by Mari Carr
“How are you, my little angel?” He was ashamed of himself for not coming to check on her earlier.
“Fine,” she whispered, still timid in her responses.
“Truly?” He looked at her closely. His heart broke every time he considered the private hell this small child had endured. Her strength in the face of such pain and suffering humbled him.
“Truly,” she repeated louder, hugging him tighter.
“I love you,” he whispered into her soft hair.
Smiling, Chelsea pulled back to look at him. “I love you, too, Daddy.”
Ben stumbled back a couple of steps until he felt a chair press against his legs. He fell into it with Chelsea in his arms. The worry and uncertainty of the past few months washed away. He had never seen his little girl look so peaceful and relaxed. He held her tight for several minutes, savoring the feeling of her in his arms. His daughter. His.
“Sir,” the nurse said, glancing out the window. “Now that I think on it, I believe I did see Miss Hamilton.”
“Oh,” he said, loosening his grip on Chelsea “Where?”
“She was out in the back garden. I’m not certain, but I believe I saw her leave by the south gate on the path that leads to the old oak at the edge of the property.”
Ben’s heart stopped at her words. He hadn’t considered she would attempt to leave without speaking to him again.
“No,” his breathed out. He felt Chelsea’s jerk at his anguished word.
Looking at her with confused eyes, he struggled to hide the fear pulsating through his body. Somehow he managed to force a smile to his lips. “I need to speak to Vee, Chelsea. Will you be alright here?”
Nodding at him, he sensed the young girl could read his worries despite his efforts to hide them.
“She’ll come home,” Chelsea said softly. He wondered if the girl could truly read his thoughts so easily.
“Of course, she will,” he said, more to reassure himself than the child. “I won’t be long. Maybe I can convince her to accompany us on a picnic this afternoon. Like the one we took at Waterplace.”
Laughing, Chelsea jumped up and down with excitement, resembling a true seven-year-old girl.
“A picnic,” she sang happily.
“Let me go fetch her.” He prayed he would get to her in time. “Wait here.”
Rushing from the room, he took the back stairs two at a time, running out into the bright sunshine. He traversed the path to the oak without a sideways glance, desperate to stop Tori from making her escape. Hoping against hope that he was wrong, that she wasn’t trying to leave. Perhaps she was simply taking a walk. A feeling of dread crept through him as he approached the tree.
She’s not here. A sharp feeling of pain stabbed his chest. Fearing the worse, he circled the tree, his eyes scanning the ground for some clue, some sign his apprehensions weren’t founded. That the love of his life hadn’t returned to the future. That she hadn’t left him forever.
Something shimmering in the sunlight caught his eye. Leaning down, he reached out and found Tori’s necklace. The chain had been broken. He thought back to the day he’d first found her beneath the tree. She’d been badly battered by her trip through time. Hayley and Erin both insisted that the time-travel was rough, frightening.
Could the chain have broken during her return? Deep dread filled his chest and he sank down onto the ground, struggling to breathe past the ever-growing lump in his throat, her beloved necklace clutched tightly in his palm.
She’s gone. Vanished. Without a word. Without saying goodbye. Without giving him a chance to tell her how much he loved her.
“Oh, God,” he cried. “What have I done?”
Chapter 24
V is for Vengeance
“Ouch.” Tori winced. She’d been struggling for several minutes to untie the rough twine around her wrists. She was tied to a chair in the same damn cabin where she’d saved Erin and Hayley only the day before. Where she’d made love with Ben all night last night. She had awoken several minutes earlier to find herself alone. God only knew where Prescott was hiding. The man was clearly out of his mind.
If she could manage to get loose before he returned, she could run back to the Grange and warn the others he was still in the area. Alex and Erin had been discussing his whereabouts this morning when she’d returned, and she knew the Grange servants had been combing the area since yesterday afternoon. Alex had been sure that Frank was long gone.
What a fool she had been to leave the immediate area around the house. What had she been thinking? No, not what had she been thinking. Who had she been thinking of? Ben.
He’d consumed her thoughts for weeks. She’d always prided herself on being a fairly intelligent person, yet a few moments in his presence reduced her to a mindless bimbo thinking only of the man she loved and nothing else. Damn the man she loved. The man who considered her to be as big a lunatic as she considered Prescott to be.
A drop of liquid trickled down her hand, and she glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a drop of her blood hit the floor. Choking back tears and fighting to ignore the pain, she continued to pick at the knots, but to no avail. A sound outside the door set her heart to racing.
Frank was back.
“Damn women,” he muttered as he entered the cabin. “Interfering, lousy bitches. Need to learn their place.”
“And where would that be?” She noticed he no longer carried the gun he’d rendered her unconscious with. Where she was finding the nerve she didn’t know, but she had come to realize her forthright nature confused him. Perhaps she could keep him talking long enough for someone to find her. Silently she sent up a prayer that the servants were still searching the area.
“Cooking and cleaning the house!” Prescott yelled. “Warming my bed!”
Tori shuddered at the thought, but kept her mouth closed, allowing him to continue his tirade.
“You’re just like her,” he accused, pointing his finger. “Think you’re damn better than me. Spread your legs for a rich man, but not for a working man like me! Titles and uniforms are all that matter to faithless bitches like you. You think I didn’t see you last night with Lord Benjamin. I saw you. You’re a whore just like they say. Just like her.” Frank towered over her, ramming his finger into her chest with each horrible comment.
Her stomach turned at the thought of Frank watching her and Ben last night.
“Just like who?” She wished he would step back. He was hurting her and she couldn’t hide her shaking if he didn’t back away. He was furious. She’d never been more terrified.
“Maggie,” Frank whispered, his anguished tone shocking her.
Who the hell was Maggie?
Frank walked away from her to stare unseeing out the door of the cabin. For several moments, he was silent. With his back turned, she fought desperately against the ropes once again. Finally the knot gave way. Her bonds were loose enough that she could get loose. Keeping her hands in place behind her back, she frantically tried to think of a way to get Frank out of the cabin.
“Wouldn’t marry me,” Frank continued, jarring her from her thoughts. “Took one look at Ian Duncan in his soldier uniform and run off with him. She was my girl. Always my girl. Then the damn fool gets himself killed in the war, and she still wouldn’t marry me. Says we didn’t suit. Says she didn’t love me. I showed her.” He came back to her, anger blazing in his black eyes. He leaned down close enough that she could see the tick beside his left eye and smell onions on his rancid breath.
“I showed that bitch,” he said, smiling evilly. “If she didn’t love me, she wouldn’t love anybody. I sneaked up to her da’s house one night and set a fire. Killed her and her father. He deserved to die as well. Wouldn’t accept my suit, told me the choice was his daughter’s. Weak man. He should’ve made her marry me. Then they’d both be alive.”
She shivered at the unrestrained malice in both his words and face. Frank was truly proud of his actions. He believed he was right to take the liv
es of two innocent people whose greatest crime was to say “no” to him. No doubt Maggie and her father had seen the cruelty in his soul and yet not realized the danger he posed until it was too late.
“Only that bastard girl wasn’t in the house like she was supposed to be. Saw her coming out of the stable as I was leaving. Went back to kill her, but the damn neighbors started coming out of their houses. Told that little bitch if she ever said anything about what I’d done, I’d come back and kill her, too. Got a job with that high and mighty lord of yours to keep an eye on her.”
“Why try to kill her then?” she asked softly, sensing he was calming down. “She wasn’t talking to anyone.”
“How did I know that? She wouldn’t come out of that damn house, and you never left her side. You didn’t like me right from the start so I figured she told you somethin’.”
“If I’d known, don’t you think Lord Benjamin would have had you arrested?” she asked. “No one knew. By coming around Waterplace, you put yourself at risk.”
“You questioning me?” Frank’s temper rose again and he lifted his hand as if to strike her.
“No.”
Frank’s hand came down hard against her cheek.
“Damn you.” He wrapped his hands around her throat. “None of this would’ve happened if you’d just kept your nose out of my business. Left that stupid kid alone. But you kept on and on, trying to get her to talk.”
Gasping for breath, she shook off the ropes, bringing her hands up to beat at Frank’s face. She took advantage of his temporary surprise at her freedom by digging her thumb into one of his eyes. She swallowed the bile that leapt to her throat at the squishy feeling of his eye popping as she pushed it with all her might. Hayley would have been proud she’d remembered her self-defense lessons so well.
Injured, Frank released his hold on her neck, both of his hands flying to his bleeding eye. Taking the opportunity, she leapt from the chair and ran out the door amidst Frank’s cursing and screaming. She’d nearly reached the edge of the woods when a gunshot sounded in her ears. She felt a hard jolt and a strange burning sensation in her arm, but she continued running, trying to get away. To the Grange, to Chelsea, to the June Girls, to Ben.
Black spots danced across her eyes, and she struggled to dodge around the trees in her path. She could make out a figure approaching her from the direction of the house. Someone had heard the shot. Help was on the way. A brief feeling of relief was quickly followed by a lightheadedness that had her stumbling forward. Strong arms encased her as she fell toward the ground. Looking up, she saw the worried eyes of Ben. His lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear anything he was saying, the roaring in her ears too loud.
“Frank,” she whispered, then she gave up the fight. She was now safe. Ben’s here. He would protect her. With that final thought, she fainted.
Ben looked down at Tori’s unconscious form. He’d been under the oak tree when he’d heard the gunshot. Dashing toward the sound, he thought he’d been dreaming when he first saw her running toward him. A mirage. Then she came closer and he saw the bloodstains on the front of her dress.
He heard raised voices in the distance coming from the direction of the Grange. Clearly he wasn’t the only one who had heard the shot fired. Holding her gently on his lap, he studied her wounds. She’d been shot in her left shoulder. Given the hole in both the front and back of her dress, he could only assume she’d been shot while trying to escape, and the bullet had passed straight through. He struggled to swallow, his mouth dry with fear at the sight of so much of her blood flowing from the wound. Staunching the flow with his cravat, he took in the rest of her. There was a bruise forming on her right cheek and her wrists were bleeding as badly as her shoulder.
Prescott hadn’t left the area as they’d all suspected. Anger, black and thick, suffused his body as he thought of his Tori prisoner to the man who had caused his little family so much pain and suffering. He’d killed Chelsea’s mother and grandfather, terrorized his daughter, attempted to kill his best friends’ wives, and now he’d kidnapped, tortured, and shot Tori.
Running feet dragged him from his thoughts as Jack and Alex approached. Both men came to an abrupt stop at the sight of Tori’s still form in his arms.
“Good God,” Alex cried. “Is she—?”
“No,” he answered, “but Prescott will be. Alex, Jack, can you take her back to the Grange? I have some unfinished business to attend to.”
“Ben,” Jack started, but Ben shook his head.
“No, Jack,” he added harshly. “Prescott is mine to deal with. He has hurt someone I love for the last time. Please take care of Tori. I won’t be long.”
Jack considered his words for only a moment before bending down to gently relieve him of his burden. “She’ll be fine,” Jack whispered as he leaned over, carefully taking Tori out of his arms. “I’ll see to it personally.”
Ben nodded his thanks, as Jack rose with Tori and started back to the Grange. Alex remained behind.
“I need to do this alone,” Ben said.
“But not unarmed.” Alex handed him the pistol he carried. “The man is dangerous and clearly cunning, Ben. He eluded my men all night and half of today. He managed to take Tori without any of us realizing it. Promise you will take care.”
Ben smiled grimly. “You forget, my friend. Killing is my talent.” And with that, he let his dark nature loose and turned away to stalk his prey.
Chapter 25
V is for Vindication
Ben crept through the woods quietly until he reached the now abandoned cabin. Apparently satisfied he’d hit his mark, Prescott had deserted the shelter. Instinct kicked in as Ben studied the footprints outside the door. Distinguishing which prints were Prescott’s took several minutes. Beginning the slow and methodical process of tracking, he took off in the opposite direction of the Grange. Ironic that the years he’d spent cursing the training he’d received, first as a soldier, then with Bow Street, would ultimately help him to save his family. Failure was not an option. He would kill Prescott, then he would do whatever it took to ensure Chelsea and Tori would never be in danger again.
The minutes turned to hours as he moved with painstaking slowness, tracking Prescott’s trail. Once, he found a rag with bloodstains and felt an immense sense of pride that Tori had managed to fight back. Glancing toward the sky, he cursed the approaching dusk. Picking up his pace, he prayed he would find Prescott before dark.
After several minutes more, he heard the sound of a branch breaking ahead and he stopped walking. Straining to hear more, he began to move silently through the woods, careful to avoid making any noise at all. Soon, he saw a figure about a hundred yards in the distance, sitting beneath a tree. He recognized Prescott’s large figure.
Approaching stealthily, he crept forward and circled around until he was standing directly behind the tree where Prescott rested.
“Time’s up, Prescott,” Ben said menacingly.
Frank tried to jump to his feet, but Ben was ready for him as he placed his foot in the man’s lower back, kicking him back to the ground.
“You killed Maggie Duncan.” Ben’s voice low and calm.
“Bitch deserved it,” Frank spat back, crab crawling away from Ben as he approached. At his words, Ben kicked the man’s shin hard. Frank cried out, sitting forward to grab his leg.
“You threatened my daughter,” Ben continued, ignoring the man’s howls of pain.
“Damn brat shoulda died with her mother.” Frank rose to his knees, no longer trying to escape, but ready to fight.
Ben waited until he staggered to his feet before landing a crushing blow to his face. Prescott fell back against a tree, but remained upright.
“You kidnapped my governess.” Ben ticked off his list of grievances against the man. He wanted Frank to know exactly what he was dying for.
“Your whore.” Frank spat, hoping to shake Ben’s unnerving calm.
He replied with a strong blow to Prescott’s gut, fo
llowed by a knee to his groin.
Frank gasped for air as he fell to his knees.
“You shot her.” Ben’s voice betrayed his intense anger for the first time.
Frank didn’t answer the last accusation as he gave up any pretense of trying to fight back and made one last attempt at escape. Flinging himself forward into Ben’s chest, he would have run away had Ben not caught him and pulled him down as well. The men fell to the ground together in what Ben quickly realized would be a fight to the death. Fists flew and connected amidst groans and grunts. Kicks landed as blood began to flow. It was soon obvious who the victor would be as Frank only landed one punch to every three of his. Years of honing his fighting skills paid off as he used all his knowledge in combat to defeat his foe. This man had inflicted unspeakable pain on Chelsea. He’d shot his beloved Tori, and now Ben was going to see justice done at last.
The fight ended as quickly as it began when Ben delivered one last punch with so much force Frank’s neck snapped as the evil man fell for the final time.
For several moments, he stared into the dead man’s sightless eyes. How many times had he looked into the face of death? A familiar chill crept into his bones as he imagined the soul of his victim passing through him as it left its earthly form. Shuddering against the cold, he turned his back on Prescott’s still form before retching under a tree.
Overwhelmed by fatigue, he remained motionless as the events and the emotions of the day played in his mind. In one day, he’d experienced love and heartbreak, joy and fear, happiness and anger, life and death. Death, he reflected. Always death.
“No,” he said aloud, startled by the loudness of it in the silence of the night. “No more death.” Raising his face to the blackness of the encroaching night, he made a silent pledge. Never again would he take the life of another. His days as a killer were past. From this day forward, he would dedicate himself to living. No more darkness, no more self-recrimination.
Only Tori and Chelsea. His family. His life.