Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere (38 page)

However, before Cashé could settle her own nerves and secure her sister’s safety, a defeated groan announced Charters’ despondency. The man purposely pitched forward and, unceremoniously, followed the dust particles to the ground. A sickening thud heralded his impact. No other sound followed. Cashé wanted to see if Charters had survived the fall, but she had her own dilemma as Satiné leaned forward in a swoon.

“Satiné!” she called in a panic. “Stay with me!” Cashé gave her sister’s arm a quick jerk backwards, demanding Satiné’s attention. “You are not to leave me!” she ordered. “We are twins! I cannot survive without you! Satiné, look at me!” She knew that she said the words before, but it was all Cashé could think to do to settle her sister’s stance.

Slowly, Satiné turned her head in Cashé’s direction and pressed her back to the wall.

Cashé breathed a bit easier. “I love you, Satiné,” she whispered. “Please do not leave me. Everyone else has abandoned me.”

“I will stay with you,” Satiné responded weakly.

*

The explosion had rocked the very ground upon which they rode, and Marcus’s heart plummeted. As Kerrington and Crowden chased a retreating Jamot, Marcus raced to the glass cone, a familiar structure in Northumberland. His heart told him Cashé was in trouble. “Please God,” he pleaded as he hit the ground at a run. Bursting through the arched opening, he yelled “Cashé! Cashé! Where are you?”

Breathing heavily, his own heartbeat pounded in his head. At first, he did not hear her. “Marcus!” She sounded so far away.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and then he saw Charters’ body spread out on the brick floor. Blood and grey matter flowed from a cracked skull. Even without checking, Marcus knew the man had breathed his last.

Swenton and Lucifer now stood behind him. Marcus motioned for Lucifer to check the body while he tried to figure out from where Cashé’s voice came. Looking down at Charters’ broken body, Marcus’s eyes began to imagine the man’s brief flight, and then he saw her. Cashé and Satiné were perched on a narrow ledge some twenty or more meters above him. “My God!” he gasped in a panic.

“Marcus!” Cashé’s voice stayed him. “Jamot blocked the only way up.” Her words echoed from the walls, repeating her dooming proclamation.

“Damn!” he sent Swenton to look at a gaping hole on the left as Marcus searched frantically for other openings. He realized that normally a glass cone had several flues, but this building was under construction, and the flues had yet to be installed. The tunnels went nowhere.

Swenton returned to the circle. “Rocks and debris everywhere. We could dig it out, but it would take hours,” he whispered to Marcus.

“They cannot wait that long.” Marcus’s urgency spurred them on. “I have got to find a way to reach them.”

Hill joined them. “Come down from the top,” he suggested.

Marcus looked questioningly at Swenton. “It is your call,” the baron answered. “Lucifer and I will handle the ropes.”

Marcus turned back to the circle. “Cashé, I am coming for you!”

*

Kerrington and Crowden had chased the Baloch along Leith’s shoreline and toward Edinburgh. Jamot had hidden a horse in the wooded area, and the Realm now chased a well-trained warrior.

Finally, the Baloch had alighted and had entered the ruins of an old abbey. Kerrington and Crowden, only seconds behind, had dismounted cautiously, before following. “Keep your eyes open,” Kerrington warned. Dusk approached, and soon Jamot would have the cover of darkness to his advantage.

“I will take the left,” Crowden whispered as they separated and began meticulously to search the remains of a once-magnificent religious house.

“Jamot!” Kerrington called, advancing through the narrow space. “Give yourself up!”

Kerrington motioned for Crowden to check behind some tumbled stones before they crept further into the shadows. Kerrington wove his way in and out of the still standing alcoves. The painted glass windows cast odd lines across the stone arches and floor. Swirls of red, yellow, and brown streaked the area.

The viscount took several more tentative steps before Jamot appeared on an upper archway. “Jamot!” Kerrington called. “Move and I will shoot,” he ordered.

Jamot laughed sarcastically. “You sound exactly like Lady Worthing right before I took the gun from her. She died with your name on her lips, Your Lordship.”

Kerrington’s vision blurred. “You lie!” he accused.

Jamot looked about, obviously, searching for the marquis. “Do I?” he taunted. “Less than a week ago, I found my way into Ashton’s home. Lady Worthing interrupted my dispensing with Lord Lexford. Unfortunately, the lady insisted. I had no choice.” Jamot snarled. “You lost a wife and a child, Lord Worthing.”

Kerrington could not breathe. A sickening feeling turned his stomach. Could it be? Ella would fight Jamot.

“Do not trust him, Captain,” Crowden called from some place behind him. “If Lady Worthing was no more, you would know. Your heart would know.”

Kerrington swallowed his fear. “I plan to kill you, Jamot.”

“You plan to try, Worthing.”

The bullet whizzed by Kerrington’s head as he dove out of the way. He heard Crowden return fire and Jamot running again. “Damn!” Kerrington followed the sound of fear.

Murhad Jamot ran for his life; the Realm would chase him relentlessly. But as he ran, he had one way to slow them down. He reached in his pocket and dropped the papers that he had stolen from Ashton’s household.

*

Morton dismounted in Aldridge’s drive. He had slept little over the last three days, and his body ached with exhaustion, and also with apprehension. Where was Satiné? Where was Cashémere? Were they safe? He handed the reigns to a waiting footman. “Is Lord Averette within?”

“Aye, Sir.”

Morton nodded his thanks before mounting the entrance steps. Releasing the knocker, the baron waited impatiently for the door to open. Finally, he was able to say, “Baron Ashton for the viscount.”

“If you will wait here, Sir, I will see if His Lordship is receiving.”

From behind them came Aldridge’s voice. “Morton, what brings you to Scotland? If you came to claim another niece, I am afraid that I am fresh out of young ladies.”

Morton’s countenance fell. “Then neither Cashémere nor Satiné are here?”

“I have seen neither since I left Derbyshire. Now, if you will excuse me, I have business to which to attend.” Aldridge turned toward the back of the house.

Morton took several steps forward. In supplication, he said, “Do you not understand, Man. The twins are missing, and they are in trouble.”

Aldridge turned slowly, a smile of triumph on his face. “You accepted the care of my brother’s children against my will. If they now suffer, it is on your head. Blane, show His Lordship out.”

“But wait!” Morton called. “You are telling me that you will not assist me in finding Cashémere and Satiné?”

“I am telling you exactly that, Morton.” With those words, Aldridge turned and walked away.

“You will pay, Aldridge! If it is the last thing I do, I will see that you pay for this insolence!” Morton grabbed his gloves from the butler’s hands and stormed from the house.

“Yer horse, M’ Lord,” the footman bowed.

Morton prepared to mount. “Would you tell me where Lachlan Charters lives?”

“Take the main road, M’ Lord. When it forks, bear left. Another mile. There be a big tree in the middle of the road. The entrance to Mr. Charters’ house be on the right.”

Morton tossed the man a coin. “Thank you.” He reined the horse in a tight circle before continuing his search.

*

Marcus, Swenton, and Hill climbed the narrow outside steps circling the brick cone. Marcus ignored the danger, but his companions took it more carefully. Reaching the top, he looked down into the cavity. Cashé and Satiné clung precariously to the “smooth” wall of the cone’s interior. “There is no place to tie off the rope,” he announced.

“I can hold it,” Lucifer spoke seriously. “I can be your anchor, Your Lordship.”

“Let us lace the rope through the small opening,” Swenton suggested.

Marcus peered over the edge again. “Is the rope long enough?” He quickly counted the rows of bricks. “Three to four meters.”

Swenton removed a looped rope from over his head and chest. “I found this one in the tunnel. The space appeared to be Jamot’s hiding place.”

“And I have this one from the tree.”

Marcus nodded. He had striped off his coat and waistcoat before their climb. “Then let us begin. Lucifer, wrap your end around your body and then sit on it to hold it in place. Swenton, you will help guide the rope so it does not tangle on the ledge above where the ladies are. You will be supporting the women’s weight and mine.”

“We will not fail you, Yardley.”

Marcus moved precariously on the narrow stairs, making a looped harness before perching on the ledge. “Cashé,” he called to her. “Do not look up. I am coming to get you.”

Slowly, Marcus began to lower himself over the lip of the cone, testing the rope with his weight. “Let it out a bit more,” he ordered.

Marcus could see the women some two meters below him. Cashé kept a cooing tone going as she spoke to Satiné. He could not make out every word, but she told her sister about “love” and “fear” and “trust,” and Marcus had thought her the most remarkable of women.

Finally, he reached their level, the toes of his boots touching the ledge. “Do not move too quickly,” he warned. He shot a glance at Cashé, and her eyes met his. “We will do this slowly and carefully. Are you both all right? Any injuries?”

Cashé gave him a slight shake of her head. “Take Satiné first,” she ordered. “I will wait for your return.”

Marcus’s heart lurched. He wanted Cashé safe. “Are you certain?” he asked softly.

“As certain as I am that I will be your countess by this time next week.” Cashé gave him a delicate smile. “You see, my Lord, in my conceit, I have no doubt that you will save us both and no doubt in our love.”

“You are incredible,” Marcus whispered.

Then he began to work his way toward Satiné. He placed his arm across Satiné’s waist to keep her balanced. “I want you to place your arms about my neck. When we push off, I need for you to hold on with all your might. I will catch you to me, but I must have one hand on the rope. Therefore, you must hold tight and do not let go even if we are jostled about. Do you understand?”

Tears streamed down the lady’s face. “I am frightened,” she sobbed.

“So am I,” Marcus said evenly. “But soon you will be my sister, and I will not allow you to fall. Now, the men above cannot hold me forever. Come now.”

Satiné hesitated, but Cashé forced her sister into action. “Satiné, our lives are in your hands. Move now.” Cashé purposely broke their physical connection.

Satiné wrapped her arms about Marcus’s neck, and he pushed off with his legs. “Lay out across me, and wrap your legs about my waist,” Marcus ordered. He leaned at a forty-five degree angle and began to, literally, walk up the wall. Looping the rope through the notches on his waistband, Marcus pulled their combined weights up the wall.

Satiné continued to sob, but Marcus coaxed, “We are almost there. Another meter. See the light.”

When they came close to the top, Swenton reached over and caught Satiné by the shoulders and lifted her from Marcus’s body.

“Let go, Satiné,” Marcus encouraged as she refused to loosen her grip. “John has you.”

With a gargantuan tug, Swenton pulled Satiné free, sending them both staggering backwards on the narrow stairs. “I have you,” Swenton told her as he righted himself and steadied his stance. Catching her to him, he embraced her before turning Satiné toward the steps. “Can you sit here safely?”

She nodded her head and sank down where he indicated, and Swenton scrambled to assist Marcus perch again on the cone’s top. “Are you all right?” The baron asked as Marcus caught his breath.

“I will be when we get Cashé out of there,” he grumbled. “Can you do this again, Lucifer?” Marcus looked carefully at the man. His friend’s face was blood red from the strain.

“Give me a moment to relax my arms.” As he said the words, Hill began to adjust the ropes about him. He flexed his shoulders and shook out his arms. “I be ready, Lord Yardley.”

Marcus nodded briefly before beginning the descent once again.

“Be careful, Marcus,” Cashé warned as he swung out over the three inch ledge above her. Slowly, he descended, and Cashé held her breath as he came closer.

Finally, he rested a meter or so from her. His toes touched the ledge, and the ropes supported him in place. “Come, Sweetheart.” He extended his hand to her. “Come to me.”

Cashé nodded. The ropes would not allow him to come closer: She would need to meet him by shifting to the left. Gingerly, Cashé slid her foot along the rough brick and then brought the right to meet her left one.

“That is it, Sweetheart. Nice and steady,” Marcus coaxed when she repeated the movement. “Come on, Love. Almost there.”

Cashé kept her eyes on Marcus, allowing her foot to feel its way along the bricks. “Tell me that you love me,” she whispered roughly.

“I adore you,” Marcus rasped as he examined her every move. “A few more inches, Cashé,” he cautioned.

Cashé swallowed hard and then took a deep breath before she moved again. Their fingertips touched as she slid her foot another six inches; but when she shifted her weight from her left to the right, the shelf crumbled under her left foot, and Cashé pitched forward.

Her left hand reached for Marcus, but only open air remained under her feet, and Cashé screamed.

Like a whip, Marcus’s hand swung out in time to catch Cashé’s arm, but her weight swung them away from the wall as they dropped another meter before Swenton and Lucifer caught the slack and stayed their fall. Together, they slammed into the interior wall with a mighty thud, and Marcus heard her grunt in pain.

“Cashé!”

With a gush of air, she answered, “I...I am here.”

Marcus steadied his breathing. “Do you have it, John?” he yelled before he moved.

A growled affirmation said they strained, but they would not fail him.