Blood Lust Page 4

  “How long until dinner?”

  He glanced at her. “Take it easy. I’m not one of your servants. I’d suggest you ask nicely or you’ll be doing the cooking yourself.”

  She stood erect. “I’ve never cooked a meal in my life.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Are you really a lord?” That change of topic caught him off guard. “I have a feeling you are used to the title.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps I was once. Now it has an odd sort of ring to it.”

  “But you are a member of the peerage?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Why? Does it matter? But then of course it would, to a woman who is suppose to marry a duke.”

  The phrasing struck her oddly. “What do you mean, suppose to marry? I am going to marry him. Neither you nor anyone else is going to stop me.”

  He dropped the spoon into the pot. “That determined are you?” His jaw went tight. “I didn’t realize you fancied the man quite that much.” He looked at her carefully. “I suppose there are times he can be charming. And I guess he’s handsome enough. Are you telling me this is a love match?”

  Katherine moistened her lips. In love? Benjamin Spencer was hardly a man to love. He was too much in love with himself. She stared into the flames in the fire pit. “No, I am not in love with Benjamin. I wish I were. The marriage was arranged by my brother Thomas.” More or less. “It suits both of us and it suits our families.”

  Some of the tension eased from within his body. She wondered why he cared.

  “The stew is ready.” He filled a bowl and handed over, then filled one for himself. They said nothing during the meal and as soon as they finished, he gathered up the bowls and carried them outside to wash them.

  The time has come. Her heart skipped a beat, then started thumping. Scrambling from her seat, Katherine reached toward the fire, grabbed the heavy iron poker and raced upstairs. She couldn’t afford to wait any longer. She should have acted first thing this morning, but something had held her back.

  She glanced toward the boarded up window, noted the bright rays streaming through the cracks. The sun remained high. There would be plenty of light still before nightfall. This time she was taking his horse, and if all went as planned he wouldn’t be in any shape to follow her.

  Her hand felt sweaty around the long iron poker she carried. She wiped her palm against her brown wool skirt and pressed an ear to the door, listening for his return.

  It wasn’t long before she heard him moving about. She had already removed everything from the dresser. Now, holding the poker in one hand, she knocked a glass vase to the floor, unleashing what she hoped would pass for a shriek of pain as the glass crashed into a thousand shards.

  “Duchess?”

  She made a weak little sobbing noise that was suppose to sound like crying, then quickly climbed up on the chair she had dragged behind the door. Her stomach felt tied in knots, her mouth was dry, but her resolve remained strong.

  “Duchess, are you all right?” His heavy boots took the stairs two at a time.

  Katherine sucked in her breath, raised the poker with shaking hands, and waited until he burst through the door. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she tightened her hold and the poker swung down toward his head.

  He caught the movement in his eye. At the last possible moment he twisted. The poker caught the side of his head, glanced of his shoulder. Still the blow did its job and he went down crashing to the floor.

  “Oh, my.” Scrambling down off the chair, her legs weak, Katherine tossed the heavy length of iron away, knelt down and touched his cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, trying to ignore his pitiful groan of pain. “I had to do it. I have to get away.” His skin felt warm. She hadn’t killed him. Hopefully he wasn’t hurt too badly.

  Trembling all over, she raced down the stairs, stopping only long enough to grab his heavy cloak and the bread and cheese she had managed to stash. Then she was out the door and running toward the barn. His horse was there, but thankfully the stable boy was gone. She had prayed he wouldn’t try to stop her.

  “Come on,” she whispered to the horse, leading the animal from the stall by his halter, fastening the lead rope around his head to use for reins. The saddle pad was all she had time for. Pulling the horse through the door of the barn, she climbed up on the fence and dropped down on the animal’s back, adjusting her skirt around her, ignoring the stockinged legs she exposed below the hem of her skirt.

  “That’s a boy, just take it easy.” He was a spirited horse, but she was a passable rider. Better than most women, when she was properly mounted. Surely she could manage the big gelding well enough riding astride to make it to some sort of town.

  At least that’s what she told herself as she dug her heels into the animal’s sides and leaned forward, but at the first leap the tall horse made, big hands seized her waist and jerked her roughly off the animal’s back. Katherine screamed as her captor swung her to the ground in front of him, his face a dark mask of rage. Her breath caught. She whirled to flee, but his fingers caught her arms, dug into the tops, and halted any possible movement. A trickle of blood ran from his hairline, and as much as she wanted to escape, her insides clenched to see how badly she had hurt him.

  “Going somewhere, my lady?”

  Fear pumped through her at the sight of him. Now for sure he would kill her. She bit down on her trembling lips. “I’m sorry, I had to get away.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  Her fear increased, a chilling tingle that slid down her spine and settled like cold steel in her belly. She stared into his features.

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  His features turned even more harsh. “Your nemesis, my lady. A man who has underestimated your will for the very last time.” A shrill whistle brought the return of his horse. With a death grip on her arm, he led the animal back to its stall, dragging her along in his wake. He jerked off the pad and unfastened her makeshift reins, then dragged her back toward the house, his rough fingers digging into her flesh.

  She tried not to cry, but his painful hold combined with her failure had her cheeks wet with tears by the time they reached the door.

  The outlaw saw the, cursed and surprisingly his hold on her gentled. “Get inside,” he said gruffly.

  She did as he told her, taking several wary steps out of his reach.

  His fury exploded. “Damn! Can’t you understand? I’ll let you know when it’s time and not before then. Make it easy on yourself and me and resign yourself to the fact that you’re not leaving until I say!”

  She sniffed and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  “Bloody hell!” He stalked back outside, slamming the door so hard it rang into the smoke-darkened rafters. Through the window she saw him heading for the water trough.

  He ducked his head beneath the surface, then shook his hair like a dog emerging from a stream. Streaks of pink ran along his cheek and guilt pulsed through her.

  She had never hurt another person. She hated herself for it, yet she couldn’t deny she’d had good cause. She retreated several paces as he strode back in, but made no move to approach her. Instead he sank down in the sofa and closed his eyes, resting his head against the back.

  Katherine eyed him warily. A bruise was beginning to form on the side of his face. She moved a little closer.

  “I never wanted to hurt you,” she said softly.

  His eyes opened. She felt them on her face as if he touched her. “You’re a woman. I should have known better than to trust you.”

  “If you would tell the truth,” she sighed, “tell me what this about, perhaps I could help you. I don’t believe you are really a highway man. I’m not even sure you’re after a ransom. Please, if you would just. . .”

  “Lady, if you would just keep quiet, maybe my head would stop throbbing.”

  She bit down on her lip. The man was in pain and she was the cause. Making her way to the bucket
of water by the fire, she dampened a cloth, then returned to the sofa, carefully placing it across his injured head.

  Those piercing eyes slid open. There was something dark and turbulent swirling in their depths, something of hurt and betrayal. Something that made her wish she could change what she had done.

  “I had to do it,” she whispered. “I wish you could understand.”

  His eyes drifted closed again. “Perhaps I do,” he said without looking at her. “Perhaps I even admire you for it. I still can’t let you leave.”

  Katherine said nothing more. She had never met a man like this one. She couldn’t begin to understand him, and yet she was drawn to him. Fascinated by the danger that seemed to surround him. Touched by the gentleness she had glimpsed in him more than once.

  She would continue to fight him. She had no other choice. But she knew no matter what happened, she would never hurt him again.

  Chapter Four

  Sussex Manor sparkled like a diamond in the darkness of the cool April evening. Every window was lit by glowing beeswax candles, strains of harpsichord music spilled into the quiet of the night.

  Built in the early part of the previous century, the house was fashioned in Portland stone. With its lovely balustrades and pedimented windows, it was a showplace.

  Beneath the painted ceilings of the drawing room, Benjamin Spencer paced in front of the gold brocade sofa.

  “Where the devil is she?” Firelight played on the room gently. “By God, we’ve only got three days before the wedding. Guests are beginning to arrive. So far they haven’t realized the bride is missing, and even her brother forgets about half the time. But sooner or later they are bound to figure out that something is wrong.”

  “We should have found her by now,” Frederick Bonham, Benjamin’s less than honorable friend said. “We’ve got a dozen lads out tramping the roads between here and where she was taken. We’re bound to run across them sooner or later.”

  “Well, it had bloody be sooner than later!”

  Frederick nodded his head. He had worked for Benjamin for more than five years. “Coachy said the bloke took the lass for ransom, but nary the sign of a note has appeared.”

  “She’s a bit of baggage. Perhaps the man’s cods overruled his senses.”

  Frederick’s face turned red. “He touches her and he’s a dead man. I’ll track down the bastard myself and slit his throat. You’ve got my word on that Benjamin.”

  Benjamin waved the other man’s words away. “In the scheme of things, whether or not he taps her is hardly important.” Though the thought of being thwarted by a common thief sent a shot of fury through him. “What counts is that we find her, and soon. I can’t keep her brother stashed away forever. In the meanwhile, there is the wedding. Time is ticking away.”

  Frederick stood and turned toward his friend. “I won’t fail you.”

  “I’m certain you won’t.” In truth, Benjamin believed the man’s promise. Frederick was a loyal as a hound. There was nothing the man wouldn’t do for him.

  It was the exact result he had intended.

  “Bring her back and you’ll find a nice fat purse of guineas waiting for you.”

  Frederick made no answer. Unlike Benjamin, money meant little to him.

  Benjamin watched him leave and felt a jolt of satisfaction thinking it the best sort of bondage he could imagine to imprison the man.

  Another day passed. William brought the curry comb through his horse’s thick black mane, using the task to take his mind off the girl inside the lodge. His head still throbbed whenever he moved too quickly. He couldn’t believe he had fallen prey to her scheme.

  Once, a few years ago Jane had unmanned him in much the same manner. She had nearly been the death of him. And yet the circumstances were nothing the same. Katherine had not betrayed him, hadn’t pretended feelings for him she did not have. She wasn’t in cahoots with the devil in the form of his conscienceless brother. She wasn’t after control of his fortune.

  She was simply trying to escape. She was fighting to save herself from a man who posed an unknown threat, a man whose intentions she could not guess to what end for her he might have planned.

  In the same set of circumstances, would he not react the same way?

  In truth, as he had said, he admired her for the courage to take action. Other women would have swooned at the sight of him riding full tilt toward the fancy carriage. Most of them would have dissolved into tears to see him firing his pistols above their heads.

  Katherine had done neither. She had sacrificed herself for the safety of the others. And then she had fought him with every ounce of her being.

  She was too much woman for his murderous brother and in the past few hours he had determined the bastard would not have her. She deserved to make a decent marriage. Once she was free of the duke, she could find a respectable husband, a man befitting a woman of spirit and fire.

  He glanced to the door of the house and a reluctant smile came across his face. He wondered what, even now, she was planning, for he didn’t believe that she had given up trying to thwart him. She would not succeed. Of that he was certain. He had too much at stake to fail at the hands of a girl.

  The smile on his face grew broader. Considering the lump he carried on the side of his head, he found himself oddly eager to see where next her courage might lead him.

  Katherine peered through the cracks between the boards of the window of her bedchamber. Her captor remained in the stable. Her captor, that was how she thought of him still. He was more handsome than she could imagine, so handsome, he took her breath away.

  Katherine sighed. Whoever he was, he was still her opponent, a man she must outwit somehow. It wouldn’t be easy, as she had already discovered, but if it could be done, she was determined to find a way.

  Bearing that in mind, she eased the bottom drawer of the dresser closed, disgruntled that she hadn’t found anything useful inside.

  An old wooden chest sat along one wall. She crossed the room and knelt in front of it. She wasn’t afraid he would catch her. She could hear him if he returned to the house, and even if he came upstairs, he had made no effort so far to invade the privacy of her bedchamber.

  The chest creaked as she lifted the lid. A tray of sewing items, a ball of wool not yet spun, needles fashioned from the antlers of a deer, several lengths of simple undyed woolen cloth. Nothing there to aid her. She lifted the tray off and searched a portion of the chest below. Medicinal supplies, strips of bleached muslin for bandages, several jars of salve. She pried the lid of one of the jars, then wrinkled her nose at the smell of the rancid salve.

  Several more packets of herbs lay in the bottom. She opened one of the, recognized the smell of dried nettles, opened another and frowned. It was a type of fungus found in the woods, a narcotic plant that was often crushed into a powder and mixed with mulled wine as a sleeping potion. She had been shown by her cook to fashion such a draught for her brother, when the occasional need arose.

  A obscure thought teased the back of her mind. She tried to shake it off, but it wouldn’t let go, turning instead into a full-fledged notion. She had vowed not to hurt him, but how hurtful would it be if he simply fell into a deep and relaxing sleep?

  In time he would awaken and by then she would be gone. She grinned and clutched the packet to her chest. They took their main meal mid afternoon. Earlier, the stable boy had brought some mutton pasties, some Stilton cheese and a flask of wine. Wrapped in a cloth, the food and wine sat on a table beside the hearth.

  She glanced once more out the window. No sign of the bandit. Placing the packet of herbs on the floor, she crushed them to a powder with a slippered foot. She then pounded them even finer with a heavy mug that sat beside the water bowl and pitcher on the dresser.

  As soon as she had finished, she headed downstairs. The flask of wine sat exactly where the boy had left it. She pulled the stopper out and started to pour in the powder, but her hand stopped.

  How much was she
to put in?

  He was a big man. It would take a good portion, but he never consumed more than a goblet or two of wine. As far as she knew, the powder wasn’t deadly. She dumped in the entire contents of the packet, then replaced the stopper and shook the flask until she figured the mixture had been dissolved.

  Footsteps sounded outside just as she finished. She whirled away from the hearth and rushed to sit on the sofa, grabbing a book she was suppose to have been reading, and buried her nose in the pages, hoping the guilty flush in her cheeks wouldn’t give her away.

  The bandit paused in the doorway, eyeing her for a moment, then stepped into the room and closed the door. She forced herself not to glance up at him as he approached.

  “Defoe? I thought you were reading Shakespeare.”

  Her heart began racing. How could she have forgotten? She feigned a weary sigh. “In truth, he does not hold my attention. All I can think of is how much longer must I stay locked up inside?” That remark seemed to satisfy his suspicions.

  “Sorry.” A corner of his mouth curved up. “Think of it as respite from the heavy responsibilities you’ll be facing as the wife of a duke.”

  Katherine tossed back her hair. “I’ll have a hundred servants at my beck and call. I imagine I shall be able to suffer through it.”

  The bandit scowled.

  She set the book down and looked into his handsome face. “You will at least tell me your name?”

  He said nothing for a moment, and she didn’t think he would answer. Her heart raced as he moved toward the table where the wine sat. He unwrapped the food and began to set it out. He looked at her. “William,” he said. “My name is William.”

  Katherine smiled. “William,” she repeated, letting the name roll off her tongue. It had a softness to it that didn’t fit his persona. “Not an outlaw’s name, but in a way it suits you.”

  William said nothing, just stacked two plates with food and poured them each a goblet of wine. She accepted the food and wine and carried it over to the sofa and sat down. She nibbled at her food, her stomach rumbled. She pretended to sip the wine, careful not to swallow a single drop.