She thought she heard something. Her imagination? The backs of her legs were burning with pain now.
Francis... Upstairs.
"And now," he said, leaning down toward her face. "We shall proceed once more." She felt his boot again as he pushed her over again on her belly. He leaned over her. His arm rose high in the air, with the whip in his hand, as he readied, once more, to strike.
"Release her." The voice came from the door, behind her.
Suddenly, her captor stumbled backward; his eyes took on a surprised terror as he stared toward the door. And Merrie stared up at him, still waiting for the blow to fall.
His arm was frozen in mid-air. As she watched, he reached for his gun, pointing it toward the door. Merrie gasped
"Francis! Look out!"
But the weapon never fired. It dropped from his hand, landing with a thud on the blanket, very close to Merrie.
And lower down, from his chest, a red stain began to spread.
Her captor fell, the mask still in place, his dead face very close to hers, and she screamed. At his chest, the stain slowly made its way downward and onto the blanket, toward her.
Then she saw it—the long knife, sunk deep in his chest.
CHAPTER 12
F rancis was on his knees beside her in the next instant, turning her away from the grisly sight. Toby had moved behind her, moving her captor backward, away from her.
"My little darling—" Her husband was releasing the bonds on her wrists. "Tell me you are all right." He smoothed down her gown.
"I am all right."
But his face was stern.
"The truth, you little hellion!"
Merrie, in spite of herself, began to giggle at him. But when she saw his face, the giggling ceased.
"I truly am, Francis. He—he used his whip on my legs a few times, but—"
Francis flipped her gown up and ran his hands along her thighs, scowling. "This does not feel like just a few, little liar." He looked down at her, taking notice of her shivering.
Merrie lay quietly, as he smoothed her skirts back down again.
"You are freezing, little angel. Let me hold you. I fear I am wet, too, but I can still warm you."
Her eyes were pleading now, but she did not speak. Her wrists free, she reached for him.
His expression had softened. Francis lifted her, sitting down on a nearby trunk, holding her in his lap. He reached around her, for her ankles, and released the rope that held them, before enveloping her against his chest and beginning to rub her back to warm her. But she was grinning now.
"How is it, sir, that I manage to go from a hellion, to a liar, and then to an angel, all within a few seconds?"
"And now you are a brat. Be quiet," he growled.
"Ooh…" She sighed against his chest. "Perhaps, but I am a brat who loves you very much. You, sir, are my hero, you know…" She glanced at Toby, who was leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed. "And you are, as well, Toby…" she said softly. "Thank you."
Toby only shook his head. He grinned at her, a gleam in his eyes.
"Perhaps. But I must tell you, milady," he said, a hint of teasing in his voice. "I have yet to—and have no plans to—skin anyone alive."
Merrie looked down, sheepishly. "I am sorry, Toby. Truly. I was trying to frighten him into letting me go."
But Toby was leaning down now, over the fallen man, looking at the body. "It is time to unmask him." His voice was deep and final.
Francis nodded, and Toby reached down, pulling the mask downward. Merrie gasped in horror. The face was now its own mask of hideous terror, the eyes wide and staring, and the mouth open to scream. Francis turned her away, into his chest.
It was Dudley Overton.
"I knew the voice," she whispered into her husband's chest. "I just had not even thought of him in so long…"
"Shhh, my little angel. He will never trouble you again." He nodded toward Toby, who began to roll the dead man into the blanket on which he had fallen. "Bring him back to the house, Toby. I shall send someone for the sheriff. I am taking my little miscreant home to warm her."
Toby answered him with a nod.
But as Francis took her downstairs to his waiting horse, he kissed the top of her head. "You lied entirely too well, little girl. I could not believe that awful voice came from you! But you planted the seed of fear. Then, when he saw Toby standing in the doorway with the knife in his hand, his fear took over."
"Francis? I heard your voice…when I woke up there."
"And I heard yours, my little soul mate. I cannot explain it. But next time—and there indeed must not be a next time—please, remember to tell me where you are."
Merrie put out her lip in a pout.
"And remove that pouty little scowl. As it is, I shall take you home and put you over my knee, little girl, for taking off and going outside the house without me."
Her expression was incredulous. "You are going to spank me for being kidnapped?"
"I am going to spank you for going outside alone. And you will indeed not sit well for at least a week.
"But—"
'Merriweather Lynne? You wish to make things worse by arguing? Shall I use the strap on your bottom, as well?"
Merrie stilled and silenced, in his arms. But when he looked down at her after a moment, she was gazing up at him with innocent eyes. "What is that look you have, young lady? Explain."
"I was wondering how you managed to find me, sir," she asked, wincing as the bounce of the horse moved against her thighs.
"I did not. Nor did Toby," he said, meeting her eyes. When she looked totally baffled, he continued, "The one who knew where to find you, my little innocent," he said, softly. "Was Spirit Wind."
MISS CONSTANCE WAS WAITING, pacing, in the entryway when they arrived home. Francis jumped off the horse with Merrie in his arms and ran up the steps with her as Wendell opened the door.
"Wendell, send Elias for the sheriff, please. Have him meet us here. And come for me when he arrives."
"Absolutely, Sir Francis."
Francis moved forward. But when he would have taken her up the steps to the bedroom, the housekeeper stepped into his way.
"Oh, no. The entire house wants to be sure, Francis, that this child is all right."
Merrie started to reply that she was fine, but Francis' voice overpowered hers. "She is fine, Miss Constance, for the moment." And with that, he strode up the stairway to the bedroom.
Miss Constance glared after him and then shook her head.
He immediately sat down on the bed and stood her between his legs, holding her there, with his hands on her waist. Capturing her eyes with his, he spoke gruffly, "Do not look away from me, Merriweather Lynne Adams."
She looked up, her innocent eyes filling with tears. Francis immediately remembered how those vivid blue eyes had looked, six years ago, when he had scolded her so harshly for letting her puppy get away from her. Now, they held the same betrayed innocence. She had been through hell today, and she realized that he was going to punish her, in spite of it.
"Why, Merriweather Lynne, did you go outside today?" But as she opened her mouth to speak, he put a halting finger to her lips. "The truth, please."
"My mother asked me to follow them out…" she whispered, a single tear trailing down her cheek. "She said she had a gift for us."
Francis trailed the tear down her cheek with his thumb. "Your mother?"
She nodded, another tear falling. "It…it went tumbling, when he...hit me."
Francis stood there, brushing her hair out of her face and caressing the forming bruise on her cheek.
"Merrie," he said softly. "Why could you not have said, 'Just a moment—Let me find Francis?'"
"I…did not think of it…sir." She looked up into his eyes, pleading now. "Must you…truly spank me, sir?"
His eyes bore into hers for a long time, before he answered.
"Yes, my little darling. If I do not keep my word, you shall never be able to depe
nd upon it. I feel as if I must hold you accountable for disobeying me. It put your life in much danger today. Had it not been for Spirit Wind, we could have been too late. Do you understand?"
She was disappointed but nodded, slowly. "I understand, sir."
He held her close, kissing her forehead. "All right, my wise little child. Turn," he commanded softly, setting her on her feet. She turned, facing away from him, while he carefully unbuttoned her gown from the top down. One piece of clothing after another followed, into the pile at her ankles. Finally, he untied the ribbon that held her pantaloons up, and they dropped to the floor as well. He lifted her out of them and moved them aside.
Francis drew a breath, running his hands gently over the welts that had been planted on her thighs earlier that day. "I shall only spank your bottom, Merrie Lynne. But be prepared; I shall spank hard."
She shivered, as she nodded. "Yes, sir."
He turned her back to face him, lifting her chin and planting a kiss on, first, her forehead, then each cheek, and then her mouth, very gently.
"I am ready, sir," she whispered.
"All right, my beautiful little girl." He lifted her carefully and put her across his lap, with her bottom high, but arranging her so her upper body rested on the bed.
"There will be fifty blows, young lady," he said softly. "Five sets of ten, with breaks in between. Do you understand? I want you to count each one for me. Do not forget, or I shall go back to the beginning of the set."
He heard her breath give a little gasp, but she whispered, a moment later, "Yes, sir."
Francis took a deep breath and began. Her small cry, when the first blow fell, told him that she indeed felt it.
"One..."
Another landed.
"Oh! Two…"
By the tenth, she was wiggling, trying to get away. He stopped for a moment and spoke softly, rubbing her bottom gently, then began once again.
She tried to keep from crying out but failed, as did her determination to stay still. The blows grew harder and harder to bear. And her whimpers grew ever more frequent.
By the time she had counted to thirty, Francis leaned over and kissed her shoulder and then her ear. "My little innocent, are you all right?"
She choked out a, "Yes, sir." But it was quite unconvincing.
He leaned down to kiss the small of her back. "I worry about you, my little Merrie. To distraction. I cannot have you being unsafe."
A sob escaped, and he began once more. "All right, my little brave girl. Only twenty more."
"But—please, sir—let me rest for a moment more?"
Francis rubbed her bottom, but only for a moment. "Merriweather, that is all the rest I shall give you. I want you to concentrate on obeying my orders, do you understand?"
She nodded.
The blows began falling again, harder than before. At first, she forgot to count, and his reminder caused her to gasp.
"Merriweather, you are not counting. I shall have to start over."
"Oh! No, sir—please!"
"We shall start back at thirty."
This time, she did not forget. But she was sobbing when he paused again.
Francis' voice was soft and soothing, as was his hand, rubbing her bottom.
"Have you any idea, my little girl, how precious you are to me? If we had not found you today, what could have happened to you?"
Her sobbing continued, and finally, he leaned down. "Only ten more, my little Merrie. But they will be difficult to bear."
She nodded, sniffling.
He had been right. Merrie cried out on the very first one, and Francis waited patiently for her to breathe again and count. Her cries tore at him, as one blow followed another, until he had but one to go.
"Merrie, there will be one more, little girl."
She held her breath, and he brought his hand down, hard, listening to her last wail of pain.
Francis stared down at her deep scarlet bottom. She was lying still, over his lap, now; but the room filled with her soft weeping.
He kissed his way from her bottom, upward, and then once again back down, covering her reddened cheeks before rubbing them gently. Finally, he picked her up by the waist and turned her, cradling her in his arms and holding her to his chest.
Giving her that spanking, was indeed, the hardest thing he had ever done.
"Oh, Merrie….Merrie," he whispered into her ear, softly.
But she threw her arms around his chest, holding on and sobbing.
"Sir?" she whispered, finally.
"Yes, my sweetheart?"
She kissed his neck and said, softly, "I am sorry I disobeyed. I shall try very hard not to do it again."
Francis lifted her and turned toward the bed, laying her gently down among the pillows. He turned her away from him and then climbed in behind her, pulling her close and kissing her neck. "You are forgiven, Merrie Lynne. And now, little girl, you are to fall asleep in my arms."
She snuggled back against him, leaning her head on to his shoulder.
"Please, sir?' she whispered, a moment later.
He leaned over her, slightly. "Yes, my little darling?"
She turned her head toward him, gazing up into his eyes.
"Promise me, sir? That you will never change."
"As much as it kills me to see your tears, my little disobedient girl, I shall do this again and again, whenever I believe you need it. I promise you, Merrie Lynne. I shall never change."
She sighed and leaned back down onto his shoulder, snuggling further back against him.
"I adore you, Francis Adams," she whispered.
A KNOCK on the door awakened him, and he remembered that the sheriff was to come. He threw on a robe and opened the door a crack.
"The deputy is here, Sir Francis. And he wants to see Lady Merriweather, as well."
"We shall be right down. Put him in the library." Francis closed the door and went to the bed, to lean over his bride.
"Merrie?"
Her eyes opened as he caressed her cheek, noticing the bruise that was now showing in the afternoon sun.
She blinked up at him. "The sheriff, sir?"
"No, my sweetheart. One of his deputies. Let me help you dress." He guided her out of the bed and turned her, fastening the tiny buttons on the back of her dress, as she pulled on her underthings and found her slippers. He smoothed down her hair in the back and kissed her forehead, urging her toward the door.
A moment later, they opened the door and entered. Henson Andrews was waiting inside. He rose to his feet, hat in hand, and gave a slight bow. "Francis, Merriweather? Giles is visiting family out of town, so I have the honor of working today." He grinned. But then he took a pencil and small notebook from his pocket.
"I have looked at Mr. Overton's body. And I have seen the wound, but not the weapon. A knife?"
"Yes. He drew a gun on me, and I happened to be unarmed. Toby threw the knife to spare my life."
"Stop." Henson put up a hand. "Go back to the beginning, Francis."
He took careful notes as Francis explained that Merrie had been kidnapped, in front of the house, and what had happened. Then he went on to explain what he and Toby had overheard Mr. Overton saying when they finally arrived. But Henson stopped taking notes when Francis reached the point where he had overheard Merrie's taunts regarding Toby and looked from Francis to Merrie.
"Merriweather. Please tell me you did not say those things."
"But—I did, sir. I was hoping to frighten him into letting me go."
Henson rolled his eyes. "I believe I shall omit that from the report. If anyone else in town sees it, and it gets out, the whole town will be frightened of Toby. Go on."
By the end of the afternoon, Henson had interviewed all three of them. He had taken the information from Merrie on Mrs. Grimm and the things Overton had said about her.
"This wraps up a few other investigations we have going on. Now we know it was Overton who tried to grab Merrie in town and who tried to run her down i
n the street in front of her parents' home. Grimm, however, is a different matter. No one, except Merrie, saw Grimm watching her. Her mother only saw her at one point and she was turned away. And since Overton is now dead, it would be your word against hers, Merriweather. The other problem is that you did not file a complaint at that time. I shall go interview her, to let her know what Overton said, however, so she will know we have it on record. We have questioned her before and have come up with nothing."
He returned the small notebook to his pocket and stood up.
"I do want to see the knife, Francis. But, in truth, it would not surprise me if he died of fright. You have seen the expression on his face?"
"Yes. We saw it when we unmasked him." Francis nodded.
"It was horrible…" Merrie added, her face white.
Henson approached her. "This is where he hit you?" he said grimly, looking at her cheek.
"Yes, sir."
His jaw pulsed, and he moved toward the door. "If Mr. Overton's family wishes a doctor's examination, we shall have to do that. However, it looks a clear-cut case of self-defense to me. I shall have to see if I can locate his family. And Merrie…" he trailed off, frowning down at her.
"Yes, sir?"
"Do not tell anyone else what you told Mr. Overton. All right? Toby is a good man." He moved toward the door and turned back once again. "And Francis?"
Francis' brows rose, waiting.
"Keep a tight rein on this little girl. Please?"
Francis rolled his eyes. "I do my best, Henson. It is a steep order, you know that."
"Trust me, I do." Henson winked toward Merrie and left.
The gift, when opened, contained a teapot that Merrie had admired, even as a child. But it was in pieces, now. Toby took it with him to see if it was possible to repair.
"I believe I may be able to put it back together," he said softly. "But you shall not be able to use it again."
"Then we shall just have to set it inside the glass cabinet and admire it from there," Francis said with a grin.
MERRIE LAY in the embrace of her husband's arms that night, reliving the day's events.
Once again, Francis had come to her rescue; she turned in his arms, reaching up around his neck.
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