,” said Brett. “Just finding you here will be enough to convict me.”

  Kate turned white. “What can we do?”

  “Michael and I will be glad to help if we can,” Mathilda offered.

  “Thank you, but I’d rather get through this without involving anyone else.” He turned to Kate. “Are you willing to go to France with me?”

  Kate struggled to calm her loudly beating heart. “We’re not going to London?”

  “We cant now. You won’t be safe in England.”

  Kate’s head reeled. There was too much to think about and no time to do it. She knew she should consider her future, where she could find employment, how she would live, whether she could survive without the support of her family, but all she could think of was the comfort of Brett’s presence, all she could see was the irresistible appeal of his smile, and all she could feel was the touch of his lips on her skin. Faced with the decision to go with him regardless of the consequences or most likely never see him again, Kate did not hesitate.

  “Yes,” she heard herself say, and somehow both of them knew she had made a fateful decision. After this, everything would either be easier or impossible.

  “You’ve got to be ready to leave within half an hour.”

  “I’m already packed,” Kate said with a ghost of a smile. “I can leave right now.”

  “Don’t worry,” Brett reassured her with warmth in his voice. “I have no intention of letting Martin get his hands on you. Mathilda, tell Michael to see that my coach is ready immediately and that the rest of Kate’s luggage is loaded. Now both of you go quickly.”

  “When did you leave?” he asked, turning back to Feathers. “Does anybody know where you’ve gone?”

  “I told Martin I wanted to set out early for Newmarket.”

  “Then that’s where you’re going. Get back in your curricle and don’t even change horses until you’re at least ten miles from here. I don’t want you involved in this, either.”

  Feathers tried to protest, but Brett was adament. “You can get something to eat when you get back on the road. Make a big thing of changing horses, or anything else you wish, so the innkeeper will remember you.” Brett called for the curricle and harried the ulsters so effectively Feathers was on his way in record time.

  By then Brett’s coach was ready. Mathilda hurried out with some bread and cheese, cold ham, and apples wrapped in a cloth. “You’ll be getting hungry before you reach Dover,” she said, carefully packing the food in the coach. “You can get something to drink when you change horses, but you won’t be having time to wait for food.” She moved without her usual cheerful animation. She looked tired and her body sagged as though it were weighted down with worry. “You won’t let them hurt Miss Vareyan, will you?” she asked in an anxious voice. “The poor thing told me something about that brother of hers. You can’t let him take her back to that castle. It’s no more than a prison.” Her distress was evident.

  “I’ll take very good care of her,” Brett said, giving the older woman a pat on the arm. “I had hoped to take her to my aunt, but that’s impossible now. Ill have to find some way of taking care of her in Paris until I get back from Africa.”

  “Mr. Westbrook, you wouldn’t do anything against that poor child, would you?” Mathilda burst out, unable to contain her fear any longer but reluctant for once to speak plainly. “She’s a good girl.”

  Brett didn’t appreciate Mathilda’s reading of his character, but neither did he pretend to misunderstand her. “You can put that worry out of your mind. She deserves only the best, and I’m going to see that she gets it.” He spoke with such unexpected sincerity that Mathilda searched his face looking for a key to his thoughts. She could never say what she found there, but it did serve to ease her mind.

  Kate emerged from the inn with Michael right behind her. “I’m sorry I’m so slow, but I didn’t know Mrs. Franks was out here, and I couldn’t leave without thanking her.” She threw her arms around Mathilda and hugged her tightly.

  Mathilda brushed large tears from her trembling cheeks. “You take care yourself, miss, and remember whenever you come back to England, that you can always find a home with us. It’d be a pleasure to have you.” She pushed Kate toward the coach where Brett was waiting, then ran to Michael and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him soundly on both cheeks causing the poor man to blush fiery red.

  “If you don’t hurry up, we’ll still be standing here when Martin gallops into the yard,” Brett said. Kate threw him a look of burning reproach but quickly climbed inside, spurning his help with an angry gesture. He ignored her pique and sprang up behind her.

  As the coach pulled out of the yard and into the lane, Mathilda waved and smiled as merrily as her heavy heart would allow, but the mome
nt it was out of sight, she buried her face in her husband’s thin chest. “I just know some terrible sadness is going to happen to that poor little thing,” she sobbed. “I just know it. And don’t you think having Mr. Westbrook around will make everything safe,” she said, lifting her tear-stained face and pointing an accusing finger at her husband. “That man is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

  In later years, Kate could never remember much of their miserable race to the coast. They flew over the countryside and dashed through villages and towns, changing horses as often as needed and getting what little refreshment Brett allowed in those short intervals of relief from the constant rattle of the coach. Kate was too nervous to eat, but Brett twice had some of Mathilda’s bread and cheese. At dusk he insisted she must eat something also. She gave in and took an apple, but as it was last fall’s fruit and had begun to turn pithy, she was soon sorry she had agreed to eat anything at all.

  “How much farther do we have to go?” Kate had asked that question so often Brett’s response was rather curt.

  “We’re making good time and should be in Dover before nine o’clock, but we’re not hurrying just to avoid Martin. If we can catch the evening tide, we can be in France in the morning and everything will be solved quickly and easily. If not, I’ll be forced to find a place for you to stay tonight and another place to board tomorrow. As for Martin, I have no way of knowing where he is unless he should catch up with us.” Brett then refused to answer any more questions or even carry on a normal conversation. That angered Kate, but she was becoming accustomed to his high-handed manner and she settled back to wait.

  They pulled into Dover ten minutes before the hour, stopped briefly to notify the captain that a crew was wanted immediately, and then continued on past several large and small sailing craft. The docks were soon left behind and still the coach didn’t slacken its pace. They were almost out of sight of the outlying cottages when, much to Kate’s relief, the coach turned off the road and came to a halt before a large yacht at anchor in a secluded cove.

  To Kate’s apprehensive eyes, the yacht appeared far too small to carry anyone across so much water, but Brett obviously didn’t share her doubts, and he eagerly climbed down from the coach. Kate tried to use his enthusiasm to bolster her own confidence, but she had never been on a ship and the gentle rise and fall of the swell was already making her feel queasy. She had a sinking feeling she was going to be seasick before they even left the dock.

  As she watched her luggage being carried on board, the finality of what she was about to do swept over her and she felt alone and frightened. She was going to a foreign country with a man she knew almost nothing about. She had no say in what they did and no idea what was going to happen to her next. Even now Brett had gone off and left her to manage for herself. How could she place any dependence in a man who showed little concern for her person, feelings, and opinions?

  Brett stalked down the ramp, startled to find Kate still in the coach. “We break our necks racing halfway across England to get to this damned yacht and now you sit gawking like you’re afraid it’ll gobble you up. Get on board, for God’s sake. We didn’t come this far to have your nervous apprehensions ruin everything at the last minute.”

  Brett had spoken to her in every tone of voice from kindness to fury, but she had never heard the harsh command of a leader who demanded instant obedience. She climbed down from the coach and hurried up the plank, all the while berating herself for obeying his orders so meekly. What he needed, she told herself under her breath, was someone who would refuse to be ordered about, who would stand up to him and give him back his own, but Kate knew she was not ready to be that person and hurried to get on board.

  “The rocking shouldn’t bother you too much if you don’t think about it,” Brett said, helping her up the ramp. “If it does, just think about what Martin would do if he finds you, and you’re bound to feel better.” He led her to a steep, cramped stair that descended to a dark and narrow hall off which several rooms were situated. “This is your cabin,” he said, opening the second door. “It’s small, but it has everything you need. You might prefer to come up on deck until we cast off. The moon is full and the sea is as calm as you’ll ever see. But wrap up if you do. It’s cold.”

  Kate didn’t know what to make of a romantic invitation delivered in such a thoroughly unromantic manner, but she was too preoccupied by the rocking of the boat to bother with it. Her stomach was growing more uneasy all the time.

  “What if I’m sick?” she asked.

  “Sick?” Brett questioned. “Why should you be sick?”

  “Seasick,” she clarified. “This bobbing up and down is making me feel unwell.”

  Brett had never been seasick and had no understanding of anyone less hardy than himself. “If you’re on deck, you can hang your head over the rail, but down here you’d better keep a basin handy. The crew won’t have time to clean up after you.” He turned on his heel and left.

  By now Kate was too used to his unsympathetic responses to waste time being angry even if she hadn’t been so consumed with the feeling of nausea. She didn’t even look to see that all her luggage was on board. If it was left behind, she would just have to do without it. She placed the basin on the floor by the bed and lay down. Maybe she’d feel better if she were still for a while.

  The bed was narrow and short, but it was quite comfortable, and she found she did feel a little better when she didn’t have to hold her head up. She was glad she had not eaten much; she hoped it would be harder to be sick on an empty stomach.

  After several minutes, Kate felt well enough to try to go up on deck, but as soon as she sat up, her head began to swim. She lay back down until it stopped, then sat up more slowly. She still felt unsteady, but it wasn’t as bad as before. She was determined to be on deck when they cast off if she had to hang over the rail from Dover to Calais. She’d show that heartless aristocrat she could handle the crossing as well as any man.

  The cold sea air Struck her an exhilarating blast full in the face and she staggered slightly. Brett immediately offered his assistance, and she gratefully relaxed against him as he steered her to a position on the rail near the bow. The sight of the open sea made her stomach Start to heave again, and she grasped the rail with both hands. She decided if she had to be sick, she was going to be so all over Brett. It would serve him right for his lack of sympathy. Imagining his look of shock caused her to smile in spite of the feeling her insides were traveling in several different directions at once. However, on second thought she decided it might be wiser not to be sick over him. She wasn’t at all sure he wouldn’t throw her overboard.

  When Martin learned Feathers had left Ryehill before dawn, he swore mightily and long. By the time Boyngton arrived, he had worked himself into such a towering rage that he was unable to exchange a civil greeting.

  “That fool Feathers is off to warn them,” he swore. “If you don’t move your ass, we’ll never catch the bastard before they reach France.”

  “I’ve known the boy since he was breeched,” Frank said, dissatisfied with Martin’s interpretation of Feathers’s conduct. “He’s a young waster, but it’s not in his nature to aid in an abduction.” Martin didn’t bother to answer but drove his spurs into the flanks of his sidling mount and sped down the drive at a furious gallop.

  They rode hard all day, never pausing to argue over which road to take. Martin insisted the couple was headed for the coast, and there was very little choice about which routes a coach could take to Dover. In spite of Martin’s ill-tempered impatience, Boyngton stopped several times to inquire after Brett’s coach. It was reported often enough to convince him Martin’s guess had been correct.

  They reached Dover, exhausted and dust-covered, soon after nine o’clock. Martin wanted to begin searching for the pair immediately, but Frank refused.

  “I have no authority in this district,” he told Martin. “I can’t do anything until I contact the local officials.”

  “You
’re only trying to give that black-hearted devil time to make his escape,” Martin exploded.

  Frank controlled his temper and tried to explain to Martin why it was necessary for him to act in conjunction with the local constabulary, but Martin damned both Frank and the Dover police and galloped off into the night. He drove his exhausted horse from one end of the docks to the other, stopping everyone he met with a demand to be told where Brett’s yacht was located. When they were unable to tell him, he Struck one down with the butt of his pistol and tried to ride his horse over another. Finally, he found a sailor who told him of a big yacht at a cove on the outskirts of town. Martin nearly threw his horse to the ground as he jerked its head around and drove his spurs once more into its bloody sides. He knew the tide was already turning. Within minutes the yacht could be moving out to sea, and he was determined to find Brett before he could escape.

  Kate and Brett were watching the night sky in companionable silence when Martin drove his staggering mount out of the clinging shadows. The ropes had been cast off and the sailors were pulling the landing steps aboard when Martin dismounted. With a superhuman effort, he made a frantic leap over the open water that separated the shore and the departing yacht and managed to get a grip on the rail. The crew was too shocked to do more than stare dumbly as Martin pulled himself aboard with a shout of triumph.

  Brett’s keen ears had caught the sound of an approaching horse, and he had leapt away from the rail before Martin exploded out of the night. Thrusting Kate into a doorway behind him, he moved to face Martin alone.

  “You thought you’d get away from me when that worm Feathers came to warn you,” Martin roared, “but I was too smart for you this time. I rode like the hounds of hell, and by damn I got you.”

  “Don’t talk nonsense,” Brett snapped. “Or am I to believe you’re overcome with remorse and come to beg your sister’s forgiveness?”