My Fair Lily

by Meara Platt

  “So will I. Can’t wait to have my ears assaulted.” Ewan rose and turned to the men. George had also changed into riding clothes, and he and Lily’s father were standing on the opposite side of the room speaking quietly, no doubt of the darker possibilities, of what to do if matters did not turn out as well as hoped. Ewan refused to lose faith. Lily was alive. He’d find her. All would be well.

  George had his medical bag beside him. Ewan hoped they wouldn’t have need of it. Dillie had packed a change of clothes for Lily, handing the small bundle to him with a murmured, “I have faith in you.” He hoped it wasn’t misplaced.

  To Ewan’s surprise, the Duke of Edgeware strode in, appearing slightly out of breath. “The Bow Street man is awake. He identified Lord Mortimer’s son, Ashton, as the fiend who took Lily.”

  “Now we know we’re on the right track.” Ewan quickly filled him in on all they had learned and then listened to the rest of Edgeware’s report.

  “The runner says he counted four men with Ashton. Not gentlemen. More like dockside ruffians. There could be others, but that’s all he saw.” Edgeware glanced at Dillie and her mother before turning back to Ewan. “What can I do to help?”

  Ewan also glanced at the pair. They looked pale and scared. They looked as though their hearts had been ripped from their chests. “I appreciate all you’re doing for Lily and her family. I don’t think they’ll hold up much longer. Will you stay here and take care of things? They’re all about to fall apart.”

  Edgeware nodded. “Of course. I’ll stay for as long as I’m needed. I have my own men making discreet inquiries throughout the seedier parts of London. I’ll let you know if they come up with any more news. Who else has heard about Lily’s abduction?”

  “Only a handful. If we find her in time, I think we can keep it quiet. My sister, Meggie, and my cousin, Evangeline, suspect something is wrong, but they don’t yet know what’s happened. I’d rather keep it that way.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Eloise’s party will break up soon. They’ll expect me to escort them home.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Edgeware said, stepping away from the ladies to quietly explain. “A word to your grandfather that you and I are off to Regent Street for another sort of party and would he mind escorting his granddaughters home should do it. Having a bad reputation has its advantages. Who else knows?”

  Ewan nodded. “We questioned the coachmen outside of Eloise’s home, but only asked if they’d seen a man. They don’t know we’re looking for Lily. However, the MacCorkindales know. Archie can be trusted to keep his mouth shut. I don’t know about Callie. She’ll keep silent only if she thinks it will work to her benefit.”

  Edgeware frowned. “Unfortunately, I’ve met too many such women.”

  Ewan agreed.

  The Bow Street runners arrived, three of them including Homer Barrow. “M’best men,” he assured Lily’s father, who wanted to join them but had been convinced by Ewan to remain behind. He had no doubt that Lily’s father was clever and competent, but this was his daughter at risk. Lily was his little girl. Any father would be beyond mad with worry, and a crazed man couldn’t be counted on to remain calm during their search... or afterward, if things didn’t work out as well as hoped.

  In truth, Ewan was in no better shape than Lily’s father. Though he’d tried his best to appear calm, he was filled with dread and anger. Scots had tempers, and Highlanders had the worst tempers of all. Rage would get him nowhere, probably get him and his companions killed. He had to keep his wits about him. For Lily’s sake.

  His gut was now twisted in a Gordian knot. Almost two hours had passed since her abduction. Another four hours to reach Maidstone, possibly longer. They’d be riding the entire time in darkness, an ink-black darkness that matched the raging darkness within his heart.

  ***

  Lily wasn’t certain how much time had elapsed since the blackguard drugged her that second time. However, this time she awoke hungry. Cold and hungry. No one had bothered to provide her a cloak or blanket for protection against the night’s chill. The room was still dark, though rays of gray light appeared to stream in between the cracks of a shuttered window above her on the right.

  Of course, it could be mere illusion. Her head was still in a foggy spin and she’d lost all sense of place and time. However, she hadn’t forgotten that disembodied voice she’d heard earlier. It was Ashton’s. He’d tried to disguise it, but she knew him too well to be fooled. She recalled what had struck her as odd in the garden. While she’d struggled and tried to scream, he’d just been standing there. He wasn’t a victim. He was the mastermind behind her abduction. But why?

  His actions didn’t make any sense, but she wasn’t going to sit quietly and wait to find out. She had to escape. Her hands were still tied to the chair. First order of business was to slip out of her bindings. How to do it was the problem.

  She was good at solving problems.

  As her eyes adjusted to the unrelenting dark, she began to make out shadows. Large squares that resembled crates were piled against one of the walls, but otherwise the room was bare of furniture save her chair and a small table underneath the window. The crates likely contained food supplies. She caught the slightly pungent scent of onions and the rank scent of raw meat. No wonder her stomach had been growling. Even stale bread would taste heavenly just now.

  She also caught the scent of gunpowder, and realized some of those crates must contain weapons. Was she locked in an armory? She didn’t think so, for the door appeared to be made of wood, not iron, and this store room was small. She didn’t have much experience with gunpowder, but knew enough to understand the damage it would cause if it went off. She needed to get out of here. Fast.

  As her eyes continued to adjust to her dark surroundings, she noticed something odd about the shuttered window. It was situated just beneath the ceiling, unusually high for any ordinary window. This store room was a cellar. That would explain the crates and the numbing cold. Likely the cellar in someone’s house. Would the window have iron bars on it? There was no way to tell while it remained shuttered.

  One problem at a time. She had to slip out of her bindings first. After that she’d worry about any iron bars. She’d find a way out, no matter the obstacles.

  She wiggled her chair, trying to break its spindled back. If she broke it apart, her wrists might slip out of their bindings. She tried. It was too sturdy. She’d have to slam it against something hard to crack it apart. Her captors would hear and come running in. That won’t work.

  Were they stupid enough to leave tools lying about? She scanned the room again. Unfortunately, no. She looked for a sharp piece of metal or rock jutting out from the walls. Nothing.

  Rubbing her bindings against the side of one of those wood crates might work, she decided. She managed to quietly move herself to the crates and began to run the taut ropes at her wrists up and down, then side to side, in a sawing motion. The scratch of the ropes against the crates sounded deafening to her ears, but logically she knew it wasn’t. No one on the other side of the closed door would hear what she was doing unless they had the sensitive ears of a bat.

  After what felt like an eternity, she managed to free one of her hands. It took another few moments to untie the other. Her arms were numb and she had nasty scrapes along both wrists. She tested her legs. Stiff and wobbling, but she was able to walk. She hurried to the table, climbed on it to reach the window, and quickly drew the shutters aside.

  As she did so, a flash of lightning caught her by surprise and left stars blindly twinkling in her eyes long after its glow had faded. She didn’t care. She’d made it this far without any light.

  The rain started again, a heavy, pelting rain that worked in her favor to muffle any noise she was making. More luck, there were no bars on the window. She tried to push it open, but it wouldn’t budge. She tried several times, pushing up, down, in and out. The blasted thing was sealed.

  She’d have to break it.

  She scoote
d off the table, found the chair, and quickly set up a simple fulcrum and lever system. Using her weight as leverage, she cracked the back of the chair and removed one of the sturdy spindles. Another burst of lightning. One, two, three, four. Then came the roll of thunder. She’d use the spindle to smash the glass pane. All she had to do was wait for the lightning’s flare and strike at the thunder’s roar.

  Luck was on her side. The storm gained in intensity as it rolled over them, a fast-moving torrent that she feared could end within minutes. She didn’t have any time to spare.

  She timed the first strike perfectly.

  And the next.

  The glass cracked on the third strike. She cleared away as much of the jagged edges as she could, especially clearing the fragments stuck to the lower sash. The drenching rain and howling wind quickly washed most of the glass away from the opening. She heaved herself through the window, not caring that her gown was ripped, or that splinters dug into her hands, or that glass cut into her knees. She was cold and soaking wet. Her knees were scraped and bleeding. She was lost, had no idea in which direction to run.

  She was free!

  She breathed in the fresh outdoors, and then she ran for her life.

  CHAPTER 16

  THE VIOLENT WIND and rain slowed Ewan and his companions. The dirt roads were now flowing rivers of mud. Their horses were spooked by the distant rolls of thunder and sharp bolts of lightning, and Ewan wanted to shout his frustration each time they had to stop to calm the temperamental beasts. All were cold and soaking wet, and progress was achingly slow. It was as though the forces of nature were conspiring against them, but Ewan refused to give up hope. Each step, no matter how slow, drew them closer to Lily.

  She was with Ashton in Maidstone, and held at Sparrow Hall.

  Lord, help Lily if we’re wrong.

  The rain stopped as they reached the crest of a hill. Sprawled out before them was the town of Maidstone. Though a vibrant market town, it appeared eerily quiet just now. A gray mist covered the roads leading in, and the menacing, red dawn cast a disquieting hue over the houses, as though their roofs and walls were tinged with blood. Ewan wasn’t superstitious by nature and refused to take it as a bad omen.

  Any sailor knew that a red dawn breaking over the horizon meant more storms were on the way. While dangerous at sea, on land it was a nuisance. Nothing more. A cock crowed in the distance, signaling another problem. Damn. He’d hoped to reach Sparrow Hall under cover of darkness. “How are you holding up, Jasper?”

  The loyal lump of a dog gave a weak woof in reply.

  “Not far now,” he assured, looking down into his trusting chocolate eyes. Jasper was used to romping and chasing sheep over the Highlands cliffs and dales for hours at a time, but this trek was a bit too much even for his boundless stamina.

  Homer drew ahead to take the lead. “I know the area well, m’lord. My wife’s family lives in these parts. Sparrow Hall is just beyond the next hill. A bleak place it is. I doubt any of its residents were ever happy there. Not surprised young Lord Mortimer,” he said, referring to Ashton, “turned out as he did. There was always a darkness to this house. M’wife always thought so.”

  They rode over the hill and across a soggy meadow that ended at the edge of the woods. “We’d better leave our horses here, m’lord. Sparrow Hall is just on the other side of those trees. Unfortunately, they’ve cleared much of the grounds around the house, so any guards posted by the windows will see us once we reach the clearing.”

  Ewan nodded. “We’ll have to create a diversion. Mr. Barrow, you and your runners must somehow distract them while George and I break into the house.”

  “Aye, m’lord. Leave it to us.”

  But as they approached, Ashton and his men suddenly ran out the front door as though the devil were on their tails. Ashton appeared furious, cursing at his men as he pointed in various directions. He shoved one of them toward the house. “What are they doing?” George whispered.

  For the first time in what felt like a century, Ewan cracked a smile. “Searching for Lily. She’s outsmarted them all. She’s escaped.” And he meant to find her before Ashton got his hands on her again. He turned to Homer. “Start your diversion. Jasper and I are going to track her down.”

  “With pleasure, m’lord. Don’t ye worry, we’ll round up these louts. Stay back, Dr. Farthingale. Wouldn’t want you hurt. Those men are armed and dangerous, so it’s best ye leave the dirty work to us.”

  As Homer created his diversion, Ewan took off at a run through the woods, Jasper lumbering at his heels. He heard shouts and gunshots behind him, but stopped as soon as he was moderately clear of the action to withdraw a pair of Lily’s gloves from his breast pocket and hold them out to Jasper to sniff. “Find Lily.” He hoped the torrential rain hadn’t wiped away all trace of her.

  Jasper let out a howl and began to lope straight toward the house. “Bollix,” Ewan muttered, realizing his dog had picked up an old scent. Fortunately, Ashton’s men were too busy fending off the Bow Street runners to pay the beast any heed. But where was Ashton? He’d slipped away.

  Damn.

  Now done sniffing the house, Jasper tore once again into the woods. Ewan raced after him, doing his best to keep up, following the sound of that large, lumbering body crashing through the underbrush whenever he lost sight of him. Jasper howled again. Ewan spotted him at the intersection of three small trails, spinning around as though chasing his own tail. Damn it. Jasper had lost her scent or might have caught it in too many directions.

  Ewan reached for Lily’s gloves again, and was about to kneel beside him when he heard the cock of a pistol. In the next moment, he heard Lily cry out from behind him. A simple “No!” from her lips at the same moment a shot rang out. He felt a fiery sting at his shoulder. Ignoring the sudden explosion of pain throughout his body, he whirled toward Lily. She was alive!

  Ashton had her in his grasp, and now that his pistol was useless, he’d thrown it aside and was about to draw a knife to her throat. Ewan lunged at him, knocking Ashton and Lily to the ground. It couldn’t be helped. The blackguard still held her. He managed to get between them, digging an elbow into Ashton’s wrist so that he yelped in pain and released Lily. She quickly rolled away. At the same time, Ewan grabbed Ashton’s other wrist and twisted it. “Drop the knife.”

  Ashton had a wild gleam in his eyes. “Bastard! She’s mine! You can’t have her. No one ever will.” He fought with the madness of a wounded boar, but Ewan was stronger and barely able to contain his own mad rage. Ewan subdued him with relative ease, and then hauled him to his feet.

  “I’ll kill you,” Ashton hissed at Lily, the venom in his voice startling Ewan. “You meant to ruin me, whispering your lies about me in the Duke of Lotheil’s ear.”

  Lily struggled to her feet, hurt and confusion clearly reflected in her eyes. “I’d never do such a thing!”

  Ewan supposed this was why he was so fond of her. She was generous and loving by nature, too innocent ever to feel malice, envy, or hatred toward anyone, even those who wished her ill.

  “Ignore him, Lily. He’s out of his mind.” Ewan wanted to twist Ashton’s arm until it broke, anything to shut up the bastard.

  “That’s right. Ignore me.” Ashton let out a crazed laugh. “I’ll still come after you. You’re mine. You’ll never make it out of Sparrow Hall alive.”

  Ewan silenced him with a punch to the jaw that knocked him out cold. “Guard him, Jasper.”

  Jasper crouched low and let out a soft, feral growl, ready to lunge at Ashton if he so much as batted an eyelid. The hairy lump had never obeyed so readily before, but he adored Lily and probably meant to show off to her.

  With Ashton no longer a threat, Ewan turned to Lily. Was she hurt? How badly? He gazed into the beautiful blue depths of her eyes and saw fear and relief all muddled together. She was exhausted, had been crying. She was shivering. He shoved out of his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Och, lass. I’ve never been so glad to se
e anyone in all my life. It’s over. Let’s go home.”

  He swept her into his arms, and as a tidal wave of relief washed over him, he lowered his lips to hers in a long, desperate kiss. She was safe. She was alive! It was a hard, possessive kiss. A Highlander’s kiss. Not at all gentle, but filled with ache and yearning. Not at all refined, just hot and roughly tender. His lips crushed against hers, teeth scraping and tongue delving into her soft, inviting mouth. Lord! He’d almost lost her.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back just as fiercely. “I knew you’d find me. I never gave up hope.” Then she completely fell apart, sobbing against his shoulder, her sweet, perfect body heaving and shuddering with a heart-wrenching ache that tore him to pieces. Tears cascaded down her cheeks, and though she tried to say more, she couldn’t. Instead, she took in great gulps of air.

  He held her close, kissed her again, gentle and messy, for Lily was crying and finally laughing, and he could taste her salty tears against his mouth. As much as he wished to hold on to this moment, he felt the whoosh of air around them, heard the light rain pattering against the leaves above them, and knew they had to get out of here. The trees would offer them some protection from the rain, but not for long. His boots sank into the moist underbrush that was already soaked from the earlier torrent. “Lily,” he said gently, though there was nothing gentle about his feelings for this slip of a girl.

  She smiled at him, waiting for him to say something more. Her lips were blue, and her nose and ears were red from cold. Despite the warmth of his body against hers, she was still shivering. Her dark hair was damp and curling wildly over her shoulders, the effect enhanced by the leaves and a few twigs caught amid the long strands. She looked spectacular. “Lass, you’re a beautiful mess. And you’ve somehow turned my life upside down. I haven’t had a quiet moment since you walked into my life.”

  She snuggled against his chest. “Oh, Ewan! I’m so sorry.”

  He kissed her on the forehead. “Don’t be. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”