What a Lady Craves (33 page)

“See if we can work out where they might have gone from there.”

“We inspected the spot on our way down,” he reminded her. “We didn’t see anything
then.”

“Perhaps we missed something.”

A few yards farther on, Alexander’s horse half reared and began a sideways dance. The reins slipped from about his wrist. Henrietta’s mare stretched her nose out and pricked her ears. With a snort, the other mount kicked up its heels and galloped off, headed on the straightest line to the stables.

“Devil take it!” Alexander took off in pursuit of the steed.

“Wait! Alexander!” She set off after him, but her mare jerked her head and set off after her companion.

Damn it all. His long legs continued to devour the ground. She hiked her skirts and broke into a jog. “Alexander!”

He ignored her.
Blast the man and his stubbornness. Blast, blast, blast.

She lengthened her stride, but something pulled her up short. A hand clamped around her arm and hauled her back against a solid chest. Her heart pounded. A scream lodged in her throat, held prisoner by fear.

“Not one word,” said a heavily accented voice from behind her.

She wasn’t about to disobey. Not when the barrel of a pistol pressed a cold circle against her temple.

Alexander sensed Henrietta running after him, even if he couldn’t work out why. She didn’t need to chase him while he caught the damned horses. Of all times for the bloody beasts to run off, just when he needed to regroup and figure out how he was going to find his daughters.

A harsh cry from behind sent a prickle up his spine. That language. So familiar to him, yet so out of place in this temperate climate. The voice belonged to the hellish heat of India, not the coolness of England.

Box clutched under his arm, he turned and froze. Christ almighty. Perhaps fifteen yards down the path, a dark-skinned stranger held Henrietta, her arms pinioned to her sides, a pistol to her head. His heart throbbed in his neck, and a wild energy pulsed through his veins.
Stop him. Now. Fight.

The same damned feeling as the day he’d found Marianne, already lifeless. He couldn’t do anything then, and anything he did now would put Henrietta at risk. He should have insisted she stay at the manor—out of danger.

“Let her go. It’s me you want.” He meted the words slowly to make certain the stranger understood.

The other man grinned from behind a straggly beard. “You are wrong. I want both of you.”

Half of Alexander wanted to shove the box at him and let the stranger worry about how to open the damned thing. But as long as there was a chance his daughters might still live, he had to hold on to his bargaining chip. In full view of his adversary, he slipped the box into the front of his waistcoat.

Her face pale and drawn, Henrietta watched through round eyes.

“Why the pair of us?” he asked. “Why both when you want me?”

“An exchange. I have two I will set free, if you will take their place.”

The girls. He nearly sagged with relief. Henrietta gave a slight nod of understanding. Yes, she would sacrifice herself if she could, but only a scoundrel would ask it of her. Not when those girls, by rights, should have been hers. Their daughters, their family together, if the world had been more just. He could still have his complete family, if only they could live through this ordeal.

“You can set both girls free in exchange for me. The young lady has no part in any of
this.”

“Please,” Henrietta said. “If he insists on the two of us, agree, so the girls will be safe.”

Nilmani’s servant ground the pistol into Henrietta’s temple. “You had better listen to your friend. Now come with me.”

“Where is Satya?”

The henchman laughed, loud and harsh. “Do not you worry. He is in a safe place. Very safe.”

“What did you do with Tilly?”

“I grow tired of your questions.” With a movement of his thumb, he cocked the pistol. “You come or I pull the trigger.”

Alexander suppressed a wild urge to rush the man. If he did so, he’d not only risk Henrietta, he might never learn where his daughters were. Grimly, he set his jaw and stepped slowly down the hill.

Nilmani’s man waited until Alexander was level with them. “This way.”

He steered them off to the side, through a cleft in the rocks. From there, a narrow path twisted down the cliff face toward a secluded cove. Alexander remembered the spot from childhood explorations. Tilly was highly familiar with the features of the area, as well. The cove contained a cave, accessible at low tide, that wound back into the cliffs behind it. An ideal spot to hide smuggled goods and all manner of criminal activity.

Henrietta stumbled on the loose stones lining the path, and Alexander held his breath, as her captor grappled with her. A cold trickle of sweat wormed its way down his spine. Shite, if the man misinterpreted Henrietta’s actions as an escape attempt and shot her, Alexander didn’t know what he’d do. He’d lost so much; but he’d do whatever it took to save Henrietta and the girls—including give up his own life.

Their captor must have felt Alexander’s eyes boring into his back, for he turned. “Do not get any ideas. In fact …” He stopped in the middle of the path. “You may precede.”

Alexander pushed past the pair of them, his gaze meeting Henrietta’s for a moment. Her eyes flashed at him, as if she was trying to jam several lines of conversation into that one look.
Run ahead. Save your daughters. Don’t worry about me.

Not bloody likely. If there was a way out of this mess, he’d save all three even if he had to die in the attempt.

If she understood his visual reply, she gave no indication. He pressed on down the path, small stones slipping under his boots, rendering the footing all the more treacherous. He strained
to hear behind him, and at any given moment, he dreaded the shattering report of the pistol.

Waves lapped at a sliver of stony beach forming the mouth of the cave, creeping higher with every inrush of water. The tide was coming in. He would be able to swim for it and escape, but he had no clue about Henrietta—and his daughters were too young.

God, the dark dankness of the cave. Helena especially would hate it. He refused to subject them to any more of this torment than necessary. He had to get them out before the waves covered the rocky entrance. Resolved, he slogged into the darkness, Henrietta and her captor splashing behind him.

The heavy air closed about him and chilled through his clothing. He breathed in the scent of salt and seaweed and rotting fish, shuddering at the thought of his daughters holed up in here.
Please, God, let them be alive so they didn’t have to die in such a place. Not them, not Henrietta.

Something hard and cylindrical poked into the small of his back. “Keep walking,” Nilmani’s man warned. “No tricks.”

“Henrietta?”

“I’m here.” Her words echoed off the rocks, her voice somehow steady.

The passage began to climb, twisting up into the cliff’s side. The path beneath his feet was dry now. Before long, the walls that pressed close enough to graze the backs of his hands opened into a gallery. He remembered this place. It was Tilly’s secret hiding spot. A feeble light flickered at the far end, casting eerie shadows over the rock.

Several yards ahead, two small bundles huddled back to back and bound. A tall, dark figure loomed over them, one eye covered by a patch. He, too, held a pistol at the ready. At his feet glowed a lantern.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. His fault, all his fault. If only he’d told his sister to keep the girls inside. If only he’d searched the village alone. In his utter panic, he’d acted without thought.

“Papa?” That was Francesca’s screech.

Alexander wanted to rush to her, but the gun at his back convinced him to curb his pace. “I’m here, poppet.”

She burst into a piteous wailing.

“Quiet,” their one-eyed captor barked.

“Let them go, and she’ll be quiet soon enough,” Alexander grated. “Miss Upperton can see them out. I’ll give you what you want.”

“That was not our agreement,” growled the scruffy-bearded man at his back.

Damn him. But naturally he would hold on to at least one person Alexander cared about.
“Francesca, listen to me. You must stop crying. Can you do that?”

Her eyes large in her face, she sniffed and swallowed hard. Helena simply stared, her face equally pale.

“That’s good, darling. Now, can you girls find your way out?” He made a conscious effort to keep his speech rapid and upbeat sounding. “There’s a bit of water at the entrance, but if you’re very quick about it and careful where you step, you’ll be all right. You cannot wait too long, though.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Helena rasped, her voice hoarse, as if she’d been screaming for some time.

God damn it, if these bastards had hurt so much as a hair on either of their heads, he would exact punishment. “Not just yet. I’ve some unfinished business here; then I’ll be along. But I’ll expect to find you both back up at the manor when I get there. Your aunt Cecelia is waiting for you. Can you do that for me?”

At the girls’ nods, Alexander turned to their captor. “Untie them. Now.”

Patch approached, and the girls cringed away from him, as if they expected blows. Oh, yes, Alexander was going to take a great deal of pleasure in tearing the man apart joint by joint. Just as soon as his daughters were free, he’d no longer have to worry about frightening either of them.

The moment their bonds were released, Francesca and Helena jumped up and trotted over to Alexander. He pulled them both into an embrace, hugging extra tight, to erase the look of fear on their faces, he told himself. He thrust aside the possibility this was the last he’d ever see of them. He couldn’t think that way. They’d no one left in the world but him. He had to come back. He’d taken on that duty of the heart the moment he’d agreed to marry their mother.

“Go now,” he said, releasing them. “Just like I said. I’ll be along in no time.”

But they didn’t obey immediately. They both went to Henrietta, who kissed them on the top of their heads and murmured something he didn’t catch. What caught was his heart. She was behaving as a mother would.

You can’t think of that now. She doesn’t want to see you again. You might not even make it out of this alive.

“All right.” He turned to Scruffy the moment the girls disappeared down the passage. “You have what you want. I’m here.”

Scruffy still stood next to Henrietta, not pointing the pistol at her, exactly, but holding it ready, in case he should need it. Toying, like a cat with its prey. “But we still do not have what
we want. You have in your possession something that does not belong to you.”

Alexander withdrew the box from his waistcoat. “It’s all yours if this is what it takes to buy our freedom.”

“I have no need of that.”

Alexander shook his head in disbelief. “Then what the hell do you want?”

From behind him, Patch spoke, and something solid and round pressed into Alexander’s spine. “That which is in the box.”

“How do you know what is in it?”

“I know, because I have been sent to retrieve it, and I was given an explanation of where I might reasonably expect to find it.”

“Then take it, and open it, because there’s some secret trick that I am unable to work out, or use your damned pistol and shoot the thing to bits. I know no other way of accessing its contents.”

The pistol still firmly set to Alexander’s back, Patch shifted sideways until he could reach the box. He ran his fingers over the wood, as if he knew its secret already. Doubtless, the case itself was a treasure, and the trick to opening either compartment could not be common knowledge. Nilmani would have no choice but to let them in on the secret, even if the pair did look like common thieves. Whatever was hidden in there, the Raja might be fortunate to get it back. Something valuable enough to trail to England—something worth killing for—would certainly buy these two passage anywhere in the world, with enough left over to build a luxurious life.

If they were thieves. If they truly represented Nilmani, did that make Marianne’s father the thief? Alexander could no longer be certain.

“You might do me the courtesy of telling me what you’re so damned fired up to have that you’ve chased me halfway around the world to get your paws on it,” Alexander drawled as the other man continued to inspect the box with his fingers.

“You know very well. You must have seen it among your wife’s things.”

“Not if it’s been hidden all this time in a box I’ve no clue how to open. The most I’ve ever heard is the rattle.” And that only once they’d removed Marianne’s belongings.

Patch left off with his fingers, seized the box, and gave it a shake. Whatever was inside made its presence known. Hard, solid, small. Beyond that, its exact nature escaped Alexander. Although if he’d supposedly seen it among his wife’s things, and the box normally held jewelry …

“You are fortunate, it seems to be in there still,” Patch said.

“What is it?”

“Do you truly not know? Has your manservant not told you?”

“Satya? What has he to do with any of this?” Although his heart rapidly misgave him. Satya had disappeared at an inconvenient time, certainly. Might he be behind whatever Patch and Scruffy wanted? Satya came from Nilmani, the same as these two.

But that made no sense. Satya could have made off with the box at any time before they’d even left India, handed it over, and returned to his service with Alexander none the wiser. Satya would never have had to risk himself in the fire.

“He was there that night.”

Alexander was lost now. “What night?”

“The night you earned his service to you as a reward.”

“What? This has to do with the night I saved the Raja’s son?”

“That same night, one Mr. Foster stole something that did not belong to him.”

Alexander searched his memory. Nilmani had hosted a reception, one of many for the East India merchants and local dignitaries alike. Alexander had noticed the Raja’s boy growing paler and paler, breaking out in the sweat and chills of malaria. He’d rushed in with the cure, but in the general worry and panic—in the distraction—surrounding the boy’s illness, Marianne’s father might well have helped himself to a trinket.