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Authors: Kat Martin

Tags: #Romance, #Historical Romance

Wicked Promise (15 page)

BOOK: Wicked Promise
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They rode hard the first couple of miles, Elias slowing now and again to be certain of the track they followed. They almost missed the spot where the group had split up, at the bottom of an incline where a small meandering stream crossed a marshy meadow and hills rose up on each side.
"Looks like four sets of hooves heading off to the west," Silas said. "Two horses continued on north."
"Which group's most likely to have the girl?" Nick asked, but he was already thinking that twice before a pair of men had tried to abduct her. Bascomb wanted Elizabeth, was wildly obsessed with bedding her. He would want to insure she was brought to him a virgin. He would entrust her, to men he felt sure he could control.
" 'Ard to say," Elias said, scratching his shaggy dark head. "Best we split up just like they done."
Nick barely heard him. "The three of you go after the men who went west. I'm going after the other two. If you catch up with them and they don't have the girl, let them go. I don't want you putting yourselves in danger."
"What about yeself?"
"I have a feeling I can handle these two. If I'm not back at the house in three days, follow me to Bascomb's estate in West Clandon. Bascomb will likely be dead—or I will." He whirled the big black and dug in his heels. The men waved as he rode away.
The day was long and wearing. A dense layer of clouds settled over the landscape and a light rain began to fall. At first the tracks were easy enough to read, the soft ground making deep imprints of the animals' hooves as the men rode along. They were bent on reaching Parkland, Bascomb's pa-latial estate. Oddly, they seemed unconcerned about who might follow, believing, perhaps, that their five-hour head start would be enough to keep them safe.
The men rode on and so did Nick. He passed a crossroads and the tracks disappeared beneath other sets of hooves and a line of wagon tracks. He studied the ground for nearly half an hour before he picked up the trail again, continuing down a different, even less traveled, mostly overgrown road.
By the end of the day, enough rain had fallen that the tracks became blurred and indistinct. Still, he knew this country and he knew the little-used road they were traveling. He felt certain he was on the right track.
Night fell. He hoped the men would make camp.
Nick slowed the stallion to a walk, letting him rest for a while, then kicked him once more into a gallop. The men might stop, but Nick didn't intend to. Not until he got Elizabeth back.
Elizabeth couldn't remember ever being quite so afraid. Every bone in her body ached, every muscle, every joint, every tendon. For hours she had ridden draped over the saddle, unable to move her arms or legs, choking on the gag stuffed into her mouth. She felt trapped and suffocated, on the edge of panic, when the men had finally, relented. At the end of a tether, they had allowed her to relieve herself, then grudgingly agreed to let her ride upright in the saddle in front of the beefy man with the thick red beard.
Elizabeth remembered the men from before, the pair who had attempted to abduct her that night in the garden. Nicholas had saved her. She wondered where the earl was now, wondered if he followed. She glanced toward the men across the clearing. They had ridden far later into the night than she had expected. All day she had worried what might happen when they stopped but they showed little interest in her person, and Elizabeth was grateful. Though she had ridden pressed against the bigger man's chest, he hadn't taken liberties, and though she was embarrassed to be dressed in her nightgown in front of them, the longer she was with them the less she felt threatened in that way.
Apparently Bascomb had made clear his intentions and the men must have known he was a man to be reckoned with when his orders were disobeyed. She stared at the two men now, sitting on a fallen log, each of them gnawing on a hunk of bread and a piece of dried herring. They had offered some to Elizabeth but her stomach rebelled and as hungry as she was, she had been unable to eat.
Elizabeth shivered though she wasn't really cold. Tying her to the base of a tree, they had draped the mauve silk counterpane over her shoulders and she was warm enough, cocooned inside. They were camped in a secluded copse of trees well off the narrow, overgrown path that served as road, isolated and nearly impossible to see. No fire had been built and the horses were tethered some distance away. The men were alternating watches, sleeping then taking up guard duty again.
As tired as she was, Elizabeth could not sleep. Instead her mind kept churning, returning to the day Oliver Hampton had found her alone in her father's study. He had very nearly raped her, though she was certain he wouldn't have seen it that way. It was simply seduction, he would say, pressing her down on the sofa, covering her mouth with slobbery kisses, running his damp palm up her leg as he shoved up her skirt.
Thinking of it now made her mouth go dry and her stomach roll with nausea. He would force her this time. He wouldn't wait, wouldn't chance another escape. He would take her, compromise her virtue, and force her to marry him.
Unless a miracle occurred, by day after the morrow, she would be Mrs. Oliver Hampton, Countess of Bascomb. To another woman it might have been the realization of a dream.
To Elizabeth, it loomed as an unending nightmare. 
* * *
They set off again well before dawn, Elizabeth still dressed in her nightgown, her legs chafed raw where they rubbed against the stiff leather saddle. Her hair had come loose and with her hands bound in front of her as they were she hadn't been able to rebraid it.
A little after noon, they paused to rest and water the horses, taking time out for something to eat. Elizabeth ate an apple and a little hunk of cheese, but even that threatened to come back up. Her jaw ached where the bearded man had struck her, and her reflection in the stream showed an ugly darkening bruise.
"Time we was off," the skinny man, the one called Nathan, said. He looked at her and grinned. "We wouldn't want to keep his lordship waitin' for his bride."
"I'm not his bride," Elizabeth countered with a show of spirit, one of the few she'd been able to muster on the journey so far. "You men are behaving outside the law. If you are wise, you will release me before I see you thrown into prison.''
They broke into gales of laughter, the skinny man slapping his thigh while the red-haired man snorted a chuckle out through his nose.
"If you're wise, you littl' baggage, you'll keep that sharp tongue in your head—especially when you're in bed with your new husband."
A twig snapped. All three heads swiveled toward the tall man who had just stepped into the clearing. "I believe the lady is correct," Nicholas said in a voice edged with steel. "The two of you are acting outside the law. If you are wise— and you wish to live—you will stand very still and not make any sudden moves." He cocked the pistol he held in each hand aimed directly at the two men's hearts.
Sweet God, Nicholas had come. Her pulse was suddenly raging, roaring in her ears. Where had he come from? How on earth had he found them?
"Bloody hell," Nathan said.
The man called Charlie slowly raised his good arm into the air, but bent his head and spat nastily on the ground.
"You—'' Nicholas motioned to the man on the left. "Untie the girl. Do it very carefully, then step away."
She was shaking by the time Nathan approached. He did so gingerly, hauling the counterpane back, pulling the knots free with a hand that was decidedly unsteady. He allowed the rope to slide away then stepped back as the earl had instructed.
"All right," Nicholas said. "Now bring a length of that rope over here and tie up your friend."
The red-bearded man cursed foully, but still didn't move. Nathan did as Nicholas said, tying the rope around Charlie's wrists, binding his hands in front of him, then reaching down to bind his feet.
Nicholas still hadn't looked at her. He glanced at her now, standing barefoot in her thin white nightgown, her hair mussed, a purple bruise on her jaw.
His bold black brows pulled together in an angry frown. "Are you all right?"
"Yes ... yes, I—I'm fine. A little the worse for wear, but otherwise unharmed."
"Come here," he said gently.
She made her way in that direction, stopped at his side, and was surprised when he slid an arm protectively around her waist. He held her, hugged her briefly. Studied the bruise on her face with a dangerous scowl; his jaw flexed, pulling the muscles taut.
"Do you think you could tie up the other one?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, I believe I could do that." Picking up the other bit of rope from beside the tree, she made her way across the clearing, wincing as an occasional stone cut into the bottom of her foot. As soon as she had finished, Nicholas shoved the pistols into the waistband of his breeches and strode toward her. He checked the knots on both men, tightened them down, then slid an arm beneath her knees and lifted her high against his chest.
"I'm sorry this happened. I wish I could have stopped them."
She clung to his neck and thought how safe she felt. Safe for the first time in days. "You tried. You've always done your best."
He set her sideways across his saddle, then turned and walked back to the tree to fetch the mauve silk counterpane. Wrapping it securely around her, careful to enclose her bare feet, he tucked it in place then swung himself op in the saddle behind her.
"You're certain you're all right? They didn't... take liberties?"
She shook her head. "No. I think they were afraid of what Bascomb might do to them if they did."
"I hoped that would be the case." He started to rein the stallion away. When a shout erupted behind him.
"Hey! You ain't leavin' us here?" Charlie called out.
Nicholas's smile looked feral. "Only for a while. I intend to send a constable for you at the first opportunity. He'll be happy to untie you and see you safely to jail."
"Now wait a minute, gov'nor," the skinny man whined. "We didn't hurt her. We was real careful with her."
Nicholas stared down at the bruise on her jaw. "Not careful enough, my friend. Not nearly careful enough."
The stallion started off at a gallop and Elizabeth settled herself against Nicholas's chest. Hard-muscled arms wrapped around her. She could feel his heart, beating beneath the lean slabs of sinew across his ribs.
"Thank you for coming," she said, and his hold imperceptibly tightened.
"Which one of them hit you?"
She turned her head to look at him. "Why? Surely it doesn¦t matter which of them it was."
"It matters."
The harsh tone surprised her. "I was sleeping," she lied. "I don't know which of the men it was." It was Charlie, of course. She would never forget the sight of that big hairy fist crashing down toward her face, but Nicholas had enough trouble in his life already. Taking vengeance against Charlie would only bring him more.
A thin smile curved his hps. "I suppose, then, I shall simply have to horsewhip them both."
Elizabeth shifted in the saddle to face him. "Let the constable handle them. You don't need any more trouble. Please, Nicholas, let someone else take care of this. If not for you, then do it for me."
"There are any number of things I would do for you, sweeting, but letting those men get away with hurting you isn't one of them."
"But—"
"Hush now and get some rest. We've a long ride ahead of us before we can stop for the night."
She did as he said, closing her eyes and absorbing the rhythm of the big black horse, content that she was safe. She snuggled deeper against him, felt the warmth of his body encircling her, the solid, muscular strength of him. Exhaustion took its toll. Before the hour was ended, she had drifted off to sleep.
Nicholas lifted heavy strands of flame dark hair away from Elizabeth's cheek. She was sleeping in his arms, exhausted from her ordeal. Every time he noticed the bruise on her jaw, a wave of fury swept over him. The instant he had seen her tied up in the camp, he had wanted to beat the men into a bloody pulp. Perhaps it was concern for Elizabeth that had kept him on the fine edge of control.
He smoothed her hair and felt the steady rise and fall of her breathing. Her shoulder rubbed against his chest and her bottom pressed against his groin. Exhausted as he was, weary to his very bones, he still wanted her, had from the moment he had seen her in the clearing.
Even now, he was hard inside his breeches, the friction against his arousal a nagging, subtle ache. He knew he could not have her, that in less than two weeks she would be gone.
Sweet God, he would miss her.
He held her close against him, absorbing the scent of her, the pliant feel of her body. He couldn't have her. Elizabeth could never be his. The best he could do was to see her safely married to a good and decent man, protected from Oliver Hampton.
The thought made the weariness settle deeper into his bones. 
*  *  *
Elizabeth awoke to the sound of voices. She felt Nicholas's dark hands surrounding her waist, lifting her gently from the horse, her bare feet connecting with the paving stones in the courtyard of an inn.
He handed the stallion's reins to a rosy-cheeked stable boy. "Akbar has worked hard these past two days. Feed him well and rub him down, and there'll be an extra coin for your efforts,"
"Aye, milord." The slim lad stroked the stallion's nose then led him off toward the stables behind the inn.
"We'll spend the night here," Nicholas said. "We'll both feel better after a good night's sleep. With an early start, we'll be back at Ravenworth well before nightfall."
Elizabeth merely nodded. In a way she would be glad to be home. In another way, she wished they could simply keep riding. Waiting where he left her just inside the door, she watched his broad shoulders disappear farther inside the inn to make the necessary arrangements. They had stopped only once, at the outskirts of a hamlet not far from the place where he had left the two men tied up. A constable Nicholas knew lived there, a tall, sallow-faced man named Ragsdale who promised to see the men arrested. Nicholas had vowed to return as soon as he had seen Elizabeth safely home.
BOOK: Wicked Promise
13.8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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