Duchess Beware (Secrets & Scandals Book 2) (32 page)

“No.”  He sliced the air with his hand.  “I cannot risk Silver’s life.  There is no way Katrina is acting alone.”

“That only confirms the need for me to go with you.”

Gnashing his teeth, he grabbed the reins of his horse.  “I cannot take the risk.”  He swung up into the saddle.  “Stay here, Garrett.  That is an order.”

His friend swore then reached into his coat.  He removed two pistols.  “Here.”

Daniel took the weapons with a nod of thanks and tucked then into the front of his pants.  As soon as Garrett opened the large door, he flanked his horse, paying little notice to the snow swirling around him.

Silver came painfully awake. The back of her skull throbbed, and her throat burned like the devil.  She opened her bleary eyes and saw nothing but darkness.  Turning her head, she slowly focused on the low burning lamp sitting on a table an arms-length away.  Two golden balls melded into one as her vision sharpened.  Why was the room so dark and cold?  And why did her head feel like splitting apart?

Disorientation lasted for several more seconds until pieces of the night’s events began to unfurl within her mind.  The fire.  Waiting on the bench for Daniel.  Katrina’s plea.  A terrible pain at the back of her head.  Nothing.

Swallowing several times to ease the tenderness in her throat, she carefully turned her head in the other direction, expecting to see her husband lying next to her.  Squinting into the darkness beside her, she found he wasn’t there.  She scanned the pitch room, about to call out, but held back.  Something was wrong.  Warning bells clamored in her head and made her heart race.

It was the smell, she realized.  Old, musty odors drifted up from the bed she lay on, and a slight hint of rose.  Silver lifted her head and glanced down her body.  She frowned.  Not only did she not recognize the smelly old bedding, but hundreds of deep red rose petals had been scattered over her.

Ice cold fear slammed into her, making her shiver.  She had to get out of here and attempted to rise, but found she could barely move.  Her arms and legs were bound.  She gasped.  Leather straps secured her to each bed post.

“Hello, Fran.”

She froze, recognizing that awful voice, then slowly turned her head.  From the deep shadows to her right, he slithered into the weak lamp light, his ice-blue eyes staring straight at her.  Her heart hammered so fast, she thought it would leap right out of her chest.  “What do you want, Victor?” she whispered, unable to make her voice strong.

He twisted his lips into a chilling smile and brought a red rose up to his nose.  “You are in no position to ask anything, Fran.  Especially after what you’ve done.”

Fran?  Did he not recognize her?  Silver shook her head, regretting the action as pain sliced through her skull.  She took a deep breath.  “Why are you calling me Fran?  You know my name is Silver.”

Victor stepped closer, his shadow falling over her, making her quiver.  “I know you keep changing your name, Fran, trying to flee from me.  Trying to flee from the punishment you deserve.”  Anger leaped into his eyes.  He crushed the rose in his hand and threw the petals at her.  “By now, my dearest wife, you should know such tactics are futile.”

She stared at the man, trying to make sense of his words.  Wife?  Punishment? 

Dear God.

She licked her dry lips.  Keeping her voice calm, she asked, “Punishment?  Why, Victor, whatever did I do to deserve such punishment?”

His face twisted in fury so fast, she cringed.  Then some of the savagery lifted.  “Playing games, dearest Fran?  I’ll not tolerate that.” He turned to go.

“Wait.”

He stopped, half in the dim light and half out, and looked over his shoulder.  Most of his face was hidden in shadow.

“I am not playing games, Victor,” she said.  “I really don’t know.”

He turned fully around but didn’t move forward.  “Surely, you recall the nobleman who polluted your womb with his seed?  The Duke of Huntington?” he spat.

Silver took in a ragged breath.

He smiled even colder than before and leaned forward.  “Adultery is the crime, my dear wife.”  A feral gleam sprang to his eyes, as though he had lost his mind.  “And death is the punishment.”  He turned and pulled open the door.  She could just make out the edges of the doorframe.  “For you and your lover,” he growled, disappearing into the blackness.

She released her breath as though she had been holding it for a long time.  She had to get away, she thought, yanking and pulling the leather straps, hoping they would come loose.  Her heart pounded faster and her entire body shook as Victor’s words sank in. 

Dear God, that madman meant to kill her.  Her and Daniel.

Chapter Thirty

Daniel stopped his horse a short distance from the cottage and eased down from the saddle.  Grateful the snow had lessened to sporadic flurries, he inched forward, his footsteps crunching softly on the white powder.  His right hand gripped one of the loaded pistols as he circled the building, half expecting someone to jump out at him from behind a bush or a tree. 

In the deep shadows of the trees and with the moon lost behind the thick clouds above, darkness enveloped his surroundings.  Even the cottage was difficult to see, just a dark silhouette a bit blacker than the surrounding forest.  He frowned, seeing no light coming from any of the windows, and continued to make his way slowly around the building, pondering his course of action.  Should he try one of the doors?  Maybe a window?

He stopped at the front door, coming full circle, and pressed his ear against the frost-covered wood.  The eerie silence grated on his nerves like nails against a blackboard.  Nothing stirred within.  Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob, surprised to find it unlocked, and gave a slight push.

The hinges screeched in the silence and he froze, swearing inwardly.  Although the sound wasn’t very loud, it could have been a cannon shot to someone waiting for it.  Straining his ears, he listened for any indication someone had heard his arrival.  A shuffle, a thud, anything at all.

Nothing.

Tightening his grip on the pistol in hand, he inched further into the cottage, primed for someone to jump out.

Crouched and ready for action, Daniel edged down a dark hall.  A faint, pale yellow light glowed from under the doorway to his right.  He headed in that direction, finding the door ajar.  Carefully, he placed his free hand against the wood and gave a slight nudge.  Soundlessly, the door swung open and he raised the pistol, taking aim at the center of the room.

Glancing from the empty sofa to the empty chairs, he frowned.  Heavy blankets had been nailed around the windows to keep the light in.  A single lamp burned in the far corner of the room.  The empty room.

Where the deuce was his wife?

A small scuffling noise alerted him.  Daniel snapped his head up, his heart skipping a beat.  It had come from the floor above.

He moved toward the stairs, mindful of someone lurking behind a door or a large piece of furniture.  Keeping his steps soundless, he made a slow trek to the second floor.  On the last step, he stopped to scan the hall, his ears perked for the least sound.  Darkness lay to his left, and to his right he saw a single candle burning on a table beside a closed door.  He slinked in that direction.

Sweat dotted his forehead, although the house was freezing.  He paused to listen at the closed door.  His instincts screamed that danger lurked nearby and at any moment he would be grabbed.  Holding his pistol ready, he turned the dull brass knob.

When the door flew open, Daniel took aim.  His gazed darted from the dim lamp to his wife lying on the bed nearby.  His heart nearly stopped at the sight of her.  She had been bound to each wooden post, and a cloth had been tied around her mouth.  Red rose petals were scattered all over the bed.  But Silver didn’t look injured. 
Thank God.
  Shifting his gaze to her stomach, seeing the swollen evidence of their child, he inhaled a shaky breath.  He had to get her out of here.

As though she sensed his presence, she turned and looked at him.  Her eyes widened, then she shook her head, making urgent sounds.

He took a step forward, but when something sharp pressed into the small of his back, he jerked to a halt.  “Ah, Your Grace, right on schedule.”

He cursed his stupidity.

“Follow my instructions precisely, Your Grace, or the lady,” the man’s voice turned snide, “will suffer the consequences.  Do you understand my meaning?”

Did this man act alone?  Was there someone waiting in the shadows or beneath the bed, ready to harm Silver?  He thought of Katrina Whitmore, who could be hiding somewhere close by.  With a sigh, he nodded.

“Good.  Now, remove your finger from the trigger, that’s right, and without turning, hand me the pistol over your left shoulder.”

With gritted teeth, Daniel did as instructed.  And then the cursed man pulled the second pistol from the front of his pants.  “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Patience, Your Grace.  Now, about three feet to your right there is a chair.  I know it’s a bit dark over there, but you’ll find it.”

Feeling a sharp nudge in his back, Daniel moved toward the chair.  He kept his eyes on Silver along the way, thankful to see no one had sprung out to harm her.  He forced back some of his alarm.  He needed to think of a plan.  And think of one quick.

“Sit.”

Daniel hesitated, wondering if he could spin around and overtake the man.  He hadn’t heard a shuffle, a sigh, anything at all to indicate someone else was in the room.  Perhaps the man was bluffing.

“I said sit, Huntington.  I assure you the pistols in my hands are much swifter than you.”  The man leaned forward to speak in his ear.  “And if you try something foolish, she’ll pay for it.”

From the corner of his eye, Daniel caught the gleam of one of the pistols.  Pointed right at Silver.

Gnashing his teeth, he sat and suffered through having his wrists bound together behind him and his ankles secured to the front legs of the chair.  And when the man finished, he pulled and twisted, testing the strength of the bindings.  Finding the ruddy leather straps unyielding, he swore under his breath.

Hearing a noise near the bed, he snapped his head up.  When he found the man standing before the lamp instead of near Silver, he slumped in his chair.  Light poured into the room, chasing away the shadows, and he squinted at the sudden brightness.  His eyes adjusted, and he glanced around.  Just the three of them.  Damn, he should have overtaken the man!

Daniel pulled at his bindings.  “I demand to know what—” his words stopped abruptly when the man turned from the lamp.  “But…you’re…how did…the ship…”  He recalled every detail of that man’s face the day he rode back to Kelmscott to marry Silver.

Victor Merrick smirked.  “’Twas Colin Pennington, I am afraid, those nasty men captured.”

He shook his head, stunned.  Victor Merrick—the very man that had attacked his wife with a knife—stood before him?  He recalled the handwriting on the note.  It matched the one left on the path to trick him.  He gritted his teeth, furious he hadn’t made the connection sooner.  With a deep breath to clear his mind, he looked to Silver.  “Are you all right?”

She nodded.

Gripping the wooden arms of the chair, he glanced back to their captor.  Rage swelled within him like a volcano, ready to erupt.  But he couldn’t release it.  Not yet.  He loosened his grip, tamping back some of his wrath, and asked, “What do you want, Merrick?”

The man’s lips twisted into some sort of grin.  “I want my wife and her lover to pay for their treachery.”

Wife? Lover?  Had the man married?  The questions fled when Merrick turned toward the bed.  Daniel pulled at his bindings, ignoring the pain shooting up his arms.  He couldn’t let any harm come to his wife.

Merrick walked to the far side of the bed where Daniel could see his every move.  “I’ll give you whatever you want.  Just let her go.”  His head spun from fear.  Fear that Silver would be harmed.

“Oh, you’ll give me what I want, all right.” Merrick’s eyes flamed with vengeance. He lowered the pistols onto a small table near the bed.  “Indeed, you both will.” Then he withdrew something from his coat.  Something that made Daniel’s heart stop cold in his chest.  And all he could do was watch the light of the lamp glisten sharply against the long evil blade.

He sucked in a ragged breath at the sight of the knife so near his wife.  Never had he been so terrified.  “Merrick, what are you doing?”

Silver turned and gasped.  She lost all color.  A tremor ran through him.  “Please,” he choked.  “Let her go.  I’ll give you anything you want, do anything.  Just let Silver go.  She has naught to do with your wife.”

Merrick lifted his head and skewered Daniel an evil glare.  “Don’t be gulled by her lies and filthy deceptions.  This is my wife, an unfaithful whore who keeps changing her name to avoid me.  Her real name is Francesca Merrick.”  He stepped closer to Silver.  “Tell him.  Tell him who you really are.”

Daniel pulled at the bindings, ignoring the pain shooting up his arms.  He had to get free. 
Oh, dear God!
  Merrick had lowered the knife to Silver’s face.  Raw fear surged through his veins, blinding him a moment.  He twisted and pulled.  The cloth around her mouth fell free.  He slumped back against the chair, dizzy with relief.

“Now, tell him who you really are, you lying whore.”

Silver turned to him.  She took a deep breath and smiled.  “I am Silver Claiborne, the Duchess of Huntington, Daniel’s wife.  And I love him very much.”

As much as those words warmed his heart, they also chilled him to the bone.  He lifted his gaze, terrified of what Merrick would do now.

The man’s eyes went wild with madness.  “That, Fran, was the wrong thing to say,” he said in a voice so ominous, Daniel swallowed hard. 
Oh, God, please don’t let him hurt her.
“Tell him who you are.”  He pointed the knife at Daniel.  “Tell him who you are, or I’ll slit
his
throat.”

She moved her head from side to side.  “I-I’m your wife, Fran.  Francesca Merrick.”

Watching bitter satisfaction slide over Merrick’s face, Daniel relaxed his rigid muscles and inhaled a shuddering breath.

“That’s right.  And as my wife, Fran, you are obligated to remain faithful to me.”

“Faithful?” Silver repeated.  Then she gave a forceful sigh and actually scowled at the man.  “What about
you
remaining faithful, Victor?” she asked, her voice stronger now.

Daniel drew his brows.  What in the devil was she doing?

Merrick went still, a frown pulling his lips down.  “I have no idea what you are talking about, Francesca.  I am a faithful husband.”

“Oh?” she stated angrily.  “What about Katrina Whitmore?”

Merrick started to pace, mumbling incoherently, tapping the side of the blade against his thigh.  Daniel realized Silver had bought them some time. 
Yes
.  His hope soared. Someone at the estate would miss them and come looking for them.  Garrett!  His ever impertinent friend would surely be along at any moment.  God, he hoped so.

With a vicious snarl, Merrick turned to Silver and jabbed the knife in her direction.  “What about that bastard you’re carrying?”

Daniel pressed his lips together to keep from erupting, knowing it could well do more harm than good.

“I promise you, Victor, this child is not a bastard,” she said softly.

Merrick snapped his head back as if he’d received a blow to the jaw, his eyes going wide.  “You mean…?”  He shuffled forward, his stunned gaze lowering to her stomach.  Raising his free hand, he settled it over the small mound, then snatched it back.  “You lying whore.” He reared back and slapped her hard against the cheek.

“No!” Straining his muscles, Daniel pulled and twisted, the straps biting hard into his skin, to the point he could feel blood trickle down his fingers.  He didn’t care.  He no longer even felt the pain.  The ruddy leather wouldn’t break.  In desperation, he jerked and bounced on the chair, frantic to get free.  He couldn’t let that monster hurt his wife again.

The wood beneath him cracked.

He paused, testing the weakness of the chair, then twisted once again.  The wood splintered, the straps sliding easily from his arms and legs, and he rose to his feet.

Merrick’s head snapped up.  His red face twisted in wrath, his eyes darkening to the point of looking inhuman.  Using both hands, he raised the knife up over his head.  Above Silver.

Frozen with terror, Daniel realized he wouldn’t make it in time.  Everything slowed.  His breathing stopped.  He would have to witness that madman plunge the blade into his wife’s heart.  His knees went weak. 

Silver would die.  And he couldn’t stop it.

He tried to speak, but his mouth refused to work.  He couldn’t move.

Please, God, not Silver!

As the gleaming steel arced downward, the door crashed open.  A shiny projectile sped end over end through the air.  The sound whirled past Daniel’s ear.  Surreal, like in a dream, he watched the dagger sink to the hilt into the center of Merrick’s chest.  The man stood there for a minute, stunned, then glanced down.  The knife slipped out of his hand and clattered hard against the floor, scattering a pile of red petals.  After seeing the protruding dagger and the crimson stain growing around it, Merrick’s eyes rolled white, and he fell straight back.  The sickening smack of his skull against the wooden floor echoed throughout the silence.

Dragging in a ragged breath, probably his first in several minutes, Daniel turned around.  Connor stood in the open doorway, scowling.  Nodding his thanks, he hurried to his wife.

Alarmed, he found her eyes closed.  Her cheek red and swollen.  He leaned over her.  “Silver, love, can you hear me?  Are you hurt?”