Rebecca

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  “I understand that you are brutal pig!”

  He reached into a pocket of his coat and drew out a long-bladed knife. Even in the twilight she could see the sharp, ten-inch blade as he turned it before her eyes. He shoved her hard against the wall and pressed the flat of the knife against her neck.

  Her scream was totally instinctive as she felt the cooled surface on her skin. Her fingers reached to push the deadly weapon from her, but he moved quicker. As the point of the blade pricked the lobe of her ear, she cried out more in fear than in pain. Touching her ear, she felt the wetness of her own blood. This man would keep her alive only long enough to lure Nicholas into his snare. Then he would delight in killing her with the most barbarous methods he could devise.

  “Are you ready to be a good girl now, Lady Foxbridge? I truly don’t want to hurt you. Don’t move. I’ll ask you again. Do you understand?”

  Her eyes filled with hatred. “I understand.”

  The man could tell she was willing to obey his orders only because she was defenseless. He had known from the beginning that Lady Foxbridge would not be a swooning, sobbing woman promising anything to escape his plans for her. With a smile she could not see, he put his gloved hand out to her tear-dampened face. It would be much more fun to break this strong lady than to deal with a shrinking flower who docilely would accept his every dictate. “I thought you would understand, my lady, when you learned I was serious.”

  Rebecca watched as he lit a brand which was waiting there for his use. Her eyes blinked in the sudden brightness. She saw he had not returned the knife to his pocket. It rested in his belt next to his gun. Fearfully, she wet her lips which seemed so dry in terror. In the light, she could see a single board stretched across the chasm. He ordered her brusquely to cross it.

  “I can’t!” she gasped. “Please, don’t make me do that.”

  “Afraid of heights, Lady Foxbridge? What a pity! I said you should go now.” He rested his hand on the hilt of his knife. It was the only threat he needed to make.

  She looked from the weapon to the plank. He would not hesitate to kill her, for he had no reason to keep her alive. As long as Nicholas thought she was alive, he would do what this animal and his men told him to do. At any time her captor could slay her without ruining his plans. She did not want to end her life here in this dank cave. She had no choice but to cross the board.

  Taking a deep breath, she lifted her full skirts and placed her foot on the wooden bridge. It took all her strength of will and desire to survive to shift her weight onto that foot so she could place the other ahead of it. When the board shook, cold sweat rolled along her spine.

  Halfway across, she froze in a terror which would not let her move forward or back. Her eyes stared into the pit, whose bottom was no more visible in the torchlight than before. To slip would mean her death. Only her desperate yearning to escape from this nightmare alive forced her to move toward the opposite side. Although it was, in truth, a short distance across the board, it seemed to take an eternity to traverse it.

  Once she reached the far side, she sank to the ground and put her hands over her icy cheeks, shaking as she had dared not do while on the makeshift span. She ignored the derisive laughter of the man who held her life in his hands. Again she was pulled roughly to her feet and shoved away from the edge of the gap.

  “Welcome to your new hall, my lady.”

  Rebecca looked about in shock. When he lit a candle, she saw they were at the end of the cave. With the split in the floor, this space was effectively cut off from the rest of the world. It was the perfect location for storage by the smugglers who always were rampant along the coast. The space was not empty. It was clear that this would be her prison, for there was a wooden shipping crate to use as a table as well as a cot. At least the walls were dry. As they had walked steadily uphill, she guessed they were above the high-water line.

  Her rage boiled over as she saw the cruelty in the eyes staring at her. Stepping away from her captor, she pretended to be examining the rock-walled room. She said with cool disdain, “If this is my home, sir, then I ask you to leave it posthaste. It isn’t my habit to entertain cads and criminals.”

  “Don’t think you can give orders here, Rebecca,” he sneered. “This isn’t Foxbridge Cloister.”

  Her eyes grew wide as she heard his easy switch to her given name. When he ran his hand along her bare arm, she pulled away in horror. This man was not interested only in bringing Nicholas to his knees. He wanted to be her lover. That thought was more frightening than any threats he had made so far. She would be unable to halt him if he decided to rape her. In the isolation of this cave in the walls of the cliff, no one would hear her screams and know how this man was abusing her.

  His arm wrapped around her waist, and he forced her to him. “You want to see the man under the mask, Rebecca?” He ran his hand along her side until it rested on the slender line of her waist. “Soon you shall see the whole man. You will know me very well then. For now, I must bid you farewell. The tide rises, and soon the entrance to this cave will be underwater. You have food and water for tonight. I will return tomorrow with more provisions.”

  She could tell he was smiling by the way his eyes glistened. He caressed her cheek that was still reddened from his hand striking it. Before she could stop him, his tongue caressed the incision he had made in her ear with his knife. A fire-hot pain sliced through her, and she moaned. Once again he laughed loudly. Picking up the brand from its holder on the wall, he blithely crossed the plank.

  “No!” Rebecca cried as she saw him pull it across to his side. Her voice echoed weirdly in the cave. “Don’t leave me alone! Please!”

  “I shall see you in the morning, my lady. Don’t worry, for you’ll be safe in my little cage. Have a pleasant evening.”

  He doused the brand. She could hear his footsteps fading down the corridor, but it was not until he was silhouetted against the egress that she could guess exactly where he was. Coolly, he turned and waved to her, for he knew she would be watching him.

  With a sob, Rebecca turned away and sat on the cot. Once again she hid her face in her hands as she wept out her desperate fear. This faithless man was going to lure Nicholas to his death with her as bait. Then he would kill her after he had raped her. It seemed absurd that she and Nicholas had survived the horrors of the war in America and had adjusted their lives to become the lord and lady of Foxbridge Cloister simply so that this madman could kill them. She could not hope that Nicholas would not try to find her immediately. He would disregard her captor’s warning. All involved in this insanity knew that. If Nicholas was forced to play along with this man, he willingly would sacrifice his life for hers never knowing that it had been in vain.

  As the dampness of the cave enfolded her in its clammy arms, she pulled the coarse blanket off the cot. She recognized it as a horse blanket. Curiously, she looked for any identifying signs on it. If she had some clue to the origins of the man with the unseen face, she might be able to guess who he was and learn a way of escape.

  Rebecca gasped when she saw the monogram in one corner of the heavy woolen coverlet. “FC”—Foxbridge Cloister! Her captor had access to the Cloister. He would be there to be sure that Nicholas followed his orders explicitly. Her fear increased tenfold, for the one who would kill them was someone they had trusted.

  Somehow she had to discover his identity. Then she must find a way to keep him from completing his plan. Twice Nicholas had escaped death since she had known him. She did not want the third to be the time death succeeded.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nicholas paced from the solarium, where his mother sat, to the front door. After watching his disquiet for an hour, Lady Margaret said, “Why are you acting like a caged tiger, Nicholas? They are just a little late. I’m sure they were delayed at Beckwith Grange.”

  “They should have been back long before this. Rebecca said they would be home before dinner time. It is past that already.” He did not explain why he ha
d expected the carriage to return to Foxbridge Cloister quickly. What he and Rebecca shared enraged his mother. Much more calmly than he felt, he said, “I think I will ride out to meet them.”

  “Fine!” she snapped. “Just do not feel the fool when you learn they have just been having a pleasant chat with Clarisse and forgot to keep an eye on the time. It’s just like that woman you married—”

  Enraged, he turned as he was about to leave. “That’s enough, Mother! Both Rebecca and I have had to endure your nasty comments. She has not once complained to me about your crass behavior. In fact, she has asked me more than once not to let you know how your intolerable actions have hurt her and me and Eliza. If nothing else, that should prove to you that she is a lady of the finest caliber. I don’t want to hear you speak of her in this manner again. She is my wife. She is Lady Foxbridge. If you can’t be pleasant to her, at least respect her for those two reasons.”

  She rose. Coldly, she said, “You should have married Clarisse. She understands the role of a lord’s wife. She’s not always out riding in the sun without a bonnet and speaking to the servants as if they were her equals. Of course, in Rebecca’s case—”

  “I said that was enough, and I meant it. I do not and never have loved Clarisse. I love Rebecca dearly. If you can’t accept that, you are welcome to go to London so that you don’t have to be sullied by my Yankee wife, as you are so fond of calling her.” His fury muted as he looked past her to the windows. “It’s getting dark. I’m going to find Rebecca and Eliza. It will give you time to think about what you want to do about changing your attitude toward Rebecca.”

  Without waiting for her answer, he went out of the room. Gathering his cloak, he was calling to the stable-boys before he had slammed the front door behind him. By the time he reached the stableyard, his horse was saddled, and he turned it down the drive at top speed.

  It took him only a few minutes to reach the carriage which sat in the middle of the shore road. One glance at the dead coachman told him that the vehicle had been attacked. A wave of pain sliced through him as he feared for the two women. Later he would have the peace to mourn for his friend. He could do nothing to help Sims, and Eliza and Rebecca might be in horrible trouble. He called out their names.

  “Nicholas?” came a whisper so quietly that he was unsure if he had hear it until it was repeated.

  He turned to see his sister peering over the lower sill of the window. Her pale face was streaked with tears. Swinging down off his horse, he ripped open the door so hard, it hung from one hinge. He paid it no attention as he reached into the carriage.

  Eliza threw herself into his arms and sobbed. In her hysteria, he could make no sense of her words. He held her close. For a moment, he concentrated on soothing her terror. Glancing past her, he saw the coach was empty. His horror returned doubly strong.

  “Eliza, listen to me!” He took her face in his hands and forced her tear-filled eyes up to his. “Eliza, where is Rebecca?”

  “He took her.”

  “He? Who?”

  When she could not answer, he slapped her face to break the grip of her panic. With a gasp, she caught her breath and almost immediately regained control of herself. Eliza was as strong as her brother, and she fought to submerge the images of the masked bandit flitting through her mind. Clutching her brother’s coat, she shivered.

  “I should have come home, but I was too scared they were still around. I didn’t know what to do when they left with Rebecca.” Her voice was a choked whisper interrupted by the remnants of her sobs.

  “Who? Who took Rebecca?” Desperation colored his words. Scars of violence surrounded them. He wanted to find his wife before she could become the next victim.

  “I don’t know, Nicholas,” she murmured while her eyes grew haunted as she recalled the horrendous scene. “He was dressed like a highwayman and wore a domino over his face. There were four or five others with him that I could see and hear. He told me to tell you that you should not look for Rebecca, that he will contact you at the masquerade ball Saturday night. He said if you look for her before then, he will hurt Rebecca.”

  “He dares to use her to threaten me?” Rage etched his face.

  She reached up and took his face in her hands. “Don’t be foolish enough to chase after them when you are this upset. All you will do is force them to murder Rebecca. I don’t think he wants to do that. He doesn’t seem interested in killing her.”

  He glanced involuntarily at the corpse on the top of the coach. “It seems they have some interest in murder. Why did they shoot Sims?”

  “Rebecca tried to escape.” She shivered as the memories became reality again. Tears rolled down her cheeks faster as she looked at the murdered coachman, then away again. “He hit her, Nicholas. He hit her hard. You know how fond Sims is—was—of Rebecca. When he saw what the man did, Sims was going to shoot him. His comrades shot Sims first. It made the man really angry. I don’t think he wanted them to kill anyone.”

  Nicholas controlled his wrath. It was the time for clearheaded thought, not taking off in a worthless search that might endanger Rebecca more. Her abductor obviously had plotted this out well and had waited his chance when Rebecca was traveling the lonely country roads with no protection other than her young sister-in-law and a middle-aged coachman. Her abduction had not been by a highwayman who had stopped the carriage for jewels and money but had discovered someone far more valuable. If that had been the case, there would have been a demand for ransom. This kidnapper did not want wealth. He wanted something else, and Nicholas was sure his life would be the price of Rebecca’s deliverance. If that was what was demanded, he would be sure his wife was guaranteed safety before he died.

  “Which way did they go?” he asked in soft resignation.

  “Toward Foxbridge Cloister.”

  On the trip out, he had seen no signs of the road being traveled by a troop of men. It was too dark to do any tracking. The first thing in the morning, he would do a little discreet checking. He did not want to endanger Rebecca, but he did not intend to sit idly for two days and let those men do as they wished with her. His face paled under his permanent tan. It did not take much imagination to know the violence she might face while in the far-from-tender care of her jailers. How pretty Rebecca had looked when she had left with Eliza! How enticing she would appear to any man! A man who abducted a woman and shot a man would not have any remorse about a form of abuse as relatively minor as rape.

  “Come on, Eliza. I’ll take you home on Donar. I’ll send someone back for the coach.” He took her hand and lifted her onto his horse. “There’s nothing to be gained from standing here in the twilight. You should go to bed. Curtis is due back this evening from his business in London.” He smiled darkly. “I’m glad he will be here to watch over you and Mother, because I won’t have time to do that.”

  “What are you going to do, Nicholas?”

  He mounted and turned the horse toward Foxbridge Cloister. “I’m going to find her. If I haven’t before Saturday night, I will do anything they want to get her back. It doesn’t matter what it costs. All I want is Rebecca returned unharmed.”

  As she heard the grimness in his voice, Eliza knew her brother meant exactly what he vowed. He would trade anything, including his own life, in exchange for his wife’s release. She wondered if Curtis would do the same for her. She hoped she would never have to find that out.

  When they arrived home, he left her sitting on the horse while he spoke quietly to the stablehands. Glum expressions were on their faces as Lord Foxbridge told of Sims’s murder. Only when he mentioned that Lady Foxbridge had been kidnapped did the rigid visages turn to fury. Nearly as much as their lord they were outraged at the audacious behavior of the unidentified man and his gang. Two went running to bring the coach to the estate. The rest were cautioned to be calm and speak to nobody of what they knew.

  Eliza was helped from the horse by her brother, but her knees were so weak she could barely walk. Nicholas simply scooped
her up and carried her into the house. He did not pause in the hallway to answer Brody’s questions, but took her to her bedroom. Setting her on the bed, he tugged on the pull to call Collette. He knew Rebecca’s maid would be much calmer than Eliza’s vaporous servant.

  “You want me, m’lord?” Collette asked, bafflement on her round face.

  “Will you help Eliza?”

  “Yes, m’lord.” Glancing at the young woman’s colorless face, she dared to ask, “What has happened?”

  Nicholas had been about to storm out of the bedroom to wait in the sitting room, but he paused. Rage pulled his lips so tight that white puckered around his mouth. “Rebecca has been kidnapped. Sims is dead.”

  In horror, she crossed herself and whispered a prayer. She listened as Lord Foxbridge tersely told her what he knew and ordered her to help Eliza change from her traveling clothes. Although the maid’s face grew pale, she simply nodded. On Lord Foxbridge’s face she could see his suffering, which would be far deeper than any of the rest of them could feel. As much as the staff loved Lady Foxbridge, to this man the blue-eyed woman was the source of his life.

  He paced as he had before he had gone to search for the carriage. His fingers itched to be at the throat of the man who threatened his wife. He would take great pleasure in choking him slowly while the criminal begged for a mercy he had not afforded Rebecca. Over and over in his mind, he could hear Eliza’s words that the man had struck Rebecca viciously. Her captor would never beat Rebecca into submission. Her stubbornness would bring her only more pain. Such treatment would make her perversely more intolerant of her captivity. He had to find her before she destroyed herself like a wild bird beating itself to death against the bars of its cage. Rebecca would be no more accepting of her prison, wherever and whatever it was.

  Without knocking, he returned to his sister’s bedroom. Collette was assisting her back into bed. Quietly, he ordered, “Tell me again what the man said, Eliza. Try to remember his exact words.”