Long minutes ticked by as Lyon carefully eased himself down into the well opening. “Light?” His hand shot up and the lit lantern was placed in it. He and the lantern disappeared back through the well opening.
“What do you see?” Micah stood at the opening.
“Mud. And water.” Came Lyon’s dry, sarcastic tone from deep down in the hole.
“Amesbury!” Micah shook his head in frustration. “What do you see?”
An amused chuckle drifted through the opening.
“Lyon!”
“There is a chamber that goes further back as you suspected, Micah.”
“Anything of note? A shrine?”
“Hand down the bucket of tools, would you?”
“What for? What do you see? What are you doing?” Micah inquired impatiently as he lowered the bucket down. He peered in trying to get a view of what Lyon was about.
“I’m not sure…” Lyon’s voice drifted off. Echoed slightly.
There was the sound of metal upon stone.
“Lyon, tell me you are not defacing a shrine.”
“Fine then, I won’t. Just to clarify, Micah, it was a leaden box William mentioned in the letter, wasn’t it?”
“Yes!” Six voices answered in unison.
“Lyon, did you find the box?” Micah hovered nervously near the opening.
No answer came from Lyon.
Harry felt Rowena’s hand tense upon his arm. While all attention was on the well opening, Harry allowed himself to study Rowena’s angelic features again. It seemed he could not get his fill of looking at her. He was surely bewitched by her.
He removed his gaze from his Angel’s lovely features to survey their surroundings again, still feeling something was not quite right around them. Once more, he saw nothing to bring alarm.
“Lyon!” Micah demanded. “Can you tell us what is going on down there?”
The sound of metal upon stone exited the opening again. “I’m busy down here, Micah. Give me a minute?” Lyon scolded in a sarcastic tone.
Micah sighed in exasperation.
Rowena giggled. Looked up to see Harry smiling down at her. His free hand moved to cover hers where it rested on his arm. His fingers caressed the top of her hand, ran along her knuckles, then along her fingers. He gave her a wink, while his hand lingered on hers, gently caressing. With a sigh, Harry removed his hand from hers before anyone took notice.
Rowena tried to concentrate once again on the scene before her. But it was difficult. She was suddenly too aware of Harry Bellingham standing next to her. His warmth, his caress to her hand, no matter how small, affected her. Everything about Harry affected her. Rowena didn’t understand why. Why she was so attracted to a man when she intended to stay far away from men for the rest of her life?
“Arrghh,” Lyon groaned loudly. It was followed by more scraping sounds.
“Are you in trouble?” Micah appeared ready to spring down into the opening. He perched above the hole like a curious cat.
“No. I’m fine. I have it. I’ve found the box. I removed it. I’ll bring it over and hand it up.”
Rowena held her breath as she watched Micah lean down and remove a leaden box from a pair of muddy hands.
No one spoke. All eyes were on Micah and the box.
“Take the bucket, Micah?” Came Lyon’s voice from inside the well opening. “I’m sinking in mud.”
“Oh yes, of course, Lyon. Charlie, take this?” Micah handed the lead box to Charlie. He then bent to retrieve the bucket from Lyon. Next he took the lantern from Lyon’s muddy hand.
The feeling that all was not well persisted. That odd little niggling, the hairs on the back of his neck rose. The need to be observant. Harry looked around. This time he saw something. Far off across the fields, closer to Wearyall Hill, Harry saw a man dressed in dark brown clothing sitting atop a bay. Horse and rider were still. The man appeared to be watching them.
“Micah, get Lyon up! We need to move quickly and get back to the Manor. It appears we have company on Wearyall Hill.” Harry announced in a matter-of-fact, but serious tone.
Micah was already pulling a muddy and soiled Lyon out of the well opening. When Lyon was up, he turned to look at the rider.
“He’s not moving,” Charlie said lowly. “It does appear we are the objects of his interest.”
Lyon and Harry exchanged glances.
The horses and phaeton waited far across the field, just off the road. They had a ways to walk. They couldn’t run, for the safety of Rowena, Aunt Frances and even Sir John would be compromised because of the rough condition of the field. A fall would not benefit any of them, especially the ladies or the elderly gentleman. And the rider may pose no threat to them at all. The man might simply be curious and wonder what they were doing in this field.
Still the feeling of danger persisted. Harry clearly felt the warning signs. Something was not right. There was a need for caution.
Micah passed the bucket to Lyon then took Frances’ arm. “Allow me, Lady Sperring.”
Rowena took Sir John’s arm and followed Micah. Harry walked behind her. He was followed by a very muddy Lyon who carried both the bucket and the larger tools, while Charlie carried the box, which was now covered by Lyon’s coat.
Rowena listened to Charlie and Lyon’s bantering behind her. It calmed her somehow, knowing they were not overly concerned.
“Why do you get to carry the box? I found it.”
“Because Micah handed it to me and told me to take it.”
“And you just do what Micah says.”
“When it makes sense. And when I feel like it, I might listen to him. He does make an awful lot of sense sometimes.”
Lyon grunted.
Charlie laughed.
The sound of a gunshot jarred the party into alarm. Birds rose from the tree tops around them creating a squawking cacophony in the sky above them.
“Is everyone all right? Was anyone hit?” Harry asked while looking around at everyone.
To Rowena, it appeared everyone in their party were unharmed.
“Faster if we can,” Harry encouraged in a calm but commanding tone.
“Is someone shooting at us, Harry?” Rowena turned, and whispered as she looked up into Harry’s eyes. She saw that his eyes were filled with concern.
“I’m not certain.” Harry moved directly beside her then. His hand rested at the small of her back.
Micah and Frances reached the phaeton first. Micah set the lantern in the back and jumped in, then turned to assist Frances. “Lady Sperring and Sir John, the three of us need to squeeze into the phaeton. I’ll drive. Charlie, tie my horse to the back after you set the box inside.”
Sir John climbed into the phaeton, further squeezing Frances between he and Micah.
“And tie Lady Rowena’s horse to the back as well. She’ll ride with me,” Harry shouted. He assisted Rowena onto his mount, careful to cover her legs with her skirts as best he could, for she was forced to sit astride and not side saddle. It was safer. There was the chance they’d have to run the horses. He’d not leave her to ride alone and sidesaddle at that.
While Harry took the tools from Lyon and set them in the phaeton next to the box, Rowena removed her hat, certain it would be in Harry’s way, riding double as they were.
Harry swung up atop his black behind Rowena. Lyon and Charlie sat their horses.
“Any guesses on where that shot came from?” Harry’s eyes studied the landscape about them.
“The rider was near Wearyall Hill. There was no way he could have hit one of us from that distance. The shot did sound like it came from that direction in any case,” Micah said.
Lyon and Charlie agreed.
“We’re partially up Beckery Road. Let’s go north to Benedict Street, then come south down Magdalene Street to Bere so we elude going through Town on the High Street. If we go back the way we came, the old Roman Road, we will be forced to travel below Wearyall Hill,” Rowena suggested, fervently hoping they c
ould avoid going by the hill again.
“That makes good sense, Lady Rowena. We don’t want to go below the hill and be easy targets.” Harry nodded.
“Then we just go straight? Let’s go, then.” Micah flicked the whip. The large gray harnessed to the phaeton started off. It was a brisker pace than they previously travelled.
Lyon pointed to Harry, “You stay where you are, on that side of the phaeton, with Lady Rowena.”
Harry nodded. It was the side furthest from Wearyall Hill. “I’d already thought of that, Lyon.” He slipped his right arm around Rowena’s waist. He tried to cover her right side as best he could with his arm and shoulder. “Are you comfortable enough, Rowena?” he whispered above her ear.
“Yes, Harry. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
But he did worry about her. “Lyon, you and Charlie move around a lot, take turns moving forward and aft. Let’s not give anyone an easy time of shooting at us.”
“Have we ever been easy targets, Harry?” Lyon grinned.
“We’ll not start today.” Charlie surged forward to pass Lyon.
Harry looked over his shoulder toward Wearyall Hill, searching for the rider. “He’s not where he was.”
“No. Bloody Hell! He’s ahead of us, Harry. Look there.” Micah shouted back to Harry and pointed to the road ahead. A man on horseback just sat and waited not too far in front of them. He wore an oversized brown coat and a large brown hat. It was impossible to make out any distinguishing features at that distance. Except the fact that he held a hunting rifle in his hand.
“We can’t risk it with the ladies, Micah, we’ll need to turn around,” Harry called out. Every nerve was alive. Adrenaline pounded through his body. There was no way they could risk riding past the armed rider with the ladies and Sir John. It was too dangerous.
“That won’t be any better for us, Harry.” Lyon rode up from the rear, “There’s another one back there. There’s two of them! One behind us, and one in front of us.”
“How fast is this horse?” Micah inquired calmly as he looked to Sir John.
“He’s big, but can stretch his legs fairly well. He can’t hold his own on a long sweep, but he’ll fare well enough in a short burst,” Sir John spoke in a confident tone. His arm tightened around Frances’ shoulders.
“Very good. Lady Sperring, Sir John, would you be so kind as to duck down? We’re going to make a run for it.” Micah let his whip fly. The phaeton jolted as the gray jolted into a run. “Stay with me, Harry!”
Harry tightened his grip on Rowena’s waist as they kept pace with the phaeton. “Hold on to my arm, Rowena. I’ve got you, sweet, don’t worry.”
She wrapped her arm around his, the one that held her so close against his warm, muscled body. Her hand rested on the hard muscles of his fore arm. Rowena wasn’t worried about herself. She felt very safe, engulfed as she was in the arms of Harry Bellingham. She was more worried about everyone else, including Harry.
Lyon left the group then, angling straight toward the lone horseman ahead. “I’ll draw him off of you.”
Rowena saw the glint of metal as Lyon raised a pistol in the air. He headed straight toward the rider.
The brown-coated man reined his mount around and sped away from them. He disappeared over a low rise.
When Lyon reached the top of the rise, he stopped for several minutes, his bay gelding dancing in place as he did. After several long minutes, Lyon wheeled the bay around and headed back toward his party. He motioned for them to slow their pace. “He’s gone, he disappeared into the trees below the rise. I think it was a trap. I think he wanted me to follow him.”
“Rider behind us has disappeared too,” Charlie informed the party as he rode up to them.
“We’re almost to Benedict Street. Surely they won’t try anything the closer we get to town,” Micah’s tone was hopeful. “Lady Sperring, Sir John, you may sit up now.”
“Oh my.” Frances raised up, her face ashen as she turned to locate Rowena behind her. There was not much more color in Sir John’s face as he sat up.
“Well, well!” Sir John said. “Reminds me a bit of my military days. Indeed!”
Rowena lessened her grip when she realized her fingers were dug into Harry’s arm.
Harry, however, did not loosen his grip about Rowena’s waist. “Are you all right, Rowena?”
“Yes, Harry. I’m fine.”
When they reached Magdalene Street, Rowena was able to relax. She allowed herself to lean back fully against Harry’s broad chest. It would be dusk shortly. The mad pounding of her heart, caused by the tense moments at the Brides, slowed and eventually calmed by the time they turned onto Bere. “Perhaps we were mistaken, Harry. Perhaps no one fired at us.”
“Had there not been two armed riders, one in front of us and one behind, I might be inclined to agree with you.”
“There was something not right about what happened,” Lyon spoke as he rode beside them. “I think it was a warning, otherwise they would have charged us.”
“But there were four of you.” Rowena shuddered. She was thankful the two men did not charge them.
“Lyon, you and Charlie go up Chilkwell to the Grange. Check on everything there and bring back clothing to Stonedown for us all. Bring the carriage if you need to. We’re all staying at Stonedown together until we figure out what exactly is going on, who these men are, and what they want. Alert Woollard. Tell him to be extra cautious and to send word right away if anything appears out of the ordinary at the Grange.”
“Absolutely Harry. Do you think it wise to turn off now? We can escort you all the way to Stonedown if you’d rather.” Lyon studied their surroundings cautiously.
“I think we’re fine now. Micah and I are both armed. Best you get to the Grange and back to Stonedown as quickly as possible. You don’t want to miss us opening the box,” Harry drawled.
“I best not miss you opening the box, Harry. I crawled through the mud to find it, and tore up a shrine to get at it! I’m going to open the box.”
“I knew you tore up a shrine! How could you?” Micah called back to Lyon from the phaeton.
Lyon chuckled.
“You had best hurry back to Stonedown, Lyon,” Harry warned with a grin.
“Come on, Charlie. We’re going to the Grange.” Lyon turned his bay away from Harry and Rowena.
Rowena was warm and comfortable in Harry’s embrace. She looked up at the graying sky. Harry’s fingers were currently splayed against her belly. His grip around her tightened. Occasionally his fingers moved lightly across her belly, a gentle caress. She tingled every time she became aware of his touch, or she remembered her thighs were cradled by his. She let her hands rest once again on his arm. Harry’s hand moved a little higher then, stopping to rest on her ribs, beneath her breast. Though she was enjoying this contact with him immensely, it was also like a slow, sweet torture.
Harry was not certain if he was in heaven or hell. Heaven for he held the Angel quite intimately in his arms, hell because his body felt every inch of the warm softness of her body acutely. With every step the black took, every time Rowena squirmed or shifted, every time he moved, he was tortured into bittersweet arousal. Some part of his anatomy brushed, rubbed or caressed some part of hers. The most tortured part of his body was currently nestled against her round derrière. Were he alone with Rowena, he guessed he’d be tempted to end his agony by pulling her off his horse and getting his hands under the skirts of her cornflower riding habit that molded to her curves so well. What was he thinking? He chased such ungentlemanly thoughts from his brain. They would certainly not help him in his quest to woo Rowena, nor would they help with the predicament he currently found himself in. They would make it much, much worse.
Harry turned the direction of his thoughts. Decided it was a magical moment. His hands and body knew almost every inch of hers, just from holding her against him. And after the initial danger passed, Rowena trusted him enough to lean against him. Even at this moment, her f
ingers absently caressed his arm.
For the second night in a row, dinner was served late at Stonedown Manor. Once again, it was to be an informal affair. Lyon cleaned up at the Grange. He and Charlie returned, bringing Micah’s belongings as well as more clothing for Harry.
Rowena shrugged aside the silver watered silk Betsy prepared for her. It was far too formal for their late and informal meal. Instead she wore a plum silk, her favorite dark blue having apparently been stained. The plum colored gown was a bit more formal than what she wished, but she hadn’t a lot of time to search for something simpler and more practical to change into without holding up the already late meal.
Lord of the Abbey Page 14