Samantha James (23 page)

“Everything was fine this morning,” he assured her. “But the man last night—the man who
shouted. Do you know who pointed the finger at me?”

“I couldn’t tell who it was. Nor can I think of anyone who would wish you ill—” Suddenly she stopped.

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “What, Olivia? What is it?”

She bit her lip. “I was thinking of William,” she said slowly. What was it he’d said?
Your precious Gypsy earl may not be here forever, and then what will you do?
At the time, she’d thought he meant Dominic might take up residence back in London, or elsewhere. But now…

Dominic gave a short bark of laughter. “What! Do not tell me he is not one of my staunchest admirers!”

She frowned at him. “Be serious.”

“Oh, I’m quite serious, Olivia. He was among those searching for the children today, though we did not speak. Why would you think of him?”

“Because he—he dislikes you.”

“Does he dislike me enough to go to such lengths?”

Olivia took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

Dominic studied her. “Why does he dislike me? Because I’m half-Gypsy?”

“’Tis not that.” She brushed it aside. “’Tis because—”

“Because what?”

Damn him! Why was he being so insistent? It was almost as if he sought to trap her into saying…into saying what? That she loved him?

“Olivia?” He stripped off his gloves and reached for her hands.

She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.
His fingers tightened around hers, strong and hard and warm.

“Because—he knows about us,” she blurted. “William knows about us!”

He tugged her closer, so close her small, slippered feet were planted squarely between his boots. Sapphire eyes moved warmly over her face, making her heart beat a little faster.

“I see,” he murmured. “He knows that we are lovers?”

She was aghast. “No! Never did I tell him that!”

“What does he know about us then?”

She gazed at the squareness of his jaw, not quite able to summon the courage to meet his regard. “That I am…fond of you,” she finished weakly.

“Ah, now this is good news indeed.
Are
you fond of me, Olivia?”

Her head came up and she glared at him—at least she tried to. His voice carried the faintest trace of amusement. Dear Lord, it would be just like him to ask her
how
fond…

Only now she couldn’t tear her gaze from his. Their eyes clung. “You know I am,” she said helplessly.

He did know, or at least he was beginning to; indeed, he prayed it was much, much more, for in his own way, he was just as uncertain as she was—just as vulnerable. And just now he needed the reassurance only her vow could give.

“Will you stay a little longer?”

“I would if I could. But I cannot. I must get back to Emily.”

He nodded. Olivia was thankful he didn’t press her further. But he was not yet ready to let her leave. A hand snared her waist. With the other he
urged her mouth to his—and then there was no need to compel her further. Her mouth opened under his, like a flower beneath the blazing heat of the sun. It was everything a kiss should be—everything she wanted it to be—sweetly tender and wondrous, breath-stealingly thorough. He made a sound deep in his throat. With his hands he bound her hips against his…

There was a discreet cough behind them. “Forgive me, my lord, but your presence is required within the manor.”

It was Franklin. Dominic smothered a groan. Reluctantly he released Olivia’s mouth.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” he said without turning.

“Very good, my lord.” Franklin departed as noiselessly as he’d come.

He ran the tip of his finger down her nose, his expression conveying his regret. “I must go.”

Her troubled gaze sought his. “What about William?”

Blue eyes glinted, suddenly hard as steel. “I think I shall pay him a visit in the morning.”

“Dominic, wait!” She caught at his arm. “Please, be careful.”

He bent and availed himself of one last, fleeting kiss. “I will,” he promised, and then was gone.

The long walk home seemed to take longer than ever tonight. Try though she might, she could not subdue the feeling that something was about to happen, something awful. She shivered, wishing Lucifer was at her side. She’d called for him, but he was nowhere about, and she was anxious to be home.

Her steps slowed. Her hand stole to her breast.

From her bodice she withdrew the handkerchief. Perhaps it was silly, but it gave her comfort to look at it. She smiled wistfully; since the day she’d pulled it from her drawer, she’d kept it with her, next to her heart every hour of the day.

Suddenly the sound of running footsteps reached her ears. She glimpsed a flash of movement from the encroaching forest, and then a hand grasped her sleeve. She whirled, so startled that she failed to notice the handkerchief fluttering to the ground at her feet.

It was Robert Gilmore.

He was short of breath, heaving from exertion. His expression was harried. “Miss Sherwood, thank heaven you’re here! I’ve found the children!”

“You’ve found them! Oh, Mr. Gilmore, thank God!” She gave a cry of gladness. “Where are they?”

He pointed into the forest. “The little boy—he’s injured. We must hurry, before it’s too late!”

“Colin! Oh, no! How badly is he hurt?”

He shook his head. “I cannot say! I need your help to bring him out.”

“Shouldn’t we go to the village for help?”

“No, there’s no time for that!”

Gilmore grabbed her elbow and began pulling her along into the bushes. “Hurry! It’s this way!”

Refusal never crossed Olivia’s mind. If Colin was hurt badly, time was of the essence. She would do whatever she could to help him. She hurried along beside Mr. Gilmore as he led the way deep into the woods. The brush was more dense here. A stone bit into the soles of her slippers as she stepped around a fallen branch. A shiver of apprehension slid down her spine, for it was dark and shadowed
here; the last rays of evening scarcely penetrated the canopy of trees overhead.

She stopped to catch her breath. “Mr. Gilmore! How much further is it?”

“Not far. There is a hunting cottage, just beyond that tree there.” He pointed to the east.

Olivia followed the direction of his finger. Sure enough, she glimpsed the side of a crumbling chimney.

Heartened, she hurried along behind him. Soon they stood at the door of a hunting lodge. It was old and shabby. Moss slanted across the roof. It appeared it hadn’t been used in many a year.

Gilmore opened the door and gestured her inside. Olivia stepped within. The interior was filthy, devoid of any furniture.

Olivia frowned. “But wait! There is no one here…”

The door clicked shut. Gilmore stood directly behind her. His head was tipped to the side and he was smiling…

A smile that turned her blood to ice.

Her heart began to knock. Too late she realized…He’d been lying in wait for her. She’d warned Dominic to take care, never dreaming that she might be the one in danger. Oh, if only she could have taken Lucifer…!

But it was already too late. Her arm was seized and wrenched behind her. Crying out, she doubled over. There was a stunning blow to the back of her head.

She crumpled to the floor without a sound.

Olivia regained consciousness slowly. The back of
her head pounded without mercy. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was or why the floor was rough and hard beneath her cheek. Then memory came back in a rush; shock that she was still alive swept through her mind.

She tried to move, only to have pain shoot through her shoulders—her hands had been tied behind her back. She could feel the rough hemp digging into her tender skin. Her ankles had been bound as well.

“So, you’re awake.”

Gilmore again. She had to strain to see him, for there was a nightmarish cast to the gloomy interior. There was no glass in the windows. They had been covered with boards from the outside; the only light came from between the cracks. When her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she tilted her head back, uncaring that her eyes glowed her hatred. He eased to his haunches and stretched out a hand to caress her cheek.

Olivia jerked her head back, trying to elude his touch.

He laughed, a dark, sinister sound. “I suppose
you’re wondering what I’m about, eh?”

“The thought had occurred to me,” she snapped. “It was you who stole the children, wasn’t it?”

His eyes glinted. “Smart girl.”

She glared at him, her stomach knotted with loathing. “Why? Why would you do such a thing? They’ve done nothing to you! Why would you harm them?”

“They’ve not been harmed, nor will they be, as long as all goes as planned. As for why…well, they served their purpose well enough—they brought you here. And last night, oh, I almost thought there might be no need to take this further. I might have convinced the others that
he
was the one who stole the children.”

“He?”

“The Gypsy earl!” Gilmore nearly spat the words.

Olivia’s mouth grew dry. “So it was you who accused him.”

“Yes, it was I. And I could have convinced them—if not for you!” His lips curled back over his teeth. “But no, you had to speak up and defend him! Why, they might have killed him then and there! He doesn’t belong here, you know, the Gypsy bastard! Can you imagine? He fancies himself an earl yet! He thinks he’s better than the rest of us, but he’s a Gypsy, not fit to lick my boots!”

“Why?” was all she could say. “Why? Simply because he’s half-Gypsy?”

“Because he doesn’t belong here! None of them do! Oh, I warned him. I told him to get rid of them, that he’d be sorry if he didn’t. But he didn’t listen, so now he must pay the price!”

Olivia struggled for calm. “You forget, Mr. Gilmore, the Gypsies
did
leave.”

“But
he
is still here!”

Olivia shook her head. “Why do you hate him so much? He’s done nothing to you—the Gypsies have done nothing to you—”

“Haven’t they? Well, let me enlighten you, Miss Sherwood. They ruined my life. They ruined my father’s life—and they stole my mother’s from her!”

Olivia stared at him numbly.

“Yes, Miss Sherwood, I can see you think I’m mad, but I’m not.” He went on, “You’ve known me all your life, but I didn’t always live here in Stonebridge. No, as a boy I lived in the south of England—in Dorset. It was there, one long-ago summer, that the Gypsies came and stayed. My father visited their camp often—he told my mother it was to try to get them to move on. But it wasn’t true. No, it was because he was rutting between the thighs of a Gypsy whore!”

Olivia inhaled sharply.

“Yes, Miss Sherwood, I can see you’re shocked. So was my mother when she found my father with the Gypsy slut! Shocked and shamed so much that she could not go on! So do you know what my mother did? She took a knife and ended her life. Oh, it wasn’t a pretty sight, I can assure you! And do you know what my father did? He drank. He drowned his guilt in wine—why, he drank his way to his very grave! So do not dare to defend any of them to me. They’re all alike, you see, they’re all thieves and whores. Why, even your precious earl’s mother was a whore, and he is the proof of it! We’ll all be better off without him, you’ll see!”

Olivia felt sick to her very soul. The tragedy he had endured as a child had twisted him into a man who no longer knew right from wrong.

She instinctively shrank back. The venom that blackened his features was terrible to behold. Numbly she realized this was naught but a scheme to be rid of Dominic. Colin and Lucinda had been the bait to lure her here, and she was the bait to bring Dominic.

“Dear God,” she said faintly, “you mean to kill him.”

His smile was but a twisted parody. “Oh, I will,” he said almost gleefully. “Would you like to hear my plan?”

Olivia turned her face aside, but there was no shutting out the sound of his voice.

“It’s really very simple, my dear girl. You came for the children—and he will come for you. Oh, I saw the way it was between the two of you the day you begged someone to help him from the river—he should have drowned, the cur! I might have spared you, Olivia, but then I saw the way it was between you…to think that you would lower yourself to him. Why, your dear parents would be appalled! And now he remains here because of you—because of you! You see why you must die, don’t you?”

Raw fear clutched her insides as she realized he would murder her…

And Dominic as well.

“Tomorrow, I think—yes, tomorrow!—he will come for you, but I will be with him! Yes, I will be with him, and when the two of you are dead, I will tell the authorities how I sneaked after him, how I discovered that the two of you had spirited away
the children, for God only knows what cruel purpose! And alas, I was forced to defend myself in order to save the children and me.” His chortling laugh sent prickles up and down her spine. “Am I not brilliant?”

Olivia shook her head. “Why do you hate him so much? He has done nothing to you!”

His eyes were alight with the frenzy of sheer hatred. “I need no reason other than one—he is a Gypsy!”

Sickened by what he would do, she stared at him. “You will not get away with it. Colin and Lucinda will surely know who you are—”

“They do not! I was careful, you see. I covered their eyes. Never did they see me. And I brought them food and water in the dark.”

“Where are they?”

For a moment she thought he would refuse to answer. “They are here. In another room.” He rose to his feet and smiled nastily. “I must be off, Miss Sherwood. Scream all you like,” he said pleasantly. “There’s no one to hear.”

With that she was left alone. She heard the sound of a bolt slide into place on the other side of the door. Desperation filled her chest. She had to find a way to free them before Gilmore could carry out his odious plan.

The light was dimming rapidly. Soon it would be dark. “Colin! Lucinda!” she shouted. Holding her breath, she strained to hear.

There was nothing.

She shouted again, and this time…this time she heard something. The sound was muffled, but there was no mistake—it was a child crying.

The room she was in was large and square. There
was a stairway opposite the crumbling stone fireplace. Though her head was propped at an angle, she could see a doorway at the far end. She tried to get to her knees, but with her arms bound behind her and her ankles bound as well, it was impossible. She had no choice but to roll herself across the floor toward the sound. She gave a silent prayer of thanks that the children were not upstairs. With her limbs thus encumbered, she’d never have been able to reach them.

Her progress was awkward and slow-going. The floor was filthy. Scraping along the floor, she felt something gouge into her hip, but she dared not speculate what it was. Her shoulders ached abominably every time she eased to her back. Soon her arms began to go numb. But she had nearly reached the first door.

Her eyes ran over it. Near the bottom corner there was a gap between the door and the doorjamb. The top hinge was missing as well. It looked decidedly rickety.

“Colin! Lucinda!” she called again. “’Tis I, Miss Sherwood! Can you hear me?”

The crying stopped.

“Miss Sherwood?” called a quavering little voice. The voice came nearer—they weren’t trussed up, thank heaven! “Miss Sherwood, where are you?”

Lucinda!

“I’m in the hallway, Lucinda. Lucinda, is the door locked?”

“Yes!” she cried piteously. “We can’t get out!”

“I’m going to try to open it, Lucinda. Take Colin and move to the corner, as far away from the door as possible.”

Through sheer dint of will, she managed to rise to her feet. She wobbled like a sapling in the wind. Taking a deep breath, she threw her shoulder at the door. All she could do was hope that the weight of her body would somehow manage to topple the door and break the catch of the lock.

There was an ear-splitting creak as one of the hinges separated. Then, as if in slow motion, the door gave way. Her cry of triumph turned to a gasp as she tumbled inside, atop the door.

She lay for a moment, stunned and breathless. Then all at once two small bodies hurtled themselves upon her.

“Miss Sherwood!”

“Miss Sherwood, how did you find us?”

Relief poured through her, for they appeared well and unharmed though their faces were streaked with tears.

“Lucinda, can you free my wrists?”

Lucinda nodded eagerly and set about untying her, her small fingers nimble and quick as they tugged on the knots.

The rope slipped away from her wrists.

She winced a little as hot needles seemed to go through her wrists. She rubbed the chafed, tender skin that had gone numb, then reached for the rope about her ankles. In seconds she was free. Her vision misty, she held out her arms toward the young pair, and then she was laughing and crying and fiercely hugging them both.

“Are you all right?” she asked again and again.

Lucinda’s lower lip trembled. “We called and called but no one came.”

Colin’s little brows drew together, his expression woeful. “I’m hungry.”

Olivia kissed his forehead. “I know, pet, but I’m afraid we’ll have to wait a little longer before we eat. First we must find a way out of here.”

Lucinda shivered. “Where are we?”

“At an abandoned hunting lodge deep in the woods.” Olivia rose to her feet and held out her hands to the children. Together they returned to the main room of the lodge.

Colin grasped her skirt. “I don’t like it here,” he whispered.

Olivia squeezed his hand reassuringly. “With luck we’ll soon be out.” But alas, luck was not with them. Olivia tried the front door to no avail—it had been bolted from the outside. She threw her shoulder against it again and again, but it didn’t budge. Abandoning the door, she slammed her hands against the boards which yawned across the windows, but they, too, held firm; inside was deserted, and there was nothing else she could use. By now, the interior was almost pitch black; she could see it was nearly dark outside.

She smothered a sob. She fooled no one, least of all herself. Even if she’d been able to find a way out of the lodge, it was dark outside—she feared she’d never be able to find her way out of the forest at night. Besides, there were the children to consider. If they should become lost, it might only frighten them further. Her mind skipped back to what Gilmore had told her.
Tomorrow
, he’d said,
tomorrow Dominic would come for her—and he, Gilmore, would be with him
.

She took a deep, fortifying breath. It was better to wait until morning, she told herself. At first light she would try again to find a way from the cottage, only this time she would succeed. When Gilmore
arrived tomorrow, they would be gone.

With a sigh of resignation, she turned back to the children. Somehow she managed a semblance of a smile. “I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until morning to get out. It’s too dark for me to see what I’m doing.”

She found a reasonably clean spot near the fireplace and settled down to spend the night. Easing to the floor, she rested her back against the wall and gathered the children beside her.

Lucinda’s hand slipped into hers. “I’m glad you’re here, Miss Sherwood. Colin and I—we didn’t like being alone.”

Olivia’s heart turned over. “But you’re not alone now, are you?”

Colin laid his head in her lap. “I want my mama,” he whispered.

Olivia combed her fingers through his hair. “Tomorrow, love, tomorrow,” she told him, praying it wasn’t an idle promise.

Her shoulder ached terribly where she’d landed on it, and there was a sliver digging into her back, but if she moved it would disturb the children. Terror lay in a cold hard lump in the pit of her belly but she couldn’t let the children see her fear. As they burrowed against her, tears of frustration mingled with the grime on her face and made her eyes burn. No doubt Emily would think she was working late at Ravenwood. And if she retired early as she sometimes did, she wouldn’t even miss her until morning. Even if she did, no one would think to look for her here. Her expression bleak, she leaned her head back against the wall.

Like it or not, all they could do was wait.

Emily went to the door and peered out for the tenth time in the last hour alone. Olivia had been late before, but never quite
this
late. Her step agitated, she paced back and forth across the parlor. A strange unease gnawed within her. It was quite unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She couldn’t suppress the notion that all was not right.

Finally she snatched up her shawl and tugged it around her shoulders. Concern for Olivia overrode all else. Squaring her shoulders, she marched out into the night. If she should encounter Olivia on her way home, Olivia would no doubt be extremely vexed that Emily had ventured out alone at night. But if they chanced to meet on the road to Ravenwood, so much the better—at least then she would know that Olivia was all right.

But Emily did not meet Olivia on the road. Indeed, with every step that took her closer to Ravenwood, the certainty increased that something was amiss.

Finally the sprawling brick manor came into view, dark against a midnight-blue sky lit by an ever-rising moon. Shivering against a chill that had little to do with the coolness of the night, she mounted the stone steps that led to the massive double doors. Her fingers curled around the brass knocker. Gathering her courage, she knocked loudly.