The Reluctant Countess (35 page)

“Get up, Sophie, Miss Pette is going to watch us have some fun.” Jack’s laughter made Amelia shiver.

“Get up now, Sophie!”

Sophie’s head spun and she felt nausea clawing up her throat. She could hear Amelia calling her, urging her to get to her feet. Taking a slow deep breath, she tried to fight the effects of the blow because she would not let him see how much he had hurt her. Climbing to her feet, she faced the man she hated more than any other person on earth. The man who had destroyed her family and kidnapped Timmy and now stood between Sophie and her future with Patrick.

“Will it be rape, Jack, is that the only way you can, ah … perform?” Sophie said, looking brazenly at his groin. “Subduing defenseless women because you struggle to find any who are willing to share your bed,” Sophie mocked as she pushed her shoulders hard into the wall behind and braced her legs to keep herself upright. The pain in her arm spurred her on. “Still, needs must be met, Jack,
after all, a man such as you …” Sophie raked him from head to toe again before she continued, “… must get his thrills where he can.”

“You little bitch!” Spode hissed, his face flushing red with anger.

“What upsets you the most, Jack? That I won’t fall to my knees pleading with you to let me go, or that I have changed and am no longer cowed by your particular brand of bullying?”

Both Amelia and Sophie began to laugh. Had anyone who truly knew them been listening, they would have heard the fear, but Jack was beyond listening. His ego was under attack and that amongst all things had the power to make him lose control.

“I’m going to kill you, Sophie Beams!” he roared, charging at her.

Sophie was ready. Pulling the knife from her sling she held it in front of her as Jack ran at her. She watched his eyes widen as he realized what she held, but it was too late for him. He impaled himself on the blade.

“Bitch!” he screamed and then he grabbed at her arms.

Struggling to remain upright, Sophie pushed him with all the strength she had left in her body and he fell to the floor with a loud thud.

“Sophie, untie me now!” Amelia ordered her friend.

“Y-yesss,” Sophie stuttered, her eyes on the now still body of Jack Spode. Blood seeped slowly onto the floorboards beneath him, the ruby red puddle growing larger every second as the life flowed from his body.

“
Now
, Sophie!”

Amelia’s sharp tone galvanized Sophie into action and soon she had set her friend free. Taking a deep breath Amelia then bent over Jack Spode and pulled the knife from his lifeless body, shuddering as the blade made a sucking sound as it left the man’s flesh.

“We will put this back in your sling, Sophie,” Amelia said wiping the blood off the blade on her skirt, and then helping to tuck it back inside the sling. “Come, we must leave before they find him.”

Sophie nodded silently, her eyes once again on the still form at her feet. His eyes were open and they seemed to be looking at her.

“Do not look at him again,” Amelia said. Taking the key from Jack Spode’s pocket, she then took Sophie’s hand and started for the door. “He is no longer any concern of yours.”

Nodding again, Sophie huddled into Amelia’s back, feeling suddenly unwell. She had just taken a man’s life. He would no longer eat or breathe, no longer speak or …

“Sophie! You must think only about escaping now,” Amelia urged her friend, seeing the glazed, shocked look in her eyes.

“Yes,” Sophie whispered, dragging her eyes from Jack’s body.

There was no guard outside the door, so Amelia led Sophie to the stairs. It was still dark, and because of the trees that surrounded the house, there was no moonlight to lead the way. They walked down quietly, taking their time on each step to ensure it did not creak.

For Sophie, the journey seemed to take forever, and her heart beat so fiercely in her chest that it was almost painful. Wiping her hands on her skirts, she tried to get the blood off her skin. It was sticky and warm and it made her feel sick. It was Jack Spode’s blood; the man who now lay upstairs, dead. But you wanted him dead, Sophie.
Oh God, don’t think, don’t think
, she chanted inside her head.

“Ouch!” Sophie hissed when Amelia pinched her arm.

“You must concentrate! We must keep moving.”

Once they had reached the bottom step, Amelia headed for the front door, which proved quite difficult to open. The wood was heavy and creaked on its rusty hinges with every inch it moved. With the help of Sophie’s good arm, between them they managed to open it wide enough to slip through. Carefully, they walked out the door and in what they hoped was the right direction to reach the stables. The ground was uneven and even going slowly, they both tripped several times. The night sky was black, almost as if a cloak had been cast from the heavens to blanket the earth in darkness, thus making their path more treacherous, but providing them with shelter to reach the stables undetected.

“If it rains, I am going to scream,” Amelia growled as she cast a quelling glance skyward.

Sophie’s attempt at laughter was more a snuffle as fatigue and pain were beginning to replace the rush of energy she had experienced while escaping. Her arm throbbed and her jaw seemed to have swollen to twice its normal size.

“What?” Amelia whispered into her ear as she heard another snuffle from her friend.

“I was just imagining what society would say if they were to see us now.”

Amelia giggled, then clapped a hand over her mouth as it threatened to erupt into hysteria. “I fear our new hair styles will never catch on.”

They smelt the stables before they saw them. Slipping quietly inside, Sophie hoped no one was awake and on guard. The sound of snores coming from one of the stalls indicated that there was someone sleeping nearby, but at present he proved to be no problem. Finding a bridle on a peg outside a stall, they took the first horse they could find and led it slowly outside.

Trees formed a shadowed canopy over the long driveway, rustling as the wind ruffled their branches. The noise seemed very loud to Sophie and she instinctively moved closer to the warm solid weight of the horse, which showed just how scared she was, because Sophie did not like horses.

Once they were clear of the driveway, Amelia found a tree stump and lead the horse toward it. She was grateful the animal seemed docile; perhaps it was tired from the journey earlier that day. Climbing onto the stump, Ameila helped Sophie to mount, careful not to hurt her arm, and then she seated herself on the front of the horse. Gathering up the reins they were soon riding off into the night.

* * *

Patrick tried to fight the panic clawing at his insides. He could not help Sophie unless he remained in control, but with each minute that ticked by, he felt his fears rise. He and Stephen had searched for hours. Every turn they took was a dead end and every person they questioned had seen nothing. He alternated between burning rage and desperation. Did she live? Was she unhurt? Had she called out his name in pain and fear? It was torture. Because of his stupid pride, he had not spoken of
his love for Sophie and now, when she needed it most, she did not know that she held his heart in the palm of her hand. He prayed for something, anything, to bring her back to him.

Before him, Stephen suddenly drew his horse to an abrupt halt. His hand was raised, indicating that Patrick stop immediately.

“What?” Patrick called softly.

“A horse is coming,” Stephen whispered, waving ahead of him into the darkness.

Patrick walked his horse off the path and into the trees to one side, and Stephen did the same. Both sat very still and listened.

“Is that singing?”

“Sounds like it,” Patrick turned his head to listen. The words were not clear, but he heard snatches of a bawdy song.

“Amelia!” Stephen suddenly yelled, urging his horse forward.

Patrick reached them first. He called Sophie’s name as he drew alongside.

“Hurry, Patrick, she is about to fall!” Amelia cried.

He caught her and pulled her gently into his arms. “Sophie!” he said urgently, the desperation and fear of the last few hours clear in his voice.

“I knew you would find us,” Sophie whispered.

“Christ, Sophie, don’t ever do this to me again,” Patrick groaned, pressing his cheek to hers. “I love you, God how I love you.”

Sophie couldn’t speak; she was sobbing into his shirt. She had wrapped her good arm around his neck and was holding him in a fierce grip, determined that he never leave her side again.

“The inn we passed a little while ago,” Patrick finally said as the first torrent of emotion eased. “We need to get them to the inn—there they can get food and warmth.”

There was no welcoming light as they arrived at the little inn. A sign swung over the door with The Robin written on it. Patrick dismounted with Sophie in his arms as Stephen hammered his fist on the front door. It took a few minutes, but finally someone was on the other side.

“Who goes there?”

“The Earl of Coulter and Viscount Sumner.”

The door was instantly thrown open and a candle raised.

“My lords,” the innkeeper said, standing aside. “What has happened?”

“There has been an accident and my wife and her friend Miss Pette were injured,” Patrick said, walking over the threshold. “We must have hot water, two rooms, and food immediately!”

Pringle Hobbs had been an innkeeper long enough to recognize quality when he saw it. This night could bring him a tidy sum, and as business was a bit quiet at the moment, he would make sure his guests received the very best service The Robin could offer.

“At once, my lords. If you will come this way, I will have a room ready in a trice.”

Showing them into a parlor, which still had the fire embers glowing, he excused himself to wake his family. Soon, his son Seb had the horses in the stable and his daughter Jemima had replaced the sheets and set fires in two rooms. Mrs. Hobbs was hard at work in the kitchen.

Amelia stood in the circle of Stephen’s arms, her head nestled on his chest while they awaited their rooms. Her eyes were closed and she simply tried to absorb his strength. She needed to feel him close and know they were no longer in danger.

Patrick, who was seated close to the fire, could hear the quiet murmur of Stephen’s words as he comforted Amelia, but his focus was on the woman in his arms. A dark angry bruise was forming on her swollen jaw, and blood soaked the front of her already torn and dirty dress. Patrick felt the sting of tears in his own eyes as he looked down at his beautiful wife. She was alive and she was safe, and this time, he vowed silently, he would make sure she stayed that way.

“I killed him, Patrick. I stabbed him and left him lying there in his own blood.”

“Had you not done it, then I certainly would have, Sophie,” Patrick said, His gut clenched at the distress in her voice. “Jack Spode was scum, love, and if he were still alive, he would kill, maim, or destroy many more lives.”

“I … I know what you say to be true, P-Patrick, but I have never killed another person or even an animal,” Sophie whispered. Closing her eyes, she burrowed into her husband’s large, warm, safe chest.

Patrick ran his hand over her tangled curls, soothing her. “Don’t think anymore, sweetheart. Only know you are safe from harm here in my arms, where you will always stay.”

“Mellie was so br-brave, Patrick. She would not l-leave me.”

“And I will thank her for that, Sophie. Now sleep, love.”

He watched her fight the exhaustion, her eyelashes fluttering several times before she sighed deeply, and just when he thought she had indeed given in, her eyes flew open.

“It was Myles, Patrick. It was he who helped Jack!”

“I’ll take care of Myles, sweetheart,” Patrick said, pulling her close.

Stephen held Amelia as she leaned into him, tried to give her his strength. Looking over her head, he caught Sophie’s last words and looked at Patrick. Their expressions were identical, both seething with rage. Myles would never again be a free man and if both had their way, he would not live to see another new day.

The innkeeper arrived and showed them to their rooms. Though small, they appeared clean and tidy.

Lowering Sophie to her feet, Patrick, with Amelia’s help, began to undress her.

“This is the knife from my carriage,” Patrick said, taking the blade Amelia handed him from the sling.

“She used it to kill Jack Spode.” Amelia shuddered.

“I never want to see that again,” Sophie said, closing her eyes.

Patrick handed it to Stephen, who left the room to check on their horses.

Lowering Sophie onto the bed, Patrick watched as her eyes lowered and he knew in minutes she would be asleep. Pulling the covers up to her chin, he placed the cool cloth Amelia handed him on her jaw to ease the swelling.

“Her arm?” he questioned, looking at Amelia.

“I believe it will be all right until the morning. I washed it twice and once I poured spirits over it.” Before she could stop it, a sob fell from Amelia’s lips as she moved to the other side of the bed to look down at her friend. “She cried like a baby.”

Patrick remembered when he had cleaned her arm and felt himself go cold.

“Thank you, Amelia,” Patrick said, his face solemn as he looked at his wife’s friend.

“For what?”

“For looking after her when I was unable to.”

Waving a hand, Amelia shook her head. “You have the wrong of it there, my lord. She was so strong with that man. Not once did she show him fear—she taunted and ridiculed Jack Spode until he flew into a rage.” Closing her eyes, Amelia hoped she would one day be able to block out the vision of that man rushing at Sophie.

“What did he do?” Patrick questioned.

“He tied me to his bed and then turned to reach for Sophie. She pulled the knife from her sling, and he ran straight onto the blade.”

“Dear God!” Patrick shuddered, imagining what could have happened had Sophie not killed him when she did.

“We are sisters, Sophie and I, my lord,” Amelia said, looking at her friend. “And sisters always watch out for each other.”

“My wife is lucky to have found such a loyal sister as you, Amelia.”