Isabella followed Ridge to the edge of the inferno where he began to spread the water in a semi-circle a short distance from the fire. He pointed toward the opposite end, where she began to throw it on the ground in a similar fashion.
They made several trips like this, back and forth, until Mr. Hopper and the brothers returned, driving a wagon pulled by two horses. Herb rushed over and said, “They have a hose with a portable water cistern that we can spray directly on the fire.”
Ridge nodded, as he waved the brothers forward. One of them pumped water into the hose, while the other pointed it toward the blaze. However, while the fire sizzled and sputtered when the water hit it, their efforts were not doing enough to contain the problem. Soon enough it would become a big pile of rubble, so Ridge instructed them to continue with his original plan of making a break around the perimeter of the burning shed so the fire wouldn’t spread to anything else. While that meant what was inside would be a total loss, at least he would be making his best attempts to save everything else around it.
Isabella watched it all in tense fear, her hands clasped before her as she silently prayed for a positive outcome. But then something caught her attention, a slight movement from behind the inferno. “Ridge!” She pointed toward the shadow. “Someone’s there!”
Ridge jerked his gaze to where she pointed, and she saw the figure take off. He gave chase, disappearing behind the flaming shed.
Isabella was torn, wondering if she should follow, but then she decided she wouldn’t do any good if she got in the way, so she remained where she was, in case she might be of any help to Isaac, Ian, or Mr. Hopper, who was standing to the side and keeping the horses settled while they continued to fight the blaze.
At long last, as the sun was starting to set, the fire was reduced to crackling wood and crumbling stone, the water they’d spread around the shed having been contained to one area. But even then, Isabella knew that if wasn’t for the downpour the day before, this might have become a rather dangerous and unforgiveable situation.
The brothers took care of the wagon, leaving to cart it back to the village, while Mr. Hopper walked over to her, where she continued to stare at the ghostly shell before her with a cold chill traveling through her body. Although the fire was upsetting enough, for she had a good idea of who might have been responsible for the excitement, she was more concerned that Ridge hadn’t returned yet.
Nevertheless, Herb put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t we get you inside?”
She didn’t want to leave this spot until Ridge returned, but since darkness was quickly following, she admitted that it wouldn’t be the most prudent idea to remain out in the open. So with no small amount of reluctance, she allowed the porter to escort her inside to the safety of the castle.
They went upstairs, where he knocked on Claudia’s door. There, Mrs. Hopper and her ladies’ maid both cried out in relief that they were both unharmed. Isabella was glad to see that Claudia was awake and looked much improved since that morning. There was heightened color to her cheeks, and she was more confident on her feet.
“Where’s Mr. Claymoore?” Mrs. Hopper asked.
After Herb explained what had taken place, and where Ridge was, she shook her head. “My heavens. Another attack.”
“It would appear so,” her husband agreed grimly.
A noise turned their attention toward the walkway, where Ridge was coming toward them. Isabella had to reach out and steady herself, the relief upon seeing him alive a great consolation.
“I lost the bastard,” he growled.
“No doubt he will return again,” Mr. Hopper said quietly.
And again, and again, and again, until he gets what he wants, Isabella silently added. She exhaled, long and slow. She hated the thought of putting all these people in danger, and yet, at the same time, she certainly didn’t relish the idea of giving herself over to Simon and relocating to France, facing God only knew what sort of fate she’d have to endure.
But she wasn’t sure how much more of this all-consuming guilt she could take. What made her so special that she must be guarded so carefully? Granted, Ridge had told her at the onset that she was imperative in luring Simon in, but after two assaults against the castle without anything to be gained as yet, surely she was nothing more than fodder at this point?
She’d run off with Simon once. Perhaps it was time she did it again, in order to save the people who had come to mean so much to her.
Including Mr. Claymoore.
But how did one go about getting a message to a smuggler who was in hiding?
Mr. Hopper’s words from long ago clicked something in her brain. He’d mentioned Sandown Castle, that it was uninhabitable and left for ruins. Mrs. Hopper had told her Ridge had combed the countryside in search of Simon, but if the viscount was indeed a French spy, then she had to imagine that he was smarter than to be caught out amongst the public for a long period of time where he had the risk of being recognized. He certainly wouldn’t be spending much of his time at a rural inn, when the most logical place was to hide in plain sight.
“Lady Isabella?” She turned at the sound of Mrs. Hopper’s voice. She wore a concerned expression on her face. Apparently, it wasn’t the first time she’d called her name.
“I’m sorry. I was woolgathering.”
“Of course. It’s been a rather strenuous evening for all of us. But we still need to eat. Why don’t you come downstairs and grab a bite of supper?”
Isabella smiled. She realized she was going to miss this older couple when she left the castle. “Thank you, Mrs. Hopper. I shall.”
If nothing else, she would need the extra fortification for her midnight rendezvous.
***
Later that night, Isabella pulled the dark hood of her cloak over her hair as she eased open the door of her chambers. She paused, but when nothing met her ears, such as Ridge’s deep voice demanding to know what the hell she was doing, Isabella made haste taking care to be as quiet as possible. Once down the stairs and into the kitchens, she cautiously opened the door into the gardens.
Then she was outside in the bracing night air. She leaned against the stone at her back and closed her eyes to still the pounding her of her heart. She had no idea that intrigue could be so fortifying. While she wasn’t looking forward to what was to come, she had to admit that everything Ridge had told her about being an agent for the Crown was rather heady now that she was embarking on her own perilous adventure.
Isabella pulled her cloak more securely around her as she kept close to the castle walls and sprinted toward the rear of the grounds, past the ruined shed with its ashes still smoldering, and beyond, where the farthest exit lay.
The moment her hand touched the handle of the gate, she feared she would hear a stern command behind her — but again, there was nothing.
Before her courage could falter, Isabella drew a deep breath and pushed forward.
The night was heavy with silence, the few sounds being the occasional whisper of the waves coming ashore and a brief rustle of the wind. Isabella kept to the coastline, using the moon as her guide to see, and hastened toward the ruins, which lay about an hour to the north.
Her footsteps faltered but once, but she didn’t stop until the fortress came into view. While Deal Castle was the most impressive of the three “Castles of the Downs,” in Kent, Sandown was similar to Walmer in structural appearance. But while the gray stone edifice where she had been staying was still quite impressive, the decay of Sandstone was rather heart wrenching. She imagined that, when it was first built, standing among the other three in close proximity to one another, it had also been a fearsome sight for the enemy to behold.
Isabella swallowed, fearing that she wouldn’t see her beloved country for some time if she surrendered to Simon, but while men had their pride and honor, so did women, and she refused to allow any further harm to come to Walmer Castle and its current occupants. She would do what she must to ensure their welfare.
The fi
rst thing Isabella noticed was that the outer wooden door of the castle was hanging on its hinges. She slipped past the opening and found herself in the main entrance of the great hall, or rather, what had once been so. Now, it was littered with various bits of debris and sand. Her boots crunched on the floor as she moved forward, searching for any signs of habitation. Surely there would be evidence of a small fire or some such indication of life, but as she continued to investigate her surroundings, she found nothing to prove that anyone had ever been here. It appeared completely deserted.
She released a breath, for she had been sure that her suspicions had been correct. Without any other lead, she supposed she had no choice but to return to Walmer.
The abrupt crunch of another set of footsteps broke the silence, and Isabella turned to confront the intruder — just as Ridge separated himself from the shadows around him and walked through the doorway.
Isabella could tell at a glance that he wasn’t pleased with her. At all. His jaw tightened and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Dare I even ask what you are doing here?” he said quietly, although his eyes shone with his anger.
“I came to find Simon.”
If possible, his expression turned even more thunderous. “For what purpose?”
“To end this madness.”
“Are you a bloody fool?” He strode toward her until he’d grabbed hold of her shoulders, giving her a little shake. “Did I not explain the danger clearly enough to you before?”
“Yes, you did,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I can stand by and watch innocent people get hurt because of me.” She wrenched out of his grasp.
She made it outside by the time he grabbed her arm and jerked her to a halt. “You are not walking away from this, Isabella. I should wring your idiotic neck for taking such a risk!”
Isabella attempted to free herself, but his grip tightened to the point she was sure there would be bruises there on the morrow. “I release you from your duty as my keeper, Mr. Claymoore,” she snapped in return. “I never asked for your assistance, nor do I continue to do so. The point of this entire charade was for me to force Simon out of hiding. That’s not going to happen if you keep me under your thumb!”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “You are undoubtedly the most infuriating, insufferable female I’ve ever had the misfortune of encountering. If I hadn’t had the wherewithal to follow you tonight, you might have been well on your way to France right now!”
She narrowed her eyes. “Then let us part ways now, so that you don’t have to contend with my presence any longer.”
Even in the dark, she could see his eyes flash. “Never.”
“Never?” she echoed with a scoff. “And yet, weren’t you the one who agreed that it wasn’t prudent for us to continue on together?”
He said nothing, but his focus never wavered from her face.
She shook her head. “I’m not the fool here, Mr. Claymoore. You are. At least I’m smart enough to know when I can’t win the game. I’m going to find Simon, and when I do, I’ll accept the consequences of the actions I clearly began to bring down on myself.”
“No.” His stare turned even more intense. “I forbid it.”
This time she yanked her arm free. “You have nothing to say about it, Mr. Claymoore. I’m the Viscountess of Wistenberry whether you, or I, or anyone else likes it or not and I will put an end to all of this.”
Before she had time to take one step away from him, he’d pushed her up against the stone, trapping her with his hard body. “The hell I don’t. You’re mine, Isabella.”
His mouth crashed down on hers, demanding her surrender. Without hesitation, her pulse began hammering in her veins. She wanted to fight against him, against this, but damned if the man made it impossible to do so. She yearned for his touch like the next breath in her body and she hated that. She didn’t want to give another man, this man, that kind of power over her. She’d given herself to Simon without thought, but the blinders were off now. She understood well what could happen if she gave in to the magnetism between her and Ridge. The consequences would be disastrous, and yet, she couldn’t push him away any more than she could stop her impulsiveness to run away with Simon.
Angry with Ridge, and with herself, she kissed him back with all the angst that she was feeling inside. She clutched his jacket and moaned when he caressed her breast. She gently bit his lower lip and the noise that stirred within his throat was like the purr of a cat, though infinitely more predatory.
She heard more than one thread snap as he tugged down her bodice. Cool air touched the tips of her nipples as he lowered his head and captured one peak in his hot, wet mouth. Flames shot through her midsection the same way they had burst through the shed. She was on fire for him.
Her core pulsed in time to his gentle sucking and she knew, that with the slightest manipulation, she would lose her sanity. “Touch me,” she demanded. “Now.”
He lifted her skirts and his hand delved beneath. Her neck arched as he found the same sweet spot he’d massaged before, the same area she’d stroked earlier that day while her thoughts had conjured this very moment.
With the slightest caress, she shuddered in his arms, his mouth smothering her moan of completion.
When the pleasure started to subside, she opened her eyes and stared at him. “Take me, Ridge. It’s the only way we can satisfy this attraction between us.”
He stared at her for a heartbeat, and then he kept his eyes locked with hers and began to unbutton the flap of his trousers. Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest when he lifted her leg and started to position himself, the tip of his hard erection nudging at her center…
The clopping hoofbeats of an approaching horse broke them apart.
Ridge breathed a curse, and deftly put himself to rights. He pulled her farther away from the danger and held a finger to his lips, while she held the sides of her torn gown together, as her heart began to thump for another reason entirely.
Simon…
Not until Ridge withdrew the pistol from the back of his trousers did her eyes widen. He pointed where she stood, indicating that she should remain there, and then he crept around the side of the castle walls, intent on facing off with their new opponent.
Chapter Twelve
Ridge forced himself to tamp down his desire, turning all of his attention to the danger at hand. Granted, it would have been nice if the villain had waited a bit longer to appear, but there was nothing to be done for it. At least he might finally gain some answers into Wistenberry’s whereabouts, if he wasn’t lucky enough to catch him out in the open now.
On silent tread, he peered through the darkness, watching as a dark figure stumbled across the debris littering the castle floor. He cursed several times, his words slurring even from a distance. He’s soused, Ridge thought to himself, pleased at the idea that this would be a rather easy capture.
But he waited to see what the man would do, for the way he was rummaging around the stones of the castle walls, it was apparent he was searching for something. Ridge saw him remove a package, and then turn to go. At that point, he decided he’d waited long enough.
He stepped out of the darkness with his pistol raised and pointed it directly at the man’s heart. “Stop right there.”
The man fell back a step, his face turning white. “What the bloody—” He broke off and demanded, “Who the hell are you?”
“Someone you don’t need to cross,” Ridge returned evenly. He gestured to the packet. “What do you have there?”
The man smirked. “My boss’s dirty laundry.”
Ridge lifted a brow. “Indeed? Then you won’t mind if I have a look.”
The man held the packet closer to his chest. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. My employer is rather particular when it comes to such matters.”
“No doubt,” Ridge murmured. “Even so, I fear I must insist.”
As a slight noise came from behind the man, he turned, just long enough of
a distraction for Ridge to act. He rushed forward and brought the pistol down on the side of the man’s temple, sending him crumpling to the ground in an unconscious heap.
Ridge turned his gun on the approaching threat, but then hastily lowered it when Isabella came into view. He released a frustrated breath. “I thought I told you to wait outside.”
“You did. I just decided you might need some assistance.” Ridge clenched his jaw, as she drew forward and peered down at the man lying on the stone. Her eyes narrowed, and after a moment, she said, “He looks familiar.”
Ridge tucked the pistol away and walked over to join her. “He does?”
“Yes.” She bent down to get a better look, and then she covered her mouth with a gasp. “My God,” she breathed. “It’s Simon’s valet.”
“In that case, we must be in the right place,” he said grimly. “And yet, where is the viscount?” He reached down and picked up the packet. He opened it and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the contents inside.
The anticipation must have been too much for Isabella, for she exclaimed, “What is it?”
He reached inside and withdrew a single package of several banded pound notes within. “I believe we’ve just found your dowry.”
With a gasp, she peered inside and said, “I think this is more than my dowry. There has to be a fortune in here.”
“Indeed.” Ridge agreed. “But the question is, did we capture a traitor to his employer, or was Simon making plans to travel to the Continent tonight?” He saw Isabella pale, so he decided to keep any further musings to himself. Instead, he lifted the valet and tossed him over his shoulder. “Let’s get him to the castle. There’s a rather nice dungeon with his name on it.”
Ridge walked outside and tossed his burden over the saddle of the valet’s own horse. He put the package in the saddlebags, and then turned to Isabella. “Want to ride back with our captive?”
She shuddered and took a step backward. “Thank you, but no. I’m more than capable of walking with you.”
Isabella's Secret Summer Page 12