Simmer All Night (39 page)

Blood ran from a wound in his head behind his ear. She felt it when she swung at him, smelled its metallic scent. She had hoped to hit his temple and knock him unconscious. Now the bad aim might cost her her life.

At least the children had gotten away and for that she was thankful.

"You've made me lose everything. Those children will tell. I tried to be nice. I tried not to kill you, and you repay my kindness this way. To hell with you. Literally. You are going to die now, although it won't be quick or easy. In fact, you may well go insane first."

At the foot of the staircase, he had paused long enough to light a lantern, and for a few sweet seconds Chrissy had yanked herself free. When he caught her again, he backhanded her so hard that it scrambled her brains. By the time she gathered herself enough to resume the struggle, he was dragging her through the crypt, his arm locked around her neck, his voice a demented murmur against her ear.

"...since that braggart told me all the family secrets, I have just the place. An appropriate place. Lucky for you that the canons needed somewhere to hide their treasures when the king's men came around."

Chrissy forced herself to think. The man was physically her superior, but she refused to let him outsmart her. She needed a weapon, something to balance the scales. She'd tried for his gun half a dozen times already, but he guarded it well. Her sash, perhaps? Maybe she could get it around his throat. It would be awkward, but she had to do something. Was there anything else? What was in her pockets? A handkerchief, one of Sophie's hair clips, a small bag of her special spice blend she'd added to her chili at the barbecue. That's all.

Maybe I could gouge his eyes with the hair clip. Maybe I could... his eyes. The spices. Of course.

Timing would need to be perfect.

"Do small, enclosed places bother you, Miss Delaney?" Wilcox asked, his tone dripping menace. "I hope so."

He stopped before one of the numerous stone tombs in the crypt. This particular one was a rectangular marble box probably three feet wide, six feet long, and four feet deep. An effigy of a woman with an Elizabethan ruff around her neck adorned the lid.

Wilcox threw Chrissy against the tomb, then pulled his gun. "Down. Sit down."

Keeping the weapon aimed at Chrissy, he bent and removed a block of stone along the base of the tomb revealing a lever. He pushed the lever, and Chrissy heard a scraping sound as the tomb's lid swung open. At that point, Wilcox's threat became clear.

He intended to enclose her in the tomb.

When he reached into the stone box and removed three small bags, her own hand slipped into her pocket. As unobtrusively as possible, she scooped chili spice into her fist, then rested her hand in her lap.

"The jewels and gold will have to do me for now," said Wilcox as he slipped the small bags into his jacket. "I'll leave your body to guard the bigger items. As long as I don't return for them too soon, it shouldn't be a problem."

He stepped away from the tomb and motioned with the gun. "Inside now, Miss Delaney."

Slowly, she rose to her feet.
Do it
right this time, Chrissy.
"I won't climb into that coffin."

"I'd rather not shoot you, but I will."

At that moment, she heard the far off echo of her name. "Chrissy," came Cole's voice. "Chrissy!"

The sound distracted Wilcox and gave her the opportunity she'd waited for. Lunging forward, she screamed and threw the spices right into his eyes, then grabbed for the gun, wrenching it from his hand.

He yelled a curse, one hand clawing at his eyes while the other struck out at Chrissy. She dodged the fist, shaking, quaking, as she fumbled to grip the pistol.

There. In her hand. The guard. The trigger.

He hit her as she fired.

"Bitch!" He hit her again and the world went black.

* * *

Cole couldn't see a damned thing. How stupid of him not to stop long enough to grab a candle. He'd been so damned scared he'd acted without thinking.

He yelled her name at the top of his lungs, then listened again. Nothing, again.

Think, Morgan.

She could be right next to him and he wouldn't know it. He had to have light. It was either wait for Jake to bring it, or find some on his own. Surely, if Bennet used this place for a lair, he'd keep lamps placed around. Cole just had to find them.

He felt his way forward and found a door. Opening it, he breathed a sigh of relief. A yellow glow filtered from the doorway to a room across from him.

Reminding himself he'd already used up his share of recklessness by coming down here without a light, Cole approached the room cautiously and quietly. Edging up to the door, he peeked inside.

It was the collection room Bennet had shown him yesterday. No one appeared to be inside. Then a voice floated from off to the side. "Come in, Mr. Morgan. Please."

Cole turned his head to see a second room revealed. T
his
was
where he held them.
"Chrissy, are you in there?"

Bennet said, "Come see for yourself."

Cole wasn't about to walk into that room unarmed. Mentally picturing the display cases scattered throughout the room, he quietly moved to the one that contained the knives. He dumped over the case, broke the glass, and chose a Bowie knife and a smaller one better for throwing.

"I do prefer you leave my treasures alone," said Bennet.

"Chrissy, answer me," said Cole.

"I'm afraid that's not possible."

Approaching the door to the hidden room, Cole mentally slammed a door on the cold fear that threatened to overwhelm him at Bennet's claim.

Taking a deep breath, he looked inside.
It's a damned log cabin.

Bennet was sitting in a rocking chair staring up at a painting on the wall. He held a Colt revolver in his right hand. Chrissy wasn't anywhere in sight. "Where is she?"

"Well, well, well, Mr. Morgan. Come in. Come in." Lamplight flickered, casting dancing shadows across the floor. Cole picked up the faint scent of the Kleberg children on the air. And Chrissy. She'd been here, but she wasn't here now.

Keeping a wary eye on Bennet's gun, he advanced farther into the room. "What have you done with Chrissy?"

The evil in Bennet's smile sent a chill chasing up Cole's spine. "No more than she's done to me." He held up his left hand then, a hand covered in blood. "She's killed me, you see. Gut shot. I thought it was only a scratch at first. Hardly hurt. Hardly bled. Then I moved her and it was like something inside me ripped apart."

"No!" Cole advanced on him. "She's not dead. What have you done with her?"

Bennet laughed weakly, his gaze returning to the portrait hanging on the wall. "Where is she?" he repeated. "Why, she's on her way to hell. Just like me."

Cole grabbed him around the throat, determined to force the truth from him. But it was too late. Lord Bennet's eyes had gone to glass.

Chrissy's whereabouts died with him.

Chapter 16

Chrissy awoke slowly to a savage headache, a raging thirst, and a nauseated stomach. The gag in her mouth muffled her groan and the total darkness surrounding her caused her a long moment of confusion. Then like nightmares, scenes of recent events replayed themselves through her mind. Finally, she realized where she was. The tomb. He'd shut her in the marble box in the crypt below Harpur Priory.

Chrissy tried to scream, but little sound emerged. She tried to lift her arms and push against the lid above her, but she had no room to maneuver. She lay atop a lumpy bed of canvas bags filled with hard-edged objects that gouged into her skin. The tomb's stone slab rested only inches above her, and had she been a little broader in the shoulders, she wouldn't have fit from side to side.

Yet, she fought to free herself, pushing against the lid until her muscles gave out. Heedless of the gag, she screamed for help until her voice dried to a rasp.

Time drifted by and she was fairly certain she swam in and out of consciousness. Each time she came to, her aches and pains bothered her a little less. A peaceful numbness crept over her and she sank into the freedom of her thoughts.

Idly, she wondered if the tomb was airtight and if she'd suffocate. No, she'd be dead already if that were the case. Maybe she'd die of thirst instead. She wondered which type of death would be easier.

The worst thing about dying, she decided, was the thought of leaving Cole. What would he do when he couldn't find her? How long would he continue to look for her?

Forever.

In the darkness, Chrissy closed her eyes. It was true. Cole would look for her until he found her, if it took him the rest of his life. She knew it. She'd been a fool to deny him her trust.

So
trust me
now, his voice whispered through her mind.
Trust me to find
you in time. Fight for your sanity
,
Christina. Fight
for your life.

As the mist took her once more, she silently answered,
I'll try.

* * *

They lit up the catacombs like a ballroom, stripping Harpur Priory's lamp room bare and robbing half the rooms in the house of theirs. Cole and Jake located four hidden exits out of the tunnels that stretched in all directions from the main crypt beneath the manor.

It was a lot of area to search, and Cole was well aware that more exits and hidden rooms were likely to exist. The church on this property dated back seven hundred years and a lot of hiding, spying, building, and destroying had taken place during that time. They found a new nook or cranny every time they turned around.

At first light, they began searching the areas around each of the exits. Both capable trackers, Cole and Jake quickly established that neither Bennet nor Chrissy had left the crypt by those paths during the night. It wasn't necessarily what Cole had hoped to find, but at this point, every piece of information was valuable. "She's down here somewhere," he told her brother. "And she's alive. I can feel it. I know it as well as I know my own name."

Jake wearily rubbed the back of his neck. "I pray you're right. I'm getting scared, Cole. Real scared."

At that point Elizabeth Delaney led a half dozen servants down the circular staircase into the crypt carrying trays of sandwiches and drink. "Boys?" she asked hopefully. "Any news?"

Cole smiled for the first time all day. He could be fifty years old and she'd still call him a boy. "Not yet, Elizabeth. But we'll find her. He didn't have time to take her very far."

Unsaid was the reality that Bennet had managed plenty of time to hurt her.

Tears sparkled in Elizabeth's eyes. "What have I done to her? I love her, boys. I love her so very much."

"I know, Mama," Jake said, wrapping his mother in his arms. Over her head, his anguished gaze met Cole's. "We all love her."

Cole couldn't bear to see Elizabeth's tears, and he wished for some way to ease her burden. Producing Chrissy would be the best solution, of course, but he felt compelled to offer her what he could. "I love Christina. She owns my heart. I've asked her to marry me." When she turned to look at him, her expression filled with anxious joy, his mouth twisted in a rueful smile and he added, "She hasn't accepted me yet, but I'm working on it."

Then she was in his arms, hugging him hard. "You've been my son for a long time now, but this... Cole... it's a dream come true for me."

"Mama's plan worked," murmured Jake, shaking his head. "I'll be damned."

They resumed their search and half an hour later, his fine brocade vest smeared with dirt, Lord Welby emerged from one of the tunnels and said, "Cole, you might want to see this. We've found another burial room."

"Chrissy?"

"Not yet, but—"

Cole took off at a run.

They searched the path thoroughly to no avail. Nor did the next two hidden chambers they discovered yield any sign of Chrissy. The longer they worked, the more disheartened the searchers became. Cole began to see doubt and sympathy in the looks they shot his way, but he patently ignored them. When a footman approached him about calling a halt for the day, he damn near swung on him. "She's down here somewhere, and she's alive. We won't stop until we find her."

By late afternoon, desperation had begun to claw at Cole. He prowled into the collection room, lifted one of the small glass display cases, and heaved it against the wall with a loud, frustrated shout. Glass crashed and fractured. Jake came running. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened!" Cole whirled on his friend, his fists clenched at his side, his heart threatening to shatter like the glass. "We're missing something, Jake. We have to be." His gaze shot toward the hidden room where Bennet died. "A little quicker. If I'd just been a little quicker."

Chrissy's brother raked his fingers through his hair. "Look, let's go over it all again. Maybe you'll think of something new. We'll figure our distances again. Maybe he had time to take her farther than we think."

"Or maybe he didn't take her anywhere at all." Cole exited the collection room and walked to the base of the staircase. "I'll hear that scream in my dreams for the rest of my life." He moved back out into the main passageway stalking down its length. "It had to come from close to here, Jake. I'm certain of it. The sound wasn't muffled enough...." His voice trailed off as he calculated the amount of time it had taken him to descend the long staircase. "Why the hell couldn't I have been just a little quicker?"