Lovestorm (23 page)

But she knew she wouldn't. She would fight death as she'd always fought the injustices of life.

She got up again and went to the door. “Is anyone out there?” she cried. “Let me out!” She pounded on the door with her fist. “Let me out of here!”

Upstairs, Thomas heard the banging and turned over in bed. Tess lay facedown beside him, her nude buttocks only partially concealed by a blanket. “Wake up,” he said. “Our guest seems to want her breakfast.”

“The hell, I will,” Tess mumbled into her pillow. “Ye so worried about her
highness,
ye can get up and wait on her.”

Thomas slapped her bottom playfully. “Up, wench, and do as I say. You're in this as much as I am, and I have to do all the work.”

Tess pushed a tangled lock of black hair out of her face and stared at him with bloodshot eyes. “Taken a fancy to her, ye have, I believe. Ain't gettin' cold feet, are ye?”

“No, pet,” Thomas replied lazily. “Unfortunately, the beautiful lady must die as soon as we get our hands on the gold. This is the last hand of my game, and I intend to play it well to the end. She's seen our faces, and she could testify against us in court. It's regrettable, but I'll have to shoot her.”

“See us swing, she would. No more pity fer the likes o' us than a Christmas goose. Not to mention that she'd soon say ye weren't—”

“The
real
Captain Thomas,” he finished for her. “No, this way is much cleaner. We get the thousand pounds, and Captain Thomas, the dashing highwayman, gets the noose for the murder of Lady Dunmore.”

“David Thomas will shit hisself when he finds out what ye done. But he deserves it, the sot. He never did treat ye right, Jackie. Never give ye an honest share when ye were ridin' with him.”

Jackie Moore, alias Captain Thomas, reached for the blond wig and settled it on-his close-cropped head. “I make a handsomer Captain Thomas than he ever did, and I can shoot straighter than the wily bastard.”

Tess rolled out of bed and retrieved her crumpled shift from the floor. “Don't know why I got to fetch and carry fer her when she's gonna end up crow bait.” She dropped the shift on the mattress and began to pull on a stocking. “What o' Will and Shiner? That thousand quid would look bigger with only ye and me to share it, Jackie me boy.”

He lay back on the bed and crossed his arms behind his head. “That mind of yours is always thinking, isn't it? That's what I love about you. Bee-stung lips, curves in all the right places, and a head on you a bishop would envy. You touched on a weak point in our plan, girl, but not one I haven't been considering. Thomas, the blackguard, was greedy. Once he had his hands on Lord Dunmore's money, he turned on his companions and murdered them too.”

“David?”

He laughed. “No, Tess. David doesn't kill them. We do. It only looks like David Thomas did the foul deed.”

She giggled. “No end to his evil, is there?”

“Oh, there will be. Rest assured. The King himself will be incensed at this ruthless kidnapping and murder. Captain David Thomas will be hunted down like the dog he is and swung from a Tyburn tree. And that”—he grinned—“will be the end of his life of crime.”

 

An hour later, Tess unlocked the door to Elizabeth's prison. In one hand she balanced a bowl of porridge and a mug of ale, and in the other she carried a half loaf of bread. “I'm comin',” she shouted. “I'm comin'. No need to make such a racket. Ye'll wake the dead.” When she opened the door a crack, Elizabeth hit it with the full force of her shoulder.

The door flew open and struck Tess. The food went flying, and Tess fell backward. She opened her mouth to scream, and Elizabeth hit her over the head with a bottle.

Elizabeth dashed down the shadowy corridor and up the flight of steps. The door was missing at the top of the stairs, so she pressed her body against the wall and listened. Nothing. Heart racing, she retraced her steps of the night before to the room with the fireplace. It, too, was empty. She was halfway across the chamber when Tess screamed.

Elizabeth made a break for the far entrance as Captain Thomas entered the room. “What's this?” he said. “Tired of our company so soon?”

She tried to dodge past him as he lunged for her, but he was too quick. He grabbed her wrist, and she swung the bottle at his head.

“None of that now,” he cautioned, capturing the other wrist. He tightened his grip until she gasped with pain and dropped the bottle.

“Let me go!” she screamed futilely. “Let me go!”

“All in good time, puss.” He twisted her arm behind her back until she stopped struggling. Tears of anger ran down her cheeks.

Tess staggered into the room, a trickle of blood running down from her hairline. “Kill the bitch,” she screamed. “Yer gonna kill her anyways—ye might as well do it now!” She rushed at Elizabeth, and Thomas turned to block her with his body. “Yer dead!” Tess taunted. “Dead as a butcher's dinner.”

Elizabeth snapped her head to stare into Thomas's eyes. He flushed. “It's true, isn't it?” she cried. “You do mean to murder me?”

“Come along, m'lady. You're much too noisy,” Thomas said, ignoring her question. “First thing you know, you'll have Will and Shiner all upset.” He shoved her back to the stairs and then down to the buttery.

Elizabeth choked back sobs of terror as he pushed her inside the dark room again.

“You'd best stay put,” he threatened. “As mad as Tess is over her split head, she'd be apt to slit your throat. And there's no sense in leaving us before your appointed time.”

He slammed the door, and she was left alone with the knowledge that each hour that passed might be her last.

 

At Sotterley, a rescue party was being organized. The earl had sent a rider for the sheriff and other messengers to summon men from the neighboring estates. He had also given orders that a search was to be conducted for his runaway slave, the Virginia savage.

“I want the Indian alive,” Dunmore insisted. “Be certain he is not maimed.”

“Yes, m'lord,” the master-at-arms replied. “ ‘E'll not get far. The dogs will scent 'im.”

“Naturally, your primary mission is to recover Lady Dunmore and to capture the outlaws. The sheriff tells me that there is a bounty on Captain Thomas's head. Is that not true, sheriff?”

“Aye, sir, it is,” the sheriff agreed. “A hundred pounds, dead or alive.”

“And to that sum, I will add another hundred,” Dunmore said. “This fiend shall not escape to prey on the innocent again.”

“Amen to that, your lordship,” the sheriff said. “God willing, we shall find your lady unharmed.”

Before the searchers left the manor house, Dunmore sent for Tom the groom. The earl met him in the long gallery.

“Leave us,” Dunmore instructed his valet-de-chambre.

Red-faced, Tom clutched his shapeless cap and stared at the floor.

Dunmore glanced up and down the room to be certain they were alone. “I have a special task for you, Tom.”

“What be that, m'lord?”

“Remember the job you did for me before?” Tom mumbled assent. “You did it well, and you were well rewarded. I was so pleased that I've chosen you to—”

“Ain't gonna kill nobody else,” Tom said. “Wouldn't ha' done it before iffen I'd knowed the old lord would be kilt. 'E was a good man, ‘e was. Always 'membered us belowstairs at Christmas.”

“How dare you interrupt me when I'm speaking?”

“Ain't gonna kill nobody else, ‘cept maybe them 'ighwaymen.”

“You will kill who and when I tell you to.”

Tom backed away a few steps and blinked. “I liked the old earl! Never meant t' 'urt 'im.”

“You altered the wheel on my father's coach, Tom. My father was angry with you because you were careless with one of his horses. You were afraid that he was going to give you the sack, and so you deliberately caused the accident that killed him and my brother.”

“ ‘Tweren't like that, and ye know it, m'lord. Ye told me t' do it. Ye paid me afore ye went to America, and . . . and ye said wait and do it when ye was far away.”

“No one will believe your word over mine, Tom. I will find proof—witnesses. You'll hang if you don't do exactly as I tell you. This time, and every time.” Dunmore unwrapped a pistol from a roll of cloth. “Take this, Tom. You know how to shoot it, don't you?”

“I were a soldier under Cromwell. Ye know it, well as me. I kin shoot.”

“Good. Take the pistol and one of my fastest horses. Be certain that you are at the head of the rescue party. And if my wife is found alive, be certain that she is killed in the fracas.”

Tom shook his head and backed away. “Ye wants me t' kill 'er ladyship? No. I won't do it. I likes ‘er, I does. She be good t' us. I don't want no part o' killin 'er.”

“I'm not asking you, Tom, I'm telling you. You'll kill her if you get the chance. If you don't, and she comes home to Sotterley, we'll think of another way. But you will dispose of the lady for me or you will hang. Do you understand?”

“I ain't no murderer.”

“Would you rather hang?”

“Course not, m'lord, but—”

“No buts. Do as you are told. I will protect you, no matter what happens.” Dunmore smiled and sipped from his glass of wine. “Believe me, Tom. It will be much easier the second time.”

L
ord Dunmore watched from a diamond-paned window until the rescue party galloped away with the packs of dogs running eagerly beside them. He waited until the sounds of hoofbeats, baying hounds, and hunting horns had faded on the wind, and then he sent his valet-de-chambre for Elizabeth's maid, Bridget.

Edward settled into a comfortable chair and propped his bad foot on a rush stool. Nothing had gone as he had expected since he'd returned home to England . . . nothing. “I never meant to kill you, Father,” he murmured softly. “Richard, yes. I loathed him, but never you. All I ever wanted was to come first in your eyes.”

He squirmed on the embroidered seat as the pressure in his bladder increased. God's bones, but I cannot go as long as a six-month babe without pissing. He sighed deeply and took another sip of the sweet Dutch wine. It's my health that's failed me, not my mind. If it weren't for the sickness that plagued him, everything would have been different.

Even Elizabeth . . .

She was beautiful, spirited, intelligent. She was well read, she was a flawless rider, and she danced as lightly as any woman at Whitehall. “A perfect match,” he said, staring absently into space. “A woman I would have chosen if I'd been given a choice.”

If the dropsy hadn't taken his manhood, all would have been well with his new bride. She would have given him sons to be proud of and perhaps daughters as beautiful as herself. “We could have been happy together, Elizabeth, as happy as any married couple can expect.”

He'd been unfair to her; he knew it. The shame had been more than he could bear, and he'd tried to drown it in strong spirits. The drink had only made things worse between them—but it helped ease his troubled mind. It padded the ugly corners of the night and dulled the guilt he felt over his father's death.

Now, he and Elizabeth were enemies. He could no longer trust her. She could start rumors against him—not only gossip about his father's and brother's accident, but vicious tales about his inability to act the part of a man.

And Sommersett had conveniently died of the black death. Powerful, vengeful Roger Sommersett . . . Edward chuckled and drained the gem-studded goblet. Sommersett lay in a hasty grave, unshriven and unchurched, while he, Edward, still lived—after a fashion.

Edward's eyes narrowed and his irises paled to the color of opal. As long as Sommersett was alive, I dared not harm his daughter, he thought. Now I will have her dower, her jewels, and a new wife—a meek, biddable creature who knows nothing of my past mistakes.

“And to be certain there are not too many questions about my dear wife's passing,” he murmured, “her maid must go.” He smiled, pleased with his decision, and reached for a piece of candied rose petal. The silly wench who had died in the robbery had made his task easier. Now, there was only the Irish slut to deal with.

 

“Lord Dunmore says to come at once and bring her ladyship's jewels.” Edward's valet-de-chambre stood in the doorway of Elizabeth's bedroom and instructed the weeping Irishwoman sternly. “He says you're to step lively.”

“He wants me?” Bridget stalled. “Is there word of m'lady? Is she safe?” She had busied herself all afternoon in shaking out Eizabeth's summer gowns and sorting what must be discarded or mended.

“Are you deaf, girl? Gather your mistress's jewelry and report to the long gallery immediately.”

“Aye, sir. But . . .” She trailed off as the valet dismissed her with a haughty glare and went his way. “Why?” she whispered faintly. “What can he want wi' her things?” With a shrug, she took Elizabeth's jewel case from an imposing lacquer cabinet near the window. She started for the door, then hesitated.

On impulse, she unlocked the box with the tiny silver key that hung on a cord around her neck and removed a string of pearls. She knelt beside a chest, lifted the heavy lid, and slid the necklace into the secret pocket in Elizabeth's second-best cloak. Then she refolded the garment and carefully replaced it in the chest before hurrying from the room.

When she reached the gallery, Bridget curtsied and held out the jewelry chest. “Ye wanted this, yer lordship.”

Dunmore took the box and frowned. “The key.” She handed it over with trembling hands, and he unlocked the box and glanced over the glittering array of gold and precious jewels. “This is everything?”

Bridget nodded. “Aye, m'lord.”

He dipped into the velvet-lined case and held up a handful of necklaces and earrings. A bloodred gem fell from his grasp and skittered across the floor. “There are items of value missing,” he said. “The jewelry was your responsibility.”

Her face blanched. “No, m'lord. Nothin' is missin'. I swear it. Lady Elizabeth wore the—”

“Silence. You'll speak when you're told and not before. I'll harbor no thieves at Sotterley. Get out of this house and off my land.” He shook a grossly swollen finger in her face. “If I lay eyes upon you again—ever—I'll have you hanged.”

Tears rolled down Bridget's cheeks. “But m'lord,” she protested, “I ain't—”

“Out.” His voice was cold and low. “Before I change my mind and forget m'lady wife's affection for you.”

Bridget turned and fled, Elizabeth's emerald and gold pendant wound securely in her hair beneath her starched linen cap.

Chuckling, Dunmore retrieved the fallen ruby and began to spread Elizabeth's jewelry out on a card table before him. “Much more than I expected,” he murmured, “much, much more.”

 

At twilight, Cain crouched behind a tree and watched as a man left the old manor house and crossed to the well with a bucket. The man tied the bucket to a rope and lowered it, then drew it up brimming with water. When he turned toward the dilapidated stables, Cain slipped toward the back of the building.

Shiner spoke quietly to the four horses as he entered the clear area where they were tied. Most of the stable was crumbling, but two stalls remained intact. He'd offered water to the nearest animal, a bay, then started toward the next one when he heard a rustling behind him.

He dropped the water bucket and turned toward the sound, peering into the shadows of the ruined barn. Captain Thomas's black horse snorted and shifted from side to side, pushing against the tie rope. “Who's there?” Shiner demanded. “Will? Is that you?”

Silence.

The outlaw pulled the pistol from his belt and wound the ancient wheel-lock mechanism to ready the weapon. Then he took the lantern in one hand and the pistol in the other and ventured cautiously into the tumbled-down section of the building. Something stirred beneath a moldy pile of leaves, and he kicked at it.

There was a squeal, and a thin brown rat scurried into the darkness. “Bloody bugger!” Shiner hawked up a gob of phlegm and spat after the rodent. “Keep away a' me. I'll blow yer trotters off.” He grimaced and returned to the horses. “Shiner, feed up them horses,” he grumbled. “Shiner, see t' the fire. Where in ‘ell's that bum-fiddle, Will, I wants t' know? Shiner ain't nobody's muck-worm.”

He hung the lantern on an oak peg and picked up the overturned bucket. He took two steps, and the black horse pricked up his ears and rolled his eyes. Then Shiner found himself lying flat on his back with a naked devil perched on his chest. The devil's face was streaked with blood and the ashes of hell, and he was pressing cold steel against Shiner's exposed throat.

“Do not speak,” the devil warned.

Shiner's adam's apple bulged, and the knife blade bit into his skin. He gasped as warm blood trickled down his neck.

“Listen,” the devil hissed.

Shiner groaned assent.

“You have a captive,” the devil said softly. “A woman. Release her or you all die.”

He brought his red face down close to Shiner's, and the bandit groaned again as he stared into the devil's coal-black eyes.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes.”

The knife blade flashed in the yellow lantern light, and a powerful blow rocked Shiner's jaw. The devil and the stable dissolved into soft blackness.

When Shiner regained consciousness, the devil, Shiner's wheel-lock pistol, and the four horses were gone. He staggered to his feet and ran to tell Captain Thomas what had happened.

“You drunken sot!” Thomas rose from his half-eaten supper and slammed a clenched fist into Shiner's chest, knocking him halfway across the room. “How dare you come in here babbling about devils? I'll devil you! Where the hell are my horses?”

“I tole ye! He near cut me throat. See?”

“God's wounds! Am I to do everything myself?” Thomas seized a pair of pistols from the table and started out the door. “Tess! See to the woman. Take a gun and shoot anything that moves. Will! Will! On your feet, you lazy snafflebiter. Go out the back way and circle around. Be certain you don't fire on me or Shiner.”

Tess began to load a pistol. “Be careful, Jackie,” she warned. “Could be gypsies if they stole the horses. They's quick ones wi' a blade.”

“ ‘Twere a devil, I tell ye!” Shiner rubbed his aching chest. “‘E took me pistol.”

“Take another,” Thomas ordered. “You'd better hope we can recover those horses, or I'll string you up by your nuts and leave you for the ravens.”

Quickly, Thomas led the way to the front entrance. He pushed open the heavy wooden door and scanned the courtyard from the protection of the doorway. All was dark and still. The moon had not yet risen above the trees, and there was no wind. Ghostly clouds drifted high over the manor house. Thomas took a half dozen steps from the house, then let out a yell and leaped for safety as a flaming arrow arched over his head and buried into the timbered wall.

“Let her go!” a man's voice shouted. “I do not warn you again. Let her go, or die.”

A musket shot reverberated through the courtyard, followed by a man's scream. Then there was only quiet.

“Will?” Thomas called. “Did you get him?” A minute passed. “Will!”

They found Will a few yards from the stable with two feet of feathered shaft protruding from his chest and a look of surprise on his frozen features. His pistol and knife were missing, and his hair had been sawed off at the base of his skull.

“What'd I tell ye?” Shiner shrieked. “The devil done it.” He sniffed the air and looked uneasily over his shoulder. “I kin even smell fire and brimstone.”

“Back to the house,” Thomas said.

“What of Will?”

“Leave him. He's not going anywhere.”

“I don't like it, cap'n. Why'd 'e take Will's 'air, I wants t' know? I ain't a coward—you know that—but devils . . . I never agreed t' no truck wi' devils. 'E wants the woman, let 'im 'ave 'er, I say.”

“You've a rat's arse for a brain. No devil pulled the bow that sent that arrow through Will. ‘Twas a man—a forester or another outlaw—but a man. And he'll be a dead man when I get him in my gun sights.”

Shiner followed close on Thomas's heels as they ducked back into the house. “A man ye say, a devil I say. Who seed ‘im? Who 'ad ‘is 'ot breath in 'is face?”

“Tess?” Thomas burst into the room where they'd shared the meal. The roast chicken cooled on the wooden platter. “Tess?” There was no answer. “He's done something to Tess,” Thomas warned Shiner. “Watch my back.”

Warily, they made their way down the narrow corridor. There was a thumping noise, and they turned the corner to find Tess bound and gagged. Thomas knelt beside her and ripped away the cloth that covered her mouth.

“Where is he? Did he find the woman?”

Tess took a gulp of air and shook her head. “I don't think so. He asked me where she was, but I didn't tell him nothin'. He's a wild man, Jackie. No devil but one o' them blackamoors from Africky.”

“The devil I seed weren't no blackamoor,” Shiner protested. “They must be two o' 'em.”

“Did he hurt you?” Thomas asked Tess.

She shook her head again as Shiner fumbled with the leather thongs holding her wrists and ankles together. “He grabbed me from behind. He come out o' the dark like a wolf. I never seen or heard a thing 'til he had his hand over me mouth.” She stood up and leaned against Thomas. “I'm scared, Jackie. I never seen such as him.”

“Did you see more than one man?”

“No.”

“Then ‘e weren't no blackamoor,” Shiner said. “A devil, I say, 'til I'm proved elsewise.”

The captain shoved a pistol into Tess's hand. “Hold on to this gun, if you can. I'll get the pretty lady. If it's her he wants, she's our best bait to trap him. Wait here, both of you, and for God's sake, don't shoot me when I come back with the woman.”

As Thomas threw open the door to her cell, Elizabeth woke with a start. “What?” she cried. “What do you want?”

“You're coming with me.” Thomas grabbed her arm and pushed her ahead of him out of the buttery and up the steep stairs. “Shiner,” he called.

“ 'Ere.”

Tess and Shiner joined them in the main room. Elizabeth glanced from one to another. “Has . . . has my . . . Has Lord Dunmore paid my ransom?”

Thomas caught her wrists, twisted them behind her back, and tied them together. “Find something to bind her mouth,” he ordered Tess.

“No. Don't,” she pleaded. Were they going to kill her now? “Please. I won't make any noise.” Elizabeth's protests were muffled as Tess gagged her with a length of torn petticoat.

“You've a friend come calling,” Thomas said, “an ill-mannered friend.” He yanked Elizabeth hard against his chest and brought a pistol barrel close to her head.