Far Too Tempted (33 page)

“Ariel has predicted all along that you would someday realize that very thing.” His brother reached out across the short space and grasped his arm in a steely, steadying grip. “Then, tell me, what are
we
going to do, Alex?”

Stirring a little, Alex managed a grim smile. “We’re going inside, and let’s hope that I can convince whoever is in charge of the prisoner that I have further business with the treacherous and beautiful Eloise. I’ll insinuate I have permission from Wright, that he hopes maybe I can glean a little more of her husband’s plans. I feel certain she will aid me once she knows what’s afoot, especially if she thinks she can escape a hangman’s noose. Once we’re in there, we can take a look at how it is outfitted for guards and the like.”

“Capital start.” Marcus twisted the handle of the door and swung it open, clambering out. He added in a dark mutter, “At least we’re bloody doing something.”

Almost the second they alighted from the carriage Alex knew things had gone gravely wrong. Lights blazed in every window in the end of the building where Eloise was being held, and shadows moved behind the curtains in a macabre dance of darkness against illumination.

What the hell? As late as it was, he had anticipated the place to be nearly deserted except for those guarding the dangerous Mrs. Rivers.

Before he could reach the steps, a hiss came out of the darkness.

“Guv!”

Alex stiffened and whirled toward the sound.

Alfred Tolley eased out of the shadows, his boyish face creased by thin lamplight, his expression grim. He said tightly, “I got your message, but we’re too late, sir. She’s one slippery female, our Mrs. Rivers. The lady has already escaped.”

The room was silent except for the occasional creak of dry wood and the sigh of a night breeze by the cracked windows. Jessica fought to keep despair at bay, trying to figure out a solution to her predicament. She was tied to what had once been an elegant bed, ankles bound, wrists attached to the post to her right by a short length of rope that barely allowed circulation in her arms. Across the dingy room, Jack Rivers lay wrapped in a blanket on the warped floor, the distance between them her only consolation.

She’d stopped trying to loosen her bonds hours ago. Even if she managed to get free, how on earth could she force open one of the windows with the frames so old and swollen by time and neglect? And her captor; was there any chance that he, with his implacable stare and cold, black eyes, would he not wake at the slightest sound?

Somehow, Jessica was sure he would.

All he had allowed her the entire day was the barest chance to relieve herself and enough freedom to eat a few bites of food and take some sips of water. Now, bound hand and foot, the aching muscles in her arms and legs made it impossible to sleep.

What was almost worse, she couldn’t stop yearning for Alex. There was no way, held captive in an abandoned old house and cold and alone, that she could keep her thoughts from straying to her very handsome, very absent husband.

Even though she closed her eyes, the warm trickle of tears slid down her temples into her disheveled hair. She would give almost everything to feel the warm clasp of strong arms encompass her, the stroke of gentle hands against her skin, the feeling of security and well-being that seemed to seep into her very pores every time Alex touched her.

No
, she thought fiercely, blinking hard.
Stop expecting him to rescue you
.
You have a great deal of self-reliance and he can’t possibly know where you are
.

Her husband was back in London and she was left alone. She needed to plot her escape on her own.

Chapter Eighteen

The air was warm, like a blanket covering his skin, the fecund smell of decaying vegetation mixing with chimney smoke and manure.

“Let’s go.” Alex swung into the saddle and pulled the dripping brim of his hat low over his eyes.

“We’re ready.” Marcus twisted the reins of his spirited black in one fist and deftly mounted. Tolley, obviously not used riding, did the same maneuver with far less ease, settling on the back of his horse and shrugging a shabby coat around his shoulders against the weather.

Sometime before dawn it had begun to mist, a thin but steady drizzle that would have them soaked to the skin within the hour. However, the prospect of a miserable day riding hell-bent through the rain lifted Alex’s spirits with a grim sort of satisfaction, rather than dampening them.

The muddy roads would only slow a carriage more than it would the three of them on horseback.

And he needed every advantage that could be gained.

Nodding over at Marcus and Tolley, he urged his mount forward out of the yard of the little inn where they had stopped for the night. Driven as he was to reach Bristol and be ready for Jack, even he had to admit exhaustion and hunger by midnight and he’d reluctantly agreed to stop at least for a few hours. Hot food and several hours of sleep had taken his panicked fear and forged it into steely determination.

Never, not in all the dangers he had faced in Spain, had he felt so much resolve.

It was true that with Eloise free, he had lost his bargaining position. He no longer had something to trade. However, he had every intention of making it to the place Jack specified in his note before Jessica’s abductor could get there, and lie in ambush.

With Tolley and Marcus both armed, not to mention himself, he was going to rescue his wife even if he had to kill Jack Rivers.

Splashing through a puddle, he spurred his horse forward. Behind him he could hear his two companions following, the thud of the hooves of their mounts mingling with the soporific drip of the rain.

If her spirits hadn’t been already at low ebb, the rain would have dragged her down anyway. It tapped at the windows of the abandoned wreck of a manor house Jack Rivers had chosen for their overnight stay, keeping up a steady and depressing rhythm. Sore, disheveled and frightened, Jessica nibbled the unappetizing cold meat pie that had been provided as a substitute for a hot breakfast and flexed the abused muscles of her arms. The night had been one of the most uncomfortable experiences of her life.

“Madam, you have exactly five minutes to finish eating, wash and otherwise prepare for our departure.”

With a cool look at the tall man sitting across the scarred table in the midst of the ruins of what had once been a huge kitchen, Jessica set aside the bit of stale bread and meat without much regret. “And, may I ask, am I allowed some clean clothes?”

“Your belongings and some water have been placed in there.” He pointed to a small doorway. “It was once the pantry, I believe. No windows, no door except the one I will be watching, so do not waste any precious time by contemplating another escape.”

Jessica summoned as much dignity as possible, doing her best to not reveal how stiff and aching she was as she walked across the room. It felt as if Jack’s dark stare branded two hot holes in her back.

As promised, the room was filled with dirty shelves and very little else, except what looked like two withered potatoes in the corner. To her chagrin, if she completely closed the door, she could not see, so Jessica was forced to leave it open a crack. The basin of water had been placed on a small stool, and she stripped out of her dress, washing as well as could be done wearing her chemise. The scratches on her arms were raw, and she stifled a wince, remembering her bungled escape attempt. Rummaging through the bag she had so hastily packed, she found a blue and white morning dress, the tiny sprigged blue flowers on the white background a mockery of cheerful color in such a dismal place. After dragging the garment on with shaking fingers, she fastened it as quickly as possible and winced as she tried to jerk her brush through her snarled hair. Both her arms bore scratches from her impetuous exit from the carriage.

“Time is up, Mrs. Ramsey.” Jack’s tall shadow filled the crack in the door, obliterating almost any illumination.

Taking one last swipe at her unruly tresses, Jessica dropped her brush back into the valise and stuffed her dirty clothes on top of it. If nothing else, at least she felt a little cleaner and more comfortable. She stepped hastily backwards as the door swung open and pointed at the bag. “I’m ready.”

As he came into the small room, he seemed to be larger than ever, darker, more disreputable. Two days’ worth of whiskers graced his jaw, and his wild ebony hair and rumpled clothes gave him the look of a seedy pirate. “Allow me, my lady.” With an ironic bow, he swept up her bag, at the same time fastening long fingers around her wrist. Pulled along behind him, Jessica fought to not jerk away.

If she could help it, she would not spend the day miserable because he’d decided to tie her. An afternoon and a night was more than enough. Stumbling in her skirts, she strove to keep up with his long stride as they left the kitchen.

Dark hallways gave way to cavernous, empty rooms. As they passed through what had once been a main hall, the remains of a crumbling staircase arching upward, Jessica shivered. “What is this place?”

He glanced back, sweeping the ghostly interior with a derisive glance as he stepped past a puddle that came from some distant leak in the vastness above them. “Circumstances change, even for the rich and powerful. I knew the man who owned this house before I left for Spain. Apparently, while I was over there risking my neck for King George, he bedded half the women in England and drank himself into an early grave. As the last of his line, it looks like the house died with him. I like to think of the ironic significance of our visit here.”

Ironic? Well, perhaps. Jessica allowed herself to be towed through a doorway hung with ancient cobwebs and pictured Braidwood making this final slide into decay. Thanks to Alex, the house Robert had so neglected in a manner similar to the master of the shrouded ruin in which she had spent the night, would not fall into such a state.

She whispered, “It is unfortunate, sir, the damage we do to ourselves.”

His grip tightened until she thought the bones in her wrist might crack. Jack stared down at her, his normally expressionless face suffused and livid. “If that is a reference to me, Mrs. Ramsey, your observation is unwelcome.”

She swallowed, refusing to be cowed and stared right back. “My reference is to any man who foolishly compromises not only his life, but the lives of those who are supposed to depend on him. For instance, who knows who might have relied on your old friend, the wastrel that left this house to ruin. What ailing old aunt went to the poorhouse? What sister might have married a man she abhorred to have food on her plate? What mother worried and pined and ached inside as she watched her child throw his life away? The world, sir, is run by men, which I find to be a pity. Women would be much more likely to dispense kindness instead of war, compassion and caring instead of dominance and indifference.”

His fingers relaxed and that dark gaze slid away. A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “Militant
and
brave. You are at my mercy, yet still stand up to me. Poor Alex.”

“Mr. Rivers…” As much as she tried to keep the pleading out of her voice, it crept though just the same. “Once, you and my husband were friends. Please, do not continue with this mad scheme—”

His reaction was instant. “Let’s go.” The interruption was swift.

“But—”

“Now!” The jerk on her arm was harsh. “I wish to make the meeting place before darkness falls. Knowing Alex, if he failed in his attempt to free Eloise, he might have designs to give me a nasty surprise of some sort.”

“Sir.” She gasped as she was pulled forward. All sense of softness in her captor had disappeared so quickly she might have imagined it.

The drizzle turned into a full-fledged downpour. Without regard for the unfriendly weather or the horses, Alex pushed brutally forward, and though neither Tolley nor Marcus complained, he knew they had to be as miserable as he was.

Or perhaps not. Their future wasn’t teetering on the edge of disaster like a fragile glass half off the edge of a table, their hearts pushed inside a brutal vise in a madman’s hands. Even though Marcus had a genuine affection for Jessica, and Tolley had a personal score to settle with Rivers over the attack on O’Brien, neither of them could be experiencing the same sense of fear.

Warm droplets slashed at his face, stinging his cheeks. In the distance, thunder rumbled like some threatening god.

And he didn’t care in the least. Whatever the heavens chose to throw down upon them, the only thing that mattered was that they were making excellent time. At this pace, they would reach Bristol well before the appointed hour of nine, as specified in Jack’s note. Once they found the inn called the Swine and Nettle, Alex could assess the feasibility of a surprise attack, one that would not endanger Jessica’s life.

Jessica
.

His heels dug into his horse’s sides and he leaned forward into the rain.

Finally, after what seemed a never-ending nightmare of jolting, rattling and being misted by wet air that snuck through the rickety carriage like some covert thief, they slowed at regular intervals, dealing with the increasing jostle of traffic Jessica could hear outside the shabbily curtained windows.