Rebecca (48 page)

She shook her head. Calling to her daughter, she said, “Eliza, this ball is your responsibility. If you are to be married, you must learn how to handle crises. See to our guests.”

“Mother, what—”

“Do as you are told, child!” she admonished sternly. “Nicholas, see if you can be in my rooms as soon as possible.”

He nodded. “I will calm the staff, then I will be up to see you.” Raising his voice, he called to the frozen conductor of the orchestra, “Play! My friends, please continue your festivities. I will be busy, so I bid you
adieu
.” As quickly as the bandit had, the lord of Foxbridge Cloister pulled open a door and left the ballroom.

Without a word, he grasped Rebecca's hand. She had heard every word spoken and knew the danger they faced. It would not take the highwayman and his men long to discover their prize captive had found a way to escape her captivity.

She hurried with him up the back stairs to the suite she had left such a short time before. Only when he had closed the door did he pull her into his arms and kiss her once more. Even his fears for Clarisse could not diminish his happiness at having his beloved wife in his embrace. The torment of imagining her in the hands of her erstwhile captor slowly were ebbing.

“My love,” he whispered against the side of her soft face, “he gave me this.”

She took the panel from her gown. “He wanted to hurt you more than he hurt me, Nicholas. He did not rape me.” She shivered as she recalled how she had feared he would do as he threatened each time he came to the cave. “What he did to me was nothing in comparison to what he will do to Clarisse when he discovers we have tricked him.”

The doorknob turned noisily. Nicholas shoved her behind a chair, where she crouched in fear. Both of them sighed with relief as Lady Margaret walked into the room. She laughed shakily. “You two would do well to hide for a long time. What are you going to do, Nicholas? This is a turn of events you did not imagine.”

“I'm going to get Clarisse away from them.” He shrugged. “There's nothing else I can do. It's my fault she is in this trouble. I must help her.”

Rebecca added quietly, “I will take you to where she is.”

He grasped her shoulders and shook her gently. “You foolish woman! Do you think I will let you get involved in this dirty business again? Give me the directions to their hiding place, and I will go for her.”

Angrily, she pushed his hands away. “I can't tell you. I can find the place, but I could never give you directions. She will be in a tidewater cave along the shore. I do not know the beach well enough to give you landmarks, but I can take you there. Do you think I want to go back? When I left there, nearly killing myself in the tidal waters, I did not expect that I would ever have to go back again.”

Nicholas did not bother to argue. Rebecca had no desire to confront her enemy again. It was not her way to put her craving for retribution above everything else. If she said this was the only way she could get him to the highwayman's hiding place, it was the only way.

“Mother,” he said, “can you get Rebecca's riding habit from our rooms without anyone seeing you? It is the darkest thing she owns. Also my black coat and breeches.”

“I will need my boots, too!” she added, quickly. “The way isn't easy. Slippers would be treacherous on the wet rocks.”

Although what they were attempting was insane, Lady Margaret knew there was no use in trying to talk them out of going. Only the release of Clarisse would satisfy her son and his wife. They would risk their lives for the woman who had hurt them.

Even as Lady Margaret hurried to the rooms down the hall, Rebecca was stripping off the servant's uniform. She reached to untie her petticoats, but felt other fingers on the ribbons. With a laugh, she leaned back against the form she would never be able to take for granted. “This is where this whole adventure started. I remember your less-than-helpful assistance with my petticoat ribbons last time we were together.”

In a regretful voice, he whispered in her ear, “I wish we could continue with the same as we did then. Rebecca, I have been nearly wild with the longing to have you safe and warm with me.”

Her petticoats fluttered to the ground like giant snow-flakes. She did not notice as she closed her eyes and felt the welcome touch of Nicholas' hands stroking her barely clothed body. His mouth teased the skin of her neck as his fingers tantalized the tender warmth of her breasts through the thin silk of her chemise.

“I love you, Nicholas,” she breathed with a sigh of uncontainable delight.

Bringing her to face him, he whispered, “I love you, too, my dearest Rebecca.” His hand slipped beneath the back of her camisole to caress her bare skin as his mouth reacquainted itself with the sweet flavor of her rose-tinted lips. He felt her soft moan of rapture as his fingers swept along her slender curves.

So enrapt were they in their reunion that they did not hear the door reopen. Only the sound of a woman clearing her throat separated them.

“You two had better forget that if you are going to rescue Clarisse,” said Lady Margaret with a touch of her normal acerbity. “Here are the things you wanted. Most of the guests have left. This is one ball at Foxbridge Cloister that won't be forgotten for years to come.”

Nicholas laughed tightly as he stripped off his costume. “'Tis seldom that masks hide villains at a masked ball. I doubt if this will be emulated by other hosts.”

Within minutes, they were ready to go. Promising to be careful, they went down the back stairs. Lady Margaret had agreed not to send for other help unless they were not back in three hours. As they carefully ran hand in hand to the stable, they did not notice a dark form watching them from the shadows. Nicholas rushed to saddle his horse and mounted. Taking Rebecca's hands, he pulled her to sit behind him.

“All set, sweetheart?” he whispered.

“As set as I can be.”

“Just lead me to them, then stay out of the way. Here.” He reached behind him and handed her a gun. “Hide it away. I don't want you to have to use it, but you may need it.”

Mutely, she put it in the waistband of her skirt. Its hardness cut into her side, but she tried to ignore it, for it reminded her that, if she used it, it would mean that Nicholas could no longer defend her. If it came to that, he would be dead.

“Let's go and get this over with,” she urged, quietly.

They rode into the night. As Rebecca clung to her husband, she did not think to look back to see if they were being pursued. She knew where their enemies would be and did not worry about anyone else. All her thoughts centered on rescuing the woman she detested and fleeing the cave at the end of the tunnel one more time.

Chapter Twenty-Five

When Rebecca directed him to the cave, Nicholas was startled to see how close to Foxbridge Cloister her captors had kept her. They were not a mile from the edges of the formal gardens, which were fading into autumnal brown, when she told him to stop. The cave was somewhere below their feet. When she had been imprisoned there, she saw enough from the doorway of the cavern to know approximately where she was.

Leaving the horse at the top of the cliff, they skulked to the path to the beach. Rebecca whispered to Nicholas to be cautious. He nodded with a tight smile. He was familiar with this stretch of shoreline from his youth. Carefully, they slid down the rock-strewn area. In the moonlight, they could see that little of the sand remained before the onslaught of the encroaching tide. Nicholas realized that it had not been sadism which had delayed the highwayman from appearing at Foxbridge Cloister so late. Rebecca's abductor had had to wait for low tide so he could incarcerate his new prize.

Nicholas shoved aside his reflections as he followed Rebecca along the strand to where a narrow cut in the cliff marked the entrance to the cave. The water was rising already along the floor of the adit. They would have to rescue Clarisse quickly, or they would all be imprisoned with their enemies in the cave. He gripped her hand as they waded through the pulsating water, which drenched their clothes with salt spray. They could not be silent as the water splashed around their path, but the waves crashing outside were louder. What worried him was that they had met no signs of resistance. If Clarisse had not been brought to the cave as the man had said, they would be caught again at the brigand's mercy as they negotiated for her life.

Stepping out of the water, Rebecca watched as Nicholas drew his pistol from under his coat. She reached for hers, but he shook his head and frowned. He did not want her to show it or use it unless it was their last chance. With a nod, he signaled her to lead the way. She recalled his order that, at the first sign of trouble, she was to flatten herself against a wall. She walked slowly, for there was little light.

In front of them, a dull glow appeared. As it became brighter, they could make out two forms on the far side of the crevice. Rebecca froze as the sound of a woman's scream and the laugh she had grown to hate rolled along the tunnel.

Nicholas took her arm and halted her. Mutely, he pointed to the wall. She should wait, sheltered by the uneven surface. He took two steps farther so he was visible in the candlelight. With a shout, he called, “Let her go, dog, or you are dead!”

Clarisse shrieked, “Nicholas! Help me!”

The masked man spun to see his enemy on the opposite side of the bridge. Shock was evident in his voice. “Lord Foxbridge! How did you find me?”

A feminine laugh filled the cave as Rebecca peered from her hiding place. “He had an excellent guide! You were stupid as usual to tell everyone you were bringing Clarisse back here, Curtis!”

At the same time, Clarisse and Nicholas gasped, “Curtis?” Neither had guessed that Eliza's betrothed was the highwayman. Although Nicholas had known it must be someone in one of the houses, he had not suspected the man who professed to love his sister.

Langston ripped off his mask and tossed it into the crevice. His smile broadened as he regarded his enemy. “You are very bright, Rebecca. I didn't think you would be smart enough to figure a way out of my little cage or that you would guess my identity.”

“You're the stupid one!” she taunted. “When you pretend you are an impoverished highwayman, you shouldn't forget to wear your gloves all the time. Did you think I would forget your signet ring which scratched me the day we had our picnic?” She touched her cheek. “It cut into me the same way when you could not control your own rapacious nature.”

Again he said, admiringly, “I'm afraid I underestimated the Yankee intellect. It seems that you are as wily as you are reputed to be.”

The other man stated coldly, “Compliments to Rebecca won't help you now, Langston! Send Clarisse here, or you are dead. Don't doubt my marksmanship.”

“I do not, my lord. I'm sure it is as sharp as Lady Foxbridge's mind.” He grinned with boyish delight. “However, I don't think I will be doing as you ask, Nicholas. I suggest you drop your gun carefully, or—” A scream obliterated his voice.

Nicholas whirled as he cried, “Rebecca!” In the dim light, he saw the bared weapons in the hands of the four men standing between him and the entrance of the cave. His eyes riveted on the gun placed against his wife's head. He turned to glare at Langston and the woman whose arm he still held.

Clarisse screamed, “Shoot him, Nicholas! Help me! Let them have Rebecca if they want her! You said you never loved her. Let them have her.”

Langston laughed. “You're wrong, Miss Beckwith. Both of us were fooled by Lord Foxbridge's renewed ardor for you. He loves Lady Foxbridge, don't you, my lord? Enough so you would do anything to save her, even if it meant sacrificing this well-born harlot who lusts for your title as much as for you.”

“Langston, if—”

“Shut up!” he growled, infuriated that Wythe would question his superiority at this juncture. “You listen to me for once.”

Nicholas nodded reluctantly. He could not risk Langston's rage simply because he did not want to listen to the fake highwayman's gloating. When he saw Clarisse's gasp of horror, he knew she had expected him to resist the order.

The smile returned to Curtis' face as he continued, “I didn't believe Rebecca when she told me that the story of her tricking you into marriage was true, but I was unsure if your affection for Clarisse was faked or not. If I had known how easy it would be to bring you here on her trail, I would have done this days ago.” In a more threatening tone, he added, “I have asked you once, Nicholas, to drop your gun into the crevice. If you force me to ask you again, it will be Lady Foxbridge who pays the price of my impatience.”

“No, Nicholas!” cried Rebecca. “Don't do what he says! Kill him! They are going to kill us anyhow! Don't let him escape!”

Nicholas did not glance at her or hesitate as he tossed his gun into the wide hole separating him from Curtis. The sound of its crashing journey to the bottom was loud in the silence. Quietly, he said, “It's me that you want, Langston. Let the ladies go.”

“That might have been possible before, but I'm afraid it would be very foolish of me to free these two ladies who know my identity. There are a few things that must be settled between Lady Foxbridge and me before she dies.” Curtis leered at her. “A little unfinished business, right, Rebecca? You haven't forgotten what I told you I had planned for you, have you? I must alter the plans slightly, but I don't think you shall enjoy it.” He smiled maliciously.

“No!” she screamed. She fought her captor until the click of a trigger sounded loudly in the cave.

Instantly Nicholas shouted, “Stop, Rebecca! Don't force them to kill you!”

“Listen to your husband, my lady,” jeered Curtis. “For once, he is speaking common sense. Now, my lord, I have a request for you.” When Langston ordered him to cross the bridge, Nicholas did so with easy grace.