Love Lasts Forever (23 page)

His hand shot out and took a firm hold of her upper arm. She tried to jerk out of his grasp, but his grip only tightened. A sinister grin spread across his face, and he snarled, “I hear you’re a little spitfire. You’ll put a pretty penny in my pocket. That’s guaranteed.”

Ice-cold fear coursed through her veins. His leering gaze humiliated her, and his touch made her flesh crawl. She tried again to pull free. His fingers bit into her arm. He seemed to have no patience for her attempt at self-preservation.

Willow opened her mouth to scream. He slapped her hard across the face. Bells rang in her ears. Her cheek burned from the assault. Tears stung her eyes. Wrapping his sinewy arm around her waist, he lifted her from the ground and tossed her into the back of a wagon where Big Nat’s unconscious form already lay. She moved to crawl toward the prone man.

“Not so fast.” Grady grabbed her.

He bound her wrists behind her back with a rope, looping it through the railing on the wagon and shoved a soiled handkerchief into her mouth. “There. That’ll hold you.”

Ice cold fear transformed into stark terror. She had no idea where Grady was taking her and Big Nat. Common sense warned her that this impromptu excursion wouldn’t be a ride on the Freedom Train. Twisting and turning, she squinted in hopes of spotting Thor racing across the grounds to help her.

She did not see him.

Grady slapped the reins against the horses’ back. The wagon wheels rolled with a sad creaking sound and carried them off the plantation. Inside, her heart wept, and she prayed for God to save them.

* * *

A relentless hammer pounded a sadistic beat inside Thor’s head. He rolled onto his side with a loud groan. His head hadn’t hurt that badly since his freshman year at college. Waking up with a hangover was standard for the fraternity he pledged. Well, it was standard until Cal found out about it and punched him hard in the gut with a promise to tell their father if he ever caught Thor like that again. Thor never did, and waking up free of mind-bending headaches felt pretty damn good.

The rhythmic pounding increased and he moaned. Slowly opening his eyes, he wondered what happened to his state of sobriety.

“Ouch.”

The shining light of the noonday sun nearly blinded him. He turned his back to the glare and slowly sat up. Glimpses of pink and white fluttered beside him. The antebellum getup startled him at first, and then he remembered. He jumped to his feet in one move and growled at the preening young blonde.

“What the hell did you do to me?”

“Now that’s a fine how do you do!” she pouted. “I saved you. You should be thanking me instead of yelling, my dear Thor.”

She reached out for him. He slapped her hand away. She jumped. The simpering expression on her face switched to one of burning hatred.

Thor was unmoved. “I won’t ask you again. What was in that tea?”

Her doll-like face twisted into a hard mask. Returning his stare, she blew on the hand he smacked. “The tea just made you sleep. If you hadn’t drunk it all, you wouldn’t have been unconscious for so long.”

A fleeting image of Willow came to mind. His body tensed and he knew something wasn’t right. Alarm shot through him like a lightning rod. The fear must have shown on his face because Leah tipped her head back and laughed.

“Your precious little bed wench will put her good skills to use.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “What do you mean?”

“That little darky you brought with you? The one you pretended was a boy. I saw you when you came back with him from the slave quarters. I suppose I should say her.”

She paused for effect. Thor seethed. “Get on with it,” he bit out.

“I heard you together last night. Rutting around like filthy pigs! You could have been with me! But you wanted that damned black ni—”

He grabbed her upper arms, pulled her to her feet, and put a halt to her vicious tirade. “Why did you drug me? What did you do to her? Tell me!”

“You thought you were smart. Sneaking on my daddy’s plantation, hoping to steal that big buck! Well, it won’t happen now. He and your wench are well on the road to another plantation. I sold them, and you’ll never get them back.”

He thrust her away from him. Spinning on his heal, he strode to the horse. Monty tried to block his path, but Thor told him, “Don’t make me hurt you.”

The old man stepped aside and Thor ripped the leather straps from the horse, freeing it from the constraints that tied the beast to the carriage.

“I’ll tell my Papa everything if you run away from me!” she cried. “He’ll come after you. You know what they do to advocates of negrophilism down here! Thor! You’ll hang for it.”

He swung onto the back of the horse’s bare back and spared her one searing glance. “And you’ll burn in hell,” he predicted in a cold voice. “I’ll pray to God for that.”

He dug his boot heels into the horse. Clouds of dirt and gravel swelled around him. Thor thundered down the lane, leaving the screaming girl in the dust.

* * *

Uneven rolling of the wagon made Willow sick to her stomach. The filthy rag in her mouth didn’t help matters either. She closed her eyes and tried to think of a solution.

Something nudged her shoulder. She rolled onto her side and tilted her head back. Big Nat was awake and anger darkened his brow. Nothing covered his mouth and he asked in a harsh whisper, “That young massa sold you?”

She shook her head.

“You said he was different and worked on the Gospel Train. You can never be too sure about that.” He edged toward her until his face was just inches from hers. “Hold your squirming. I’ll get that hanky from your mouth.”

Willow lay perfectly still. Big Nat’s face swam before her. His teeth bit into the handkerchief and pulled. The rag fell. Tears of relief wet her eyes. She had not realized how painful the obstruction was or how dry it made her throat. She swallowed hard to ease the parched feeling.

“Thank you.”

He seemed embarrassed by the show of appreciation. His gaze focused on something just beyond her shoulder, and then he looked at her again. “You’re welcome.”

Willow squinted at Grady in the driver’s seat. He sat without a bit of tension in him. Loose, happy, and free.
Damn him
. Angry tears burned the backs of her eyes.

“You know where he’s taking us?” Big Nat asked, casting a brief glance in the white man’s direction. “Did he say?”

She nodded. “He sold us to a slave breeder on the other side of Atlanta.”

“Shit.”

Willow nodded in agreement, but did not repeat the word. She’d heard about slave breeders and knew exactly what that meant for her. Constant fornication without her consent in the hopes of creating a child. She shuddered to think of it. Thor was her only lover, and despite his tenderness, she was still left sore. Thor’s loving brought her immense joy, so the pain was bearable. Lying with someone else would not be the same. She felt dirty just thinking about it.

Big Nat’s face swam in front of hers again. His dark brown eyes bored into her. “It’s only one of him. We’ll find a way to run off from him.”

Willow wanted to believe him. She had been praying for rescue, but as the miles passed, she stopped. Nothing but a miracle could save them now.

Big Nat’s eyes narrowed and his body became tense. “The wagon’s slowing.”

Grady guided the horses off the dirt road into a grove of trees. The rocking motion stopped, and he hopped down. He swaggered to the rear of the wagon. His crude gaze latched onto her.

“I’ve been thinking. It wouldn’t be right for me to sell you without knowing for myself how you fared.”

Grady reached for Willow. Big Nat lunged at him. As if on reflex, Grady struck him across the forehead with a sap he had hidden at his side. The blow knocked Big Nat out cold. Grady dragged Willow from the wagon.

Her prayers had indeed fallen on deaf ears.

He threw her into the bushes. When he crawled between her legs, she released a bloodcurdling scream. Grady backhanded her. Eyes rolled back, Willow fell into complete darkness.

Chapter Twelve

Natural instinct and athletic skill—not to mention fear—kicked in and made Thor an accomplished horseman in minutes. Just like during his days on the football field and the practiced play went off balance, he forced himself to quickly adapt.

In the back of his mind, Willow’s training came to mind. The reins wrapped around his hands. Leather straps pinched his flesh. His palms whitened from the intensity of his grip. The beast must have sensed his desperation and galloped down the road as if the hounds of hell snapped at their heels.

Golden leaves and sharp branches slapped against Thor’s face and neck. Roadside travelers resembled a blurry mass of brown and white. A crossroads appeared in the distance. A trio of white men carried full sacks on their backs. Thor tugged on the reins. The horse slowed. Another tug brought the animal to a stop. One of the men dropped his sack and wandered over. In exchange for information on the nearest slave-breeding plantation, Thor offered a gold piece. Money talked. A large spread only a few miles from Atlanta housed the most likely hellhole. The man drew a map on the road. Thor memorized the directions and sped off. Man and beast raced against time and didn’t ease up until recent wagon wheels tracks stretched before them on the dusty road.

The horse slowed to a steady stride. A warning voice echoed inside Thor’s head.
What if Willow’s captor isn’t alone?
Enough rage to annihilate a battalion burned in his veins, but one mistake…
No
, he thought.
Doubts and fears have no place at a time like this.
Willow trusted him, and he promised to take care of her. Reneging on that deal was not an option.

The element of surprise gave him all the edge he needed, and Anders’s pistol provided an incredible ally.

The wagon tracks veered off the road and into several rows of maple and oak trees. Thor followed the markings and readied the firearm. Bullets filled all six chambers of the revolver. Modern guns fired in quick secession. This relic bore no resemblance to his father’s hunting rifles. The hammer on this pistol had to be cocked before every shot, which meant his aim would have to be perfect the first time.

He spotted the wagon parked beside a large oak. The horse headed steadily toward it. Big Nat’s large frame soon came into view. The steady rise and fall of the man’s chest showed that he was only unconscious and not dead.

So where the hell is Willow?

A cold knot hardened like ice inside his gut. Shaking hands clutched the reins. He guided the horse deeper into the woods. Predatory male laughter cut the silence. The still forest vibrated with a menacing presence. The sound of physical confrontation mingled with the cold-blooded heckling.

A feminine scream curdled the blood in his veins. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention.

Willow!

Thor slid from the horse in one fluid motion. With the pistol cocked and ready, he rushed through the bushes.

The scene before him played out like a bad B-movie of a dirty, nasty man overpowering the damsel in distress, but this was no celluloid fantasy.

With his pants around his ankles, Grady Falls covered a squirming Willow. She kicked and struggled, never lying still for long. Grady, the filthy sonuvabitch, raised his hand in the air. The upswing motion empowered his ringing slaps to her face.

Blinding fury seized Thor. Weight pounded his chest. His breath came in ragged spurts. Coherent thought failed him, and his reflexes took over.

He uncocked the revolver and slammed its butt into the base of Grady’s skull. The man’s body jerked wildly. His heavy weight hovered above Willow, still threatening despite his unconscious state. Thor quickly caught his shoulders and threw him to the ground. Twigs and dry leaves crackled from the force of Grady’s fall.

Thor got his first real look at her. A tattered shirt revealed the full curves of her breasts. Dark purple bruises covered her arms and chest. Tears of anguish filled his eyes. A woman driven by compassion and dedication didn’t deserve this. No woman did. If they lived a hundred years, he’d never be able to make this up to her.

“Willow.” His hoarse whisper broke the silence. Shrugging out of his jacket, he knelt beside her, careful not to move too fast or too loudly. “Everything will be okay. I’m here now. Willow, can you here me?”

Her body curled around her. She seemed oblivious to the blood trickling from her mouth and the vivid scratches on her arms. Her head turned. The eyes that often regarded him in a mixture of awe and pleasure looked through him. Unintelligible noises came from her barely parted lips.

“Willow, ssh…” He reached for her hands.

Her entire body flinched. A shrill scream pierced his eardrums.

Oh, God.

Nothing in life prepared him for a moment like this. Stark terror and roaring anger contorted her beauty into a horrified mask. He moved in front of her. With an unsteady hand, he cupped her face.