“Awright, then ye take ’er. She’ll open yer britches, then she ken climb on top of ye. Ye’ll stick it in ’er and I ken watch.”
“No,” Knight said. “You forget, Boy, a man has to be aroused to do anything at all with his rod. My hands are tied behind my back, I’m bloody uncomfortable, my shoulders feel like they’re being pulled out of their sockets, I’m a bit cold, and my rod’s deader than an Egyptian scarab.”
“What’s a scare-ab?”
“A scarab is a long-dead black dung beetle.”
“Well, I’opes it’s long dead.”
Boy subsided. He wrapped himself up tightly, winding his filthy woolen scarf about his throat. But he never fell asleep. Not that it mattered much to Knight. The ropes seemed impervious to the jagged stone. His hands cramped. His fingers went numb. He wanted to yell with frustration.
When Boy roused Monk, Knight pretended sleep. He watched the big man settle himself across from him and Lily, Boy’s pistol on his lap.
He’d have to be more careful now.
Knight fell asleep finally, and into a vicious nightmare. He was completely and utterly alone, his arms and legs chained to a bare stone wall. He could hear Lily screaming, but he couldn’t see her, couldn’t help her. It went on and on. It was the horror of the nightmare that finally jerked him awake. He heard Monk chuckle as he shook his head to clear it of the lingering images. The nightmare had been a blessing. It had brought him awake again. He went back to work with renewed energy and strength on the damned ropes.
Lily slept fitfully beside him. Monk said nothing, merely watched both of them. It was near dawn when the rope unfrayed and Knight could pull his hands free. He kept very still. He had to get feeling back into his hands before he had a prayer of overcoming Monk and Boy.
Monk untied Lily and ordered her to make coffee.
“I’ll need water to make the coffee. There isn’t any here.”
It was Monk who went outside the cottage to fetch water, from where Knight didn’t know. He hoped it was a good distance away.
Knight moved then, moved more quickly than he had in his entire life. He was on his feet and on Boy in an instant. His fist landed hard in Boy’s stomach, next on his nose, and he drew back to give a smart kick in Boy’s groin.
Boy screamed with pain and fell to his knees.
“Gawd damn ye. Oh, I’ll kill ye for that—ah.”
Knight brought the pistol butt down on Boy’s head and he crumpled unconscious to the dirty floor.
Knight raced to the window and peered out. No sign of Monk. Thank God.
“Quickly, Lily.”
Within a minute Knight and Lily had eased out of the cottage and around the side to the stable.
Knight’s fingers felt clumsy and numb, his knuckles bloody. Lily helped him saddle the big rawboned stallion that had pulled the carriage. “He’ll carry both of us. We’ll let the other horses out. Hold still now, Lily. Don’t move.”
Knight peered around the stable door. He saw Monk drop a pan of water at a yell from Boy.
“Go. Quickly.”
Knight grabbed the stallion’s reins and pulled him outside. Lily prodded and waved her cloak to get the other horses out of the stable and away.
Then she looked up and froze.
“Knight. Oh, God. He’s got a pistol!”
Knight whirled about, dropped the horse’s reins, and pulled his own pistol up. He and Boy fired very nearly at the same instant. Lily flung herself in front of him, screaming, “No!” and he felt her body take the bullet, felt its impact as it hurled her back against him.
“Oh, God, no.” His arm went around her waist to hold her up. “Oh, God, Lily.”
Time seemed to stop. Knight heard an agonized scream, but it seemed far away, far removed from him, until his eyes focused and he saw Boy go down, clutching his chest. Monk yowled with fury as he came running toward his friend. Knight’s pistol was empty. He quickly lifted Lily into his arms, grabbed the loose reins of Monk’s horse, and swung himself into the saddle.
A bullet whistled past his ear. He ducked his head and dug his heels into the horse’s sides, sheltering Lily with his body.
“Ye damned bastid!” Monk yelled after him. “I’ll kill ye for this. Ye soddin’ bastid. Oh, Gawd, Boy!”
Another bullet tore through Knight’s greatcoat, missing his arm by a hair’s width. Yet another bullet? Did Monk have another pistol? Knight kept his head down, Lily tucked tightly against his chest.
At last all was silent. No more bullets, no more Monk screaming curses after them. A snowflake hit his nose, then another. Knight looked up at the dawn-streaked sky. Freezing cold and now snow. The clouds were nearly black, bloated with snow.
He looked down at Lily’s quiet face. She was so damned pale. He had to stop soon, had to stanch the bleeding. He slipped his hand into her cloak and pressed it over her heart. The beat was slow and steady.
He heard no sounds of a horse following them and knew that for the moment, at least, Monk wasn’t behind them. He brought the horse to a halt beside a brace of naked-branched maple trees. As gently as he could manage it, he dismounted, holding Lily high against him with his one free arm.
He eased her to the ground and opened her cloak. Her chest was covered with blood. He saw the hole the bullet had made high on her left shoulder, through her cloak and through her gown. He gently lifted her and allowed a small moment of relief. The bullet had torn through and exited her back. But the bleeding was still bad. He ripped open her gown and pulled her chemise aside. Carefully, he cupped snow in his hand, then flattened his palm against the wound. That should slow the bleeding and cleanse the wound as well. He repeated the procedure on her back. Once, then again, longer this time, until his hand was numb with cold, his fingers blue. The bleeding stopped. Then he lifted the hem of her gown and ripped off the flounce of her petticoat. He wrapped it around and around her shoulder and back, and tied it tightly. Oh, please, God, please let her survive this.
He made the decision not to try to rouse her. Her pain would be unbearable when she awoke. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. Where the devil were they? It was impossible to tell. There was no sun rising in the east. The snow was coming down faster now, thicker, obscuring any signs that would give him a clue to their whereabouts.
He had to get them to a warm place. Lily must have a doctor. And he, her wonderful protector, had no idea which direction to take. He mounted once more, settled Lily against him, and gave the horse his lead. They were on a country road, to be sure, but at least it was well traveled, which was heartening. Sooner or later there had to be road signs. There had to be farms and cottages and people who were not villains.
Knight felt the cold seeping through his greatcoat. The snow was coming down thick and fast, nearly blinding him. Suddenly Lily stirred, struggled against him, her arms flailing, and screamed, “Knight, no. No, he can’t kill you, I won’t let him. Oh, God, Knight.”
“It’s all right, truly, Lily, I’m all right. Hush now, don’t move. I can’t hold you still and keep our horse on the road.” She quieted again and he continued speaking to her, nonsense really, but oddly enough, she seemed to find it reassuring.
He didn’t know how much time had passed before he saw the barn, a rickety old structure that had seen better days a good twenty years before. But it was shelter, and it was off the road. In the thickly flying snow, he couldn’t see if there was a farmhouse near. Well, it was a beginning.
The barn was a mass of drafts. Boards had fallen off the sides, leaving huge gaps for the wind and the snow. Then he saw what looked to be a pile of dry hay in one dim corner of the barn. Good enough, he thought. They could keep warm until it stopped snowing. Then he’d find the farmhouse that had to be nearby.
He was terrified for Lily. Her clothing was damp and there was nothing he could do about it. He carried her to the protected corner and gently laid her down. He took off his greatcoat and wrapped it over her, then piled her with the dry hay. T
he horse was blowing, his sides quivering. He had to take care of their only means of transportation. Knight ran his hands over the horse’s neck, telling him what a brave, stout fellow he was, rubbing him down with handfuls of hay until his sides were still and he butted Knight with his nose.
“All right, old fellow, you come over here and eat your fill. And rest; you’ll need it.”
Once he’d taken care of the horse, Knight returned to Lily. He wasn’t particularly cold because of all his exertions. He eased down beside her, holding her close to give her all his warmth. The piles of hay over them held in their heat, and he could feel her body slowly relaxing against him. He slept a while, then woke with a start, his heart pounding, sweat beading on his forehead.
Monk. The noise came again. God, he’d found them. Knight became as taut as a bowstring, tensed and ready to move quickly. Nothing.
They were alone. The horse had nickered, that was all.
A bird had taken flight. Nothing more.
There wasn’t another human about.
Knight sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Lily. Through a substantial hole in the far side of the barn wall, he could see that it still snowed heavily. Damn and blast. He hadn’t any idea how much time had passed. There was nothing he could do. Nothing.
He eased back down and looked at his wife. So dreadfully pale she was. “Lily,” he said and stroked his fingertip down her cheek.
To his surprise, her eyelashes flickered and her eyes opened. She looked at him, and remarkably, she smiled. “Hello.”
“You’re awake,” he said.
“Yes. Are you all right? Where are we?”
“Hush, I’ll tell you everything. I’m wonderfully well and I haven’t the foggiest notion where we are. It’s snowing too hard, you see, and I couldn’t make out any road signs. We’re in a very drafty barn, in the only corner that doesn’t have boards ripped off the side. Are you warm enough?”
“Oh, yes.” Suddenly her body communicated with her mind that all was not well. “Knight.” She pressed her head back against his arm, feeling the searing hot pain in her shoulder. It was like nothing she could have ever imagined. Deep, burning deep, and tearing pain. She wanted to scream, to try to pull away from it, but Knight was holding her still and she refused to scream, refused to let the pain win.
“Take slow, light breaths,” she heard him say, his breath warm on her cheek. “It will help the pain. Slow, Lily, very slow breaths. Try it. Come on.”
She did. It took incredible will, but she did it. Slow, shallow.
“That’s right. You’re controlling it. I knew you could do it. We’ll be all right, Lily, I swear to you. As soon as the snow stops, I’ll be able to take us to safety and you to a doctor. That’s right—slow and deep.”
He continued to speak to her, coaching her, encouraging her until once again she fell into a stupor.
He didn’t know whether to be relieved or scared out of his wits. At least she was free of the pain for a while. He looked up to see a swirl of snow cascade through a wide hole in the barn’s wall.
It was several hours before Lily opened her eyes again. Knight was staring at her, praying that she wouldn’t be fevered. If she was, he knew it would mean defeat. He’d seen too many men wounded in battle succumb, not to their wounds, but to the raging fevers that sucked the life out of them. She was cool to the touch.
“Knight?”
“Lily. Breathe slow, light. That’s right.”
“It’s warm, you’re warm.”
“It’s the hay, it’s keeping our body heat in. It’s still snowing hard. But not much longer, Lily. Even now it looks to be clearing. At least Monk can’t be following us in this weather.”
“Did you kill Boy?”
“I don’t know. I saw him clutch his chest and fall. I pray I didn’t; then Monk will stay with him.”
“Otherwise, Monk will be after us.”
“He won’t find us, Lily.”
“I can control the pain, Knight. It’s there, you know, and like a caged animal tearing at the bars to be free, but I won’t let it, I won’t.”
“You’re wonderful, Lily, and don’t you ever forget it.” He kissed her lightly on her forehead. “You also saved my hide. I thank you for it, but, Lily, the price is high. Promise me you’ll be all right.”
Now he was begging her, not reassuring her. She forced a smile. She thought he was marvelous. “I promise, Knight. I don’t want to leave you now. Not ever.”
“You won’t. Now, you try to relax. No, don’t fight the pain. That’s right, easy, slow. I want to tell you what we’re going to do when this is all over. When, you’re well again, you and I are going to Italy. I want to take you to Venice. We’ll stay in the Palazzo di Contini. It’s near St. Mark’s Square, on the Grand Canal. The patriarch Contini himself will welcome us, and you, my dear, will be feted and indulged and spoiled until you become insufferable. Then we’ll come back to England because we’ll both be picturing the children pining for our return, wasting away on Mimms’s cooking. Of course, the little devils will look at us and demand to know what presents we brought them.
“And, naturally, we will have brought Theo some outlandish treatise on a machine that flies to the moon. Let’s see, for Sam it will have to be a fleet of gondolas—those are the means of travel in the canals in Venice—and for my littlest devil we’ll bring back a special Medici doll, one that still has some poison in her ring on her left hand.” Did Lily chuckle? He wasn’t certain. Her eyes were closed, her expression still. He continued. “Then we’ll settle into Castle Rosse until late spring. By that time you’ll have my child in your womb. You won’t be ill in the mornings—I won’t allow it. Our child, Lily. Shall we have a boy or a girl?”
“A boy, to look just like you,” she said, not opening her eyes. “He’ll have fox’s eyes, all gold and brown, yellow when he’s angry. Yes, I like that, Knight, all of it. When did you say we could leave for Italy?”
He hugged her close. “Soon, Lily. Very soon.” He kissed her forehead, then lay back. He was feeling something he’d never experienced before, something warm and immensely satisfying that was expanding and filling him. He felt tears sting his eyes. He was afraid, terribly afraid, and he felt so damnably helpless. He cursed, long and fluently.
The horse whinnied.
Lily slept again. Or was unconscious. He didn’t know which. He continued to pray.
It stopped snowing late that afternoon. Knight eased away from Lily and walked to the barn door. There would be enough light for perhaps another hour. He had to discover where they were. He had to find help.
Within ten minutes Knight and Lily were on the horse, back on the country road. It was bitterly cold, the wind howling through the trees, the snow swirling about, the horse’s hooves. It was like a loud whistle, and a heavy coat simply didn’t stop it from penetrating. Knight felt the cold penetrate his greatcoat, felt the numbness spread. He held Lily as close as he could, giving her all his warmth.
Knight saw smoke rising just beyond a thicket of maple trees. A farm. Warmth and help. He started to flick the horse’s reins, when suddenly there was a fork in the road and a signpost. Crawley to the right, and ten miles away. Crawley. My God, Knight thought, excitement flowing through him. Burke Drummond lived within five miles of Crawley. He wasn’t all that far from Burke’s home, Ravensworth. He felt a shock of relief so strong he nearly yelled aloud.
Ravensworth was to the south and to the east. So Monk and Boy had been taking them back toward London by a roundabout route.
“Lily,” he whispered, “we’re almost safe.”
It turned dark. Snow-bloated clouds hid the stars. Knight kept to the widening road. He almost missed the sign. So close now, so very close.
Knight had no idea what time it was. It had begun to snow again and the wind had died down a bit. But it was bitter cold now that night had fallen.
Then he saw the great iron gates of Ravensworth, the gateman’s cottage, and sent a prayer of
thanksgiving heavenward.
He’d never before thought that the Ravensworth drive was long. It seemed endless this night. Bloody endless. Then the huge three-story house came into view, and there were lights burning from several windows. The earl and the countess were in residence, thank the heavens.
Knight yelled at the top of his lungs as he drew his tired mount to a stop in front of the wide stone steps.
The front doors creaked open.
The Ravensworth butler, Montague, stuck his head out the door.
“Hurry, man,” Knight called out as he dismounted. “Have a stable lad fetched to see to my horse.”
The next minute Knight was striding across the entrance hall, Lily, in his arms.
Burke Drummond, the Earl of Ravensworth, hearing the commotion, came through the library door at that moment. He saw Knight standing in the entrance hall, and of all the unexpected things, he was carrying an unconscious female in his arms.
“Well, good evening, Knight. What the hell is going on?”
Knight barely paused. “Please, Burke, have a man sent to fetch the doctor. Please hurry. She’s been shot and it’s bad.”
Burke Drummond didn’t bat an eyelid. Instructions given, he led Knight to the library.
The Countess of Ravensworth, Arielle Drummond, was standing beside a chair, looking toward the door.
“Knight. Good heavens, what is happening? Who is that?”
“Arielle, quickly. She’s been shot and she’s very wet. Can you bring some dry clothes?”
“For you as well, Knight,” the earl said.
“Certainly,” Arielle said, and without another word, without another question, she left the library.
Knight laid Lily on a long, narrow settee, then moved it closer to the blazing fire. He pulled off his coat, then gently eased her out of her cloak. Her beautiful cloak, he thought vaguely as he tossed it onto a chair. There was a black hole through it now, and blood was streaked over the ermine.
Her gown was damp, as was the bandage. He began unfastening the long row of buttons. “I will tell you everything, Burke, once I see to her.”
Night Shadow Page 29