Chapter Four

Zach stepped back as though he’d taken a direct hit from a twelve-pound cannonball. Momentarily, he lost his tongue. Had he been in the thick of a melee when boarding a prize, such a careless pause could have cost him his life.

It was the second time this woman had caught him off guard. He’d seen a mixture of fear and daring in her eyes three nights ago. Now, he read nothing.

He recalled the image of her lying at the base of the terrace steps. When Gareth had scooped her up in his arms and held her close. So, she was engaged to his nemesis.

Envy needled Zach.

‘We meet again, my lady. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?’

‘My name is of no use to you. Our money and valuables are. You have them. Now go.’

His hackles rose at her brusque dismissal. He stepped forwards. She stood unmoving, as stoic as stone. ‘You’re in no position to trifle with me.’

She flinched and raised her hands as if to push him away. ‘Indeed. Our unfortunate first meeting made sure of that!’

He caught her wrists. Her wide-eyed stare sat at odds with her fearless reply. Was it beneath her to extend him the courtesy of looking him in the eye?

‘Unfortunate? I thought our meeting ended quite well. Mutually satisfied is how I’d describe it.’

A blush stole over her cheeks. ‘I’m talking about my … disability.’

His sharp gaze took in her able body. He didn’t take her meaning.

‘Well? Are you as deaf, as I am blind?’

He appraised her. ‘You lie.’

‘I’m not in the habit of lying.’

Zach experienced the same sickening dread as he had a few nights back. Now he understood why her stare was off-centre.

He freed her. As a test, he took a step back. He took another wide step quietly to one side. ‘I’m not responsible for your loss of sight. You should not have been so foolish as to follow me.’

Her head turned in the direction of his voice, yet her gaze failed to pinpoint him. Oppressive guilt fell heavily on his shoulders.

Zach’s lieutenant reappeared. ‘The men have been taken care of. What shall we do with her?’

The woman reacted in fear and crossed her arms over her chest. She turned her head from left to right. ‘Your Grace? Where are you?’

An unintelligible grunt distressed her. ‘What have you done to him?’

‘A lot less than he deserves,’ said Seth.

She stepped forwards haphazardly, arms outstretched. ‘Your Grace?’

The lieutenant caught her as she stumbled. ‘Watch your step.’

‘She can’t. She’s blind.’ Zach turned on his heel and swung up into the saddle. He used his legs in place of the reins, to command the horse’s obedience. He leaned down and lifted the woman up onto his lap. His broad chest butted up against her side and one arm maintained a vice-like grip around her waist.

Awareness rocked him. Her bottom moulded scandalously to his groin. His thighs flexed in response. Unlike the pleasurable sensation brought on by such intimacy, her piercing screams left him with no choice but to clamp one hand over her mouth.

She retaliated, flailing her arms and kicking her legs. Her teeth sank into his hand. The horse pranced sidewards, startled by the sudden movement and noise. Zach used his legs to regain control.

He feared the woman might become hysterical, given her vulnerable state. Best to subdue her without harming her. His forearm locked beneath her breasts and squeezed with enough subtle pressure to force the air from her lungs. Unable to draw breath fast enough, she swooned and fell limp against his chest.

Zach seized the reins. His gaze searched the ground for the one thing he’d come for. ‘Seth, the ring.’

He took it from his lieutenant and tested its weight in his palm. He eyed the ornate design bearing the family crest. The handiwork of a fine craftsman. His fist closed about the masculine ring, embracing memories and the knowledge that his father had once worn it with pride. A treasure now returned to its rightful heir. A piece to be used in his crowning move when he finally revealed himself to Gareth.

He tucked the ring deep in his coat pocket. His quest for justice and honour prevented him from slipping it on his finger. Not until I am proclaimed innocent.

‘Captain.’ Seth pointed to the jewellery and money pouch on the ground.

‘Keep it safe. I’ll return it to the lady when she’s in fairer spirits.’

A movement in the carriage caught their attention. The older woman stared at them through the window with an expression of fear and hatred. Zach gave her a gentleman’s smile and bowed his head in a show of respect.

‘And what about her?’ asked Seth.

‘We need time to make good our escape. Loosely secure the carriage door from the outside and ensure the window is sufficiently opened to allow air flow.’

Zach pressed the flanks of his horse and trotted to the head of the carriage. What he saw there made him laugh. Gareth had been securely tied to a tree and stripped to his underclothes. His jacket, breeches, wig and accessories hung precariously from one of the carriage horses. He’d been gagged with his own cravat, denying him the satisfaction of cursing his tormentors. Slate-grey eyes burned with humiliation.

Seth reined in alongside him wearing a grin, sure and smug, and not the least bit remorseful. Zach gestured to the bound footmen sitting on the grassy verge. ‘I’m glad you didn’t extend the same hospitality to those men. I’ve no quarrel with them.’

He urged his horse forwards and glared from the unconscious woman in his arms, into Gareth’s mutinous eyes. ‘How much is she worth to you?’

Gareth struggled against his bonds.

Zach ran his fingers slowly down the woman’s cheek. Something stirred deep inside him. A reaction, a feeling ever so slight, that he gave it not a second thought.

He stared down at his traitorous half-brother. ‘I look forward to our next meeting, Your Grace.’

The sound of thundering hooves sent bird life scattering from the woodland treetops. Julian rode his horse with practised skill, avoiding hazardous ruts here and there in the worn dirt road.

His sister’s future remained a priority. He felt duty-bound to ensure her happiness through a respectable marriage. What better suitor than the Duke of Arlington? Eloise would do justice to the title of duchess. Why couldn’t she see that? By some sweet miracle she might even learn to love the man.

His loud cynical laugh mocked the thought. Love. And loss. Eloise could not speak of one without the other. Could he blame her? No child should have to endure, as she had, the horror of losing one’s parents. Such tragic circumstances had left wretched scars on her innocent soul; never to be healed, it would seem. The roots of abandonment had taken hold, bound so thick and hard around her heart that no suitor had been able to penetrate it. If only she would let in light, where darkness had made its home. Were grief not her constant companion, she might be more open to marriage and a family of her own.

He leaned lower over the horse’s neck, deliberating other pressing concerns: the masked intruder, his sister’s accident and last night’s attempted theft of Eloise’s mare.

How to make sense of it all? There’d been no incident or verbal reproach he could recall; nothing to incite someone to seek revenge on him or his family.

Employing extra men to guard the stables, the house, and to watch over Catherine and her parents in his absence brought him little comfort. To what lengths would criminals go to get what they wanted?

He rounded a bend in the road and sighted the coach up ahead. It stood motionless. A break in the journey so soon? They should have covered more miles than this.

‘Hyah!’ he yelled, driving his horse faster.

He dismounted before the horse came to a complete stop, simultaneously noting the coachmen’s absence and the carriage door jerking back and forth. A length of rope secured between the carriage door handle and a wheel prevented it from opening.

‘Eloise? Arlington?’

He worked quickly to untie the rope, mindful of Maisy’s frantic face at the partially opened window. She babbled something unintelligible. Male voices called from a distance.

He yanked the door wide. ‘Where’s Elly?’

Maisy burst into tears. ‘The highwaymen. They took her!’

A chill stole over him. ‘And His Grace?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, a blubbering mess.

Julian sprinted in the direction of the voices hailing him.

‘My lord!’ The bound footmen nodded towards their master who’d been bound and stripped to his linen shirt, drawers and stockings. Julian removed the gag, his actions swift.

‘Where in God’s name is my sister?’

Eloise opened her eyes.

She blinked back the reoccurring terror of waking without sight. Had she overslept or woken early? She listened and lay still to gauge time and household routine. Memory, her saving grace, gave her sight to navigate her home, regardless of the hour. Yet she’d woken to one nightmare only to live another.

This was not her home.

The feathered pillow and soft bedding carried the scent of lavender. Not her favourite. Her last waking thoughts came flooding back. The highwayman. Gareth’s warning … at the mercy of ruffians … be strong.

She sat bolt upright, running her hands over limbs and body, and between her legs. Her muslin dress and stockings remained intact. So too, her virtue. She heaved a great sigh of relief.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and listened for any sign of life or movement. A clock ticked close by. How long before it chimed the hour? If she were to locate it and open its glass face, her fingers could read the position of the hour and minute hand.

She stood with arms outstretched and padded carefully across the floor until her toe connected with something hard. Her hands located and followed the curve of finely carved timber. Sensitive finger pads rubbed back and forth over armrests and damask-like material. A fashionable chair?

The discovery, together with the lavender-scented bed and plush pile of rug under foot, gave her hope of being in a respectable household. When she touched a wall, she followed it, taking small silent steps.

Another sturdy obstacle presented itself. Exploratory fingers traced the contours of timber and handles. A tall chest of drawers. She caught the scent of roses, lifted her arm to reconnect with the wall and knocked something over.

Glass smashed on floorboards. Water splashed her feet. She stifled a gasp and waited. All remained quiet. Heartened, she pressed on. With each step, her toes gingerly tested the floor, feeling for broken glass before placing her weight on each foot.

She located a door handle, placed an ear to the panel and listened. Nothing. Heart hammering, breathing shallow, she opened the door without a hitch. Exploring the unknown layout of a house had its risks, yet she refused to leave her fate in the hands of her abductor.

She stepped forwards, palm raised to locate an outer wall. Instead, she pressed against cool cotton and hard muscle. A warm hand came over her mouth, stifling her scream. The strength of another hand pressed into the small of her back, and held her firmly against a man’s body.

‘I see we pick up where we left off. Do you fancy another long sleep, my lady?’ Amused arrogance rang in her abductor’s voice.

His underlying threat incensed Eloise.

He stepped her back into the room. Pain shot through her heel, her whimper muffled behind his hand.

‘I’m glad we understand each other,’ he said.

His arrogance had mistaken her reaction as a sign of compliance. When he took his hand from her mouth she gulped in air.

‘You have no allies in this house,’ he warned. ‘A maid will soon attend you. Don’t think to turn her against me. Nothing surrounds us but rolling countryside, sheep, and fine horses.’

Eloise stiffened with the mention of horses, the pain in her heel forgotten. Was it not enough that he should steal Blakely thoroughbreds without having to abduct her as well? Perhaps he planned to ransom her back to her brother.

‘Who are you? What do you want with me?’

He freed her to stand on her own. ‘Are you hungry? I’ll have a servant bring you food.’

She favoured her throbbing heel and turned carefully to her left, the direction of his voice. ‘I’m not hungry. Answer my question.’

‘Something to drink, then? You must be parched.’

He’d moved again. This time she didn’t turn. ‘Face me in discussion. Or does my blindness offend you?’

‘Don’t move!’

His reply had come from behind her. He set her teeth on edge. ‘Then are you such a coward that you must speak to my back and not to my face? I was taught that if one made an enemy of another, they should at least have the courage to look that person in the eye.’

‘Is that what I am to you? Your enemy?’

How had he moved so quickly to now stand in front of her? And what was that she heard like marbles placed in a dish? ‘You are the cause of my condition and –’

‘I apologise. Believe me. I own and carry the weight of your misfortune.’

‘You intercept the ducal carriage, rob me and my companion, whisk me away against my will, and ask if we are enemies? Do not take me for a fool!’

‘I’ve not abducted you. Let’s just say I’ve … borrowed you.’

‘Borrowed me?’ Her patience snapped. Nervous fear unleashed the temper she’d kept in check. ‘I’m not some chattel to be trifled with. I demand to know your name, who you are, and why I’m here. Answer me!’

‘You’re right about one thing. Your relationship with His Grace does indeed make you my enemy. You also make too many demands for one who is in no position to do so.’

Of all the audacity. ‘Now see here –’

His mouth robbed her of speech, sealing her lips. He pulled her close, one hand on her back, the other behind her neck. She should push him from her and reclaim her train of thought. She should insist he stop the way he leisurely employed his tongue to trace the inner contour of her lips. What means or method of defence should she draw on to resist him?

Helpless to save herself from his embrace, she instead went with the tide and succumbed to a wave of sensual awareness.

Too soon, he ended the kiss. Reality struck home when she placed her full weight on her injured heel. She gasped in pain. Had he not caught her, she’d have dropped to the floor.

‘You’re hurt.’ Concern for her rang true in his voice.

‘My foot.’

Eloise made no attempt to fight him when he scooped her up into his arms and laid her on the bed. She heard her stocking rip. His warm hands examined her foot.

‘There’s a fragment of glass in your heel.’ He cursed. ‘There were pieces of it where you stood. I thought I’d retrieved them all.’

Eloise had believed he’d circled her intending to intimidate. His concern for her safety made her view him in a different light. ‘I broke the vase. A clumsy consequence of being blind and moving about in unfamiliar surrounds.’

‘It’s your foot that concerns me, not the vase.’

She heard something akin to the snap of cloth being shaken, and detected the scent of freshly laundered cambric.

‘This might sting,’ he warned.

Eloise winced when he pulled the shard from her heel. Something soft wrapped tight around her foot.

‘You needn’t worry,’ he said. ‘It’s not a deep cut. This handkerchief will stop the bleeding. I’ll fetch water and a bandage.’

Footsteps faded from the room. His absence gave Eloise time to catch her breath. To process her provocative awakening the instant he’d pressed his lips to hers. The languid stroke of his tongue tracing her lips had weakened any resolve to fight him. His taste had left her giddier than every step danced the night of her birthday ball. It was the second time she’d savoured him. Already, he had grown dangerously addictive. It would be easier to resent him if he were to treat her unkindly.

‘Something else ails you?’

His voice startled her. When had he re-entered the room? She rubbed her temples. ‘Headaches. They come and go.’

He set about cleansing her foot. ‘Tell me what happened after I left you on the balcony that night?’

‘I fell.’

‘Fell?’

‘Down … the steps. When I followed you.’ She sighed and relaxed her hands on the pillow, either side of her head. Soft linen wrapped around her foot.

‘Your headache?’ he enquired.

‘Is … easing.’ In the ensuing silence, she sensed his eyes upon her. ‘Thank you for tending my injury.’

Again, footfalls retreated. A drawer opened and closed. He returned to her side. ‘Sit up and I’ll tie a cloth around your eyes. It will help –’

‘Yes, I know. To relieve eye muscle strain. The physician told me. Are you a doctor as well as a highwayman?’ She’d spoken a little too tersely.

‘I’m neither a thief, highwayman nor a doctor.’

‘Then what are you? Who are you?’

‘Sit up and close your eyes.’

She did as he asked. Nimble fingers placed and secured the cloth over her eyes. His caring bedside manner had an unsettling affect. All the more reason to be wary.

‘I’ll send for the maid. She’ll bring you a meal. In the morning you’ll have hot water for your toilette. I bid you goodnight.’

‘Wait! I –’

‘Under no circumstance will you question the maid. About anything. Do not compromise her livelihood. She is paid handsomely for her service, and her silence.’

His authoritative tone brooked no argument. He spoke as if he were used to giving orders. Eloise wouldn’t have it. ‘You still haven’t explained why I’m here.’

The door closed. Heavy footfalls faded. Eloise fell back against the pillow. The man’s tight-lipped arrogance failed to deter her from planning escape. With each rhythmic tick of the clock, her mind worked to outsmart him.

She had potentially only one ally. The maid. Befriend her. Garner sympathy for the plight of a blind woman forcefully taken from home and family. Earn her trust and ask her to send word to Julian.

The clock chimed. Eloise listened, alert, and counted each strike of the hammer. Eight o’clock. An accurate sense of time put perspective back into her world without sight.

There came a timid knock at the door.

‘Come in.’

‘My name is Lily, my lady. I’ve brought you something to eat.’

How fortunate to discern an agreeable, young-sounding maid rather than a gruff senior member of household staff. ‘Come sit beside me, Lily.’

‘But –’

‘Please.’ The bed depressed beside Eloise. ‘I’m without sight. I tumbled down a flight of stairs and hit my head.’

‘I’ll attend your every need but first you must eat.’

The bed shifted again. Eloise let herself be safely guided to sit on a chair before a table. She declined Lily’s offer to assist in feeding her the selection of meats, cheese and bread. ‘I can manage, thank you.’

‘Very good, my lady. I’ll dispose of the flowers and glass and inspect the rug for splinters.’

Eloise ate, all the while listening to the maid rustle about the room. ‘Thank you, Lily,’ she said when she was finished. ‘That was delicious.’

‘The captain will be pleased when I tell him you cleared the plate. Now, I’ll help you into these nightclothes.’

Eloise gave no thought to whose nightclothes they were. More importantly, Lily had mentioned a captain. She resisted the urge to ask questions about the lord of the manor. All in good time. The maid had unwittingly let down her guard. She might do so again.

Stripped down to her shift, her toilette complete, Eloise thanked the cheery maid.

‘You’re very welcome, my lady. In the morning you can enjoy a nice hot bath.’

The door closed. Alone, Eloise settled down into the softness of the bed, to mull over the events and words exchanged during the past hour. When she heard heavy footsteps outside her door, she sat up and gathered the blankets about her.

She listened. There came the unmistakable sound of a key turning the lock, as if securing a prisoner in a darkened cell. Perhaps he locked her in for her own safety. Though Eloise resented her jailer, she smiled with satisfaction. He’d be a fool to think she wouldn’t make another attempt at escape.

She waited to hear his retreating steps. Did he listen outside her door in the event that she might fall and harm herself again? Perhaps he considered paying her another visit.

Finally, he retreated, his steps hesitant and heavier than before. Surprisingly, his withdrawal disappointed Eloise.

Up until now, she’d found the tenor of everyday life wanting and had yearned for distraction beyond the structure of daily genteel pursuits. Life lacked purpose. The parameters of etiquette and convention stifled her free spirit.

By all accounts she was wrong to welcome the sniff of adventure in her current predicament, one that could end with dire consequences. Being blind and held against her will was not quite what she’d imagined away from the monotony of drawing room conversation and music recitals.

Yet try as she did to push the hostage-taker from her mind, her body and senses betrayed her. His voice, deep and commanding, left her giddy. Who was he? The maid had called him captain. Well-spoken, and with good diction, he’d clearly had a suitable upbringing, Eloise surmised. An educated man even though her opulent surrounds seemed at odds with his calloused hands.

How far from home was she? The pounding in her head returned. She massaged her temples, concentrating on the sound of the clock marking time.

Somewhere between conscious thought and the brink of sleep, memory enticed her back to the captain’s kiss. To the harnessed power in his arms when he lifted and gently lay her on the bed. An unbidden thrill.

Curiosity and unaccustomed joy served to whet Eloise’s appetite for singular pursuits.

A dangerous encounter.

Her conscience wrestled with guilt and excitement until, light-headed, she fell peaceably asleep.