Read Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor Online

Authors: Rue Allyn

Tags: #Historical, #Romance

Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (294 page)

BOOK: Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor
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William turned toward the mountains but had only taken a few steps when Callum grabbed his arm.

“I canna take another step without tellin’ ye something, lad.”

William looked up, impatient to keep moving. “Can’t it wait, Callum?”

“No, I dinna think so.”

“All right, what’s this about?”

“It’s the lass. She may be in worse shape than ye think from the journey,” he said, watching William’s reactions.

“For God’s sake, Callum, what are you trying to tell me?”

The man looked stricken. “She’s with child, man. The poor wee lass is with child.”

The words didn’t make sense. Had he said she was with child? His child? His emotions were a blur of confusion, alarm and finally denial. William rounded on Callum, grasping the front of his shirt and shaking his friend. “It’s not true. You’re lying. She would have told me.” Callum put his hand on William’s arm to calm him but William threw it off. “How do you know this?”

Callum looked away. “It pains me to say this lad but she was afraid to tell ye for fear ye didna’ want her or the child. She told my Shelagh, who was sworn to secrecy. When ye ran for me with the news of her capture, Shelagh told me. I didna’ ken how to tell ye.”

William turned from Callum and dropped his hands to his sides. He shut his eyes in self-disgust. It was no accident he had not married before this. He always knew his inability to believe in love would bring another woman pain. But Electra was his wife and, despite his past, he loved her. Goddamn, he loved her so much. His fists curled at the thought that Murphy might have hurt her. A child, she was carrying his child! Now both she and their unborn child were in danger because he had driven her away with his past.

William sank to the ground where she had struggled and for the first time in his life, he wept.

The others moved discreetly away.

He swiped his sleeve across his face and shook his head, annoyed at his weakness. He couldn’t wallow in misery, wasting precious time. He had to find her, protect her and his child. To do this they needed a plan.

He joined the others. “We’re close and we have the element of surprise. These brutes are seasoned fighters, they’re killers, and I don’t want anyone, especially Electra, getting hurt. I have some suggestions and I’d like to hear any others.”

• • •

Once the slopes became too steep to ride, they dismounted and unpacked the horses. One of the men, Paddy, was sent in another direction with the horses while they continued on foot. They tied one end of a rope around Electra’s wrists, in front of her body, and the other end was tied around the waist of the short, stocky man they called “Bench.” Mick Murphy followed, his eyes burning into her back.

At an order from Murphy, Bench quickened his pace and Electra stumbled, falling to her knees. Murphy grabbed her by the hair and hauled her painfully to her feet. His free hand lunged down her bodice and pinched her breast. It was sufficient incentive to stay on her feet. She was beyond the point of exhaustion, her throat was parched, and her mind was focused solely on staying upright, putting one foot in front of the other. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot …

After hours of being dragged through the bush, Murphy called a halt, walked in front of Electra and unsealed his water bag. He took a long, slow swallow, letting the water dribble from his mouth and down his neck.

“Yer lookin’ like ye need a long, cool drink me darlin’,” he said, holding out the bag to her. She could already taste the sweet, cool liquid as she reached gratefully for the bag.

Without moving his eyes from her face he tipped her share onto the ground. “Oh will ye look at that? That’s a shame, that is.” Laughing at the disbelief on her face, he sealed the bag and pushed her forward. She licked her cracked lips and swiped her angry tears away.

As the sun set on another day of hell, Electra’s shoulders slumped with relief to hear Murphy announce they were safe to camp for the night. She was once more tied to a tree away from the warm fire and left shivering, hungry, and thirsty. Her head drooped onto her chest. She no longer had the strength to hold it up. Exhausted sleep began to draw her down when she heard the sound of footsteps through the dry leaves.

“Here, eat this and quick. If Murphy catches me, we’ll both be in trouble.”

The smell of roasted meat ignited her senses and her mouth was already open as she raised her head. Embarrassed at the intimacy of the act, the red-haired boy shoved the meat quickly into her mouth. Too hungry to even chew, she swallowed the meat and opened her mouth for more like a baby bird. After repeating the action four times, the boy opened his hands to show her there was no more.

“Please, I need water,” she whispered.

He came prepared and held the water to her lips. The cool liquid shocked her dry throat and it contracted in protest. Her eyes watered as she tried to smother a choking cough. The boy tried again and this time her throat relaxed and she swallowed thirstily. At last she let her head fall back against the tree and looked at him properly. Something was different … what was it? Oh Lord, she thought, her heart sinking. He was no longer wearing a mask. That could only mean they knew she would never bear witness to their actions. Electra quelled the panic that rose in her chest. She needed to engage the boy, make him an ally. Someone who could help — must help if she was to survive.

“You are so kind. You seem too nice to be with these animals,” she said, forcing the corners of her mouth into the semblance of a smile.

The boy shoved his boot into a clump of dirt and kicked it at the base of a tree. He pursed his lips. “I’m not so nice. I done bad things and no one back ’ome wants to have nothing to do wiv me no more. Them over there,” he jerked his head toward the group around the fire, “them’s the only friends I got.”

“But if you were to help me, I would speak for you and you could get yourself a pardon and maybe start a decent life,” she ventured.

For a moment there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes, and then they clouded as the cynicism resettled. “Yeah, right. There’s only a noose waitin’ fer me whether I helps yer or not. Not worth it, sorry. You ain’t bad neither.” He shrugged and turned away.

“Wait! Don’t go,” she called.

The boy spun around, fear in his eyes. “Yer shut up, yer hear? If Murphy hears me talkin’ to you, I’m done.”

“Oi, Red. What be ye doing over there boyo?” called Murphy.

The boy glared at her before answering. “Jes’ checkin’ she ain’t loosened her ropes or nothin’ Mick.” He scuttled back to the group.

“I handled that well,” she muttered. At least she had eaten, although it could very well be her last meal. She no longer held any hope that William might find her. Besides, her disappearance might solve most of William’s problems. She pushed the cynical thought aside.

Although his actions had, at times, indicated deep feelings for her, he had still not told her he loved her. If only she could have that last night with him back. Surely, they could have worked through the complications of Isabele being his daughter. Even if Charlotte took the girl back to England, the birth of their child would ease the pain for him. Enough of dreams, she sighed. Her immediate problem was staying alive.

Electra was under no illusions as to Murphy’s plans for her. He meant to defile her, allow the others their turn, and then kill her. Her heart constricted in the knowledge her child would die with her, never having known its mother or father.

Thoughts of her unborn baby hardened her resolve. Never one to give up, Electra determined she would fight them every inch of the way. It would certainly help to know what they planned. She turned her head and discovered to her surprise that the men were not too far away. In fact if she strained, she could hear their conversations. Seconds later, she wished she had not.

“She’s mine,” snarled a voice. “You gets most o’ the ransom money but I gets to do what I want with her.”

“Ye forget yourself, man. I say what ye get and what ye don’t get. Ye’ll be havin’ my leavin’s and be grateful for that,” Murphy answered icily.

Ransom money? They mean to rape me, kill me, and pretend I’m still alive until William pays for my return? It just gets worse and worse. She struggled, trying to loop her fingers into the knots and loosen them.
Damn, it was no good.
Defeated, she laid her head back against the tree. What was she going to do? Her lip trembled but she bit down, determined not to cry.

Her struggles were interrupted by the now familiar sound of footsteps coming her way. She sucked in a breath as she saw who it was. He still wore his mask but the unease grew as she noted the piggish eyes and the sweating brow.

His left arm reached out and he gripped her throat. “Yer a filthy whore and it’s me will teach yer how to treat a man, not him. If I have to kill Murphy first, I’m comin’ to get you and mark my words,” he jabbed at her chest with his right hand, “I’ll have you, as rough as I want and as long as I want.”

His last words were lost in the thunderous roar of her blood as she noted the missing finger on his hand.

“It’s you,” she said, her voice strangled. “How — how did you get here?”

Critchley pulled the scarf from his face and regarded her with seething contempt. “Yer new fancy man reported me little bit o’ fun with yer to the captain. I got flogged within an inch of me life and was booted off the ship with only half me pay.”

She closed her eyes. Of course, he held her responsible. This whole exercise was his plan for revenge on her and on William. She might as well know it all.

“What do you plan to do?”

“Oh, I got big plans, duchess. I’m gonna keep yer as long as I likes and ask a ransom what’d ruin yer fancy man. He will think he is payin’ to get yer back. But, guess wha’?” He cackled and wiped his nose with his sleeve, bringing his face inches from hers. “Wha’ he gets back, the dogs won’t even fight over.” At this he doubled over with laughter.

As he straightened, Electra collected all the saliva in her mouth and spat into his eye hissing, “You filthy animal, I will kill you before I let you touch me again.”

There was no way to avoid the blow that followed. But she remembered Murphy’s cold instructions to Critchley and let out a scream as the back of his hand connected with her cheek. When her head stopped spinning, she opened her eyes to see Critchley on the ground, bellowing, as Murphy’s boot connected with his kidney. It was cold comfort, as she knew with certainty that Critchley would add this further humiliation to his lust for revenge.

Their camp was in a hollow, surrounded by brooding mountains and the dark night fell swiftly, creeping up the trunks of the trees around them. They were high enough that the air chilled rapidly once the sun set, and Electra shivered, grateful for the coat she had pulled over her light shift. Grateful and surprised it had not been ripped off her. Murphy moved her closer to the group and she could feel the barbs of hatred from Critchley’s unwavering stare. The men had been drinking constantly since making camp and she was not sure whether they were more dangerous intoxicated or sober.

Suddenly there was a gasp from Red. “Bloody hell, what’s that?”

Murphy took another swig from the jug of whisky. “Is it ghosts ye’re seein’ now boyo?”

Red jumped up, screaming, “Aieeee!”

Critchley clutched his groin as a dark, wet patch appeared under his fingers.

Bench looked bewildered.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” blustered Murphy.

Electra gazed with awe at dozens of ghostly figures beside the trees at the edge of the clearing. They were so black as to blend into the night but their eyes and the luminous white markings on their faces pierced the darkness. She blinked and they were gone.

“Where they gone? What’s happenin’? Oh Jeezus,” croaked Critchley.

“Pull yourself together. Ye’re just a bunch of old women. It be the shadows, ye fools,” said Murphy, a waver in his voice.

There was a loud moan from Critchley and a sob from Red as the figures reappeared beside the trees. Motionless as the trees themselves, the yellow eyes stared unblinkingly into their fear and then they were gone again. The apparitions were followed by a short, rhythmic clacking sound, its direction and distance indiscernible. Slow at first, the rhythm got faster and faster until it reached a fever pitch. Just as suddenly as it started, the frantic rhythm of the clacking stopped, and a deathly silence pervaded the night. The men hovered beside the fire, fear etched on their white faces.

Electra decided that whatever was out there, it might just be better than her current fate and shrank back against the tree to watch events unfold.

After some minutes, Murphy stood up, yelling at the men to cover his own fear. “Right, ye cowardly eejits. Don’t be sittin’ snivellin’ like a bunch of frightened schoolgirls. Bench, ye blockhead, take Red and go find out what be happenin’ out there.”

“Bloody hell, no way we’re goin’ out there,” said Red.

Murphy grabbed the boy by his collar and delivered a hard blow to his face with the back of his hand. “Ye’ll do what I say or I’ll kill ye myself.” He glowered at Bench. “You got anything to say?”

Bench shook his head mutely, picked up his gun and dragging Red by the arm, walked away from the clearing, into the trees.

The camp waited … and waited. Not a sound. Nothing.

The two men never returned.

Transfixed by the events before her, Electra jumped as a hand shot noiselessly from behind the tree and clamped across her mouth.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she twisted to see her attacker. A head appeared around the tree and split into a wide, toothy grin.

“Mmgghh,” the hand loosened across her mouth, “Yaraay, Oh God, Yaraay,” she whispered, tears of joy and relief running down her cheeks. The deft black fingers loosened the ropes around her hands and she pulled them free.

Murphy’s cruel head spun around at the sound. “I heard ye, girl. Who be ye talkin’ to?”

Yaraay blended back into the night and Electra slipped her arms behind the tree again. “I’m praying. I’m praying for deliverance from the forest devils. I don’t want to be taken like the other two,” she answered.

BOOK: Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor
13.79Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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