To Marry a Duke (19 page)

‘One sound from you, my lady, and it will be your last.’

Allegra swallowed, her teeth clenched shut as she tried to
push her head away from Captain Pledger’s grip. She had no time to shout before
a kerchief was tied tight around her mouth stifling any protests.

‘Get up, don’t struggle, I’m quite prepared to break your
arm. You’re coming with me. I’ve arranged a cosy passage for us both in a
Frenchie’s boat. I hope you’ve no objection to life in France?’ His laugh was
manic causing the small hairs on the back of her neck to stiffen.

She tried to hang like
a deadweight
in his arms but he twisted her wrist viciously up her back and she was forced
to go with him. He half pushed, half dragged, her out into the night, towards
the darkness of the trees that boarded the garden.

The dampness of the grass quickly soaked through her flimsy
slippers and without the benefit of spencer or wrap she shivered in the cool
night air. She saw a movement ahead and two shadowy shapes detached themselves
from the trees.

‘I have her here, bring the ropes, we must secure her. I
don’t trust her not to make a break for it.’

She was being taken towards the creek. It would be high tide
soon and a simple matter to bring in a small rowing boat and transfer her to a
larger vessel waiting in the deeper water. If no coast guard cutter was abroad
to interfere they could slip anchor and sail away undetected. Jago! She would
never see his dear face again. She was lost to him. He had ridden, unsuspecting
to Grafton leaving this monster to capture her. If she was to get free she had
to do it herself, there was no one else to save her.

The cords bit into her bare arms and she knew it was useless
to struggle. She would save her energy to make an escape attempt later. She let
herself be dragged through the grounds to the Bury where the men had horses
tethered under the huge tree. She was thrown face down across the pommel and
she gagged as the sour stench of sweat filled her nostrils. She recognized the
pungent odour, it meant the horses were blown - they had been ridden to
exhaustion.

If a rescue party did appear they could easily overtake her
captors and secure her release. She prayed someone would notice her absence,
that a villager might glimpse her abduction. This was a false hope. This
evening there was a smuggler’s moon, no villagers kept watch on a night like
this. If an excise officer made enquiries about contraband then they had no
need to lie. They saw nothing pass their cottages; they never did, not when
high tide and moonlight coincided.

She was grateful the ride was short, hanging head down made
her feel unpleasantly sick.

‘Is the boat there? Can you see it?’ Pledger hissed as he
struggled to lift her from across his saddle.

‘It’s there, Captain, and I can see the Frenchie’s vessel in
the channel. They have the sails unfurled, we don’t have long to get aboard.’

‘Here, help me carry the bitch, she’s a deadweight; I
believe she’s swooned.’

Allegra forced her limbs to remain limp as the three men
stumbled across the marshy grass to the water’s edge, their boots squelching
loudly in the silence. She could smell the sea, hear the waves slapping on the
boat’s sides. She didn’t dare to open her eyes to get a clearer look, they might,
despite their hurry, realize she was faking her inertia.

Pledger swore under his breath when the cold water filled
his boots. She shivered involuntarily as her skirts trailed in the sea and icy
water travelled up the material to make it cling heavily to her legs. She
opened her eyes. Was now the time to struggle, whilst they were attempting to
put her into the rocking boat? She twisted violently, throwing the men
off-balance,
then
the sea engulfed her and her nose and
mouth filled with salt water.

The water was so cold.
Numbingly cold.
She was a good swimmer but with her arms bound she was unable to do more than
attempt to place her feet on the slippery mud and try to stand up. She could
hear the shouts and splashes of the men as they searched for her. The water was
less than hip
deep,
if she could stand up maybe she
could make good her escape in the darkness.

Suddenly she was pulled sideways, away from the dinghy. Her
lungs were bursting; she could not hold her breath any longer. A hand came
round to uncover her mouth and her head broke the surface. She gulped in air
whilst frantically trying to put down her feet. They didn’t touch. She was out
of her depth - whoever had hold of her was towing her the wrong way, out to
sea, not back to the safety of the shore.

She was freezing, the long skirts clinging to her legs made
swimming impossible, but she could try. She would not give in without a fight.

‘Keep still, darling, I have you safe.’

How could she not have known? Not recognized whose arm’s she
was in? She relaxed instantly, too cold to answer, but Jago understood. He
spoke directly into her ear as he swam strongly, parallel to the shore. ‘If we
try and land too soon we’ll be seen.
 
Richard’s waiting further up.’

She was so cold; it was making it hard to think. She had to
stay conscious, not
allow
Pledger to win, not now.
Then Jago’s feet touched bottom and she was out of the water cradled in his
arms. She thought she heard the rapid crack of gunfire, shouts and screams, but
she wasn’t sure. She closed her eyes and let the darkness take her.

*

‘Richard, I have her. She’s unharmed but half frozen.’ He
waited whilst Richard swung up into his saddle. ‘Take care. Here, let me wrap
our coats around her. I’ll be back as soon as this is over. Ride carefully, but
as fast as you can. She needs to get warm. It’s a matter of urgency.’

He didn’t wait to see them go but dropped to the grass and
forced his boots back on over his sodden stockings and breeches. He wanted to
rejoin
the small troop and discover if all the men were
apprehended. He ran back along the shore towards the soldiers, the gunfire had
ceased; he had not heard any return shots.

Movement in the channel attracted his attention, a vessel,
sails up,
was
slinking out of the creek. God dammit!
Were they too late? Had the men escaped them after all?

The lieutenant straightened as he heard his approach. ‘We’re
all finished here, sir. No survivors. Two shot, one drowned.’ His tone was
even, as if it mattered little to him one way or the other.

Jago pushed his dripping hair from his eyes, his shirt
sleeve a flash of white in the darkness.
‘Excellent result,
lieutenant.
Well done to you all. Lady Allegra’s on her way back to the
Priory. That’s your half of the situation settled. The rest is up to me.’

He strode back to his horse. Apollo was patiently munching
the scrubby grass that edged the creek held by one of the Bow Street runners.
‘Wiggins, do you need my assistance to complete this night’s work?’

‘No, sir, we know what to do. We escort Lady Oliver to
Harwich and put her on the first ship to have a free berth.’

‘That’s right. She can take any gold she has and her
jewellery, and a maid, if one will agree to travel with her, but nothing else.
Make sure she understands if she sets foot in England again she will be
arrested and hung.’

‘My pleasure, Mr Tremayne.
It ain’t
often we get the chance to escort a flash mort like her.
Beats
murderers and thieves any day.’

‘Good. Then be on your way, Wiggins.
Report
to me at the Priory when your task’s completed successfully.’

He was satisfied the matter was resolved, that his love was
now safe from further attack. He mounted and galloped the short distance to the
Priory. He hadn’t liked the way Allegra’s head had lolled against his shoulder or
the icy chill of her limbs.

*

Allegra remained comatose throughout the desperate gallop
back to the Priory, did not rouse even when her maids stripped off her clothes
and wrapped her in warm red flannel. Her body’s defences had crumpled. The long
immersion in the cold North Sea had been too much for her. She had nothing left
to fight with. Her body temperature was so low Dr Jones feared the worst.

‘I’m sorry, your grace, there is nothing else we can do,
apart from pray. If Lady Allegra’s temperature does not start to rise soon then
I fear she will die.’

Demelza’s face contorted and Richard pulled her close.
‘Allegra is strong, my love, she will pull through this. We mustn’t give up
hope.’

‘I wish Papa was here. He would know what to do, he always does.’
She turned as the sound of running feet approached Allegra’s room. Tremayne
rushed in, his hair wild, his clothes wet.

‘How is she? Had she recovered consciousness?’ He recoiled
at the bleak faces. ‘Dr Jones? What’s wrong?

‘It is grave, sir. I fear her ladyship will not live to see
the morning. Unless there’s a miracle, I believe she will die.’

‘Never!
I’ll not let that happen.’
He snarled. ‘Get out, all of you. I wish to be alone with her.’

Richard escorted the quietly crying Demelza from the bedchamber,
Miss Murrell and the doctor followed. Jago turned angrily to Abbot and Jenny
still hovering by the bedside. ‘You too, get out.’

They left, believing there was no further need to protect
Allegra’s reputation. As the door closed he removed his soaking garments. His
boots crashed to the floor, his shirt and breeches followed. Naked he gently
unrolled the flannel that covered Allegra. His heart contracted when he touched
her arms. Was he too late? He could not be. He would not let her die. Without
her his life would be over too.

There was one chance to save her,
one way he might get her warm. He climbed onto the bed and, gathering her into
his arms, rolled the red material back around them both, leaving one arm out to
reach over and drag the winter comforter across.

He pulled her cold, limp form hard against him, his legs
curled round hers and his arms pressed her close; there was not an inch of her
icy flesh that was not touching his naked warmth. He did not intend to sleep,
but he had ridden hard, swum half a mile and exhaustion overtook him.

Soon the only sound in the
bedchamber was his gentle breathing, hers was too shallow, too weak, to be
heard.

*

A delicious, unusual heat brought Allegra from her stupor;
only half awake she revelled in the feeling. She had been so cold; she shivered
as she recalled the icy drag of the sea on her clothes. Now she was safe,
contented, wrapped in the arms of the man she loved.

She stiffened.
Surely not?
She was
imagining things - this was a lovely dream. Her eyes flickered open to meet his
sleepy, navy blue gaze.

‘Good morning, my darling. You’re looking much better
today.’

‘Jago!
What are you doing in my
bed?’ She realized neither of them was clothed. She felt heat suffuse her. ‘You
have no garments on.’

He smiled lazily. ‘And neither
do
you, my love.’
 
With slow deliberation he
ran his hands from the top of her legs to her shoulders. A quite different heat
surged through her body.

‘What are you doing? You must not.’

He nibbled her ear, sending shockwaves through her.
‘Why not, sweetheart?
I’ve a special licence in my desk. We
can be married this afternoon.’

She was finding it increasingly difficult to answer. ‘But we
are not married at this precise moment, are we?’

In answer to her question he dropped feather-light kisses
along her jaw and then he claimed her mouth with his own.
This
time her lips parted allowing him unimpeded access to the inner moistness.
When his hand slid round to cup her breast it swelled beneath his fingers. She
guessed it was far too late to worry about proprieties.

He pulled away from her, his eyes questioning. ‘Are you
sure, my darling? If you want me to,

I can wait.’

A sweet heaviness was holding her captive, making it
difficult to open her eyes, to find the strength to answer. ‘I, however, cannot.
I want to be yours, this very moment. I love you,
Jago,
let me show you how much.’

If you enjoyed
To Marry a Duke
by Fenella J Miller
then you might like to try her other books.

Bride for a Duke

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(Amazon.com)

The Duke’s Reform

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