Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere (37 page)

Slowly and carefully, working it carefully between his thumb and his index finger, his fingers touched the tip of the folded blade.

Having the handle in his tentative grasp, he stood again before using the tree’s trunk to brace the small knife with his upper thigh. Finally, it was his, and Marcus allowed himself a breath of triumph.

Palming the weapon, he brought it to his other hand, using his fingertips of the still bound hand to hold the handle in place while the other released the blade. With his freed hand, Marcus used the small blade to cut the hempen strands. Sawing at the twisted threads, the cord frayed and finally fell in two. Pulling frantically at the ends, Marcus unwound the line–fighting to chase after Cashé. The thought of her being under Jamot’s control nearly sent him into a panic, but Marcus made himself concentrate on one step at a time.

Finally free, he took the knife in hand. “Protect her, God,” he whispered. He turned toward the trail Jamot had taken with the others. “Protect Cashémere.”

*

Jamot had kept a waiting wagon close by. He had ushered Cashé into the back and had instructed Charters to place Satiné beside her twin. “You drive,” he told the Scot, climbing in with the women. “If you try anything, I will kill His Lordship’s favorite.”

“Where are you taking us?” Cashé demanded.

Jamot smiled deviously. “Some place interesting.”

*

Kerrington, Crowden, and Swenton rode into the drive before Charters’ house. After Kerrington had questioned the groomsman, he had gathered his friends to see what Lucifer Hill had learned. Finding Hill missing from his hiding place and expecting trouble, the Realm members had approached the Scot’s home. “Be careful,” Kerrington warned as they dismounted. They each carried a gun.

Swenton gestured toward three horses tied nearby. “Is that not Hill’s horse?”

“And if I am not mistaken,” Crowden added, “that is Khan, Wellston’s mount.”

“What is the earl doing here?” Kerrington remarked as they moved cautiously forward. However, before they could reach the door, it swung open to reveal Lucifer Hill.

“Hill!” Kerrington expelled in relief. “Is Yardley here?”

The man looked surprised. “I suspected you might be he. Yardley and Miss Aldridge called here earlier.”

“What the bloody hell is Cashémere doing in Scotland? I thought that I left her in Manchester,” Kerrington remarked.

“I cannot say, Sir,” Hill confided. “I saw Yardley and what I thought was his tiger ride in. I could not imagine what type of business the earl had with Charters so I came to see if His Lordship required my assistance. When I arrived, the earl questioned Charters staff.

Kerrington demanded, “Why are you still here?”

“Charters is missing...seems the Scot left the house through a wine cellar tunnel. Miss Cashémere thought that Charters sought a nearby cottage…supposed that was where the man held Miss Satiné. I stayed behind to assure that Charters staff offered their master no assistance.”

Crowden asked the obvious. “Where is Miss Cashémere’s horse?”

Hill smiled amusedly. “I said that Yardley rode in with what I thought was his tiger. Miss Cashémere wears a young man’s clothing. She rode astride.”

“That girl,” Kerrington grumbled, shaking his head in disbelief.

Swenton looked behind him. “Which way to the cottage?”

Hill gestured to the left side of the house. “Yardley and the girl went that way.”

Kerrington was striding toward the horses. “Bring Yardley’s mount and the girl’s. Let us see this cottage.”

*

Fowler sat in silence as Kimbolt stared at the draped cover over the four-poster. He had answered as many of the viscount’s questions as he could. They had discussed their years serving together on the Continent and the years since their return to England. “Basically, I have lost three years of my life,” Kimbolt observed.

“You remember nothing of the things we have discussed? Nothing of even the recent past?”

“I believe everything that you have disclosed.” Kimbolt’s voice held real defeat. “But without your insights, I would have no knowledge of the events. The last I recall is coming home to the knowledge of Susan’s brush with Bedlam.”

*

“They have been here,” Kerrington said as they inspected the small bedroom which once held Satiné Aldridge. “There has been a struggle. See the blood stain.”

Hill reentered the small cottage. “This rope has been cut.” He displayed the remnants of the bindings.

“Let us see if we can pick up a trail. We need to discover whether Yardley and Miss Cashémere follow Charters and Miss Satiné or whether they are all together.” Kerrington led the way from the cottage.

Swenton examined the tree. “It appears someone was tied here.” He pointed to the bent over grass. “Whoever it was took off in that direction.” He pointed to where the road turned sharply to the left.

Kerrington nodded his understanding. “Let us discover what is happening.”

*

Marcus growled out several expletives when he realized that Jamot had made his escape in some sort of wagon or carriage. He and Cashé had foolishly left their horses at Charters’ home. Now, he would have to decide whether to follow on foot, dropping further behind or to lose valuable time by returning to the Scot’s home to retrieve their horses. Either way, he had allowed Jamot the advantage. He thought of Cashé’s defiance. She would be in danger in the Baloch’s grasp. Marcus did not expect Jamot to readily accept Cashémere’s impetuous spirit. Turning doggedly to retrace his steps, Marcus resigned himself to the fact that he had failed Cashé. Then a sight that he had not thought to see again appeared.

“Might you be in need of a willing mount, Your Lordship?” Crowden mocked as he led Khan behind him.

Marcus smiled, although he said, “You are a pompous prat, Crowden.” Marcus took the reins that the marquis offered.

“What do we have?” Kerrington demanded as he turned his horse in a tight circle.

“Charters attempted to take a drugged Satiné against her will,” Marcus reluctantly shared. “Miss Cashé and I stopped the Scot, but before we could return the lady to safety, Jamot appeared. The Baloch has taken the women prisoners, along with Charters.”

Kerrington questioned, “Then it was you who was bound to the tree.”

Marcus smiled deviously. “Did you expect otherwise?” However, he noticed that none of his friends asked how he and Cashémere had come to be riding together. No explanation would be necessary. If he had chosen Cashé as his own, his friends would not interfere in what might occur with Lexford.”

Hill called from where he examined the wagon tracks. “Jamot has turned toward Leith.”

“How far behind the Baloch are we?” Kerrington asked as Hill remounted.

“Somewhere between three-quarters and an hour,” Marcus confirmed.

Kerrington growled, “We are wasting time.”

*

Satiné awoke to find her head cradled in her twin’s lap. “Cashé,” she said softly.

“I am here,” Cashé soothed. She moved strands of hair from Satiné’s face.

“Do not speak,” Jamot ordered.

Cashé flinched, but she laid her fingers on Satiné’s lips to secure her sister’s cooperation. Then she gingerly massaged her twin’s arms and hands, working the feeling into Satiné’s extremities. Throughout, they maintained eye contact, reestablishing their shared relationship. With her touch, Cashé spoke of regret and of an apology. Tears pooled in the corners of Satiné’s eyes.

Jamot pointed to an unusual structure. “Over there.”

“My God!” Cashé gasped, her eyes growing in size as Charters stopped the wagon outside a cone-shaped brick building.

“Out!” Jamot ordered, flashing the gun in Cashé’s direction.

Cashé eased her weight from the back of the wagon before turning to support her sister’s decent. Satiné stumbled, but she managed to right herself before accepting Cashé’s silent offer. Climbing down from the seat, Charters stayed several feet away from the sisters; his head remained lowered in complete defeat.

Satiné finally raised her eyes to the structure. “What is it?” she breathed the words in Cashé’s direction.

“A glass cone,” Cashé whispered.

“This way.” Jamot gestured to the arched opening.

Walking before Charters and the Baloch, Cashé considered making a run for safety, but she could not leave her sister behind; and Satiné was in no condition to sustain more than a short distance on her own. They entered the building unnoticed. Although not complete, the glass cone towered over other buildings in the area. Like a lonely lighthouse. But it was late in the day, and no workers could be found.

Cashé knew little of the glass industry, but she had seen other examples of the glass cone springing up in the area over the last decade. Normally, the circular based building held a large central furnace surrounded by a circular platform on which the workers stood. Fritting floors, constructed of yellow refractory bricks, covered the area. Spaced at regular intervals, single thick brick walls offered protection from the heat and the hot glass.

With a flick of his wrist, Jamot gestured the threesome toward another opening. Entering the tunnels, they began to climb steps and an incline, edging their way through what would eventually be a flue, one to carry the heat and the waste gas of the glass making process to the top of the structure and into the open air.

As they climbed, Cashé noted pieces of clothing and scraps of food strewn about the area. Evidently, the Baloch had used the structure as his hiding place over the past few days. “What do you plan to do with us?” she demanded.

“You will see, Miss Aldridge.”

They continued to climb. Satiné, in the front, obediently leading the way, with Cashé behind. Charters resolutely followed. Finally, they had gone as far as the construction would allow. “Now what?” Cashé faced Jamot. “Do you plan to leave us here?”

“Nothing so mundane.” Jamot smiled with satisfaction. “You will to go through there.”

“There is nothing through there,” Cashé protested. “It is an empty cavity.”

Jamot’s steely stare told tales of danger. “Open your eyes, Miss Aldridge. There is room for those not faint of heart.” He caught Satiné by the arm and shoved her toward the opening. “The men who built this structure have provided a space in case of a fire or some other disaster. It is quite unique. Every three meters they have created a small ledge. See. Instead of mortaring the bricks end to end, they have laid them side-by-side. Although you will not be free to move about, you will have a place to stand against the wall.”

“No!” Cashé charged. “I will not do it.”

Jamot placed the gun to Satiné’s head. “You have a chance to live, or you may die now. You must place confidence in Lord Yardley. Do you not trust your lover, Miss Aldridge?”

Cashé swallowed hard. “I will go first.”

“As you wish.” Approval showed on the Baloch’s face.

Cashé stuck her head through the opening to assess the situation. The supposed ledge could be no more than three to four inches wide. Below, some five and twenty meters straight down was the yellow-bricked floor. With her back to the hand-made red brick wall, Cashé edged out onto the jutting tips of the bricks. The curved nature of the structure created a pitched-forward stance. Catching her breath, she extended her hand to her sister. “Follow me, Satiné.”

Her twin’s face appeared at the jagged opening. “I cannot, Cashémere.”

“Satiné, Lord Yardley shall not let us die. Do as I do. You have only to stand against the wall and wait for His Lordship to come for us. We can do this together. I will protect you until Marcus arrives.” In the back of her mind, Cashé thanked her foresight in not redressing Satiné with the layers of chemises and under skirts. Her sister would need a flattened skirt line.

Telling her that she possessed no choice, Jamot shoved the gun into Satiné’s side.

Slowly, Satiné followed Cashé onto the narrow ledge. “I am frightened,” she said as Cashé reached for her.

“Do not look down,” Cashé warned. “Where I should have been all along, I will be beside you.” Making room for her sister, she caught Satiné’s hand and stepped gingerly to the right.

Finally, Charters’ bulky form appeared in the opening. He carefully worked his body through the breach, but his body mass worked against him in such a small space. The ledge could not support Charters with any security–his large boots finding no hold on the narrow strip. Scooting along the thin ledge, the Scot moved to the left.

“Do not look at him,” Cashé hissed. “Look at me or look up at the beautiful sky. No matter what. You are not to look down.”

Satiné gave a brief nod, staring intently at her sister.

Jamot amusedly peered at his captives. “I will leave you to your own devices,” he boasted. “By the way, you will hear a small blast. But do not fear. I am simply providing His Lordship with a bit more of a challenge. Do not panic when you hear it.” Then the Baloch laughed, his voice ricocheting off the walls.

In less than a minute, the walls shook. Powder and dust rained down on them, and Satiné shrieked; but Cashé demanded that her sister stand still. She squeezed Satiné’s hand. “Look at me!” she emphatically ordered over the noise. “No matter what, you are to look only at me.”

*

Marcus rode at the front with Kerrington. His anxiety grew with each thud of Khan’s hooves on the hardened ground. He could lose Cashé in a heartbeat, and the thought shook him to his core. Maggie had died because he was too late and too weak to save her. Would God bring Cashémere to a similar fate?

“Spread out,” Kerrington ordered as a flat bed wagon appeared beside a circular structure some two hundred meters ahead.

Automatically, the men separated, planning to surround the building, but before they could secure the area, an explosion rocked the ground. As they scrambled to react, Jamot escaped from the arched opening and ran for the wooded hillside backing toward the brick cone.

“Crowden, with me,” Kerrington ordered before he and the marquis gave chase.

*

Cashé felt the walls sway as the explosion settled. Thick dust and powered mortar belched through the small opening as it collapsed. A dust cloud hung briefly in the air before the particles rained down on the fritting floor below. Seeking a better grip, Cashé had dug her nails into the sandy mortar. And although her stomach did a complete somersault, she held her sister’s hand tightly to the wall, refusing to allow Satiné to teeter on the ledge. “Look at me!” she repeated to her sister’s distraction. Cashé willed Satiné not to perish. “I love you. I will protect you,” she said with confidence.