Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

T he tunnel was cold and dank, lit only by a flickering torch that Gaunt held aloft behind her. As they walked, she tried to figure out where they were in relation to the rest of the manor, wondering whether a well-timed scream for help might alert Hamish to where she was and where she was being taken. If these were the secret passageways Taffington had found that had gotten him out of the manor without detection, there must have been other entrances. But as if he could hear her thoughts, Gaunt prodded her firmly in the back with the crossbow in his hand, telling her in a hoarse whisper that she’d do well to come quietly if she didn’t want a crossbow bolt in her spine.

It felt like they walked for an eternity. At least, she could see light up ahead. There was a battered wooden door with daylight shining around it, and when Gaunt opened it, she realized with a start that they were in the forest that surrounded Weatherby Manor — the passageway had led them not only out of the house, but out of the grounds, too, beneath the walls and well into the trees. It made sense, she supposed, for an English lord in hostile territory to build his home with an escape route included. When she glanced over her shoulder to see what they’d emerged from, she saw a disused little shed that looked half run-down — and as she watched, Gaunt bolted it shut behind them.

Not far beyond the shed, they found Taffington’s carriage waiting for them. Amelia could feel her stomach sinking into her feet as she realized how much planning had taken place here — the invitation to her and Hamish had clearly been extended with this as its eventual goal. At least that clarified the matter a little, she thought, feeling oddly calm despite the dire situation. They could stop worrying about whether Donal’s letter had been too inflammatory, for a start — it was clear now that Taffington was never going to read it. Gaunt pulled the carriage door open and gestured with the crossbow, and she slid inside, any thoughts of attempting to overpower him quickly put to rest by the fact that there were half a dozen armed men on horseback keeping a very close eye on proceedings, not to mention the grizzled driver of the carriage. Frightening men, all of them… and not men she recognized as belonging to Weatherby’s retinue. Taffington had been busy in the last few weeks, it seemed — he must have brought his own guards over. Had he been planning to kidnap her even then? she wondered.

“How lovely to see you again,” came that horribly familiar voice.

Taffington, arranged on the cushioned seat opposite her, the widest smirk she’d ever seen on his face. Amelia grimaced at the sight of another crossbow in his hands, the bolt aimed squarely at her — she’d been hoping she might be able to get the better of him in close quarters, but the crossbow put her at too much of a disadvantage. She could feel the carriage moving, hear the distant sound of the driver’s voice as he urged on the horses, and Taffington must have read her question in her face.

“Never you fret, my sweet,” he said, the vicious mockery in his voice almost too much to bear. “We’re on our way out of this dreadful place. We’ll be in London before you know it, and at last I’ll have you for my very own. Who knows? I might even make an honest woman of you if you apologize sweetly enough for everything you’ve done to me.”

“Hamish will come after me,” she said, affecting a calm she didn’t feel. “You won’t get away with kidnapping me, Taffington.”

“I think you’ll find I will,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he leaned forward. The swaying of the carriage was making her feel sick… or was that the look in Taffington’s eyes as he appraised her? She’d heard Gaunt lock the carriage door from the outside, but she couldn’t resist trying it anyway, making him chuckle as she rattled helplessly at the firmly locked door. “Besides, I thought this was what you wanted, Amelia. I thought you and Hamish had come to make a deal. Here’s the deal — I’ll leave this wretched backwater and all its poxy whores to their peace. And in exchange, you’ll come with me.”

“I don’t accept the terms,” she said through gritted teeth. Taffington clicked his tongue and shook his head like a disappointed schoolteacher.

“I’d have thought you’d have learned more about diplomacy, running around like a whore with that MacClaran fool. Imagine, a man like that calling himself a knight. Whatever misguided attempt my countryman was making at peace when he gave out that knighthood, it was a wretched mistake. Maybe I’ll see if I can get it overturned,” Taffington said brightly. “Once we get back. Would you like that? A kind of wedding present to you… proof that I’m the kind of man who gets what I want, no matter what.”

She could feel real dread rising in her now like black water, lapping at the back of her throat. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream or throw up, her mind racing helplessly for something, anything, that would stop this. Trapped in the back of a carriage with this monster, every passing second getting her further and further away from what she knew… from her new home, from the man she loved. And he wouldn’t even know she was missing — as far as Hamish was aware, she was still stuck in a room at the manor somewhere, while he waited with his trademark patience for Taffington to play ball…

“I should have killed you,” she said softly, looking up at him. “When I had the chance, back in that alleyway. When you were sniveling over your broken hand and your brute of a guard was unconscious — I should have broken your worthless neck.”

“Oh, keep going.” His eyes glittered at her across the divide between them, and she fought the urge to gag. “I love watching powerless women try to threaten me. It’s delightful.”

When she heard the shout, she was half convinced she’d imagined it. Wishful thinking, no doubt — her mind hoping so desperately that Hamish was riding to her rescue that it had turned some distant bird call into his voice. But then the shout came again, and she saw a faint frown cross Taffington’s smug face. Ignoring him, she slid across the bench-like seats to press her nose against the window, craning her neck to try to get a better view of the road that stretched out behind them. There — her heart leapt into her throat as she caught a glimpse of a figure on horseback. She couldn’t be sure, but it looked like?—

“Hamish,” she whispered, feeling so full of joy at the sight of him that she thought her heart might burst like a balloon. As if on cue, a window slid open behind Taffington, and Gaunt’s implacable face was peering through to confer with the portly Lord, who was suddenly looking considerably less smug about the whole situation.

“How the blazes did they see us leave?” Taffington hissed, though he was clearly trying to keep his voice down to avoid having her hear him.

“Don’t know, sir. One of the guards or the servants, perhaps. Baldric’s with them, and half a dozen of Weatherby’s men.”

“Well, what the devil are you talking to me for? Kill them! Kill every last blasted one of them!” Taffington’s face was rapidly turning purple with rage, and his expression darkened further when he turned back to see Amelia grinning at him from the other side of the carriage.

“What’s the matter, Lord Taffington?” she asked innocently. “I thought you always got what you wanted.”

“That’s enough out of you, whore,” the Lord snarled, jerking the crossbow up toward her. “I can still end your miserable life in a heartbeat, remember?—”

There was a jolt, and a shout of alarm from up ahead — she could hear the horses whinnying too, hear men shouting and the clash of blades. Then there was another sound, much closer — the dull thud of impact, just behind her head. Amelia froze, hardly daring to believe her luck, and turned to see the crossbow bolt, still quivering where it had lodged in the wall a few inches from her head. Taffington was staring at it too, clearly as stunned as she was — but when she looked back to meet his eyes, he hurled the crossbow aside with naked fury on his face.

“Faster!” he roared, twisting around to hammer a fist against the wall that divided him from the beleaguered driver, who was clearly struggling to keep the horses under control while a battle raged around him. “Faster, damn you! We need to get to the gorge! Once we’re off MacClaran lands, you’re mine for good,” he panted, glaring over his shoulder at her with such venom in his eyes that she caught her breath. The gorge — she remembered Hamish showing her a map of MacClaran territory, its southern edge marked by the natural formation of a long, narrow gorge with a river at its bottom. From memory, the road ran along the gorge’s edge for some time, before turning to cross over the bridge and out of MacClaran territory.

She couldn’t let that happen. Furiously, she tried every door and window in the carriage, rattling each in turn — but they were all bolted shut. Despair was threatening to creep in. Hamish was out there — she could hear him shouting her name. He was so close… but at the same time, so horribly, horribly far.

And from the ugly look on Taffington’s face, she had a feeling she wouldn’t survive long if they reached the other side of the river.