Devil in Her Dreams (8 page)

Devlin sat up, drew his arm back, and made a fist. The man reached to his side, and Devlin glanced for a moment to make sure he couldn’t reach the gun of the knife. A heavy weight connected with the back of his head, flinging him forward. Starlight flickered in his vision before darkness invaded.

Where was he? Louisa still sat alone at the table after Eleanor had taken her brothers inside. Louisa had been watching for Marston to emerge from the woods, but he hadn’t. It was the only path she knew of. Was he shooting again? Practicing so she wouldn’t beat him? Did he even have his gun?

Why did she feel the need to find him? That she couldn’t answer. She only knew that she needed to see Marston and wanted to spend more time in his company. Was this how a lovesick schoolgirl felt? If it was, she didn’t like it one bit. She had never simply sat and waited on anyone. There was always an activity to occupy her time. Maybe if she returned to her embroidery, she wouldn’t notice his absence. Yes, that was what she needed to do. Louisa made her way inside and up to her room and stopped to look out her window. There was still no sign of Marston. Drat that man. Picking up her sewing basket, she left her chamber, glancing into all of the public rooms to make sure he hadn’t entered without her knowing, before returning outside. At least if he came out of the woods he would find her stitching instead of simply staring at the spot where he had disappeared.

The breeze was pleasant, and Louisa turned her mind to the task at hand.

She pricked her finger three times before she set the material aside and sucked her finger into her mouth. As long as she didn’t see the blood, she would be fine. As it was, a small spot stained the delicate fabric, and she had to give up.

What was wrong with her? Embroidery had always held her interest, and she could sit for hours while listening to others converse around her, or to her father read or practice his sermon, or simply stitch in silence. But not now. Not since Marston had kissed her and marched off.

What if he had fallen or was injured? Louisa strained to look for him. Though she didn’t know the man all that well, two hours was certainly a long time to be away walking.

She moved through the garden. Perhaps she should check on him. Yes, that was a very good idea. Of course, she didn’t want him to think she was actually coming after him, but a lady did have a right to stretch her legs and walk about the grounds. She didn’t have to tell him she was concerned, after all.

With her mind made up, Louisa marched off in the direction he had gone. If anything, it would put her mind at ease. She strolled along the path, looking in each direction but did not see Marston anywhere within the thick foliage. Ahead of her the path curved and she knew it would open to a small clearing in the woods. On the other side, the path continued for a bit before it opened into the field where she and Marston had held their shooting contest. As she took a step into the clearing a stranger stepped in front of her. Behind him, Marston was tied to a tree. His eyes widened.

“
Run.”

Louisa took a step back, ready to flee but the man grinned and brought up a gun, leveling it on her. She couldn’t run fast enough to avoid a bullet.

Devlin thought his heart lodged in his throat when Louisa stepped through the trees. He struggled against the rope that tied his arms together behind the trunk of the tree. He would kill the filthy Frenchman if anything happened to her. But first he had to get free. He had to save her, but the bindings were too tight. How had he let himself get into this situation?

He focused his eyes on Louisa. It was because of her! Though he wished to resent her for being a distraction even when she wasn’t around, he couldn’t. Seeing her only made him want to fight harder to get out of this predicament and live.

“
Ah, Lisette, so glad you could join us. It saves me the trouble of finding you. Will Jean Pierre be along in a moment?”

“
I am not Lisette,” Louisa argued.

Devlin closed his eyes for a moment. Blast, he should have anticipated the Frenchman would think Louisa was her sister. The two shared a resemblance and this only put Louisa in more danger.

The man grinned. “Of course you are. Don’t try to fool me,” he said in French.

“
I am not trying to fool anyone,” Louisa responded in French.

“
That proves you are Lisette. Only she would answer in my language.”

“
Of course I speak French. My mother was French, and my father is the son of the Duke of Danby. I’ve had an excellent education.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a huff.

“
Sit down.” He motioned to a spot beneath a tree.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I will not. I like this dress and I am not about to ruin it.”

“
Please sit down,” Devlin urged. She would be shot, and it would be on his head. Why didn’t the fool woman do what she was told? She wasn’t even screaming like she was supposed to. He strained against the rope more, feeling it cut into his flesh. A trickle of warm blood slid down the outside of his hand. Perhaps the slickness would help him slide his hands free.

“
I will not sit in the mud.” She stomped her foot.

The Frenchman leveled the gun on her again.

“
You really intend to shoot me? They will hear the shot at the house, and who knows how many people will come running? You don’t stand a chance.”

He pulled a knife from his pocket. “This will be silent.”

“
Please, Louisa,” Devlin begged. He couldn’t watch her being stabbed or even cut. Nothing should mar her perfect skin.

“
Louisa? Is that your real name?”

“
It’s the only one I have.”

“
If you won’t sit for him, would you do so for me?” Devlin asked. The man was not about to harm either of them until John showed up. Then they would be safe, especially if he brought Elizabeth with him. The Frenchman would not expect another Lisette. Those two would handle the situation, and he would be able to take Louisa back into the house and keep her safe before delivering a stern lecture over arguing with a man holding both a gun and a knife on her.

Louisa met Marston’s eyes. “I am not sitting in mud,” she answered before focusing back on the man with the knife.

She tried to remember everything Edgeworth had taught her and Elizabeth about fighting. If she weren’t in this skirt she could do more. The last thing she was going to do was sit in the mud so she could be tied to a tree and slaughtered. That man was not going to let them out of this alive, and since Marston, who thought he needed to protect all women, was currently incapacitated, it was up to her.

Think, she had to think. She couldn’t allow him to use the knife on her.

“
I wouldn’t use that either.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you are going to tell me they will be able to hear me slit your throat?”

She swallowed hard and tried to regain her bravado. “Of course not. I am more concerned with the boars.”

“
Boars?”

“
Yes, they are all over. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder to Devlin. His shoulders shook, as if he were laughing and he was shaking his head, yet his eyes held a murderous glint. He wasn’t very happy with her at the moment, but at least she wasn’t tied to a tree. When this was over, she would not let him forget who was protecting whom.

The Frenchman glanced around, probably looking for the boars.

“
One whiff of blood, and they will come charging. I’ve seen it happen once. My uncle was hunting and barely escaped. They don’t pause to see what is injured or dead, but attack everyone around. I hope you are quick at climbing a tree.”

The Frenchman narrowed his eyes at her then turned to Marston, who was glaring at Louisa.

“
Why did you tell him?” Marston demanded.

She shrugged. “He had a right to know.”

“
No, he doesn’t, because he is going to kill us anyway. At least he would have died right along with us.”

“
Oh, I hadn’t thought…”

“
Of course you didn’t think,” Marston yelled. “Now he will probably just tie us up and leave us for dead.”

“
No, I will shoot you.” The Frenchman put the knife back in his pocket. “After I have Jean Pierre. Let the boars have the three of you. I will be far enough away.”

A surge of relief passed through her when the knife was gone.

“
Come on, Lisette, over to the tree.” He motioned with his gun.

“
I am not Lisette.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “And I will not sit in the mud.”

He shrugged. “Then stand.” He was closer now.

“
And ruin my new slippers? I think not.” She stuck her foot out so he could see the dainty slipper dyed to match her gown.

He bent just slightly to look at her foot, his eyes narrowing in either anger or exasperation. It was all she needed. Grasping her skirts to pull them to free her legs, she bent her knee and kicked high, striking him in the bottom of his chin with the toe of her foot. The Frenchman’s head jerked up, and he staggered back a few steps.

“
Ouch!” She gave a quick hop. “My boots would have been far more practical.”

The man straightened, rage filled his eyes, and he launched himself at her. She turned and sprinted away, intending to run back to the house. She opened her mouth to scream when he latched onto her dress, yanking her back. His arm went around her waist. Louisa flung her head backwards, connecting with his nose. His hold went slack, and she drew her arm back and jerked her elbow back and into his stomach.

She felt a swoosh of air at the back of her neck as he doubled over. Instead of running, she turned and brought her foot up again, kicking as hard as she could, connecting with his groin. The man’s hands went to his privates. His face turned pale as he dropped to his knees and rolled to the ground, moaning. She stared at him for a moment. There was so much blood on his face. The woods began to spin.

“
Louisa,” Marston barked out.

She fought the darkness and strained to focus on him.

“
Get John before he recovers.”

Yes, what was she thinking? Turning, she ran back toward the house, screaming at the top of her lungs.

There were two gardeners outside on the terrace, and she yelled up to them. “One of you get help, the other follow me.” The two men split and Louisa turned to go back the way she came. She couldn’t leave that man alone with Marston. What if he recovered and killed Marston? She couldn’t allow it.

The man was still on the ground, groaning, when she ran back to the clearing. His eyes widened with fear at the sight of her, she fought the nausea that rose to her throat and the dizziness of so much fresh blood. She couldn’t faint now. She wouldn’t. Marston needed her.

The Frenchman reached for the gun which had fallen a few feet away. She rushed forward and stomped on his hand, keeping her foot there as she reached for the gun and picked it up. She leveled it on the man. “Don’t move or I will shoot you.”

“
I would listen to her,” Marston said.

Louisa offered him a cheeky grin. Marston merely shook his head and dropped his chin to his chest.

The gardener ran into the clearing and stopped.

“
Please untie Lord Marston.”

When the rope fell away, Marston stood and flexed his hands to bring feeling back to them. Blood covered his wrists and hands. Louisa looked away and focused on her surroundings, on anything that wasn’t red.

John arrived a few moments later with a few servants. He had them haul the Frenchman to his feet so they could take him back to the house.

Devlin came forward and pulled Louisa into his arms. There would be blood on the back of her dress, but she didn’t care. Her heart beat a mad tattoo, her hands began to shake and she became a bit dizzy. Thank goodness that hadn’t happened to her earlier or she would be tied to a tree now, waiting to die.

“
Don’t ever do something so foolish again.”

Louisa smiled against his chest. It was a promise she could not make, but it was unlikely she would find herself in a similar situation again. Marston leaned back and looked down at her, concern etching his brow. “We should return to the house. You must be shaken from this ordeal.”

“
Yes, where are my smelling salts? I am sure I must lie down.”