Mary Blayney (32 page)

6

O
LIVIA COULD FEEL HIS HANDS
warming against her stomach, his cold fingers beneath her breasts. But if he moved his hands any lower she would have to do something even if this was a matter of life and death.

Riding like this had been her idea, she reminded herself. He had even refused. Thinking on it, he must have been half crazed with cold to think that stopping to rest was a reasonable thing to do.

They passed the newly fallen tree and she wondered if Mr. Garrett was too lost in his confusion to see that the tree was healthy, showed no signs of rot. It was a single solid trunk at least fifty feet high.

She turned to remark on it and realized he was asleep, his cheek lying on her neck so that when she turned her head his lips touched the spot just below her ear. Oh! It sent a thrill through her all the way to her belly. Olivia turned her head to face straight ahead and pretended she could not feel his cheek against her neck. Could a man arouse a woman without even trying? Apparently.
Oh my.

“You know this is the worst time of year for a windstorm.” If she talked aloud about something prosaic maybe he would wake up and be the gentleman he was raised to be. She cleared her throat and tried to speak normally. If she turned her head again he might be able to hear her.

She did, and this time his lips found her earlobe. “In the spring the trees soak up water like sponges and they are much more likely to fail in a strong wind.”

He took her earlobe between his lips and she gasped. “Are you awake, Mr. Garrett?”

“Hmm,” he said and straightened. “So sorry, Miss Lollie, I thought that was a sweet treat for me. It tastes like you smell, of cinnamon and spices.”

“Yes, well, I hope you are warmer now.” That was exactly like something her governess would say. Tildy had always sounded more proper than she actually was.

“Much.” He moved his hands from under her breasts to her hips, which was not altogether an improvement.

Before she could ask him to move his hands to, say, her shoulders, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his hands on the saddle horn. Somewhat better. But hardly a scene she would want to recount to her brothers.

He must have fallen asleep again, his head lying heavily on her shoulder. Please let him be resting and not giving up the fight. If he died, she could not manage. She would die.

She kept them on a southward track using the wind as a guide as Mr. Garrett had suggested. The gale force had eased to a steady blow. It would have been bearable if it had not so brutally chilled them earlier. Plus night was coming on quickly and she could see lightning in the distance. Was it possible for things to grow worse? She sniffed back the tears that were her last consolation.

Four hours ago she could not have imagined ever letting a man touch her again, much less sit this intimately between his legs.

The will to live had made a number of conventions seem unimportant now. Running nearly naked in the woods, spending time with a man to whom she had not been properly introduced.

To think what a fuss the dowagers made over more than two dances with the same man. They would have apoplexy if they heard about this. She laughed even though the first thing they would say was that it was “not a laughing matter.”

Her brothers were anything but models of virtue, except for Lyn who never put a foot out of place. They would stand at her back if her reputation suffered. Lyn would do what he thought best. But that was both reassuring and worrisome. What if he insisted she go to London? Lyn had never understood that all she wanted was her family near and her cooking. It was all she truly cared about.

A streak of lightning and a low rumble reminded her that first they would have to survive the night. How hideous to have come this far and die where no one would ever find them.

“That is not going to happen,” she said to herself, then raised her head and shouted. “It will not happen.”

Mr. Garrett made a sound and Olivia’s mood lifted. They had come this far. “When we are home we will celebrate with cake and champagne before a blazing fire.” She went on in silence debating what kind of cake and thought about closing her eyes for a few minutes. Troy was smart enough to find her way.

Troy must have read her mind. She raised her head, jingling the bridle, and Olivia looked up. Was that something square and solid ahead of them?

“Mr. Garrett. Please, you must wake up.”

She felt him raise his head from her shoulder.

“Up ahead. Do you see that?” she whispered.

“Y
ES,”
Michael whispered back, thanking God for the distraction. Now that he was warm enough to think clearly he was not sure how much longer he could stay this close to Lollie without doing more than kissing the side of her neck and nibbling her ear.

Even in sleep he had not been able to escape the feel of her. His half-waking fantasies were more carnal than erotic. Lollie deserved better than that.

He could only imagine how hard it was for her to let him be this close.

“There are no rock formations that square. Even in the Dark Peak. Could it be a building, Mr. Garrett?”

He fought off lethargy and strained his eyes through the fading light. Taking the reins from her, he urged Troy to the right. “Yes, yes. I think it is. No light, no smell of fire. It’s an empty building, Lollie. But that’s better than nothing.”

He did not like the trees that surrounded it, but they had no choice and, thank God, it seemed the wind was weakening. By the grace of God and His love for Lollie they had found a refuge.

Troy sensed his interest and picked up her pace. Lollie must have felt it and sat up straighter. “It looks abandoned.”

“Yes, it does. Lollie, we cannot afford to be choosy. I know it looks run-down but it has a roof and four walls.”

“We have no choice,” she agreed.

“Can you stand another few minutes out here? I will go see if it is safe.” He supposed a rotten floor or a large dead animal might discourage him. But not much else.

“Yes. Hurry. Go inside out of the cold. Now I am worried you are the one who will die.”

He led Troy to the leeward side of the house. Being out of the wind was such a relief that this spot was almost enough, especially when he considered the challenge of disentangling himself from Lollie.

She brushed off his apology for exposing her to the cold so he wasted no time unwrapping his greatcoat and laying it out behind him, draping it over Troy’s hindquarters. With his foot in the stirrup and his hand on the front of the saddle, he levered himself off.

Once on the ground he reached up. Lollie bent over and he lifted her from Troy. The horse sidled closer and Lollie was in his arms with her body pressed against his.

Lollie had put her arms on his shoulders and now she slid them down his chest, hugging him as hard as she could, pressing her face into his chest. “Please be careful.”

“I will come back as soon as I know it is safe.” As he spoke Michael pulled the greatcoat off Troy and wrapped Lollie in it, pulling her arms away from him. He kissed her on the forehead, reminding himself that all she felt was gratitude.

N
O ONE HAD COME
to the window or the door as he approached. There was no sign of life of any kind, but there was also no dirt or cobwebs on the door. The windows had been cleaned of the worst of their dirt. Abandoned for awhile but in use fairly recently.

Michael knocked at the door and turned the handle at the same time. No one answered and he stepped inside. The place was well aired, which also argued for recent use.

Without the wind’s battering cold Michael felt warmer instantly. As his eyes adjusted to the new kind of dark, he could see a candle on a table with a tinderbox next to it. He wondered who would leave a candle and flint behind. Someone very wealthy or in a great hurry.

It was an effort to control his shivering enough to light it, but he finally succeeded. With the dim light casting uneven shadows Michael turned to face the room and knew what they had stumbled across.

Lollie’s prison.

There was no furniture beyond a bed, a table, and two chairs. The bed had rope springs and some kind of straw-stuffed mattress, but the real confirmation that this was the place Lollie had been held were the ropes that trailed from the bedposts.

Rage at the inhumanity man could heap on an innocent girl came with memories. He wanted that kind of cruelty to have ended with the war, to be part of the past, but he knew it would go on as long as man wanted more than he had. A cottage in Derbyshire could be as much a battlefield as the streets of Badajoz.

Michael pulled the ropes from the posts and threw them across the room with all his strength. They hit the wall with the sound of a whip breaking over a back and slid to the floor in a corner. He kicked one of the chairs. It bounced off the wall and fell, still in one piece.

Still breathing heavily but with his temper under control, Michael went to the fireplace. Her kidnappers had left a stack of dry wood next to the fire and even though it was obvious that no one had used it for hours, there were still warm coals in the grate.

The ropes, the candle and now the warm fire. They might not be gone for good. If her kidnappers were to return he and Lollie would face an entirely new set of problems.

He was marshaling arguments to convince her they had no choice but to shelter here, when he realized that if she had been blindfolded for her whole captivity she had never seen the place. If he could act naturally she might never realize it.

If acting was a lie, it was one of those wrongs that was the right thing to do.

He found her huddled next to Troy.

“It’s empty. Has been for awhile,” he called as he hurried to her side. A streak of lightning and a rumble echoed off the hills. With a nod she patted Troy’s neck and followed him.

Before they reached the door she stopped and, with an embarrassed sigh, turned to the woods. “I must…”

“Go ahead but stay out of the wind. Troy will stand guard and I will start the fire.”

A mark of trust on his part, though only the smallest. Only a fool would run off with rain threatening on top of the wind.

Just as he began to worry that she had decided to try for home, he heard her. He stopped tending the fire and was almost at the door when she came in. Three steps into the room she stopped, her hair wild from the wind, her face a picture of recognition and disbelief.

Before he could say a word she began backing out of the room, shaking her head. “No, no, no. Not here. Not here.”

7

N
O HYSTERICS,
Lollie. I thought we were beyond that.” He took her by the shoulders. “This is our only choice.”

With her hands against his chest, she pushed and pushed. “I am not hysterical!”

Michael let go of her and went to bar the door so that she could not leave. There was lightning and some thunder, but in her agitation he did not think the threat of the worsening storm would keep her from doing something foolish.

Before he turned around he heard the clink of something thrown with force hit the window, cracking the glass. Three more struck wide of him.

“Your brothers might have taught you to throw but they left out the lesson about aim. Or you were not paying attention.”

“Leave, or I will hit you with your pistol.” She raised the gun over her head. “I would rather be on my own than spend any more time with a liar like you.”

The gun, even without ammunition, could be a far more damaging weapon than the stones. She was making the most of her pitiful armory.

“To think I believed you, did not want you to die. You are a bastard, do you hear me? I hate you.”

A distraction, Michael thought, he needed a distraction, or one of them would end up hurt. Troy! No better diversion than a horse in a cottage. He could count on Troy’s cooperation. It wouldn’t be the first time she had entered a house.

Michael opened the door, silently thanked whoever built the cottage for making the entrance big enough to fit a grown horse, and whistled for his mare.

Troy came immediately. Michael pushed the door wide open and reached for the reins. Stroking the animal’s velvety nose, he pulled softly on the reins and whispered, “Come on, girl, walk on. Remember Spain? The little house?”

Troy nudged her nose against his hand, gingerly took one step forward and stopped. She lowered her head, inspected the threshold with a thorough sniff, before she advanced another step.

“Good girl,” Michael praised her in a low voice as he put one hand on the crest of her neck. His fingers played with the horse’s thick mane. “Just keep your head down, girl, and you’ll be fine.” Clicking his tongue, he moved backwards and Troy willingly followed—her withers passing just one inch below the lintel, the saddle’s knee rolls scraping along the door frame. What was he thinking? He should have taken her saddle off first.

The hollow clomp of her shod feet on the wood floor matched the drumming of the rain on the roof. The wind and thunder made for a bass symphony he was not in a mood to appreciate. Michael turned, scanning the room in disbelief. Lollie had disappeared.

He would have been afraid if there’d been any other way out of the cottage, but there wasn’t. He’d checked that before. She could not have gone far, must be hiding somewhere, waiting to attack.

He was not sure if it was the sight of the horse in what had once been a parlor or the sound of the deluge that had escaped the clouds, but a minute later she came out from behind the door, holding his gun at her side.

“Even the smartest horse in the world has no business in a house.”

There was no accommodation in her voice. But she was distracted.

“She will add warmth to the room. We need that more than we need good manners.”

“Humph,” was as close as Lollie came to admitting he was right. “Will Troy tell us if she needs to go out?”

“Like a dog that is housebroken?” He did not laugh but pretended it was a reasonable question. “No, but I can tell.”

“All right.” She thought about it for a moment. “Does that make you as smart as Troy?”

Michael did not even bother to answer her. He knew a trick question when he heard one.

When she raised the gun, he thought maybe he should have let her win.

“You knew this place was here. You are one of them. Did you think I would not remember it?”

“Lollie, I swear to you I have never been here before. Yes, I did realize that this is the place where you were held and yes, I was hoping you would not recognize it.”

If her thoughts were as pitiless as her eyes it would be a death wish to turn his back.

“We can talk about it. But first let me start the fire. There is plenty of wood here.” He tried to sound practical. “I had no time to check the roof but there are no water stains so it may well be watertight.” He made sure that Troy was between them and turned from her to finish building the fire, prepared to fend off the attack of a wild-eyed gun-wielding woman.

P
LEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE
.
The word played through Olivia’s head like a chant.
Please help me.
She moved to a corner of the room and crouched down, making herself as small as she could. This was only a bad dream. A nightmare. To have escaped her captors only to run into their leader and wind up here again. To have believed him, and now find him the worst liar of all.

Please let me close my eyes and be home. Let there be a miracle that will sweep me home with Big Sam nearby. There will be some chicken soup and my special honey tisane for my throat.
She closed her eyes and waited but knew that nothing changed.

If she was going to survive this she would have to save herself.

First she had to find a way out before he could tie her down. If she was tied again she knew she would die. Olivia put her hand out to push herself upright and found the ropes in the corner with her.

Fighting a sick feeling in her stomach, she sat down hard and tried to come up with a way to take control. Holding the gun tight against her chest she knew that if she used it right it could save her life.

She could knock him unconscious using the butt of the gun and tie him up so that she would be the one in charge. Would she be a kidnapper then? It didn’t matter. She would call it self-defense.

He was having trouble with the fire. The logs were too big for the faint coals. Olivia watched as he used a knife to shave off some splinters from one of the logs to use as kindling.

Now was the time to act.

She stood up and moved as quietly as she could across the old wood floor, the barrel of the gun in her hand, the butt raised. Just as she prayed for strength enough to hurt him, someone bumped her arm. With a screech, Olivia whirled to confront her second attacker, only to find Troy watching her with woeful eyes.

“You see, she
is
the smartest horse in the world. I will have to add this to the times she has saved my life.”

With the horse at her back and Garrett right in front of her, she was trapped. “I was not going to kill you. Only knock you unconscious and tie you up.”

“I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.”

“Are you joking? Do you think this is funny? You must be one of them,” she said, all doubt erased by his uncaring attitude. Why was he standing there with his arms crossed, not even trying to take the gun from her? “You brought me back here and they will be returning any time now. You will tie me to that bed again.”

She turned the gun so that the barrel was pointed at him. “Do you think my womanly sensibilities will keep you safe? I assure you that I am more than willing to take drastic action to save myself.”

He said nothing, but watched her, his eyes considering but not at all concerned. What would it take to convince him that she was a force to be reckoned with?

“If this gun was loaded I would not hesitate to use it. With the barrel so close to your chest I could not miss no matter how poor my aim is.” She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger to prove that she could do it if she had to.

The sound of a shot echoed through the room. She screamed and dropped the gun. “No! No! No!” What had she done! Reaching for his jacket, she pulled it open, buttons popping off as she did. “Do not die. Do not die.” Where was the blood? Had the bullet gone through him?

He grabbed her and shook her, none too gently. “Stop it, Lollie. Stop it! It was thunder. The gun is not loaded.”

Another flash and boom convinced her. She dropped to her knees on the floor at his feet; her screams became sobs. “I am no better than they are. I could have murdered you. I would have murdered you. Take the gun. I never want to see it again.”

“That is quite enough drama, my girl.”

The ice in his voice cut through her despair. She choked back a sob, sat back on her heels and looked up. His eyes showed the concern that was missing from his voice. That calmed her more than his coolness.

“I am not your enemy, Lollie. Fetch the ropes and we will throw them on the fire. That way neither one of us will be tied up.”

Her chin quivered and Olivia bit her lip to keep the tears inside, turning her face away from him.

He had saved her life, held her to warm her and let her ride his horse. It sounded generous. Standing up she closed her eyes and tried to sort out her feelings. Suddenly the significance of her despair struck her.

She was hysterical at the thought she had hurt Michael Garrett.

Was she worried about the men who had kidnapped her? No. She hoped they were dead or, better yet, had been hit by a tree that was felled by a bolt of lightning and were dying slow painful deaths.

She was tired. Her throat hurt. Her feet ached. She could not reason when she was so distracted, but she did not need a reasonable explanation. With life at its most basic all she had to do was listen to her heart. He was her rescuer. She struggled to her feet.

“Listen to me.” He would have taken her by the shoulders again, but she stepped back and he dropped his arms. “We are only here by luck or God’s grace.”

Olivia nodded, too tired to do more; besides, he was angry now. Not the kind of anger that meant fury, the way those men had acted when she tried to fight them off.

“Lollie, I was so cold and windblown I had very little idea where we were going except for direction.”

His anger was more like David’s when he’d had enough of her chatter. Or Jess when they played partners at whist and she was the reason they lost. Exasperation. That’s what it was.

“You recognized this place,” he said again, “and yet I still believe that you told me the truth when you said you were blindfolded the whole time.”

As she considered his words, Garrett strode to the corner and grabbed the ropes. Walking back he tossed them on the fire. They writhed like snakes, flamed up and disappeared, sending sparks up the chimney and leaving a vastly unpleasant odor behind.

“Sit down and think. Use your head and think,” he insisted as though he thought women never used their heads. “I am going up to the loft to see if I can find anything useful.”

He stopped on the first rung and put his foot on the floor again and said more gently, “I know this place is full of bad memories. I expect they are the worst that you have ever had to deal with. I hope they are the worst you ever know.”

She nodded as she sat in the chair closest to the fire.

“Think about it, Lollie, and if you have any sense at all you will realize this is the best place for you.”