This Way to Heaven (15 page)

“Quick, Mary, they've seen us!” gasped Jasmina, as she saw the men look across the ice towards them.

“George's pony is right here, miss!” urged Mary, as they stumbled through the willow trees to where Jasmina had tethered him. “You can ride the papers to safety.”

Jasmina swung herself onto the broad grey back.

“I'll not go without you, Mary.”

She leant down and holding her arm, Mary vaulted onto the pony behind her, tucking up her long black skirt over her black stockings.

Mary was a country girl and riding bareback held no qualms for her.

However, she could only marvel to herself that this young American lady in leather riding trousers that had seemed so shocking when first seen was just as much at home riding without a saddle as she was.

Jasmina urged the pony forward along the path.

The snow was still deep and he plodded slowly and carefully along, no matter how much she tried to make him go faster.

Mary gazed behind her.

A few hundred yards away she could see the men floundering through the deep snow, but they were gaining ground.

She bit her lip.

She realised that her extra weight was the problem. George's poor old pony could not cope with two riders at the same time.

Suddenly she had made up her mind and slid to the ground.

“
Mary
!”

“Don't stop, madam! Keep going. I'll try and lead them away from you.”

Jasmina felt her heart breaking at Mary's bravery, but knew she had no choice.

She urged the pony forward and without the extra load, he quickened his pace, heading for the castle and the comfort of the warm stables.

*

As the Earl and George gazed around for signs of Jasmina and her pursuers, a sudden commotion broke out a little way down the lakeside.

A figure shot out from the shelter of the tall willow trees and slid across the ice.

Within a few seconds, two burly men followed her, slipping and sliding, but closing in fast.

“That's my Mary!” cried George and flung himself forward out of the boatshed.

The Earl hesitated. He could see the torches of the villagers coming across the lake from the other bank.

They would soon reach Mary and the villains and George was more than capable of taking on two men at once to protect his sweetheart.

But yet there was no sign of Jasmina or the bearded foreigner.

In a brief flash he knew what had happened. Those brave wonderful girls had separated in order to throw their pursuers off the track.

And it had half worked.

The two men who, even now, were being subdued by George and an angry group of villagers had followed Mary.

But the leader of the gang had obviously not been so easily distracted from his goal.

He must have stayed on Jasmina's trail.

The Earl was certain that she would not have parted with the papers. They were still in danger of being wrested back and so Jasmina's life was still at risk.

Grimly he forced his way back to the path, his heart bursting with fear for the beautiful outspoken creature with tumbling yellow curls and bright sapphire blue eyes, who had come to mean so much to him in such a short while.

The tracks there were quite plain.

The deep even hoof prints of a heavily laden pony and, over the top of them, the marks of a horse that was shying and skittering and all the time being forced along the track towards Somerton Castle.

*

Jasmina felt herself swaying violently as the sturdy pony plodded into the castle grounds.

She was so very tired and cold she could not think clearly.

All she really wanted to do was to crawl into her bed and sleep for a month.

But she knew that was a luxury that was denied her at the moment.

Not while she was still responsible for the secret papers and could help Richard, the man she loved so much.

She slid off the pony with a groan as he reached the main steps certain he would find his own way round to the stables.

Glancing over her shoulder she thought she could just hear the chink of a bit and the creak of a saddle, but the moon had vanished again and the darkness of the castle cast a deep shadow over the pathway.

Running up the steps she hammered loudly on the door, hoping and praying that one of the footmen would answer.

But to her horror it just swung open under her fists and she stepped into the dark cavernous hall. There was only one small oil lamp burning on a side table throwing out a tiny circle of light.

“Hallo there!” she called, but her voice echoed off the great stone walls and there was no reply.

The suits of armour and ranks of swords and spears glinted in the weak light and far above her head the wind whistled through an open window.

Jasmina could not understand why no one came to answer her call and then the realisation struck home.

Of course, all the servants would be out searching for the kidnapped Earl!

The castle, which did not boast a large staff because of its Master's solitary existence, was completely empty.

She was about to pick up the oil lamp and head for the kitchen when she heard sounds on the steps outside.

There was no time for the lamp.

She ran across the darkened hall towards the stairs that vanished up into the blackness above.

She knew that whoever was following her was not a friend and she also knew that she had never been so close to death before.

‘Oh, Richard, if only you were here with me,' she whispered. ‘I am so scared.
So alone
.'

Gasping for breath and shivering with the cold, she reached the top landing and stared around in desperation.

Where on earth could she hide these vital papers where they would not easily be found?

“It's no good you running any longer, dear lady,” came a smooth and accented voice from the hall below. “There is nowhere in this castle where you will be safe from me.”

“What do you want?” she shouted back defiantly.

“You know perfectly well what I am wanting, dear madam. Just throw down the papers you are safeguarding and I will leave and no one will get hurt.”

“
Never
! They belong to Lord Somerton and I shall never give them to you!”

“And where is your precious Earl at this moment, may I ask? Is he rushing wildly to your aid? No, indeed! He is my prisoner, Miss Winfield. He is quite unable to help you!”

Jasmina backed her way along the dark corridor that stretched between two of the castle turrets.

The bearded man was now at the top of the stairs, walking slowly but inexorably towards her. His voice was smooth as silk, but a silk that covered a wicked blade.

“Why are you fighting against me, Miss Winfield? You are not an English lady; you hold no allegiance to the Government of this country.

“Why, it is not so many years ago that America fought the British for their independence. So why not just hand over all the documents? Then you can go home and forget about this unhappy event.”

She backed further away from him towards the end of the corridor, stumbling in the dark over some broken wood that lay on the floor.

She had no idea of her exact whereabouts and the castle seemed so very big and empty.

The man came even closer, his dark eyes glittering.

“You just cannot win, Miss Winfield,” he snarled in his strange accent. “Now hand over the documents to me at once!”

Jasmina glanced around.

There was a small door behind her and she tried to open it, but it was jammed tight and her hands were too cold to force it open.

So now there was nowhere left to run.

She turned and raised her head in proud defiance as the man stepped in front of her.

She was from the United States of America and her people never gave in to tyrants.

“No never! You will have to take them from me,” she shouted out at him.

The man sounded angry and puzzled.

“Why are you doing this? You are putting your life in danger – for why? What can this Earl of Somerton be to you?”

Jasmina felt a thrill run through her.

She was now about to die, but at least she would die proclaiming her deepest feelings for the man she loved so much.

“To me he is the dearest man in all the world,” she retorted firmly, the passion in her voice making even the kidnapper hesitate.

“I would do anything in my power to help him. He is such a wonderful man, but to me he is not just the Earl of Somerton, marvellous as his ancient title is. He is simply Richard – the man I love with all my heart and all my soul.

“And if I am about to die, then I will make my way to God above knowing that I have experienced the greatest happiness any woman could find – loving a good man.”

She paused, thinking she could hear a noise in the hall below. Heart still beating fiercely, she placed a hand on the railings and glanced down.

“
Richard
!”

“Jasmina, my love!”

The Earl raced across the hall from the front door.

“Don't you dare touch her, you fiend. Let her go!”

But he was too late.

The foreigner darted forward as Jasmina turned, clutching at her with violent hands.

But she managed to pull the papers from inside her jacket and with the last ounce of her strength, hurled them over the railings into the hall beneath.

Jasmina heard the man curse her viciously, heard herself call out Richard's name once more, then everything became a blur.

She was aware of something small and white flying out of an adjacent door and flinging itself into the melee, of struggling to escape the man's clutches, falling against the railings and the terrible cracking noise they made as they gave way.

In the dark she managed to pull herself away from the man and fought to keep her balance as he tripped, lost his balance and vanished without a sound, hurtling to his doom on the stone floor below.

Then she was falling too!

She heard the Earl shout out in terror.

Her fingers somehow managed to catch the edge of the floorboards and she hung there swinging, looking up into the horrified face of dear little Florence, whose white cotton nightgown had been the flying shape she had seen erupt from the door that she realised led to the servants' quarters.

“Madam! Madam! Take my hand, quickly.”

Jasmina gasped and looked up at the hand held out to her. It was roughened and reddened by housework and very small.

She knew in an instant that if she took it, Florence would not be strong enough to pull her up.

No, she would only drag her over the edge and they would both plummet to the stone floor beneath them.

“No – listen, Florence, stand back from the edge! It isn't safe.”

She realised that she could not hold on, but before she could even send out her last prayer, Florence was whisked away and the face of the Earl appeared in the gap caused by the broken railings.

“Jasmina, my dearest.”

“Richard!”

“Listen, sweetheart. I can pull you up, but when I take hold of your arm, you must let go of the floorboards, otherwise I cannot do it.”

Jasmina glanced up into the dark eyes she loved so much.

She could feel her feet kicking in the open space and recognised that her frozen fingers would not be able to grip the wooden edge for much longer.

“Do you trust me, Jasmina?” urged the Earl, lying flat on the ground and reaching down with both hands.

“With all my heart and soul!”

His fingers closed round the soft flesh of her arms where the jacket sleeves had fallen back.

“Now! Let go!”

For a long second Jasmina could not move.

The Earl's dark and passionate gaze met the blazing love in her blue eyes.

What she saw in his look made her heart sing with joy and, without another moment's hesitation, she let go of the wooden edge and hung, suspended for a split second from his grasp until with all the strength in his being he pulled her slowly but surely to safety.

CHAPTER TEN

An hour later Somerton Castle was in uproar with a constant line of people arriving and departing.

A roaring fire was blazing in the drawing room and Mrs. Rush was bustling around the kitchen, issuing orders in all directions, providing hot drinks, soup, beer and huge portions of cake and pie to the chattering staff and those villagers who had braved the frozen lake to search for the kidnapped Earl.

Jasmina had been rushed into a hot bath by one of the maids. She had not had any chance to see what was happening in the Great Hall or speak to the Earl after he had pulled her to safety.

Dressed in a heavy velvet wrap she braided her hair into one thick golden plait that hung down her back and made her look incredibly young.

She made her way down the back stairs as the local Constable and his men were still busy in the Great Hall.

With a weary sigh she sank deep into a low chair in front of the fire.

She realised from a faint light glimmering through a gap in the curtains that it must be almost dawn, but she could not go to bed until she had seen the Earl.

The door opened and the Earl entered, his hair still wet from his bath.

He was wearing a white shirt, open at the neck, and an old pair of trousers.

Swiftly he ran across the room, caught Jasmina's hands in his and drew her to her feet.

Without saying a word he dropped a kiss on each finger.

“You are
–
safe!” he sighed at last with a choke.

Jasmina smiled up at him, her blue eyes shining in the firelight.

“Safe and sound, my Lord.”

“Richard! We agreed on that and after all we have shared, I could never call you ‘Miss Winfield' again!”

A little shudder ran through her as the memory of hanging over the edge of the gallery surged back into her mind.

“That man – ?” she began.

He took hold of her shoulders and looked intently into her face.