Lady Blue (5 page)

Suddenly the pressure of the restraining arms relaxed. The grip eased steadily, and now the hands that held her were gentle. She felt herself being turned, slowly and carefully, in her captor’s arms.

She saw the black eyes first. They flashed at her in a pale shaft of moonlight that had found its way through the trees. As her heart pounded frantically against her rib cage, Harmony lowered her gaze to the rest of the face she had only been able to imagine. The straight, aquiline nose. Shapely lips that might have been drawn by an artist’s hand, the bottom fuller than the top. Even as she watched, they curved into a smile.

Harmony gasped, a belated reflex. The hold on her arms tightened, though not painfully.

“Sssshhh.” He pressed a finger softly to her lips. “Come with me,” he whispered. “And don’t say a word.”

Reality was instantly suspended. Harmony was not the properly raised American girl living with her prim sister. She was not the well-bred child of a wealthy family. If she was, she would have to kick and scream and attempt to escape. But she did none of those things, so she must be someone else. Rather than call for help, she held on to the stranger’s hand and followed him as he picked his way through the trees.

Farther and farther they wound their way through the woods and still went on. Where the sharp branches of the undergrowth would have pulled at her skirts and torn at her flesh, the stranger held them aside for her to pass, never letting go of her hand. And when, exhausted, she stumbled, he swept her into his arms and continued on at a more rapid pace.

After what seemed quite a long time, the stranger slowed. Harmony was unaware she had closed her eyes until she felt herself lowered to the ground. Vaguely disturbed by the fact she had lain so comfortably in his arms, cradled against his broad chest, she opened her eyes wide and looked about her. Looked anywhere but at the handsome stranger.

They had come to a small clearing. A tall, big-boned chestnut mare grazed a few feet away. The animal looked familiar. It was, in fact, the very horse she had admired when the gunman had held up the coach. If she had entertained the slightest shadow of a doubt that her captor and the bandit were one and the same, it was banished as effectively as the moon behind a passing cloud.

“What … what’s going on?” Harmony whispered. “Why have you brought me here? What do you want with me?”

“First, allow me to introduce myself. Anthony Allen, at your service.”

Anthony Allen. Harmony repeated the name to herself. It was beautiful. But maybe she had fallen asleep against that tree trunk and was dreaming all of this.

It was simply not possible she had been carried off into the woods by an incredibly handsome stranger, the man who had earlier stopped their coach, and who now introduced himself as casually as if he were an elegant gentleman in a London parlor.

Yet he had. And just as she had not been asleep and dreaming in the coach, she was not asleep and dreaming at the present. For lack of anything better to do, Harmony responded.

“Anthony,” Harmony murmured, tasting the name on her tongue. “But why … why have you brought me here, Anthony?”

“Why … because I’m kidnapping you, of course.”

Stunned, Harmony felt as if a bucket of cold water had just been dumped over her head. She drew herself up a little straighter.

“You can’t … you can’t
do
that.”

Anthony shrugged, smiling. “I already have.”

Harmony’s natural sense of spirit and rebellion surfaced from wherever it had gone into hiding. She cast about her for a break in the trees, a place to run.

“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you. You’ll never find your way back in the dark. And I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you now that I’ve gone to so much trouble to find you again.”

Anthony smiled, a brilliant, slightly crooked smile, and, to her horror, Harmony felt a trembling weakness in her knees. She was suddenly reminded of the sensation of being watched that afternoon as she stood at her window.

“You followed us, didn’t you?” Harmony demanded.

“I found out where, and who, you were. Yes.”

“So you could kidnap me.” It was a statement, not a question. “But why?”

“Because you have a wealthy sister who will, no doubt, pay a great price to get you back.”

Harmony took a moment to savor the irony of her captor’s statement. Agatha, doubtless, would pay him, but not to get her back … rather to keep her hostage.

Puzzled both by his hostage’s silence and the faint, enigmatic smile curving her lovely lips, Anthony cocked a single brow. “Besides, how else to get to know the lady in blue … the girl with the sapphire eyes?”

Like a debutante at her first ball, Harmony felt a blush rise to her cheeks. But she was neither a debutante nor in attendance at a ball. She was in a dark forest, evidently in the middle of the night, with a man who had kidnapped her and was going to demand money from her sister for her return. She looked away self-consciously. Shouldn’t she be running? Screaming? Something?

“You can’t possibly get away with this,” Harmony said at length, in lieu of taking physical action.

“Well, we’ll soon find out, won’t we? Now, I think it’s time we got going.”

Anthony turned his back and tightened the chestnut mare’s girth. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Are you coming?”

Harmony hesitated. She told herself yet again she should turn and run, take the chance of getting lost in the woods, anything but meekly succumb to her captor. But it was as if she had been hypnotized.

Harmony had to force her thoughts away from the present, her bizarre circumstances, and think about her sister. What
would
Agatha do when she learned she’d been kidnapped? Would she worry? Would she feel guilt over the things she had said to Mrs. Rutledge? Or was her first reaction the most accurate? Might Agatha actually be glad she was gone?

The answer to every question nearly overwhelmed her, as if a flood of cold, dirty water had swept her from her feet and sucked her under to drown. Flailing mental arms to bring her back to the surface, Harmony envisioned Agatha standing in her dark, unwelcoming parlor, muttering to Mrs. Rutledge that the kidnapping was: “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

Heartsick, she knew her imagination was undoubtedly, and sadly, not far off the mark. If she could not go back, however, at least she could go forward, even into the unknown. Sniffing back tears, Harmony realized the terrible irony of the situation. Going along with her kidnapping was preferable to trying to return to a sister who apparently despised her. Decision made, she sidled up next to her captor.

Without apparent effort, Anthony lifted her to the front of the saddle, then slipped his foot into the stirrup and swung up behind her. He put one strong arm around her waist and his heels to the mare’s sides. They walked from the clearing into and through the trees until they reached the forest’s edge where a moonlit meadow stretched before them. Anthony kicked the mare into a gallop.

Harmony was thrown against Anthony’s chest. She remembered how it felt when he had clasped his hand over her mouth and pulled her back against him. He was hard and broad and she found herself wondering what it would be like to run her hands across his chest. Would he have long, silken hair there, like that which fell over his shoulders? Or would his flesh be smooth, with only the definition of his muscles over which to run her fingers? Harmony closed her eyes.

And why, oh why, was she thinking such thoughts?

To keep them away from Agatha and reality, an inner voice whispered. But she felt guilty nonetheless and tried to turn her attention to other things.

The mare’s gait was mercifully smooth. Harmony tangled her fingers in the animal’s mane anyway, and hung on tightly. The ground beneath the thudding hooves fairly flew past. Harmony could smell the rich odor of the moist earth and green, green grass the horse’s shoes tore up in her passage. She tried to focus her attention on that, instead of the muscular man at her back.

Time as well as reality lost its meaning. The ride seemed to go on forever. Harmony had no idea how much time had passed when she finally saw a road in front of them and a light beyond it in the distance. Anthony pulled the lathered mare to a walk when they reached the road.

“Now, in case anyone comes along,” he murmured in her ear, “we’re man and wife, returning from an evening with friends. All right?”

Harmony was only able to nod. They continued on in silence until they reached the source of the light.

The inn was rustic and quaint, filled with the sounds of Saturday night merrymaking. Anthony slid to the ground and tied the mare to a rail in the courtyard. He turned and held out his arms to Harmony.

What else was she going to do? She edged around until she had both legs on the left side of the horse, let herself start to slide, and found herself once again in Anthony’s arms. They held her close against him, and she fancied she could almost feel the beating of his heart. Her own heart was behaving oddly and she tried to pull away. Anthony held her fast.

“Before we go in, Harmony,” he whispered in her ear, “I want you to forget any foolish notions you might have about trying to get away. These people here are my friends.”

He released her abruptly and Harmony stood, trembling slightly, as he withdrew something from the pack on the back of his saddle.

“Here, put this on. Keep the hood up. Please,” he added. He draped the dark cape over her shoulders and drew the hood up himself. “Once seen, no one would be able to forget those eyes and that hair.”

Harmony clutched the edges of the cloak closed over her breast and adjusted the hood. At a gesture from Anthony, she preceded him through the door he held open.

“Tony, me luv!”

An immense, jolly woman with apple cheeks crossed the room with surprising alacrity and enveloped Anthony in a bear hug.

“I was beginnin’ t’think ye wasn’t comin’ t’night after all.” She released him only to clasp him firmly by the shoulders. She nodded, with a huge smile, in Harmony’s direction. “But now I see what ye’ve been about, I s’pose I kin fergive ye.”

Harmony ducked her head, blushing furiously. She heard Anthony chuckle.

“So now that you know I’ve a beautiful lady to tend to, you won’t mind if we, uh … excuse ourselves … will you?”

The woman laughed heartily. “'Course not, luv. Y’go right on up. Yer room’s ready an’ waitin'. Me finest sheets, too.”

“Thanks, Maggie. You’re a good girl.” He swatted her generous backside, which brought forth another peal of raucous laughter. “I’ll bet you kept my dinner warm, too, didn’t you?”

“'Course I did! I knew ye’d be about some hungry business or other.” With a wink and a sly nod in Harmony’s direction, Maggie burst once more into laughter and headed off into the kitchen.

“Come, my dear.” As if he were about to guide her onto the dance floor, Anthony crooked an arm and held it out to Harmony. “I think it’s time we sought some privacy. In spite of all that wrapping, you’re attracting far too much attention.”

For the first time since they had entered, Harmony glanced around her. The low-beamed, smoky room was filled with men, almost all of them regarding her with prurient interest. One of them raised his mug in salute and winked lewdly. Harmony grabbed Anthony’s arm and let him lead her quickly from the room and up a steep, narrow stair.

The entire building was constructed of wood, and a pleasant woodsy fragrance filled Harmony’s nostrils. The corridor, she noted, was more well lit than the hallways of her sister’s home.

Anthony paused in front of one of the doors, inserted a key in the lock, and turned it. When it clicked, he pushed the door open in front of him.

“After you, my lady.”

Although she wasn’t cold, Harmony realized she was shivering. She stepped across the threshold.

The room was large and homey. Worn, but comfortable and sturdy furniture was strewn about, including a cozy sofa covered in bright chintz. A colorful hooked rug lay in front of a cheerfully crackling fire. Beyond a partially open door to her left, Harmony glimpsed a wide bed. Her legs were suddenly so weak she had to grab the back of a chair to steady herself.

Anthony was at her side in an instant. “Are you all right?”

Harmony found she was incapable of speech. She couldn’t take her eyes from the bed. Anthony followed her gaze. Then he looked at her quizzically.

“Is there something wrong with our bed?” he inquired casually.

“Our … our bed?” Harmony breathed.

Anthony nodded, smiling broadly. It was the last thing Harmony saw before her world went black.

H
armony regained her senses swiftly. She opened her eyes to find she was, yet again, cradled in Anthony’s arms. Before she could protest, he laid her gently on the sofa. Eyes wide, she shrank away from him.

Anthony made a clicking sound with his tongue and planted his hands on his narrow hips. “Now, now, now,” he admonished. “Don’t go getting any foolish thoughts in your pretty little head. I’ve brought you here to extort money from your sister … not to rape you.”

Harmony could not even bring herself to look in his direction. She sat upright, tried to smooth away the wrinkles in her skirt in order to have something to do with her hands, and prayed for a hole to open in the floor so she could throw herself into it and vanish forever.

“I think I might have the cure for what ails you,” Anthony went on mildly. He pulled a stopper from a crystal decanter and poured a deep amber liquid into two petite crystal glasses sitting side by side on a silver tray.

The subtle symbolism was not lost on Harmony, but she could not keep herself from looking up through lowered lashes to watch what Anthony was doing. The obviously expensive tray, decanter, and glasses seemed somewhat incongruous in a place like the inn. But perhaps the proprietress kept such things around for her more special guests.

An instant later Harmony caught herself with an inward gasp. She was speculating on niceties when she’d been kidnapped for ransom by a stranger and was alone with him in his private chambers?