| |
When the door to her windowless cell finally opened, Heather had no idea how long she’d been imprisoned down there. At first, she’d been completely in the dark, but she’d fumbled around until she found some matches and managed to light a lantern, which had helped keep the terror somewhat at bay.
For the first few hours after Jacob had locked her in, she’d desperately looked for some way out, but they’d planned well. The only way out was through the impenetrable oak-planked door.
Thinking perhaps she could trick or bargain with whoever had opened it, she sprang to her feet, only to stumble back as three men entered. Oscar and Frank shoved a larger, third man, who had a black bag over his head, into the room, then slammed the door shut once more. She winced as she heard the lock engage on the other side.
The man stumbled a few steps, obviously disorientated and off balance. He couldn’t see, and they’d tied his arms behind him. Though she’d only met him one time, his height and breadth assured her that this was indeed Mandrake Blackstone.
Dear God. They actually went through with it.
Given Jacob’s unstable nature, she wasn’t certain why she was so surprised, but for some reason she was. Her heart sank as she realized that there was no going back from this. Taking Blackstone had been beyond stupid. She very much feared it had been suicidal.
Staring at Blackstone warily, she contemplated her next move. Why hadn’t they taken off his bonds before leaving him in here? It wasn’t as though he could escape.
Jacob probably wanted her to be the one to free him, as a way to build trust.
Biting her lip in dismay, hating that she knew Jacob so well, she inched closer, and the man’s head suddenly whipped in her direction.
Heart pounding, she closed the rest of the distance between them and stood on her tiptoes in an attempt to pull the bag from his head. He towered over her by nearly a foot, so it was easier said than done. He also seemed poised to strike, shying away from her when she lifted her hands.
Of course. He didn’t know she was trying to help him. For all he knew, they’d brought him here to kill him.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said softly, feeling as though she was attempting to soothe a wild beast. “I’m going to take the hood off, if that’s all right. But you’re much taller than me, so I need you to bend your head.”
He froze, turning his head toward the sound of her voice, his big body riddled with tension.
“I’m not one of them,” she lied, hating herself for doing so but feeling that she didn’t have any other option. “I’m a prisoner here as well.”
Slowly, he lowered his head.
Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the edges of the hood, slowly working it up, her fingers inadvertently tangling in his silky black hair. He smelled incredible, like leather and sandalwood. Everything about him screamed wealth and good breeding, all the things the men upstairs hated so passionately.
When the hood came off, she saw that he was gagged as well, and she hastened to untie the piece of cloth that kept the rag in place, her fingertips fumbling with the knot, which had tightened during his ordeal and proved difficult to unfasten. At last, it sprung free, and he broke into a coughing fit, his big body doubling over as he fought to get air.
She rushed to the pitcher of water on the table, poured him a glass with shaking hands, then hurried back, pressing it to his lips. “Here,” she murmured. “Drink this.”
He hesitated for a moment, then drank deeply, his strong throat moving as he drained the glass. She found her gaze riveted, swallowing herself as she realized how intimate this was. The thought of what Jacob wanted her to do with this man made her shiver convulsively.
He finally looked at her, his dark eyes narrowing. “I know you. You’re Quinn O’Brien’s servant. What are you doing here? And where’s here?”
She forced down a surge of annoyance, even though his words were technically true. How terrible to be thought of as someone’s possession. She’d remembered his name, but he obviously hadn’t remembered hers. His attitude made her remember why she’d joined the Citizens Committee to begin with. She’d been so tired of being treated like she was nothing, like the circumstances of her birth must define her for the rest of her life.
“I’m Allison O’Brien’s lady’s maid,” she replied carefully, knowing she had to tread very carefully. During the time she’d spent down here by herself, she’d thought long and hard about the story she should tell. She had to do this right, or he’d immediately figure out that she wasn’t telling the truth. “I don’t know where we are or why we’re here. They took me off the street in front of the O’Briens’ house this morning.”
He cursed under his breath, turning to survey their surroundings. “Were you able to discern anything about where they took us? Did you see anything? Hear anything?”
She shook her head. “They put a hood over my head as well.”
His dark eyes raked her from head to toe. “Why would they take a mere lady’s maid along with someone like me?”
Did he even realize how condescending he was being? She honestly didn’t think he did, but he had a point, and the answer came to her in a rush she wasn’t at all proud of. “Perhaps they thought I was Lady Allison.”
“You look nothing like her,” he said dismissively.
“I’m a woman who came out the front door of the O’Briens’ house,” she snapped. “The men they sent for me didn’t seem the brightest.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” He turned his back to her. “Do you think you could undo my hands as well?”
She nodded even though he was facing away from her, hoping he didn’t see through her lies. It didn’t seem as though it would bother him one bit to hurt her if he sensed her deception. She was a mere lady’s maid, after all. No one who mattered.
After she released him, he rubbed each wrist in turn, and she could see that the rope had left deep grooves in his skin and probably cut off his circulation painfully. His cheek was bruised, and one of his lips was bloody. They’d hurt him when they’d taken him. He must have put up a fight. She hated that she’d had anything to do with this fiasco, and she couldn’t see a single way that this wasn’t going to end badly for her.
And for him, for that matter.
Jacob would never let them out of this cellar alive. She’d known that the minute he’d thrown her down here. The mere thought of what their futures held made her shiver convulsively once again, and she wrapped her arms tightly around her.
“Are you cold?” The sudden concern in his voice surprised her.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered, perhaps the first honest thing she’d said. “I don’t know what they’re going to do to us.”
He frowned and walked over to the nearest cot, grabbing a scratchy wool blanket and returning to wrap it around her shoulders. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name.”
The gesture was so unexpectedly kind that she found herself blinking back tears, ashamed to the depths of her soul that such a small act of service could affect her so deeply. “Heather. Heather Fields.”
“Hello, Miss Fields. I’m Drake.”
His lack of formality startled her. A gentleman would never introduce himself to a lady that way, but she supposed that he didn’t see her as a lady. Besides, these were hardly normal circumstances.
“Hello, Drake,” she replied, liking the nickname far more than his proper name.
He laughed roughly. “Well, now that the introductions are over, let’s figure out how to get out of this place, shall we?”
She sighed and shook her head. “I was here for a few hours before you, and I’m afraid there’s no way out except through that door, which seems to be locked securely.”
“I hope you don’t mind if I have a look around myself,” he said tightly.
“Of course not,” she murmured, watching as he prowled the perimeter of the room, poking and prodding at things for a good while.
Then suddenly, he lunged against the door, beating on it and kicking at it with all his might. “Let us out!” he screamed. “Come and face me like a man, you son of a bitches!”
She cringed, his sudden violence terrifying her. But as he continued to beat at the door and yell, her heartbeat settled, and she realized he’d had to try.
However, no matter how much he pounded and screamed, there was no response from the other side of the door and even he, the giant of a man that he was, didn’t have the strength to break through it.
At last, he subsided, pressing his forehead to the door for a few minutes as though trying to compose himself before returning to her side with a huff. “I wish I knew who’d taken us and why,” he muttered, his voice hoarse from shouting, as he sat on the cot beside her. “I don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”
She just shrugged. Heather Fields, the lady’s maid, would know nothing about the people who’d taken them. How she wished she could go back, make different choices, and still be innocent of this whole mess. She’d been so angry with the hand fate had dealt her, so determined to change not just her own life but others as well. Now, she saw that being her best friend’s lady’s maid had not been so bad. At least then she hadn’t had blood on her hands.
“It doesn’t appear that they intend to starve us,” she said after a long while, shaking herself out of her dark thoughts and waving at the table where a pitcher of water and some bread and cheese had been placed. “Would you like to eat something?”
He shook his head, seeming lost in thought, his dark eyes fixed on the wall. She imagined he was probably trying to figure a way out of the mess he’d found himself in, and she sincerely hoped he succeeded. She couldn’t very well seduce or cajole information out of him if he wasn’t here.
Cold dread ran through her, however, as she realized Jacob would have no further use for her once Drake was gone. Her usefulness to him had obviously run its course. Jacob had said the others wanted him to get rid of her, and she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that anything she did in this cellar would change their minds about her.
Biting her lip in worry, she poured herself a glass of water and sipped it, wishing she had any idea of how she could escape this nightmare. She darted a quick glance at her companion, wondering if her only way out might be to throw in with him. Could he protect her, or was he even more dangerous than Jacob?
After a long period of staring at the wall, he began to poke around in the drawers of a small desk and nightstand, under the cots, and in the blankets and pillows, bringing everything he found back to the table. It wasn’t much, just some candles, matches, a few books, and other odds and ends. Still, she admired his resourcefulness.
“At least they didn’t leave us in the dark,” he muttered, the first thing he’d said in quite some time.
“Thank goodness,” she said with a shudder, though she really didn’t think he’d been talking to her. “I’ve never been comfortable in complete darkness.” The thought of those first few moments, when darkness had surrounded her, haunted her. Jacob knew she was afraid of the dark. He’d obviously want to terrify her. Luckily, she’d been down here before and had remembered where they kept the matches.
He sighed and came to sit beside her again, a little closer than she thought necessary. “I’m sorry,” he said abruptly. “This must be even more disconcerting for you than it is for me. And if you really were taken by mistake...”
His sudden kindness and concern left her reeling. She didn’t think that he spent much time comforting women, as he really wasn’t that good at it, but she appreciated the effort. Especially since she didn’t deserve it.
“Yes,” she replied numbly. “It’s quite... disconcerting.” That was putting it mildly.
He turned so that their knees were touching and took her hands earnestly in his. “I’ll get you out of here safely. You needn’t worry.”
His big hands were warm and surprisingly calloused. She hadn’t thought he was the sort of man who’d ever done a day’s hard labor in his life but perhaps she’d misjudged him. His dark eyes stared intently into hers, and she found herself believing him. If there was a way out of this mess, a man like Drake Blackstone could probably find it.
She just didn’t think there was any way out.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “You’re very kind.”
He scoffed and withdrew his hands, surging to his feet and once again starting to pace the length of the room in agitation. “I’m not certain anyone has ever said that to me before.”
She blinked. “Never?”
He shook his head. “I think I frighten people more than I soothe them. But I don’t want to frighten you. I know you’re terrified enough as it is.”
She could only nod because he wasn’t wrong. She didn’t think she’d ever been this frightened in her life. Trying to take both their minds off what might be happening outside the cellar door, she cast around for some neutral topic of conversation. “Are you and Quinn... err... Inspector O’Brien... friends?”
Pausing his obsessive pacing, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I was his superior, so I don’t think I’d consider us friends. But I do like and respect him.”
“Allison will realize I’m gone,” she said confidently. “She’ll send him out looking for me.” She doubted Quinn would make much headway though. She’d taken special care not to let either Allison or her husband know of her involvement with the Citizens Committee.
“You call your employers by their first names?” he asked, frowning in disapproval.
Irritation rose within her, and she did her best to tamp it down, knowing that he’d been trained all his life to believe that those who worked for him were barely worth his notice. “We’ve known each other since we were children. Whether it is socially acceptable or not, Allison treats me like a sister.”
A sister who works for her, a nasty little voice whispered in her mind. A bastard sister who will never be her equal.
He gazed at her for a long moment, then nodded his head jerkily and resumed pacing. “I did not mean to offend. The relationship between you and Lady Allison is none of my business.”
Drake Blackstone would obviously never let one of his servants call him by his first name. But to be fair, Allison wasn’t the typical spoiled daughter of the ton. One of her older half-brothers, the Earl of Winters, had been a true villain, a purveyor of all kinds of vice, and when Allison had inherited the bulk of his unentailed property and fortune, she’d been determined to find a way to help people as a penance for all those he’d hurt.
Heather stared down at her lap, deciding that there really wasn’t anything she could say to that. Allison had always treated her with respect and even love, but she knew that wasn’t the way most of the aristocracy treated those of her class. This man would never be having a conversation with her at all if not for their unusual circumstances.
Somehow, she had to find a way to dance the dangerous line between what Jacob wanted from her and Drake Blackstone’s undeniable charisma. If she could accomplish this minor miracle then maybe, just maybe, she could make it out of here alive.