Checkmate, My Lord (27 page)

Catherine rubbed the growing ache in her stomach. It was stronger now, verging on nausea. At first, she thought the unpleasant sensation was nothing more than nerves. After all, a country mother could only handle so much deceit, death, and threat before falling victim to such feminine frailty. But she was not experiencing a bout of anxiety. No, these symptoms were darker, graver. They bespoke foreboding and danger.
Death
. The warning flashed through her mind, sharp and clear.

She buried her nose in the thin layer of linen covering Sebastian’s chest and inhaled. His familiar scent, his silent strength, and his willingness to just hold her for the last hour had done nothing to assuage the dread crawling in her stomach. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I must return home.” Unfolding her body, she rose from his lap. “I cannot shake this feeling that something is wrong.”

The moment she had arrived, she’d conveyed her conversation with Silas to Sebastian. Although disturbed by the news, he had not been surprised by her gaoler’s revelations.

Sebastian pushed out of the cushioned high-back chair to stand beside her. “I have men watching over your family.” He slid a large, warm hand around the side of her neck, his thumb smoothed across her cheek.

“The last time I experienced this kind of unrelenting anxiety,” she said, “I found Sophie stuck in a tree with a feral dog prowling beneath.”

His other hand came up to frame her face and then he kissed her. A long, slow, achingly tender kiss. A kiss that wove soft fingers of longing into the midst of her fear.

Lifting his head, he said, “Then it is a sensation not to be ignored.” He moved away and began tucking in the tail of his shirtsleeves.

“What are you doing?”

“Coming with you.”

“I thought we were to carry on as before—at least for another day or two.”

He grasped her hand and towed her from his bedchamber. “It’s always best not to draw undue attention, that is true. However, your gaolers cannot fault me for seeing you home.”

Fifteen minutes later, they guided their horses down the path connecting their two properties. With unerring accuracy, Sebastian guided them along the same route she’d taken since the onset of their
affaire
. He even selected the narrow deer path she preferred, rather than forging down the wider track that skimmed along the edge of a thirty-foot ridge. In the daytime, she enjoyed the view such a path provided. At night, she liked something a little more stable. “Have you been following me home?”

“What gave you that impression?”

Did the man never provide a direct answer? “Your familiarity with a route others would pass by without notice.”

“I might have ventured along this path a time or two.”

She narrowed her eyes on his back. “Still don’t trust me with your secrets, my lord?”

He threw her a heavy-lidded glance over his shoulder. “The same could be said of you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “I have told you every detail of Cochran’s plan—at least, what I know of it.”

He whipped his big, black horse about, making Gypsy toss her head in annoyance. “I’m not speaking of Cochran’s plan.” His blue-gray eyes caressed her features with a thoroughness that left her breathless and exposed.

She lowered her gaze to Gypsy’s mane, afraid he saw too much. “Pray enlighten me, sir.”

Silence reigned through the dense woodland for several uncomfortable seconds. Then he said, “Some secrets are best left unrevealed, don’t you think? Enlightenment can sometimes complicate an uncomplicated situation.”

He definitely saw too much. The back of her throat ached with unshed tears. Had she really allowed herself to hope? To think that their time together had burrowed beneath his skin and taken hold, as it had hers?
Stupid, stupid, lonely widow
.

“Wise as always, my lord.” She squared her shoulders and then met his gaze. “Perhaps we should carry on.”

He hesitated but a moment before turning toward Winter’s Hollow again. If Sebastian’s pace was somewhat faster than before, Catherine dared not remark upon it. One reminder of their agreement in a five-minute time span was more than enough.

They spent the rest of their journey in contemplative silence, a circumstance both painful and welcome. Once they reached the edge of her garden, they dismounted and tied off the horses. Grasping her hand, he led her along the garden wall, pausing several times to listen. Then he circled around to the east side of the manor. All the while, his gaze never stopped moving, never stopped searching. The closer he maneuvered them to their destination, the more focused he became.

Rather than continuing on to the front entrance, he stopped at the corner, pressing them up against the rough stone of the manor. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He squeezed her hand in warning and then peered around the corner. When he shifted back, his gaze sought hers. “Do you trust me?”

The planes of his face appeared cast in granite and his beautiful eyes had transformed into spheres of ice. She nodded, afraid to speak.

He lifted their clasped hands and kissed the tips of her fingers. “You mentioned once that Silas greets you in the hall each night.”

“Yes.”

“You must find out if he’s there.”

“Where will you be?”

“My men are not at their posts,” he said in a calm voice. “I must try to locate them.”

Her heart bashed against the cage of her chest. The dread she’d been carrying intensified to a crushing degree.
Sophie
. She pushed away from the stone wall. Sebastian dragged her back and placed his index finger over her protesting lips.

Then he directed his gaze to the curtain of darkness. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “Raven, to me.”

Catherine’s eyes widened when a short-haired woman wearing exotic, silken breeches emerged from the shadows.

The young woman stopped beside them. “Chief. Mrs. Ashcroft.”

“Did you see any signs of them?” he asked the newcomer.

“No, sir.”

Without conscious thought, Catherine leaned into Sebastian’s body. The scar curving around the woman’s left cheek triggered a vague memory, but her mind wanted to focus on nothing but getting to Sophie and her mother. “Sebastian, please—”

“Catherine,” he said. “This is my former ward, Cora. She will accompany you inside while I check on things out here. You may trust her as you trust me.”

Everything came together in a flash of images. The maid serving oysters, the servants she didn’t recognize at her daughter’s party, the heart-wrenching note scribed by Cora-belle. The Nexus had come.

To Cora, he said, “One of her gaolers might be awaiting you just inside. Dispose of him if you must; however, your mission is to locate the child and grandmother.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If I do not return in ten minutes, go to Helsford and get the women to safety. Understood?”

The younger woman’s lips compressed, but she nodded her agreement.

Sebastian’s thumb swiped over the ridges of Catherine’s knuckles before nudging her out of the shadows. “Go.”

“But—”

“Go, Cat,” he said again. “Listen to Cora.”

“Come, Mrs. Ashcroft,” Cora said in a gentle, yet firm voice. “Let us make sure your family is well.”

The landscape of Catherine’s world shifted and tilted in so many directions and with such velocity that she found herself following a stranger, who wore a contraption around her midsection housing an assortment of lethal weaponry, without complaint. Accustomed to making her own decisions, she would have found her current dilemma laughable if it wasn’t all so terrifying.

Before rounding the corner, Catherine glanced back to find Sebastian’s luminescent eyes on her. The situation was reminiscent of their time in the woods while searching for Meghan McCarthy. A shiver tracked down her spine.

Drawing in a deep breath, she followed
Raven
into God-knew-what.

***

The moment Catherine disappeared from view, Sebastian forced his clenched fist open, releasing some of the tension of his decision to part ways with her. With Danforth and Helsford in the village, it was left to him to secure their perimeter. After Cora’s recent encounter with the French, he did not worry about her ability to protect Catherine. She was as capable as any of his male agents, though he would have preferred not to have involved her, especially so soon after the difficulties of her last mission.

He found Jack and Bingham behind the gardener’s shed—bound, gagged, and unconscious. After a bit of shaking, Jack came to and staggered to his feet. However, nothing Sebastian did roused the older Bingham.

“Jack,” Sebastian said. “Can you make your way to the village? Helsford and Danforth are there.”

The young Irishman ran a hand around the back of his neck, angling his head this way and that. “Aye, m’lord.” He stared down at his comrade. “What of old Bingham?”

“He received a bad knock to the head. For now, he’s safe.”

Jack ripped off his coat and placed it beneath the older man’s head.

“What happened?”

“Can’t say, m’lord. One minute I was walking toward Bingham to see if he had any news, and the next, I was waking up to you rattling my head.”

Frustration coiled through Sebastian. “How long ago were you attacked?”

“What’s the time?”

“Half past ten.”

“Not more than twenty minutes ago.”

Sebastian stilled, his gaze seeking the high angles of the manor’s roof. “Bring Danforth and Helsford now.” He didn’t wait for Jack’s acknowledgment before turning toward the house.

Toward Catherine’s terror-filled scream.

***

Later, Catherine would not recall her flight from the ground floor to the third-floor nursery. Silas’s absence at the door combined with Sebastian’s missing men confirmed the sensations she’d been battling all evening. Sophie was in danger. And Catherine had not been here to protect her baby girl.

Somewhere along the way their panicked flight roused her mother, who was now trailing in their wake. Once they reached the nursery’s closed door, Cora motioned for Catherine and her mother to move aside. The agent drew a wicked knife from the intriguing sash around her middle. She turned the handle and stepped back, using her fingertips to slowly open the door.

Cora’s gaze met Catherine’s across the short distance and she raised a staying finger. Catherine nodded and held her breath as the agent slipped into the too-silent room. She had no intention of lingering in the corridor while the other woman put her life in danger. After three full seconds, she inched her body around the open doorway until she found herself facing Castle Dragonthorpe. Her mother’s shoulder bumped into hers.

The two of them stood side by side, shaking with fear but determined to save their girl, the one who brought sunshine into their lives each and every day.

Castle Dragonthorpe yawned before them, occupying half the common room. The other half consisted of a school desk, a small bookcase, and an assortment of more feminine toys littering the floor. Two doors framed the common room, the right one an entrance to her daughter’s bedchamber and the left one spilling into the nurse’s small chamber, which was currently occupied by Sophie’s faux governess.

Cora was nowhere in sight.

Foregoing the nurse’s chamber, Catherine veered right, her mother at her heels.

“Mrs. Ashcroft,” Cora yelled from Sophie’s room. “Come quickly.”

Blood fired through her veins. Catherine barreled across the short distance and skidded to a halt inside her daughter’s bedchamber. “What?”

An answer was unnecessary, for the pool of blood at her daughter’s bedside said it all. Terror gurgled up into the back of her throat, and Catherine released it in one long never-ending breath.

Teddy closed the barn door, exhausted to the bone. Guinevere and Gypsy had made a right mess out of their stalls while he was away. And if that wasn’t enough, one of the sheep had managed to wedge its head in between the rungs of an old cartwheel, forcing Teddy to chase the bleating animal all around the barnyard. He hadn’t been gentle when he popped the wheel off the blighter’s head.

Lifting his arms high above his shoulders, he stretched his aching muscles before turning toward the dark, shadow-ridden lane. He didn’t care much for this part, although given the same choice—play with Sophie Ashcroft or finish his chores on time—he would make the same decision again. Being the focus of her pretty smile all day was worth every hair-raising step he was about to take.

Not for the first time, Teddy regretted his family’s
reduced
circumstances
, as his mother liked to call their lack of funds. According to his parents, they once lived in a grand house like Winter’s Hollow and had scads of servants seeing to their every need. Teddy recalled only small glimpses of their former life, yet it was enough to make him yearn for more than their single-room cottage and meager table fare.

Especially now that his mama was sick. Money would pay for a doctor and medicine to make her better. Money would allow them to hire servants to see to her comfort while he and Papa were at work. Money would mean he could go home tonight and melt into a plump, warm bed, rather than having to fix dinner for his papa and care for his mama.

Night sounds closed in around him, growing louder with every meter he distanced himself from the barn. The sunny day had given way to a partly cloudy night, and at times, Teddy could barely see the hard-packed road beneath his feet. Hunching his shoulders, he shoved his hands in his pockets and wrapped his fingers around the wooden piece Sophie had given him. He drew comfort from the small, solid piece of Dragonthorpe. Even still, he picked up his pace, not daring to look left or right for fear of encountering a pair of bright eyes.

Had it not been for the distinctive jingle of a horse’s harness, Teddy might have toddled right into the back of the motionless carriage. As it was, he’d stopped not six feet away. Fear flashed like a frigid breeze across his flesh before plunging beneath the surface to lock around his pounding heart.

Some instinct urged him to hide. Ducking low, he scrabbled for the knee-high weeds along the side of the lane and crouched there. From this position, he could make out the carriage’s black-as-night panels and carved trimmings. Four matching bay horses stood quietly at the lead, their driver faced forward in the same state of readiness.

Readiness for what?

Teddy glanced down the lane, from where he had just come, but the lack of moonlight prevented him from making anything out. The silent wait did funny things to his body. Sweat slicked down his back and his stomach gurgled. With each passing second, the gurgling grew in intensity, an unpleasant sensation that would normally have sent him running for the nearest privy. But he dared not move, even though he was in danger of soiling himself. Something didn’t feel right about the carriage sitting on the dark lane, with no lamplight.

With Sophie’s papa gone, there was no one to protect her but him. Teddy recalled the new people staying at her house. People she refused to talk about but always watched with a wary eye. No one knew them, and they seemed to just show up one day. When he asked Carson about the new people, the groomsman had told him to mind the shite and not the goings-on at the big house.

Teddy began to squirm, and his face flushed with heat. When he thought he would have to rush into the woods, the air around him stirred and a hint of foul odor assaulted his senses. Out of the darkness emerged the most hideous creature, one he’d encountered several times in the last sennight.

Silas
.

Teddy’s eyes narrowed. The skeletal man’s body looked larger than normal, misshapen. Teddy hunkered down as the man drew near. The large, deformed lump at his shoulder materialized into a body. Sophie’s body.

She dangled over the man’s shoulder, unmoving. Teddy nearly gave his hiding spot away at the sight of his friend. She did not struggle or scream or curse her captor to perdition. She simply hung there.

Silas tapped on the carriage door, and Teddy’s heart stopped in shock when the window curtain parted.

A man inside said, “I see the governess held up her end of the bargain.”

“Yes, sir,” Silas said.

“And the governess?”

“Taken care of, as you instructed.”

“My message?”

“Delivered.”

“Very good, Silas.” The carriage door opened. “Place the girl on the bench and let us be off.”

After Silas completed his task, he shut the door and climbed up into the driver’s box. Once he was settled, the coachman flicked the reins and the carriage lurched forward.

Teddy rose from his crouched position and glanced toward Winter’s Hollow. He heard no sounds of rescue. Swinging his gaze back to Sophie, his knees almost buckled when the ambling carriage disappeared behind a wall of impenetrable black.

With one last look toward the big house, Teddy took off and he did not slow until his fingertips touched the metal rail of the carriage’s luggage boot. Having climbed rickety ladders all his life, it took little effort for him to maneuver himself onto the small ledge.

He folded his arms around his raised knees and winced when he felt something sharp prick his hip. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the wooden archer Sophie had given him. The carved piece stood with his legs splayed, one hand holding a bow and the other drawing back an arrow. He had been drawn to this figure from the first moment he saw it standing atop Dragonthorpe’s parapet, a brave soldier protecting his princess with nothing more than a bit of iron and willow.

At the crossroads, the carriage veered toward London and Teddy squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face into his upraised knees. He prayed his mama and papa would be all right without him.