Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (211 page)

She scrambled into a sitting position. For days she had been locked in this room and her husband had never come to see her. Why was he here now, and at such a late hour? Easing off the bed, she stood, clutching the blanket to her chest, and forced herself to remain clam. “What do you want, Augustus?”

“I have everything I want, Delilah.” His evil laugh raised the hairs on the back of her neck. “We are going for a little swim, you and I.”

“Swim?” She stepped back when his fingers clamped around her wrist.

“You like to swim. I saw you there with the earl the night I pulled you from that horrid little beast of yours.” His sadistic laugh reverberated off the walls of her prison.

“I do not understand.”

He dragged her along behind him, jostling her against the door jam on their way by. Delilah cried out as her shoulder glanced off it. “You may yell the house down if you want, my dear, but all the servants have been given the night off except for two who are most loyal to me.”

Frightened, she struck out at him and he pushed her back into the arms of another who smelled of horse sweat and manure. Her wrists were pinned behind her back and she was shoved forward in the direction of the stairs. Were they going to push her down them to her death? “Help! Someone help me. Jester!” They reached the top of the stairs and to her relief she was guided down them instead of being thrown from the top.

“You can scream all you want, but your simple-minded beast is not here.”

Terror squeezed her chest. “You promised you would not hurt Jester if I came to you willingly. What did you do to him?”

“I did nothing to the filthy creature. He is being sent to the market as we speak to find a new position, perhaps as a vendor’s mule. Or, maybe I should have returned him to your lover as a rug, a reminder of his failure to protect his ward.” His cruel chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. “Either way, you will not need him to go for a swim. As your loving husband, rest assured I will guide you safe and sound to the pool you love to visit each night.”

She gasped. “How do you know my habits?”

“One learns the movements of their prey, if they observe them long enough. Hurry up, I have not got all night, my dear. I will need all my strength to act the grieving, distraught husband on the morrow when your body is found floating in the pool where you drowned.”

Their footsteps echoed as they crossed the tile foyer, reminding Delilah of how alone she was at the moment. She was left with little choice but to try to fight back on her own. The hands securing her wrists tightened as if the person holding her was privy to her thoughts. She knew the way to the little waterfall and could swim the length of it by memory. There was a chance she could outwit them and find help. It was a small chance, but one she was willing to take.

The door opened and a brisk fall breeze nipped at her cheeks, bare feet, and arms as she was guided down the icy marble steps. They didn’t walk five minutes across the frosty grass before her teeth were chattering. The wind picked up, rustling the remaining leaves in the trees, its chilled fingers plucking at the fabric of her thin nightdress, flapping it about her shaking knees. In hope Jester might be nearby, she puckered her lips, stiff from cold, and whistled long and low.

“Whistle all you like, Delilah, your guide will not come for you,” Augustus needled.

She strained to hear any noise Jester might make over the howl of the wind and rush of dying leaves set loose from the trees. A faint sound made her turn her head. Was it the telltale whinny and light tread of the pony reaching her desperate ears? “Jester?” She listened for it again, but heard nothing.
It must have been the wind. It is up to me now.
The faithful animal guided her most of the way through her life — now she must fend for herself in the biggest test she ever faced.

Their footsteps crunched over the dried leaves blanketing the ground and poked her bare feet, stirring up the scent of mold and decay. On foot the path was not so familiar to her and she fought to make sense of their journey. A lone owl hooted above. She wondered if it was the same one who always roosted in the big, knotted tree at the side of the path she usually took with Jester.

To occupy her panicked mind she pictured Jester as a colt, the two of them frolicking around the flames of the gypsy fire. It was one of the last visual memories remaining before the sickness came with its high fever and took away her sight.
To bask in the heat of a fire at this moment would be welcome. To wrap my arms around Jester’s furry neck would be heavenly …
Shaking the thoughts from her head, she tried to focus on something other than the cold. Her feet and toes became numb, causing her to stumble. The man who held her grunted and hauled her back to her feet.
I cannot walk much further.
As luck would have it they pressed through the thicket surrounding the little pool and the spray from the waterfall dampened her cheeks. She stumbled again and fell to her knees on the bank. The light scent of smoke registered as she huddled there on the wet moss. Was Tyrone still camped out here? Hope flared in her breast. Who else would be here? “Tyrone!”

“Calling for your lover, are you?” Augustus snickered. “‘Tis a little late now, my dear.”

A sob caught in her throat.
He is right. Tyrone will be long gone back to London. Why would he wait for me when I wounded him so?

A pair of hands pulled her upright. “Get in the water.”

Without waiting for her to take a step, the stable boy shoved her off the bank into the icy pool. The shock of the temperature drove the air from her lungs. Her captor released her hands, and she floundered for purchase on the slick rocks. Then when she gained her footing someone grabbed her by the shoulder and propelled her deeper into the water. When the frigid blanket reached her chest she was yanked to a halt.

“It is deep enough there. Drown her now and be quick about it. It is damned cold out here tonight.”

She fought with everything she possessed, fingers clawing and scratching. Twisting she tried to get free of the hands pressing her down. Water flowed over her head. Her scream was cut off in a choking bubble. In terror and desperation she struggled
. No! Jester, Tyrone, where are you? Help me … please.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The three of them crouched in the bushes lining the path to the baron’s stable. A gust of wind made Tyrone wish he brought his greatcoat, but the garment would have flapped and crinkled, perhaps blowing their cover. He shifted. “What is taking so long?” he whispered to Perry, who hunkered beside him on the damp leaves.

Kata jabbed him in the ribs. “Shh, Meeko will not fail you.”

Tyrone resisted the urge to criticize the reliability of gypsies in general. Instead he focused his gaze on the small square of light spilling from the narrow opening in the barn door. Five minutes passed and there was still no sign of Kata’s mate. Perhaps he shouldn’t have trusted the mission to the gypsy. Just as he was about to crawl out of their cover and retrieve Jester himself, the man poked his head out of the doorway, looked both ways, and then slipped from the barn, leading the shaggy pony behind. Breathing a sigh of relief, Tyrone took the halter shank from Meeko and passed it to Perry as the gypsy ducked into the brush with them.

“Easy as stroking a honey bee as it gathers nectar from a flower,” Meeko boasted.

Perry snorted. “Now that is a risky thing to try, unless you enjoy being stung, Meeko. All right, are you ready, Kata?”

“Aye.”

Tyrone slipped from the bushes and jogged along the trees until he reached the back garden gate. He waited for Kata to make her way to him before he lifted the latch and pushed it open. A slight squeak was all the noise it made, but in his mind he cursed the sound as they squeezed through the gap. Once Kata was inside she would find Delilah’s room and wake her daughter. A candle in the window was the signal for Perry to bring Jester into the open lawn. With any luck the pony would respond to Delilah’s whistle and whinny in return to prove he was alive and in their possession.

A door opened and voices drifted from the veranda at the back of the house. Tyrone stayed Kata with a hand on her shoulder. Curious, he crept through the herb garden to the corner of the house. He pressed himself up against the wall and peered around the corner. Three figures approached in single file, the middle one wearing a flapping white gown of some kind. As they passed he got a better look at the three and concluded it was the baron, Delilah, and a servant.

He cringed as the pony nickered. If Perry didn’t silence the animal, their plan would be foiled.

“Jester?”

Relief flooded him when the pony remained silent despite her call. The group kept walking across the lawn toward the fringe of forest bordering the estate. As quiet as possible, he made his way back to Kata and signaled for her to follow him back out the gate. As soon as the trio disappeared into the woods he hurried across the lawn to where Perry, Meeko, and Jester still hid.

“March and a servant have Delilah. They went into the woods at the end of the lawn.”

Perry groaned and released his grip on the pony’s nostrils. “What do we do now?” The animal took a deep breath and shook his head.

“We follow them. There is only one reason they would take a walk in the middle of the night.” Tyrone didn’t bother to give the reason torturing his mind, knowing by their silence they reached the same conclusion.

Single file they made their way to the woods. They came across the path the others took with little difficulty. The wind picked up, covering any noise they made as they followed the party ahead of them. The path turned, joining with a wider one. Even in the dark, Tyrone recognized it as the path to the little waterfall Delilah loved. A few moments later the apparitions ahead disappeared in a rustle of branches. He signaled for the others to hold up and crept forward. On his hands and knees he crawled beneath the boughs. Voices cut through the darkness as the three figures tarried upon the bank above the pool.

“Tyrone!” Delilah called, her voice pinched with fear.

The baron said something and laughed.

“Get in the water,” the second figure growled.

Tyrone realized the servant holding Delilah was none other than the stable boy he had fired that first day for fornicating on the job. The man shoved Delilah in the water and she screamed. Tyrone leaped into action. With a warlike cry, he sprinted to the water. Rushing the stable boy he knocked him off his feet and together they tumbled into the icy pool. They wrestled each other as they scrambled for footing on the slick bottom. Something bobbed to the surface sputtering and splashing just beyond his elbow. He hoped it was Delilah as he tried to dodge a blow from the stable boy. It glanced off his head. Ears ringing and head pounding, he threw a punch of his own. It connected with enough force to topple the slighter lad backward. The boy went down with a splash. Tyrone held him under for a moment to leave the servant breathless enough to be unable to gain the upper hand.

Panting and out of breath he yanked the lad to his feet and dragged him to the bank. The boy flopped on the sand gasping and throwing up water as Tyrone turned to find Delilah. The click of a pistol made him freeze and look to the bank.

“Stop right there, Frost.” The baron braced his feet, his arm around Delilah’s neck, a pistol muzzle to her temple. She shivered as she clutched his arm, water dripping from her sodden hair and nightdress and her teeth chattering loud enough for all to hear. Meeko and Perry stood to one side, their hands in the air.

“Ghastly timing, Frost. Now I have to find a way to dispose of you and your friends before I can drown my half sister.” The baron sighed as if it were a boring task to be performed.

Tyrone raised his hands. “How will you make all our deaths look like an accident, March? You will never get away with it.”

The baron’s brow furrowed. “I admit it will take some doing; however, I shall rise to the challenge.”

Out of the corner of his eye Tyrone noticed Jester saunter onto the bank behind the baron. Maybe he could use the pony to distract the man and get the gun away. “Perhaps we can make a deal, March.”

“A deal?” The baron’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of deal?”

Tyrone glanced at Perry and rolled his eyes toward the pony before he stepped to one side to divert the baron’s attention. With any luck Perry would get his hint and spook the pony into the man, distracting him long enough for Tyrone to make a move for the gun.

“Stop.” Augustus glanced between him and Perry. “Jeb, get your arse up off the ground and watch that one over there.” He jerked his head in Perry’s direction. “If you try jumping me, Frost, the girl dies.”

Left with no other choice, Tyrone stepped back toward the group. “Release Delilah and you can have the estate and her inheritance.”

“Yeah, right.” Augustus shook his head. “How dull-witted do you think I am? As soon as I let go of her I will be floating in the water.”

“Please, Augustus’, I promise I will give you all of it,” Delilah pleaded, her voice shaking with the force of her fear and the cold. “I beg of you. Let me take Jester and disappear with the gypsies.”

At the mention of his name the pony’s ears flickered.

“Stubble it,” Augustus growled tightening his grip on her windpipe.

Delilah’s strangled cry made the pony pin his ears. Without warning he leaped forward and bit the baron on the arm. Augustus dropped the pistol with a shriek so loud it drowned Delilah’s cry as he released her. Tyrone sprang forward and tackled him, rolling over and over on the bank until Perry helped him pin the baron to the ground. When he looked over his shoulder he saw that Meeko had secured the scrawny stable boy in a headlock.

Delilah dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Jester’s neck. Tears streamed down her wind-chapped cheeks as she sobbed.

Tyrone eased off the baron, who was whining about “the damned beast trying to eat him,” picked up the gun, and handed it to Perry. He crossed to Delilah’s side and knelt beside her on the muddy bank. “Delilah, everything is all right now.” Jester nuzzled him with a soft nicker as he patted the pony’s head. “Good boy, Jester. I owe you a bucket full of apples, my friend.” The pony nodded his head as if in agreement and blew through his nose as a light rain began to fall. Tyrone chuckled and pried Delilah’s frozen fingers from the animal’s tangled mane. “Come on, we need to get you home.”