Diary of a Painted Lady (17 page)

“I’m most grateful to you, Jarred,” she said pleasantly, although his touch made her fearful. He appeared not to like his master. Might she be able to sway his loyalty in her favor?

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he took her to the privy and waited outside.

She emerged, having had no idea which way they’d come. The castle was a maze of stone corridors. If she managed to escape, would she ever find her way out?

In the baronial hall, Ogilvie sat at the table where they’d eaten dinner.

“Get some food into you,” he said. “I trust you slept after your ordeal.”

He confused her. With the chair barring the door she would surely have heard him try to enter her room during the night. What did he really want with her?

She raised her chin. “No thanks to you. That room is full of dust.”

He gave a roar of laughter. “Forgive me. I must supply you wi’ a duster.”

“And have the fire lit, it’s freezing in there.”

As his speculative gaze traveled over her, she clasped and unclasped her hands in her lap.

“That gown looks well on you. You might be a Scottish lass instead of an outsider.”

A servant placed a steaming bowl of porridge before her. Gina picked up her spoon, and began to eat. The food was thick and rather tasteless, but it warmed her bones. She ate quickly, not pausing until she couldn’t eat another mouthful. “When may I go home?”

His sandy eyebrows rose. “Now is that polite? You’ve only just arrived.”

She threw down her spoon, wanting to strike him with her fists. “You cannot keep me here against my will.”

“I am doing just that, lass. Come, you have finished. Back to your chamber.”

Gina took a deep breath. There was no chance of escape while she was locked in that room. Did he plan to come in there with her? “I’ll behave myself. Can you show me more of the castle?”

“I’ll show you my room and my bed,” he said. “Would that do?”

She rubbed her arms. “No, thank you.”

“Then it’s back to your room wi’ you. I’m expecting a guest. Someone you know.”

She started her heart beginning to beat faster. “Who?”

Ogilvie signaled to his burly servant. “None other than Blair Dunleavy.”

Gina gasped. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”

“He would by now.”

She stared at the madman. “What have you done?”

“I sent him a message, advising him of our trip together.”

She drew in a sharp breath. “You think he’d come after me?”

“You know that more than I. You’re a pretty wench, but I’ve seen better.”

Appalled, Gina realized that this man had some sort of revenge in mind for Blair, and she was the lure. Although she prayed Blair wouldn’t come, a part of her couldn’t help hoping he would. Perhaps together, they could manage to escape.

Relieved that Ogilvie showed no desire to accompany her to her room, she gave a crow of delight at the crackling fire and rushed to warm herself. She drew the chair up beside it, and sat, determined to devise a plan to save them both. Might it be possible to charm Ogilvie into changing his mind? She dismissed that immediately. He was implacable and would see through it. But, maybe the servant? Might Jarred have lit the fire for her without his master’s knowledge?

Hours passed. She walked around the room, and then back to the window. She’d considered trying to escape along the narrow ledge that led to the next room, but there was nothing to hang on to. If she fell, it might be a better end than the one Ogilvie had in store for her.

She swiveled at the loud grate of the bolt drawn back. Ogilvie stood in the doorway. “Jarred lit a fire?” he roared. “I’ll deal with him later.” He held out his arm. “I’ve decided to give you the grand tour.”

Gina hurried out hopeful of a chance to escape. They walked along the galley of painted generations of fierce-looking men. Ogilvy opened a door and stood aside for her. A stone, circular stair wound upwards. She climbed the tower ahead of him. He was so close behind her she imagined she could feel his hot breath on her neck. At the top, he pushed past her. The door creaked open and he shoved her out into the open air. They stood on the parapet, where the wind tugged her hair loose, the tendrils blinding her. She pushed her hair away with frozen fingers and peered over the crenellated edge, gasping at the sickening drop to the sea and the razor sharp rocks below.

“Here he comes.”

Gina looked to where Ogilvie pointed. Still some miles away, a carriage raced toward the castle at a furious pace, along the dangerous road at the edge of the cliffs.

“We have a visitor. A day earlier than expected.” She heard the satisfaction in his voice above the roar of the wind and sea. “To catch a man you need to bait the trap with a nubile woman.”

Could it possibly be Blair? Gina watched the carriage approach. This was why Ogilvie had brought her here. For some reason he wanted Blair.

Ogilvy chuckled, relishing the moment. “Hate is a very exciting emotion,” he said, his voice shrill. “It warms me. That and chancing my luck are the only things that do warm me.”

His words made Gina go cold. She let go of her feeble plan. Blair would not die for her, better that she died first. She stepped toward the edge.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Ogilvie grabbed her arm. “No sense in hastening the grim reaper.” He picked her up, her legs thrashing uselessly, as he dragged her away from the edge. He leaned into her, flattening her breasts against him, pressing his body against hers. “I hoped for more time with ye.”

“You monster,” Gina yelled. She twisted in his grasp, trying to scratch his face, but his sinewy body was too strong for her.

“Look!” Ogilvie roughly pulled her head around. The carriage was below them almost at the castle, close enough now for her to pick out a face at the window. Would Blair be able to see them up here in the tower?

“
Blair!
“Her cry was caught and swept away on the wind.

“Let’s go down and greet our guest,” Ogilvie said cheerfully, his strong hands propelling her along.

Chapter Twenty-Six

A miserable looking servant showed Blair into the banquet hall. Blair pulled off his gloves and took in the display of warring history the family laid claim to. Uncivilized lot. Could Gina possibly be here? Or had he come on a wild goose chase. He had to make sure she was safe, even if she hadn’t wanted him to follow her. These thoughts had tormented him all the way from London. He only knew he had to come, was committed to it from the moment he raced out of the bar and grabbed the portmanteau hastily packed by his valet. He’d hired a carriage, paying the driver an enormous sum to drive him here. The driver refused to linger any longer than necessary in this hostile place. He’d driven off, keen to return to England where he considered the people to be more agreeable.

When Lord Ogilvie strode into the room with Gina in a gown of Scottish tartan, Blair stilled. Stricken, he began to think he’d been unwise to come.

“I expected you much later,” Ogilvie said.

Blair couldn’t take his eyes off Gina’s pale face, her lovely eyes distressed. “You expected me?” he asked Ogilvie.

“You got my note?”

“I did not.”

“What has brought you…”

“Should I have come, Gina?” Blair asked, ignoring Ogilvie.

Gina shook her head and twisted her fingers together.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Not at all,” Ogilvie said. “How unwelcoming of you, Giovanna. You’re my guest, Dunleavy.”

“I shall go, if Gina wishes it,” Blair said. But he now had no intention of leaving her. It appeared that his worse fears were realized. It was unlike Gina to be so silent and submissive. Something was not right here; the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Ogilvie signaled to his servant Jarred. “Keep a gun on them.”

Jarred hesitated.

“Do what I say, you worthless peasant.”

Jarred with a hateful glance at Ogilvy, stepped forward and aimed a pistol at Blair’s chest. He reached into Blair’s coat and removed his gun. Blair grabbed the man’s wrist.

“I advise you not to, Dunleavy,” Ogilvy said. “He has orders to shoot you dead if you resist.”

Blair held up his hands. He was no good to Gina dead.

“I’m afraid I shall have to insist you do stay,” Ogilvie said. He put his arms around Gina who pushed at him and struggled. “What a prize. My hands can span her waist. Worth fighting for, is she not?”

“Unhand her, or I’ll kill you,” Blair growled, his hands forming into fists at his side.

Gina came to life, her eyes imploring him. “Oh, Blair! You shouldn’t have come here.” She kicked Ogilvie’s shin, broke free and ran over to him.

Blair swung her behind him, out of the line of pistol fire. “What goes on here?”

“Bolt the door, Jarred,” Ogilvie took the pistol from the servant. “It’s simple enough. I planned to get you here, Dunleavy, and used your paramour for bait. As you see, it worked.”

“Then I shall just take her back with me, when I’ve finished with you.” Blair eyed the pistol. “Seems a lot of bother for you to go to, Ogilvie. We could have dealt with this in London. How about a fair fight?”

“There’ll be nothing fair about it. You’ve done enough to ruin me, Dunleavy.” Ogilvie gave a mocking laugh. “Much neater to deal with you here as you are now on my turf.”

“You’ve lost your senses, man. At least send Gina away.”

“Make yourself comfortable. We shall dine and then play a game of cards. This time, it is for a valuable prize. If you win, you may take the lass home.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You probably shouldn’t, Dunleavy. But you have no choice.”

“And if you win?”

“I win the prize and you....” Ogilvie shrugged.

“No!” Gina swung around to look at Jarred. He shuffled his feet avoiding her gaze.

A stooped woman brought food to the table, a roast fowl and joint of mutton. She left again without glancing their way.

“Sit!” Ogilvie ordered. Jarred stood armed beside them as Blair assisted Gina into a big leatherback chair and took the one next to her. His eyes locked with hers. Ogilvie pulled the fowl apart, and stabbed his knife into the meat.

Ogilvie pushed away his plate and took a swig from a pewter tankard, his eyes bright and feverish. “No one hungry?

“I have a fine malt whiskey to offer ye. You can’t say we Scots don’t produce a fine drink. Bring it, Jarred, and a deck of cards.” He picked up the pistol. “Let’s see how much money you have, Dunleavy. It will sweeten the pot.”

Blair took note of the man’s swift change of mood. Ogilvie was addicted to gambling. He was as mad and as dangerous as a disturbed snake. He stored the information away, it could prove useful. He glanced uneasily at Gina. Her eyes flashed at Ogilvie.
Good.
They would both need to fight to emerge from this place alive.

While Ogilvie dealt the cards, Blair explained the fundamentals of draw poker to Gina, who sat silently beside him. “Five cards are dealt to each player. They can discard any or all of them if they want to try for better cards.”

“No talk.” Ogilvie slammed down the pack and studied his hand.

A log crashed in the fireplace and Gina flinched. The atmosphere in the room stretched taut as the string on a fiddler’s bow. On the table, the candle flames danced in the draught.

Blair studied the hand Ogilvie had dealt him. He tightened his jaw. All unmatched cards. Never had a good hand been so vital. Had luck deserted him when he needed it most? The highest card the ten of clubs. Careful not to register his disappointment, he watched Ogilvie throw fifty pounds on the table.

Blair matched it to stay in the hand and asked for five cards.

Ogilvie looked keenly at him. “No good, eh?” He drew only two cards.

Either he had a good hand or he was bluffing. Blair winked reassuringly at Gina before looking at his cards. Better this time. Three kings, a seven of clubs and a two of hearts. He decided to make Ogilvie bet heavily, and put down only twenty-five pounds.

Ogilvie looked scornful. He raised the bet to one hundred pounds.

Blair matched it.

Ogilvie studied his face, but didn’t seem to find what he’d hoped. He snorted as he tossed down his hand. Three tens skidded across the table.

Blair laid down his hand. He looked at Gina and smiled. “I believe I win.” He reached forward and scooped the money up.

“Let’s go home,” Gina her voice shaking.

Ogilvie frowned and poured more whiskey into his mug. “Another hand.”

Blair rose. “I have your gentlemen’s agreement that we may leave if I won.”

“This is not London, Dunleavy. And I am the one with the pistol.”

“Take the money.” Blair sent notes and coins skittering across the table. He put his arm around Gina. “It’s time to let us go, Ogilvie.”

Ogilvie jumped up. “I’d like to show you my castle first.” He pointed the gun toward the door. “Walk.”

“And if we refuse?”

“I’ll shoot you dead,” Ogilvie said coldly.

He meant it. “Very well,” Blair said, aiming for more time. “Let’s take that tour.”

“Show them up to the tower, Jarred,” Ogilvie said.

Blair and Gina climbed the steps after Jarred with Ogilvie in the rear. “Follow my lead,” Blair said close to her ear.

“Jarred hates Ogilvie,” Gina whispered.

“Quiet!” Ogilvie snarled, and jabbed Blair in the back with the pistol.

They climbed silently. Blair bided his time, confident Ogilvie was such a loose screw he was bound to become distracted. Then he would strike.

* * *

Once again, Gina stepped out onto the roof of the tower. A full yellow moon peaked through the scudding purple clouds.

A freezing, arctic wind tore battered them. Sheltering within the curve of Blair’s protective arm, she choked with fear, drawing in gasps of salt-laden air that made her throat sore.

“Not the way I planned it,” Ogilvie said, looking at her with regret. “But you should thank me, it will be quick.”

“Jarred!” Gina cried. “Don’t let him do this. He’ll make sure you are blamed for it.”

Ogilvie seized her arm and pulled her away from Blair. “The wench goes first.”

Blair stepped forward. “You can’t just murder us in cold blood, man, are you mad?”

Ogilvie reacted to Blair’s words, hatred spilling from him like a visible, palpable thing. “More deaths are nothing to me,” he cried. “I’ve murdered two already.”

“You killed Milo,” Gina cried. “And Dave, the stage manager. It was you who burned the theatre down!”

“Clever girl.” Ogilvie stared at her wildly. “I’m sorry I’m not to know more of ye.”

“You’re a monster!” Gina’s knees grew weak. He would kill them, there was no way they could stop him.

“Enough.” As Ogilvie went to grab her, Blair rushed forward and punched him on the jaw, and again in the stomach. With an oomph, Ogilvie fell backwards, the pistol falling from his hands. A loud bang ricocheted around them.

Blair took a step toward Gina, his face questioning, then he crumpled to the ground.

Gina screamed and screamed, her cries echoing into the night. She fell to her knees beside Blair. Pain wracked his face and his eyes closed. She pulled back his coat. A dark stain spread across his shirt-front. “You’ve killed him,” she yelled at Ogilvie. “You fiend! You’ve killed him. May you rot in Lucifer’s fiery furnace for eternity.”

“It’s too bad.” Ogilvie climbed to his feet feeling his jaw. “I wanted him to watch you die. Your time is up. Over the wall you go.”

He dragged Gina toward the edge, as she tried to resist him.

Jarred ran up to them. “Don’t hurt the lass.”

Ogilvie stared at him. “The likes of you, a peasant, dare to cross me? You will feel the full force of my displeasure when this is done.”

Ogilvie had Gina pressing against the parapet edge. The stone dug cruelly into her back as she grappled with him. He bent to grab her under her knees. She stared over the edge in horror, straight down to the black sea. She made herself go limp. The sudden weight of her body caused Ogilvie to stagger. With a curse, he searched for a firmer hold as she dropped to the stone floor. He suddenly released his grip, after Jarred shoved him hard from behind.

With a curse, Ogilvie turned on Jarred but the big man was surprisingly quick. He lifted Ogilvie as though he were weightless and heaved him from the parapet.

With a scream, the gun falling from his hand, Ogilvie plummeted down, his cry halting abruptly at the bottom of the cliff.

Gina clung to the parapet. She caught sight of Ogilvie’s body spread-eagled on the rocks, before a wave dragged him into the sea. She spun to stare at Jarred. In the moonlight, the silent man watched her. “You’ve saved my life, Jarred,” she whispered.

“The cur deserved it.”

Rushing to kneel beside Blair, Gina stroked his hair and spoke soft words of comfort that she feared he couldn’t hear. She wondered almost idly, what Jarred might do now, but she didn’t much care, for Blair was surely dead.

But then Blair groaned.

“Thank God! He’s alive!” She turned to Jarred who watched impassively. “Help me get him to a doctor. Please Jarred.”

He didn’t move.

“I know you lit the fire in my room. You are a true hero.” Gina spoke quickly. “You can have all the money and anything else you want. We’ll say no more about it, but please, please help me get Blair down to the carriage. He needs a doctor.”

Jarred moved forward and bent over Blair. He shook his head. “He won’t last the night.”

“He won’t if you don’t help us,” she cried, aware that Jarred was thinking through his future. Perhaps he thought himself better off if she and Blair were dead too. But she would not allow herself to believe it. She would not give up. Jumping up she took his hand, peering into his dark unfathomable eyes. “You are a brave man. A decent one. You cannot refuse me. You know I am your friend and will do nothing to hurt you.”

Jarred pushed past her and effortlessly scooped up Blair’s inert form, throwing him over his shoulder.

“Oh, bless you, Jarred.” Gina rushed to open the door. She followed him down the interminable stone stairs. Blair lay disturbingly still hanging from Jarred’s shoulder. The moonlight shone through narrow slits in the stone alighting on his deathly-pale face.

On the next level, Jarred pulled aside a large tapestry hanging on the wall. A door lay behind it. He went inside a stone passage and down a narrow stairway.

Finally, they reached the bottom. They emerged near the sea the castle looming above them. Without speaking, he climbed the steps to the road where he laid Blair down on the frosty ground. “Wait here, lass.” He disappeared into the castle by a small door.

Gina waited, hugging Blair close, attempting to warm him. She tried to take comfort in the fact that he still lived while his breath emerged from his slack lips as steam. It gave her hope but she was very, very frightened. It seemed like an hour before the drawbridge rattled open and the carriage emerged from the castle.