Forever My Love (Historical Romance) (29 page)

"What can we do to help?" John asked.

"John, I want you to get word to my unit that an urgent matter has come up that requires my immediate attention. Tell them I'll return when I can. There is no need to tell anyone the nature of the crisis." Damon turned to Tobias. "You need to return to Savannah in case Murdock contacts you again. We'll get word to you and Alba as soon as possible."

"What if the duke should come inquiring about Miss Royal?" Tobias wanted to know.

"Under no circumstances are you to tell him what has occurred. The last thing we need is the whole British army looking over our shoulders. Ezekiel," he said, turning to the man, "we should leave one at a time so we won't draw attention to ourselves. You go first. Take two horses and wait for me by the pond where I swam as a boy. I'll meet you there as soon as possible."

Ezekiel hurried toward the back door. "Have a care, Damon—the Redcoats would still like to get their hands on you."

Damon met Tobias's troubled gaze. "Tell Alba to have faith," he said. "Be assured that I shall do everything possible to find Royal."

"We know you will, Mr. Routhland. And if anyone can bring her safely home, it's you."

29

It was dark inside the hut with only pale moonlight shining through the cracks beneath the door. With considerable effort, Royal managed to drag herself to a sitting position.

Fear was her constant companion. She had been in this filthy pesthole for what seemed forever. So far she had not seen the dreaded Murdock, but she knew it was only a matter of time until he came.

Royal felt something crawl across her leg, and she shivered in disgust. She tried to move off the cot, knowing it was infested with all kinds of vermin, but the ropes about her wrists were too tight, so she fell back.

In the distance an owl hooted, announcing his nocturnal presence. Royal curled up in a tight little knot, feeling alone and miserable. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something pleasant so she could forget, if only for a moment, the horror of her situation.

She must have slept, for when next she opened her eyes, sun-light was streaming into the room. She dreaded the prospect of another day.

Suddenly the door was thrust open with such force that it banged against the wall. Royal shrank away from the man who stood in the doorway, his huge bulk casting a shadow over her face.

Her gaze moved up the length of him. He was dressed in dirty buckskins, and his hair was matted and tangled. His right arm dangled at his side. His legs were long, his body beefy, his eyes small and black, and the look he cast her sent shivers of terror up her spine.

"So," he said, moving to stand over her, "Royal Bradford, you're the woman who has captured both the Englishman's and Damon Routhland's hearts." His eyes swept her from head to toe. "If they saw you now, they might not think so much of you... hmm?"

"You are mistaken, Mr. Murdock, if you think either man has an interest in me."

He touched her golden head, and she cringed but did not pull away. "You can't fool me. I know both men want you. Let me see what they find so desirable in you," he said, grabbing a handful of hair and jerking her head back so her face was turned up to him. "I've been watching you for a long time, but I never got close enough to see you so clearly." His eyes widened when they fell on her lovely face. "Yes, you are indeed a rare beauty."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I don't care so much if the Englishman grieves over your disappearance, but I want Routhland to be in agony."

Although Royal knew Damon would not stop until he found out what had happened to her, she had to make this odious man think he would not care. "You are mistaken, Mr. Murdock. Mr. Routhland will not be overly concerned by my disappearance."

Murdock released his hold on her and sat down beside her. She resisted the urge to scamper to the far side of the cot.

The man laughed while his eyes narrowed in speculation. "I know more about your affairs than you think I do. But I'm curious—what did you do, Miss Bradford, play the one man against the other? Did you dally with one while tormenting the other with your sweetness?"

"I... don't know what you are talking about."

He studied her intently. "Maybe you don't. I can't judge a woman of your refined nature since I never knew one before."

Murdock reached out and ran his finger down her cheek. He found himself fascinated by his captive. It was true that he had never before been this close to a woman of her class. "You are the beautiful bait I will use to lure Damon Routhland to me."

"He won't come."

Evil laughter filled the room. "Oh, he'll come right enough. Any man would go through hell to get a woman like you back."

She licked her dry lips, and his eyes followed the movement. "What you need is a man who knows how to treat a woman," he said suggestively.

She glared at him. "I saw evidence of how you treat women. Marie showed me her scars."

He stood up. "It would be different with you. I could be very nice to you. We could be good together."

She threw back her head and met his eyes squarely. "That's something you will never find out. I'd kill myself before I'd let you touch me!"

Ordinarily Murdock would have struck any woman who dared talk to him in such a way, but this one only intrigued him more. He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his face, his eyes thoughtful. "This is no way for a lady such as yourself to live. I'll send Marie to clean the place up and bring you some clothing. We'll talk more this evening."

Murdock left the room, heading for the washtub at the back of the encampment—he would bathe and shave. The notion of possessing a woman who belonged to Damon Routhland was becoming an obsession with him. Her skin was so white, her eyes so clear. He had never seen a woman with hair like spun gold.

Royal felt more afraid than ever. If he had struck her, she could have dealt with it; but his actions had been most disturbing, and she shivered at what might be her fate at his hands.

As Murdock was sharpening his razor, Marie came up to him and rubbed her body against his. "I kept an eye on the woman just like you told me to."

"See that she has water to bathe and take her a gown—and don't go giving her one of your filthy rags. She's a lady."

Marie's eyes filled with suspicion. "What are you thinking, Murdock?"

He applied the razor to his face. "You are beginning to annoy me, Marie. Just do as you're told." He shoved her away with a strength that sent her tumbling to the ground.

She rose slowly to her feet, her whole insides on fire with jealousy. "She won't have nothing to do with you. She's used to fancy men like that Englishman."

He glared at her. "Little you know about her kind. Real ladies like men of strength and character."

"Like Damon Routhland," she taunted. "He had strength enough to cripple you."

Before the luckless woman knew what was happening, Murdock was upon her, pressing the razor against her throat. "Take care that your wagging tongue does not dig your grave," he said between clenched teeth.

Marie blamed herself for his anger. She should have remembered that any reference to Damon Routhland would send him into an uncontrollable rage. She was paralyzed with fear as she felt the cold blade against her throat.

"I'll do whatever you want me to, Murdock," she said in a choked voice. "But don't hurt me again."

She stared into black eyes that bulged with rage, knowing she was only moments away from death. She felt the blade tremble, and then he closed his eyes and shook his head to clear his thoughts.

Marie drew in a deep breath, knowing he could easily have cut her throat. She stood up on trembling legs and backed away from him, still uncertain if his rage was under control.

"I have decided to be generous and let you live," he said lightly as if nothing had happened. "But guard your tongue and do what you are told from now on."

"I will, Murdock," she assured him. "You won't have no trouble from me."

***

Damon and Ezekiel moved cautiously down the path toward Vincent Murdock's campsite. As they had suspected, it was deserted, and the charred huts gave evidence of a fire.

Ezekiel bent down and examined the ashes. "Looks like it's been burnt several weeks ago."

"Yes," Damon agreed. "My guess is that Preston Seaton had a hand in this. The fool—he's only forced Murdock to go deeper into the swamp."

Damon's eyes were filled with anguish as he fixed them on the far horizon. This painful emotion he was experiencing was so new to him that he did not know how to deal with it. "He's out there somewhere, but where, Ezekiel?"

"Can't rightly say, but I have a passing acquaintance with a man who might know."

Damon turned hopeful eyes on him. "Who is this man?"

"Lester Grimmet. His sister is Murdock's woman. He don't like Murdock any too well, and he might be persuaded to tell us where to find him."

"I feel so helpless. Every moment Royal is in that man's hands is... torment to me." The words were torn from his throat. "I can't allow myself to think what she might be..." His eyes clouded with anguish. "I'll kill him if he's touched her!"

The old man's eyes blazed with determination. "We'll get her back, Damon. Don't you worry 'bout that. I don't think he plans to harm her—this is his way of luring you to him. I heard tell he has a powerful hatred for you. We best go cautiously so we don't fall into any trap he's set for you."

***

Marie faced Royal with scorn on her face. "Murdock says you're to wear this," she said, tossing her gown at Royal.

"I can't very well dress if my hands are bound," Royal informed the woman. "Do you intend to keep me tied?"

Marie came forward and with a jerking motion untied the ropes at Royal's feet and hands. "I curse the day you came here. You've caused trouble between me and my man, and I hate you for it."

Royal turned her back on the woman and slipped out of her nightgown, glad at last to have something suitable to wear. The linen gown was rough against her skin, but it was clean, and it would give her more protection against Murdock's prying eyes.

Marie scooped up Royal's discarded nightgown and ran her fingers over the delicate material. "I'm taking this in exchange for my gown." She watched Royal closely as a dog would guard a bone against another dog. She half expected the fancy woman to object.

"Take it, and you are welcome to it." She pushed her tangled hair out of her face. "I find this more suitable to my needs."

With her hands on her hips, Marie walked around Royal. It did not please her that her own gown looked better on this woman than it ever had on her. Her eyes darkened with envy. "I 'spect you're used to men breathin' heavy when you come 'round. You may think Murdock's smitten with you, but it ain't true. He took you 'cause he wants Damon Routhland dead."

"Damon will not be lured into a trap. He's much too intelligent for that."

Marie stopped her circling. "Humph, little you know 'bout men. A woman can make'm rush headlong into danger when their loins rule their heads. I bet Damon Routhland's panting after you like a stallion wanting to get to a mare."

Royal felt sickened by the woman's vulgar inferences. "You couldn't possibly know what goes on inside the mind of a gentleman like Damon Routhland. You are only accustomed to a savage like Murdock."

Royal saw a satisfied smile slowly crease Marie's face as she stared at someone standing just behind Royal. Even before Royal turned around, she knew she would face Murdock.

"So, fancy piece, you think I'm a savage, do you? We'll see about that."

Royal noticed that he had shaved, and his hair was still wet, so he must have bathed. His black eyes bored into her while he snapped his fingers at Marie. "Get out!"

"I won't," Marie said.

He turned on her, grabbed her arm, and shoved her to the door. "Get yourself off, and don't come back. I'm sick of the sight of you!"

Marie lingered in the doorway, ready to take flight if he came too close. "This fancy piece don't want you. You'll come crawlin' back to Marie when this one's wiped her dainty feet on ya."

"Get out!" he roared.

Royal watched the woman flee, wishing she could go with her. She turned her eyes up to the man who towered over her and met his stare without flinching.

"Don't touch me," she addressed him with as much hauteur as she could manage. She hoped he could not guess that her manner was forced and far from what she was feeling.

Respect shone in his beady little eyes. "I should be angry with you for calling me a savage, but I have decided to be lenient. You are an exceptional woman. You will tell me all about yourself."

He motioned to the cot, but she shook her head. "I just want to talk to you, nothing more."

"I have nothing to say to you. I don't enjoy being dragged out of my own house and brought here as a prisoner."

"Oh, you're not a prisoner. You're free to roam about at will. Of course, I think I should warn you that my men are partial to pretty women, and I can't say they won't fall on you. And then the waters hereabouts are infested with alligators. I've seen an alligator gobble up a full-grown man in less time than it would take me to smoke a pipe."

She trembled, knowing he was right. Whether or not he tied her up, she was a prisoner of these swamps.

"Take me back home. I can't mean anything to you."

His eyes blazed. "When I brought you here, it was for revenge—now I keep you because you please me."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You can't just keep me here against my will."

"I can, and I will." He dropped down on the bed and patted it, indicating she should sit beside him. "I only want to talk to you. You have my word that nothing else will happen between us unless you want it to... at least, not yet."

"Why should I trust a man like you? You are dishonorable and... and... a pig!"

His eyes narrowed, but he managed to smile. "Guard your tongue, Royal Bradford. I can only be tested so far."

She realized that this man was close to madness and must be handled carefully. With great trepidation, she sat beside him, deciding the best way to stave off any advances he might make was to keep him talking.

"Tell me about yourself," she said, remembering Mrs. Fortescue had once told her class that men liked to talk about themselves. "Were you born in the swamps?"