How To Tame a Rake (12 page)

“She turned me down.”

“She did?”

“Willy loves you, Blake. Surely you must have known it?”

Blake rubbed his chin. “I believed it was you.”

Vincent cocked his head. “You didn’t want to know she loved you, perhaps.”

“You are doing it too brown,” Blake said, frowning, “bending the friendship to breaking.”

“I’ve been talking to friends. They say you’ve been impossible since she left.”

Blake laughed ruefully.” Willy’s impossible to live with and impossible to live without.”

“I saw her at some ball or other. She was followed from the ladies room by none other than Dora. I’m sure something was said, for Willy seemed upset.”

“Damn,” Blake muttered.

“Is Willy
so
impossible to live with?”

Blake shrugged helplessly. “I love her, did almost from the first. But she’s so…”

“Precisely,” Vincent agreed. “But utterly charming.”

“She is, damn and curse it.” He frowned. “And may well have found another beau by now. Her father would see to it.”

“She was in Oxfordshire when I left her last, with Susan Gray.”

“Oxfordshire?” Blake roared. “Why didn’t you say so, you retched fellow.” He raised a hand to hail a passing hackney.

“Good luck,” Vincent yelled after him.

Racing home to pack a portmanteau, Blake anxiously looked at the thunderous dark clouds hiding the moon. Suicide to ride out now. He would have to leave at first light tomorrow. What a fool he was to let Willy go. He gasped as he thought of her sweet face, her tenderness and compassion. He yearned to prove his love to her, to instruct her in the delights of lovemaking, to discover the secret places of her lovely body.

Would she still be there and would she still want him?

* * * *

Willy and Dix rode out into the woods. Cooped up after the rain, Dix tried to urge the draft horse Susan had recently purchased into a canter, but it was having none of it and plodded along. Willy rode the cart horse, and she was soon well ahead. The trees dripped and the air was moist, thick with the woodland smells of damp earth and rotting leaves. A startled flock of birds burst into the sky. Most probably a fox, she thought, as she rode on. Her thoughts returned to Felix and then very quickly to Blake. When would she stop wanting him? She shook her head, dismayed that her heart refused to mend.

She planned to wait for Dix at the top of next rise, but before she reached it, a rider emerged from the trees. She was not afraid, merely surprised. The man’s hat was pulled low over his face. When he came up to her, he looked up. She cried out. The rough face of Joe Gore looked back at her with a cruel grin.

“I’m glad I came back. This is a nice surprise, eh, wench?”

She tried to kick her horse into flight, but he brought his mount in front to block her. For several desperate minutes, the two horses danced around, until he got the better of her, grabbing her with his huge hands. She did not cry out, hoping that Dix was too far away to rush to her aid, for this brute would surely shoot him without pause. If only she could escape into the woods. She bit his hand and, when he withdrew it with a foul curse, she broke away from him. He caught her again, clenched his giant fist and hit her.

Willy was aware of everything happening as if in slow motion, crumpling and falling from her horse, her limbs turning to water, Joe catching her as a dark mist descended.

Willy came to, to find they were crossing a stream. Her chin ached and something dug into her stomach. She found she was lying like a rag doll, across his pommel. Her first thought went to Dix. What had happened after she had fainted? Had he been hurt? She prayed he was safe. When she asked Susan what was known of the highwaymen, she said that two had been caught and hanged. The third not sighted for months. It was thought he had left the area.

Joe dismounted and led the horse through a small gap in the rocks. Willy pretended to be unconscious to give herself more time, as they began to climb. Up and up they went. She opened an eye to find they’d reached a rocky ledge high above the river. They entered a cave, big enough for the horse to pass through, which it did without hesitation. It was gloomy inside, with grey light filtering in from the entrance. Joe pulled her down and laid her on a filthy blanket. It was all she could do not to gag at the smell. The air was stale and musty and made her want to gasp for oxygen. She fought to keep her breathing regular and deep. Her best chance was to appear comatose, although she doubted he would care one way or the other. Would he ravage and kill her, or keep her around for a while? Those thoughts brought another strong desire to gasp for air, as icy sweat ran down her spine.
She must stay calm
.

* * * *

It was late in the afternoon when Blake arrived at the farm in his carriage. He found Susan, pacing the garden, clearly worried.

“Why, Lord Dangerfield,” she said rushing over to him. “This
is
a surprise.”

Blake removed his hat and bowed over her hand. “Miss Gray. I’ve come to see Wilhelmina, does she still reside here?”

“Yes, she does, and Dix.”

Blake felt relief rush through him like warm ale. But her next words turned his veins to ice.

“She and Dix went riding some hours ago. The draft horse Dix rode has returned home without him.”

Blake put on his hat. “I’ll go to look for them.”

Just then, with a distressed cry, Dix rode out of the woods.

“He’s riding Willy’s horse,” Susan said.

Blake ran to the boy and pulled him down from the horse. He was white-faced with shock. “A man’s taken Willy.”

Susan looked at Blake, her eyes wide with horror. “It must be Joe Gore.”

As fear and anger at his own actions began to paralyse him, Blake squared his shoulders and said grimly, “Do you know their direction?”

“I followed ‘em,” Dix said. “They crossed the river and disappeared among the rocks.”

Blake knew it to be the place where Ben Nye was killed. “Good lad,” he said. He went and removed his portmanteau from the carriage. He took out the pistol and knife he always carried when travelling.

He pocketed his pistol and tucked the knife into his boot. “Lead me to the river and then you must return to the house,” he said to Dix. Then he addressed his coachman. “Take Miss Susan to the police in High Wycombe, as fast as you can.”

“Right you are, your lordship,” Ernest said.

Blake mounted Willy’s horse, cursing at the slowness of it. Dix rode the draft horse which was even slower. He followed Blake into the woods.

How long had that devil had Willy? Blake thought. It must be hours. Time enough to do his worse. The anger he had felt when Joe first took Willy rose afresh to choke him, and he tried again to control it. It would be his undoing if he couldn’t keep a cool head. He wasn’t about to capture the man—he intended to kill him and save the law from the expense of hanging him.

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Chapter Fifteen

While Joe’s attention was caught up with his horse, Willy searched around on the ground where she lay. Her fingers closed over a rock and she tucked it under the skirt of her riding habit.

Joe was muttering to himself. She heard him say he’d better not light a fire—someone may come looking for her. Who would be looking for her? Dix didn’t know where she was and the police had never been able to find this hideout. She reached out to touch the rock again, tracing its sharp edges with fingers that itched to strike Joe down. Her fighting spirit overlaid any sense of fear, if she died here, Susan and Dix could be next.

Joe came to her side and knelt down. She blanched at his foul breath as he stared into her face. “Hope I didn’t hit ye too hard,” he said. He rolled her over. Panic washed through her afresh as his hands worked at her buttons. She grabbed the rock and lashed out at him.

He reeled back, cursing.

Willy jumped to her feet. Seeing Joe was between her and the mouth of the cave, she turned and ran back into the tunnel’s dark, inner depths. Stumbling, she banged her head, but kept moving. The grey light faded to pitch black and the air turned stale. Something brushed her face and she swallowed as hysteria bubbled up, her heart beating like a wild thing.

“Damn ye,” Joe roared, his voice echoing eerily around her. “It will take more than a rock to stop me. Just ye wait until I get my hands on ye.” He began to list the things he would do to her. Terrible, shocking, brutish and violent acts that made her long to cover her ears.
Go slowly. Be careful
, she repeated to herself, over and over. It wouldn’t do to fall and break a bone. She heard him strike a match. Flickering candlelight lit up the darkness somewhere behind her. He couldn’t see her. Yet.

The tunnel began to tilt steeply downwards, water dripped from the roof and the ground was slippery under foot. She banged her shin on a huge boulder, large enough to hide her. She crawled in behind it. It would not protect her long.

* * * *

Once deep into the wood, Blake followed Dix. They rode as fast as the horses and the track would allow them. Miles passed, taking far too much time for his liking, before they reached the spot where he’d witnessed Bill’s shooting. Across the river rose the steep cliff still appearing as impenetrable as it did before.

“I followed them to here,” Dix whispered. “Willy was lying across his horse and he led it between those rocks.” He pointed. “Then I saw him again, higher up. See those bushes up there? They disappeared behind them. I waited for as long as I dared, but he didn’t appear again.”

“Good lad,” Blake said, patting his back. “Now you must go back.”

Dix shook his head violently. “I want to stay and help Willy.”

“You can help both of us by leading the police here.”

Without a word, the boy turned. He was gone before Blake crossed the river.

Blake tied his horse to a branch and searched on foot until he found the narrow opening between the rocks, blocked by a pile of dead bushes. The well-hidden path meandered up the slope, wide enough for a sure-footed horse. He began to climb. When he reached the ledge he spied the cave, impossible to see from below. Pistol in hand, he ran up to it and flattened himself against the rocks, peering inside. He heard Joe shout and saw the faint glow of a candle cutting through the darkness. He cursed that he could not make out more. Where was Willy? He darted inside, keeping low. No sound came to confirm he’d been seen, so he continued. Using the rock wall as a guide he crept into the darkness.

“I have ye now,” Joe yelled.

Blake moved fast, entering yet another cavern. He saw the candle waver as a figure stooped and pulled someone to their feet. Willy. She wasn’t pleading. She was cursing, and using words she must just now have learned. Words a gently reared woman would never hear. If he hadn’t been so afraid for her, he might have grinned.

They came closer to where he crouched against the wall. He could not shoot Joe with any accuracy. Bullets might ricochet off the rock walls and hit Willy. So he waited.

Joe moved further into the light, dragging Willy with him. She was fighting, forcing Joe, big as he was, to struggle. “Come easy,” he urged her. “I don’t want to knock ye out again,” he said. “It will go better for ye if ye give in.” The sound of a slap echoed as he yelled, “Spit in my eye, will you? Hellcat!”

“Let her go, or I’ll put a bullet through your head.” Joe looked up and saw Blake’s pistol aimed at him.

Joe shoved Willy in front of him as a shield and put his pistol against her forehead. “Drop your weapon, or she’ll get one first.”

Blake cursed and dropped his pistol. It skittered away in the dark. “All right, don’t hurt her.”

As Joe backed out of the tunnel he fired in Blake’s direction. But the bullet went wide, hitting the rock wall behind Blake’s head. The echo nearly deafened him.

Blake fell to his knees fumbling for his pistol. He saw that Joe had reached the path. He gave up on it and raced out of the cave in time to see Joe shove Willy away. She stumbled back and fell, rolling off the path, grabbing at a branch as she went.

He ran to her.

“Blake!” Willy looked up at him imploringly. She hung by one hand from a slender branch, suspended over the sickening drop. The branch bent alarmingly. Its roots appeared as it was pulled from the small pocket of soil in which it grew.

Crouching close to the edge, Blake leaned down. “Easy,” he said, “I’ve got you.”

Pebbles and soil gave way under his boots, bouncing down to the bottom of the cliff and he felt his feet slipping. He tried to plant his feet firmly and, reaching down, grabbed hold of her wrist. “Now, let go of the branch.”

She swung below him, her grey eyes huge and dark with fear. “I can’t Blake. I’m afraid.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Trust me.”

Willy released her grip on the branch, just as the bush came apart. Ripped from the ground, it fell, and its bare roots scattered soil as it went. Willy hung from Blake’s hand, her half-boots scrabbled for purchase on the rock face, but could find not even a tiny foothold.

“Give me you other hand.”

She reached up. Blake took hold of her hand. He began slowly to raise her.

Several minutes passed with only the sound of their rasping breaths. Then she reached the top and fell into his arms. “Thank God!” he cried. He hugged her shaking body to his as he pulled her away from the edge.

Over his shoulder he saw Joe was still close, climbing the cliff like a mountain goat, searching for cover. As he searched for purchase on a steep boulder, Blake pushed Willy behind him. He reached into his boot for his knife, took aim and threw it. The knife found its mark. With a cry, Joe arched his back. He fell, bouncing off the rocks all the way to the bottom.

He lay still.

“That’s for Bill Nye,” Blake said quietly, as Willy hugged his waist and leaned her head on his chest.

“Let’s go down, my love,” he said.

“I can’t wait to leave this place,” she said shuddering.

He led Joe’s horse down the rough path. When they reached the bottom, he took off his coat and placed it around Willy’s trembling shoulders.