Taken by the Duke (5 page)

“Of course,” the innkeeper replied, all bowing deference as he waved at a servant to take the duke’s empty dish away. “I will take you to him at once. He is a fine animal, and I’m sure he will suit your needs.”

Rothcastle shot Ava a side-glance as he got to his feet. “We depart in fifteen minutes. Be ready.”

He did not wait for her reply, but grasped his cane and limped out the door without looking back. When he had left the room, it seemed to have air again. Ava allowed herself a very long breath of it. Of course that action filled her lungs with the scent of the man who had just departed. The scent from his coat, still draped loosely around her shoulders. He smelled of clean pine and masculinity.

Very distracting.

Ava sipped her steaming tea before she glanced at the innkeeper’s wife, who was standing at the entryway between the kitchen and dining area, shifting her weight with great discomfort.

“Is there anything I can get for you, miss?” the woman asked. “Anything you might need before you go?”

Ava shrugged, and the weight of Rothcastle’s coat bore down on her shoulders. “Another wrap, I suppose. Since the duke seems bent on riding outside the carriage the rest of the way to wherever he is taking me, I assume he’ll require the return of his coat.”

The woman nodded with the same overly meek deference her husband had shown to Rothcastle. “I will give you something from my own closet, though I doubt it will be as fine as what you are accustomed to.”

Ava waved a hand. “If it is warm, I do not care if it is woven from straw, I assure you. Though I cannot promise its return. I will ask the duke, but as you can see, he has little regard for me.”

Once again the innkeeper’s wife shifted, twisting her apron in her fist. She did not speak, but Ava guessed it was because she wasn’t certain how to respond in the face of a kidnapping victim.

“You know I am not with him of my own volition, I suppose?” Ava asked, hoping her tone was calm and rational. “Don’t answer. I can see from your discomfort that you at least suspect I am here against my will. My true question is if you are willing to assist me.”

The other woman swallowed, and the depth of her struggle was clear on her lined face. “The Duke of Rothcastle owns this land, miss. I—I could not put our livelihood at risk by defying him. He is unforgiving when crossed.”

Ava laughed, though the sound was very hollow. “I, of all people, know
that
to be a fact. His unforgiving nature has been a part of my family for decades.”

The woman tilted her head in confusion, and Ava waved off her own statement.

“Never mind, it is a long story. The duke said you would not help me, but I would have been a fool not to ask, regardless.” She shifted, still looking for a way around this woman’s fear. “What if I were to leave a note behind, addressed to a friend? If you found it, could you assume it was left behind by some
other
guest and post it on my behalf?”

The woman shook her head slowly. “I—I—”

Ava’s heart sank. “Yes, I see.”

“I am sorry,” she whispered. “I do not approve, but a woman in my position, a man in his…”

Ava nodded. She felt no animosity toward her companion.

“You are correct, of course. But perhaps if someone asks about me, asks about Ava or Windbury…perhaps you might point them in the direction we take when we leave? Only if it will not bring you trouble.”

The innkeeper’s wife seemed to ponder that a moment. “I suppose if the question were to be asked and my husband was not aware of the conversation, I could say that I saw you, what day you were here and in which direction the duke took you. But only if it were never revealed that I was the source of such information.”

Ava drew in a breath. Well, that was a small chance, but a chance nonetheless. She assumed her brother would send searchers out for her once it was evident she had gone missing.

If he noticed she wasn’t there at all. Or cared.

But she couldn’t think of that now.

“That is as much as can be expected given the circumstances,” Ava said. “Thank you.”

“Let me fetch that wrap for you,” the other woman said and disappeared from the room.

Ava stared at the table before her. There were a few breakfast rolls remaining and she took a napkin and wrapped two up in it. She had no reticule and no pockets in her ballgown, but she shoved it into the jacket pocket instead. Before she returned it to Rothcastle, she would just have to do her best to transfer the food. Just in case he didn’t intend to feed her again for a while.

“Amazing that one with so handsome a countenance could be so utterly disagreeable,” she muttered as she finished her tea. “It seems a waste, really.”

Christian stood beside the carriage door and watched as Ava stepped from the inn. She stood in the sun for a moment, looking up at the sky as if she were savoring her last moment of freedom. Then she shocked him by turning toward the innkeeper’s wife and giving the woman a brief embrace. They spoke in hushed tones before Ava straightened her shoulders and strode toward him with more confidence than a hundred other women in her position would have done.

Of course, she might have tried to plead for the assistance of the innkeeper’s wife, but it would be for naught. The two might own the building, but Christian owned the land, and they believed there was a great deal at stake if they betrayed him. He had no doubt they wouldn’t, though the idea of his tenants living in fear of him did not sit well in his belly.

But there were sacrifices to be made in obtaining revenge. This was just one of them.

Ava reached his side in a few long steps, and there she stopped. “I obtained another wrap from the woman who runs the inn, so I will return your coat now,” she explained as she held up a piece of cheap, woolen cloth bundled into a ball. It was utterly simple, but would be warm if the carriage became drafty again.

She removed his jacket and handed it over to him. Immediately he smelled her on the fabric, a sweet combination of vanilla and lemon that hit him in the gut like a punch and made those unwanted stirrings in his loins rekindle.

He ignored the desires and kept his gaze on her.

She stared into the dim carriage. “And you will ride outside the vehicle?” she asked, casting him a quick side-glance.

He nodded. “For a while, at least. I would think you would welcome escape from your captor.”

She arched a brow. “I would, if this were truly an escape from this madness you insist upon. But it isn’t, as we both are well aware.”

He held out a hand to help her into the carriage and with a sigh, she accepted his assistance. At some point she had removed her long, white gloves and now her bare hand touched his. He jolted again at the contact of skin on skin, even in this benign circumstance.

She settled back against the carriage seat, watching him the entire time. Her focused regard made him uneasy, so he left the door open and walked to his horse. He reached into the saddlebag and withdrew a few items, then returned to her.

“Here,” he said, holding them out into the vehicle under her nose.

Her brow wrinkled as she took them. “A newspaper and two books?” she asked, staring at him as if she didn’t understand what was happening.

“To help you pass the time,” he explained.

She swallowed, and her stare changed a little from one of wariness to one of confused gratitude. “That is an unexpected kindness,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

He slammed the carriage door without responding and walked back to his horse. He shook his head as he swung up onto the mount with great difficulty. He hadn’t ridden a horse since the accident, and his hip screamed with discomfort with every movement. He gritted his teeth and motioned the carriage to move.

Something in his pocket nudged against him, and he reached into the fold of fabric. What he withdrew surprised him. It was one of the rolls that had been on the breakfast table at the inn. And there were even more crumbs in his pocket that made him wonder if there had been more of them hidden inside at some point.

He glanced back at the carriage. She stole food? Why would she do that unless…

Unless she didn’t believe he wasn’t planning to kill her. Apparently by starvation, in her mind.

Unwanted guilt shot through him once again. He pushed it back, shoved it down, doing his best to control it just as he was doing his best to control the powerful pain that shook his body as he rode. Soon they would be at his estate, and then Ava would understand. She would see what his plan was.

And it had nothing to do with murder, starvation or pain.

It was nearly dark outside when the carriage drove through the gates of an estate. Ava pressed against the window, trying to see, but the night was already too thick to know exactly where she was. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t as if she could go running into the night to escape. She wasn’t about to walk back to London, and she doubted she would find sympathetic assistance from anyone who lived near a place Rothcastle owned, not if the inn owners from earlier in the day were any indication.

After a moment, the carriage stopped and the door opened. She expected Rothcastle to be there to assist her, control her as he had been all day, but instead a footman greeted her. She stepped down and was surprised to see two other servants gently removing Rothcastle from his horse. His face was a twisted mask of agony, and he leaned heavily on one of the men as he breathed deeply.

For a moment her fear, her anger, her hopes for escape all faded to be replaced by far different emotions. She felt empathy and pity, heartbreak and longing for what must have been a mere six months ago for this man. The destruction this feud had brought to everyone it touched was sickening to her.

She turned her face just as he looked at her and did not allow him to see her reaction. She doubted he would appreciate it, not from her.

“Come,” he ordered, motioning toward the door as he shrugged off the assistance of his men. “We’ll go inside.”

The door opened as he said it and light streamed out from inside. She followed the light, not waiting for her captor as he limped behind her, speaking softly to his servants. She thought she heard the words
bath
and
poultice
, but she couldn’t be sure.

She entered the house to find a tall, stern butler waiting here. He gave her an awkward nod that told her he was as uncomfortable with this arrangement as anyone could be.

“My lady,” he intoned as he took the scratchy woolen wrap from her shoulders. He then turned his attention to his master. “Your Grace, is there anything I can do?”

Rothcastle shot his gaze toward her. “No. I’m fine. Lady Ava and I will go to the west parlor straight away, but are the other rooms ready, Sanders?”

“Yes, Your Grace. And I’ve taken the liberty of having Laura stand by as Lady Ava’s personal maid during her…visit.”

Rothcastle blinked. “Matilda’s maid?”

Sanders swallowed hard. “Yes, Your Grace. She is the one best trained for such a thing and has little else to do. I did not think we could leave our…
guest
without help.”

Rothcastle shot Ava a look, almost as if she was stealing from his sister, but then he nodded. “Fine. Tell the girl to ready the room. Lady Ava will be up within a half hour, I would think.”

He motioned her toward the parlor as the butler walked away to do his duties.

“It’s the third doorway,” he explained as she moved forward into the room he had indicated. It was a pretty little parlor that greeted her, bright and cheery with lovely wall hangings and a dancing fire. A happy room that was totally incongruous to a kidnapping.

He shut the door behind himself and she turned to look at him, arms folded in what she hoped would be some kind of armor against her fear and her confusion. She didn’t like to think he could see those emotions any more than he already had.

“I have been very patient, I think, Your Grace,” she began, measuring her tone very carefully, “despite being stolen in the night, dragged across the country and then hauled here as a hostage. You have promised me answers and now I must demand them before another moment goes by.”

For a moment he did not speak but only looked at her in surprised silence. Then his face went neutral, emotionless, and he folded his arms.

“Your brother owes me a debt,” he said in a tone so cold that she longed for the ugly wrap the butler had taken from her a few moments ago.

She pondered what the duke had said. Of course he meant for the loss of his sister, Matilda. Her brother’s actions had precipitated the chase, and though she gave Rothcastle some share in the blame for the accident, she knew he would take none of his own. Not in the midst of the remaining grief and pain that blinded him.

“I suppose you are correct,” she finally responded. “My brother has done you a wrong and there must be recompense.”

Rothcastle drew back and she saw genuine surprise in his eyes. Apparently he had not expected her to agree with his assessment. Good, at least she was shocking him on a regular basis. That might help her in the end.

“So if I am here as his emissary,” she continued, since the man seemed to have no response to her agreement, “then
we
should negotiate.”