My Dangerous Duke (7 page)

The sea was straight ahead, out beyond the high cliffs atop which the castle sat. Well, with the Continent across the Channel, that would be the south, and the village lay to the west, on lower ground. She would have to sneak off toward the east.

Good.
Her home at the edge of Dartmoor was northeast of Cornwall, anyway, though how far away it was, she did not know for sure. Closer to hand, it appeared she was going to have to deal with the gatehouse, for this, as far as she knew, was the only way off the castle grounds.

When she saw the guards on duty, her burst of optimism floundered. Last night, escape had seemed too difficult, and perhaps it would never work, but she had to try.

She counted three guards huddling under the overhanging shelter of the gatehouse. They looked bored and irked by the morning’s foul weather; their wet black cloaks flapping in the wind, they sipped from steaming mugs of some hot drink.

Kate shook her head to herself, biting her lower lip. How she was going to get past them, she had no idea. Once she got closer, perhaps she could find some way to divert their attention and slip past them, but how?

Surely they would spot her immediately when it came time for her to run across the open space of the inner courtyard. She would make an absurdly easy target.

There had to be a better way.

Well, she’d have to figure it out as she went, she concluded, for the longer she lingered here, the greater the chances of somebody stopping her before she could even start. In the meantime, the guards were not the only obstacle she would have to contend with. There was also the weather, which was perfectly dreadful this morning.

If she were at home in Devonshire, this precipitation would have brought a foot of snow, but here on the coast, it was warmer, limited to a nasty freezing rain.

The sea wind drove the rain in sheets, buffeting the castle just as it no doubt had for hundreds of years.

She shook her head, uneager to brave it, but not even Cornwall’s version of a winter storm would stop her. One thing was certain, however. She’d need warmer clothes.

Sweeping a fierce glance over the chamber, her gaze narrowed in on the chest of drawers. She flew over to it, yanked the drawers open, and quickly helped herself to some of the duke’s huge clothing.

She slipped a shirt on over her head, hastening to push up the overlong sleeves. She took a cravat of his and used it for a scarf to keep her neck warm, then absconded with two pairs of his thick woolen stockings. These would have to do instead of shoes.

Lastly, she went over and peeked in his giant armoire, snatching a dark blue jacket off a peg. It was an elegant tailored affair of soft merino wool, no doubt straight from some haughty tailor on Bond Street.

At once, she slipped it on, hurrying back to the door as she fastened the buttons. There was a smell of cologne on the coat that did strange things to her senses.

Very well, the man was not without appeal, but Satan himself could appear as an angel of light, could he not?

Never having been one for vanity, she did not pause to consider that she looked ridiculous in his giant clothes. All that mattered was escaping her captivity at last.

And when she did, she vowed, clenching her jaw, she was going straight to whatever authorities she could find to report what had happened to her. By God, she would expose the criminal goings-on around here!

So what if they didn’t believe her? At the moment, she
needed
to believe that one day she might get justice, even if it was probably a pipe dream. It was the only thing that gave her the courage to move.

Ignoring her hunger and dizziness, Kate cracked open the bedchamber door and peered out into the corridor.

No one was in sight.

She slipped out of the solar without a sound, closed the door behind her, then stole down the corridor, moving stealthily along the wall. Her brief encounter with the garderobe came back to her when she spotted the little closet door at the end of the hallway. Her lip curled at the hazy memory, but she pressed on.

She approached the top of the staircase, descending in swift silence to the mezzanine, not quite sure where she was going.

Suddenly, male voices reached her, a casual conversation drifting up through the minstrels’ gallery.

Needing to see where the men were so that she could avoid crossing paths with them, she crept over to the minstrels’ gallery and ever so carefully peeked down into the great hall.

She drew in her breath, spotting the Beast himself followed by his butler. What was his name again?

Eldred.
Oh, yes. Eldred was carrying a tray laden with covered dishes of food and a teapot. He was following Warrington, who was talking to him, but Kate noted that there were a couple of guards posted in the room, just like last night. She wouldn’t be going out that way.

“You’ve got that headache powder?” said the duke.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“No doubt she’s going to need it. Maybe now we’ll find out what she’s really up to.” They marched past, heading for the stairs.

Kate blanched—no time to puzzle his words.
They’re coming this way! Hide!
She dove out of sight behind a thick stone column that girded an arched window alcove in the mezzanine.

A moment later, Warrington’s heavy footfalls marched past, trailed by the lighter, slower ones belonging to Eldred. They turned at the landing, continuing on to the upper hallway.

Oh, no,
Kate thought, stealing a covert peek around the column. Wide-eyed, she realized that Warrington was on his way up to the solar. In moments, he’d discover she was gone.

Doubtless, as soon as he found her missing, he would send his minions out to hunt her. She backed out of the alcove, her heart in her throat. Speed was everything now.

As soon as they had passed, she whirled out of the alcove and bolted down the shadowy mezzanine corridor in the opposite direction, her sock-clad feet padding silently over the smooth stone floors.

She had to find a way out. She passed several rooms, but none of them seemed to offer any route of egress.

Slipping around the corner ahead, she entered a long, cloisterlike gallery lined with a row of life-sized statues: snow-white ladies, bygone Warrington duchesses carved from alabaster.

At the end of the statue gallery, however, she spied a small, arched, unobtrusive door.
That has to lead somewhere,
she thought, hurrying toward it at once. The life-sized figures gave her an eerie feeling, almost as if they were living beings watching in silence as she sped past.

She glanced over her shoulder, still dashing toward the door ahead. When she reached it, she had to shake her hands free from the overlong sleeves of the duke’s jacket, then she grasped the latch.

Pulling it up, she swung the door open just a crack, with no idea what she might find on the other side.

At once, the wind caught at the door and the cold rushed in, enveloping her; but she drew in her breath, for the door opened onto the walkway atop the castle walls!

Now she would not have to cross the open courtyard—she could follow this high walkway all the way around to the upper floor of the gatehouse. This put her closer to her goal than she had dared to hope. Her heart beat faster with this unexpected encouragement.

As soon as she stepped out into the foul weather and shut the door behind her, she crouched down, using the parapets to shield her from view.

The wind shoved at her from every direction, while the freezing rain drenched her hair. In a trice, it had her shivering violently, but her more pressing concern was the thin layer of ice that coated the stone wall-walk.

Her lack of shoes made the footing even more treacherous—added to that, the frigid breeze continually tried to knock her off balance.

Already dizzy with the aftereffects of the laudanum, she swallowed hard, but she steadied herself and refused to be daunted. Staying hunched down, she began stealing down the long, windy walkway.

Her head throbbed, but she ignored the pain. Escape was everything, the only thing. This was her chance to take back control of her life.

If she failed, heaven only knew what fate might still befall her at the hands of the Beast.

Chapter 4

W
hile Eldred stood by with breakfast for Kate on a tray, Rohan rapped on his bedchamber door and waited a moment for courtesy’s sake.

Last night, after such extreme temptation, he had tossed and turned and lain awake for restless hours alone in the other room; this morning, he wanted answers—namely, confirmation of his suspicions that she had been sent to spy on him for the smugglers.

Admittedly, part of his impatience to wake up his “present” today came from his frank desire to finish what they had started. He was well aware that the little drunkard must feel like the very devil this morning, but no matter. He was fully prepared to give her some time to recover.

Today was a new day—and tonight would be a new night.

Savoring the memory of her sweetness in his arms, Rohan quit waiting for an invitation and opened the door, taking the initiative, as he was wont to do.

Before going in, he accepted the tray from Eldred, nodding the butler’s dismissal. He would deliver her breakfast personally, always happy to play the lover when it came to a woman he had decided would be his next conquest. As he walked in, he masked his genuine eagerness to see her again behind a tone of sardonic amusement. “Rise and shine, my blossom.”

He nudged the door shut behind him with his foot, then eyed the rumpled bed in heated anticipation.

Kate was not in it.
Ah.
She must be behind the folded screen in the corner, he thought, making use of the necessary. Lud, he hoped she wasn’t back there casting up her accounts.

“How are you this morning?” As he set the tray on the dresser, he noticed one of the drawers hanging open.
Odd.
He shut it. “You may not feel up to eating yet, but I brought you something for the headache.”

No answer was returned to him: No sound came from behind the screen.

“Kate? ”

There wasn’t a sound in his chamber. He suddenly realized that he sensed no other presence in the room. “Kate,” he said more firmly, furrowing his brow. He glanced behind the screen, but no one was there.

He walked out into the hallway, resting his hands on his waist. Where the deuce was she?

Perhaps she was hungry and had made her way downstairs to find the kitchens on her own—but he had not passed her on his way up. His frown deepened. He did not like the thought of her wandering around the castle unescorted. Some of the oldest parts of the compound were dangerous. Moreover, there were areas of his home he’d rather a stranger not see.

He suddenly wondered if he should have locked her in last night. After what had happened between them, it had not seemed necessary. True, a tipsy young harlot was not exactly a paragon of virtue, but having met the alluring Kate for himself, and having found her to be not precisely what he’d call a threat, he would’ve felt like a Beast, indeed, to have locked the girl in his chamber as if she were some sort of prisoner.

He did not want any woman to view him as a monster.

Only the Order’s enemies need think that.

He started to walk away to search for her downstairs, but he suddenly paused. She wouldn’t have tried to leave the building for some strange reason, would she?

Something made him stop, walk back into the solar, and go to look out the bay window, which offered an excellent view of all the castle grounds.

There!
He spotted her at once and narrowed his eyes, leaning closer.
I’ll be damned.

She was sneaking along the walkway atop the castle walls.
What the devil—?

She’s stolen something,
he thought at once. The open drawer. She must have taken something from the room.

Well, she wouldn’t have found much more than perhaps a gold watch or a jeweled cravat pin, he thought with a quick glance over his shoulder at his bedchamber.

He certainly did not keep any type of sensitive information in the room. So what was her game? Probably petty thieving, considering where she had come from. Well! How dare she show him such disrespect, raiding his chamber, then sneaking off without so much as a by-your-leave? With whom did she think she was dealing?

With a scowl, he grasped the latch on the ancient window, intent on shouting down to her to stop. It had not been opened in ages, however, considering his usual absence from the castle. Today’s freezing rain had further sealed it with a layer of ice.

The thing did not want to open, and he did not want to break the ancient glass panes by using too much brute strength. Growling under his breath, he restrained his frustration, jiggling the stupid latch while Kate made her way stealthily toward the gatehouse tower.

Truly, he could not believe his eyes. Her furtive exit seemed dangerously close to a rejection by a female, an experience almost wholly beyond his understanding of reality. With an indignant bang on the window’s frozen seam with the heel of his fist, he dislodged the ice.

The jammed window popped free; he pushed both sides outward. At once, the cold swept in, and the loud clatter of the freezing rain filled the room. Daft little hellion, what was she thinking, going out half-naked in this weather? Was his company so very objectionable? She wasn’t even wearing any shoes! She had wrapped herself in one of his coats, which hung down to her knees, but he could see she was already soaked to the skin.

Well, she might have decided that she didn’t like him, but he was not about to let the little henwit catch her death running away in this cold, gray, miserable slop. He leaned out the window a bit, cupping his mouth to be heard above the clatter of the ice pellets bulleting out of the sky.