Captive Hearts (30 page)

He had walked through fire for her. Would a man do that for honor’s sake alone? Would he not have to harbor some deep affection for her to brave such danger? He had spoken of desire and the possibility of her carrying his child, of his possessiveness, but not of any deep abiding affection. But when he looked at her with concern, did she not see caring as well?

It was enough. Every moment they had together, every word spoken between them, every touch they shared, fed the emptiness in her heart. He brought her pleasure and happiness. She would hold on to that for as long as it lasted.

She closed her eyes, exhausted by her thoughts. Her body ached in a dozen different spots, and she felt bone-tired. She rose from her chair and stretched out on the bed. The noise that filtered up from the common room downstairs had grown less boisterous as the noon hour had passed. She kicked off her slippers. Matthew would

be back soon. She drifted off.

She woke to a brief knock on the door. Feeling groggy and disoriented, she looked about the room. The shadows had lengthened and the light from the windows had the dullness of late afternoon.

“’Tis the maid, m’lady.” The timber of a female voice came through the door.

Katherine’s head felt heavy, her limbs stiff as she slid off the bed to her feet. She brushed at the curls that clung to her forehead. The wood bar felt weighted as she lifted it and opened the door. Gray eyes, wide with fear, met hers. Katherine caught the sight of a man’s boot just beyond the opening. The girl’s throat was clamped so tight between Jaime Stone’s thumb and fingers the skin was already bruising. Her mouth hung open as she wiggled and squirmed and clawed at his hand struggling to breathe. Katherine tried to shove the door closed again, but Jaime heaved his shoulder against it, thrusting into the room and dragging the girl with him. He flung her aside. Her head hit one of the chairs, the crack of bone against wood, sharp and sickening. She fell to the rug and lay still.

Katherine turned and scrambled toward the bedside table for the flintlock. She came up short as he grabbed the back of her gown and spun her around slamming her against a bed post. Her breath exploded from her with a whoosh, her side and shoulder numbed by the blow.

She lashed out, her nails biting deep into Jaime’s face, drawing blood. He bellowed in pain and shoved her back. He punched her with a closed fist along the side of her head knocking her to the ground. Lights exploded across her vision. Weak, addled, her vision a blur, she rolled to her side and struggled to get her feet beneath her. “Ye’re goin’ ta die, bitch.” Jaime withdrew a blue ribbon from his pocket. He grasped the front of her gown and dragged her away from the bed. Flipping her face down, he straddled her back, pinning her to the floor. She blocked the ribbon with her hand as he looped it around her neck. The strand cut into her palm as he tightened it, pushing her knuckles into her throat, and making her gag. She rocked from side to side, fighting against the

pressure of his weight. Her heartbeat drummed in her head. Black dots swam in her vision as the ribbon pressed into the sides of her neck. ****

“The randy beast is more trouble than he’s worth,” William complained as they shut the stall door on Sultan.

The big bay snorted and pawed at the straw beneath his feet. After all the trouble they had experienced getting him from the paddock to the inn, Matthew agreed. “He belongs to Katherine, and after everything else she’s lost, I’m determined that she won’t lose anything else she values.”

The horse thrust his nose between them in an aggressive bid for attention and both men jerked back.

Sultan neighed as though amused at their reaction.

Matthew shook his head and patted the glossy neck. He spoke softly to the animal and the horse cocked his ears forward and focused his attention on Matthew. His eyes shined bright, intelligent.

“If my hands were in better condition, I’d give him the ride he needs. Perhaps you might want to take on that detail, William.”

“Yes, sir. After I’ve cleared the dust I’ve eaten all the way back from the Ansley’s meadow from my throat.” Matthew grinned. The man had been more than helpful in finding facilities for the horses and buying feed and straw for them. They had had a productive afternoon.

“I’ll buy you a pint for your trouble and treat the men as well. They’ve more than earned it this afternoon.” William nodded in agreement. “They’ll let you, I’m sure, and be grateful for it.”

The two men left the stables and walked around to the front of the inn. The common room had cleared considerably since the noon hour. The desultory sound of the two bar maids’ voices as they took the men’s orders, carried into the entrance hall.

Matthew tossed a small pouch of coins to William.

“See everyone gets a pint and order me one as well and I’ll join you. I want to check on Katherine.” He climbed the stairs, his steps eager. He had been dogged by worry all afternoon though he had left her

locked in the room with Jess posted at the door. The longer they were away, the more anxious he became lest Katherine grow restless and want to leave the room. He began to relax when all remained quiet as he reached the landing that ran along the second floor. He turned the corner toward the back of the house.

Jess’s lean figure came into view. He sat slumped in his seat, his head resting on his chest. A discarded metal pan and teacup were stacked next to his chair. Anger had Matthew’s pace quickening. He had trusted the man to remain alert while guarding his wife and he had fallen asleep at his post. He grasped the man’s shoulder to shake him awake. The body slumped sideways out of the chair and fell to the floor. Blood ran in a thin line down his temple and cheek.

“Katherine,” Matthew breathed her name for he hadn’t the air to shout as he leaped over the prostrate figure and shoved against the door. The portal swung back hitting the wall with a bang. His momentum carrying him into the room, he tripped over a woman’s body on the floor and braced a hand on the floor to catch his balance.

Jaime Stone straddled Katherine’s hips as he pulled on a blue ribbon laced around her throat like the reins of a horse. The muscles stood out in his forearms as he stretched her neck back. Her face was a deep reddish color from the strain, and Matthew thought her neck might snap in two.

He launched himself at the man knocking him over and forcing his face into the floor. He pounded his bandaged fist into Jaime’s back. The man twisted beneath him nearly succeeding in throwing him off. They rolled together into the table. Plates and cutlery scattered across the floor as a leg gave way beneath their combined weight and the tabletop crashed to the floor narrowly missing both of their heads.

Jaime punched upward, landing a glancing blow to Matthew’s chin. His head snapped back, but he punched back, connecting a solid blow to the other man’s mouth.

His lip split and blood ballooned down his chin. The ribbon still clenched in Jaime’s fist trailed around his arm as he locked his fingers around Matthew’s throat and

squeezed. Matthew pounded him in the face repeatedly then twisted away, breaking the man’s hold.

Matthew braced his foot on the floor and attempted to rise. Jaime swung around, one of the knives from their noon meal clenched in his fist. He thrust forward and Matthew staggered backward over one of the table legs and went down flat on his back. Jaime was on him in a second, thrusting downward. Matthew caught his wrist, holding off the blow. His grimace feral, the man spat blood in Matthew’s face and growled like a snarling wolf.

He put all his weight behind the knife trying to force the blade downward. Matthew’s arm shook with the strain of resistance, his muscles aching.

The loud report of a firearm’s discharge reverberated through the room accompanied by the thick smell of spent gunpowder. Jaime’s head jerked back. His surprised expression became obscured by the blood that blossomed out the hole in his forehead. His body went limp and he slumped forward. Matthew pushed him sideways and the man fell to the floor and rolled onto his back, his hand still gripping the knife. His brassy, green eyes gleamed in the dull light as they stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

The pounding of running feet in the hallway seemed far away as Matthew shoved himself away from the body and half staggered to his feet. He wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of his coat and turned to look for Katherine. She stared past him at the body on the floor as she lowered the flintlock to her side, the barrel still smoking. Her eyes appeared black with shock as they rose to his face, and she took an unsteady step toward him. In three long strides, Matthew caught her against him, holding her tight as relief rushed through him, so intense he felt light-headed.

William, his gun drawn, pushed inside the room followed by three others brandishing arms. They froze at the door taking in the scene. William stepped to the door to answer the shouted inquiries from the hallway. The three men who accompanied him circled Jaime Stone’s body, their expressions a mixture of satisfaction and morbid curiosity.

Katherine coughed and pressed a protective hand to her throat as she drew in a deep breath. “The maid.” It

was painful to watch her speak, but welcome to hear.

He guided her to the bed and pressed her down on it.

He kneeled by the woman and gently eased her onto her back. A huge purple bruise discolored her forehead and a good size knot protruded from it. She moaned and her features creased in pain as she started to regain consciousness.

Jess staggered into the room, supported by a man on either side. His face looked pale and a thin stream of blood dripped from his chin. “Mrs. Hamilton, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

She made a movement with her hand negating his apology. Matthew offered her a hand as she rose to her feet. A purplish bruise was forming on either side of her throat. It stood out in stark relief against the pale skin as she tipped her face upward to look at Matthew. “It is over.”

To protect him, she had killed the only witness against Edward they might ever have.

“William.” Matthew turned to the man as he stood at the door.

“Yes, sir.”

“Get someone in here to see to this woman and start asking everyone you can if Jaime Stone was staying here and if he had any traveling companions. Don’t allow anyone to leave the inn until they’ve been questioned.

And post someone at the stables so no one will be tempted to slip away.”

“Yes, sir.”

“He had to be staying here to know you were still alive, Katherine. He’s been watching for an opportunity.” She nodded and bent to sooth the maid at her feet as she opened her eyes. The woman began to cry and touch her forehead.

“Andy.” Matthew spoke to one of the men standing guard over Jaime Stone’s body.

“Aye, sir.”

“Go down and get some brandy and be quick about it.” Matthew bent to take the flintlock from Katherine’s grasp. She stared at the weapon as though surprised she held it. He squatted on the balls of his feet and grasped

her jaw to capture her gaze with his. “It isn’t over, Katherine. We’re going to find out who’s behind all this, once and for all. We’re not leaving England until we do.”

Katherine eased the blood-smeared wrappings from around Matthew’s hand. The blisters had broken and the cloth had adhered to them making it difficult. She dipped a sponge in a basin of water and moistened the fabric to loosen it. Matthew shifted in his seat, his impatience palpable.

“You could just jerk it loose and be done with it,” he said. She glanced up at him. “I suppose that would be a solution if it would not tear your skin away as well.” The words came easier, which was amazing considering the added trauma to her throat. The muscles felt sore each time she turned her head and she fought the urge to cough.

“I need to be downstairs with the men, Katherine.”

“I know. But, I need to see to your hands first.” He focused his attention on her. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t interested in how she felt, she just needed to touch him and know he was well. She peeled back the saturated fabric and lifted it away from his palm. The blisters had indeed broken and the skin had torn loose, leaving raw flesh exposed beneath. Areas had cracked and bled. She grimaced at the damage and, as gently as possible, bathed his hand and patted it dry.

She stuck her finger in the concocted salve the innkeeper’s wife had given her, and spread a generous amount over the injuries. She placed a protective pad of fabric over his palm then started winding strips of fabric around his hand and between his fingers.

She clipped the end of the strip and tied it securely in place. “Better?” she asked, looking up.

“Yes.” His grudging admission made her smile.

“Why is it men will suffer in silence rather than take the time to see to their injuries?” She motioned for him to

extend the other hand.

He shrugged. “I haven’t heard complaints from you either.” He placed his hand palm up on the table.

She remained silent for a moment as she unwound the bandages. “I have had worse, just not quite so many at one time.”

He ran his fingertips along her arm garnering her attention. She looked up and read the question in his face.

“Your father?”

She nodded. “He drank sometimes and became mean with it.”

He frowned. “There is no excuse for it, Katherine.”

“No there is not.”

She finished cleaning and bandaging his hand, then rose to toss the dirty bandages into the fire.

They both turned at a knock on the door. Matthew armed himself with a flintlock though it was awkward for him to fit his finger against the trigger. “Who is it?”

“’Tis Garrett Drake, Captain Hamilton.” Drake’s cultured tones sounded muffled, but recognizable through the door.

Matthew pointed the pistol toward the ceiling as he raised the wooden bar and opened the portal. She moved to stand beside him.

Drake carried his cloak over his arm. Moisture glistened in the dark, wavy strands of his hair. “I was informed you had inquired about me earlier, but I was already out. I heard you had some trouble earlier this evening and have come to offer my assistance, should you or your wife need it.”