Authors: Rachel Van Dyken
Clenching his fists, Samuel attacked the other man, pounding him again and again about
the face and chest. Now they'd find who would win the woman. No way he would give
up. It was do… or die.
The man cursed, wiping blood from his chin. Enraged, he grabbed Samuel's shirtfront,
propelling them both toward a grouping of rickety wooden tables. Samuel broke their
fall, his back smacking onto the nearest tabletop. Pain lanced through his spine,
jarring every bone and muscle. A firm grip lifted him from the table and threw him
on the floor in a dusty, bloody heap.
Samuel turned his head. A black boot pulled away from his head, then propelled forward,
smashing into his temple.
His world faded to black.
Chapter One
Outside Hammersmith, 1807
Pain. Pain lanced through her entire body. Her ankle throbbed as if her heart pulsed
in that exact spot. And cold, so cold, as if she lay upon damp, raw ground. Sasha
Douglas clenched her hands into fists. Her stomach roiled with nausea.
Where am I?
Were her eyes open? In the near darkness, it was impossible to say. She squinted against
the headache pounding behind her eyes and glanced up.
And up
. A tiny shaft of sunlight fell across the opening of wherever she was. Dots of fluffy
white clouds hung lazily in the blue sky.
She sat up, despite the pain in her head and leg, and tugged her cloak tighter against
the chill. Water trickled along from somewhere beside her. A few inches of water splashed
around her boot and seeped into her dress.
What happened? Think, Sasha!
A sharp cry echoed from way above the opening. Sasha dug her nails into her palms.
Was it the red-footed falcon she'd watched earlier? Why did the bird's call cause
panic in her heart? It had never bothered her before. She closed her eyes and slumped
forward with her head and arms over her knees. Her ankle throbbed again. Perhaps if
she rubbed it… no, it didn't help.
Wait
. Where was her left boot? She checked her other foot. Leather and lacings, just as
it should be. Her left foot was cold. And wet. The pain throbbed again, from her knee
to her ankle and toes. Her stomach knotted in response and she shivered.
Her fingers caught on a large tear in her old walking dress. When she pulled back
her hand, something sticky seeped through her gloves. Blood? She must have scraped
her leg when she fell into this cold, black hole.
Her teeth chattered in the chilly dampness.
Breathe, Sasha, just breathe.
Memories of earlier in the day flashed across her mind. She'd been walking along a
valley as the green expanse of grass swayed in the breeze. Crickets had hummed their
peculiar tune. The air was crisp and cool even though the sun shone. The red-footed
falcon had cried overhead. She'd not been paying attention to where she was going
as she watched the falcon dip and sway in the wind, its feathers gleaming in the sun's
reflected rays. Then she'd stepped forward into empty air, and she gasped again as
her stomach lurched from the memory.
Fear had flashed through her like icy water. She'd grabbed for support… at nothing.
She'd screamed, and it had echoed as she'd hurtled down the shaft. Had she bounced
from the stone surface before she'd crashed against the cold, wet ground? Sasha remembered
nothing else. Nothing at all until the first, pain-wracked moment when she'd woken.
What have I fallen in to?
The hole hadn't been visible from a distance in the tall grass. She hadn't noticed
what must have been a fairly large opening for her to go through, as she'd watched
the hawk. How would she get out? What if she
couldn't
get out?
Will I die down here in this dark, damp place? Please, no. No!
Surely someone would be along to find her, wouldn't they?
Please let
someone find me
. "Help! Someone! Please help me!"
Silence answered.
Sasha glanced up again at the small patch of sky.
I need to get out of
here!
But the distance was too great, and there wouldn't be anything to grasp onto, since
the cobblestones along the wall were slick. Unless someone found her, she would die
here, hurt and alone. Thoughts of starving or freezing to death caused new chills
to wrack her body.
Someone someday might find her bones. A shepherd seeking a lost sheep? A mason sent
to fill in the old well? Would they bury her? She shuddered again.
Circumstances as they were now could not be any worse. Her life would be forever changed.
Sorrow gripped her heart at the thought of Samuel. Why? Why did he have to die? Since
their parents' deaths, it had been just her and her brother.
Now it was just her.
Since she no longer had a family, there would be no one to even remember who she'd
been. Or that she'd even crossed the earth. She had no one, absolutely alone in the
world.
Samuel.
The physical hurt collided with the anguish and anger of her loss.
Why had he gotten into the fight in the inn? He had always been in some kind of trouble
and always had promised her each time would be the last. But he'd never kept his word
to her. Couldn't he have just walked away and ignored the taunts of the other man?
Then she wouldn't be here. Alone. He'd only been gone a few days, but…
Samuel, I need you.
She slumped against the cold cobblestones, shivering but too miserable to move. Tears
dripped down her cheeks and plopped onto her dress. She grieved heavily for her last
remaining family member. Nevertheless, she should have been more aware of her surroundings.
Look where it had gotten her! Alone and lost. And possibly soon to die below the ground.
No one would have to dig her grave because she was already in it.
Thud. Thud
.
Thud. Thud.
Sasha swallowed hard.
What was that?
She sat up straighter.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Vibrations through the dirt became stronger and more pronounced as the seconds ticked
by. The ground trembled. Small stones, from somewhere in the wall above, pelted her
arms and head, but any discomfort was dwarfed by the pain in her ankle.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Sasha peered upward.
Someone's coming!
Was it a horse pounding its hooves on the ground? Did the horse have a rider? She
shivered, torn between excitement and fear. "Hello! I'm down here!" No one answered.
Were they too far away to hear?
Thud. Thud
.
Thud. Thud.
Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears, competing with the noise above. She needed to still
her mind and heart. Holding her breath, however, wasn't successful, only serving to
make her suck in mouthfuls of cold, damp air.
Sasha took a deep breath, letting it out a little at a time, and she calmed. She clenched
her filthy fingers together. If the horse had a rider, she'd yell for all she was
worth. It might be her one chance for life!
But her energy drained away, weakness creeping through her body and mind. Dizziness
swirled her vision and thoughts. How much blood had she lost?
Someone please help me.
****
Garrett Rothchild Cantlebury, the Fifth Duke of Ravensworth, slowed his horse, Ashe,
when he spied something small and black lying next to the edge of the old well. Was
it an animal? A piece of cloth? Wait, the slab covering the well had been moved. He
gritted his teeth. He'd had it mortared closed after he'd seem some children showing
interest in the well. And he'd been certain that would keep the slab down tight. Had
they chipped away at it over time, loosening the seal little by little?
He didn't care that they believed the well was haunted by some ghost. If he ever caught
them… but that wasn't likely. With the old house torn down, leaving a wide-open field,
he'd be hard pressed to sneak up on them.
Garrett swung down from the saddle, left his horse ground tied, and squatted down.
Pebbles skittered into the well. It was a boot, a woman's tattered boot. Crushing
pebbles surrounding the opening, he picked up the boot, its broken laces caught beneath
the edge of the slab. Sun warmed his face as he gazed around the old Bennett farm.
He frowned. Why would someone go off and leave her boot out in the middle of his property?
Had someone been using the nearby bushes for a tryst?
He stood and examined the boot more closely. It was of inferior quality, presumably
worn by a servant. He turned the boot over. The leather was scuffed and the sole paper-thin.
But the boot was still usable.
Garrett glanced toward the well's yawning black mouth.
No, surely not
. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. What if someone had fallen down there? It would be
on his head, since he was the one ultimately responsible for the condition of his
property. His farm manager was organizing the job of filling in the well in several
months, but that took time. He shook his head. Too much time.
If only Garrett had ordered it filled in years ago. Years ago when… No, he wouldn't
dwell on it now. Couldn't. It had taken him a long time even to be able to ride past
the well without memories from the past assaulting him.
He dropped the boot, hoping with everything in him that he was wrong. Garrett leaned
over the gaping hole and peered into its darkness.
"Is there anyone down there?" He held his breath.
Please don't let anyone answer. Let the owner of the shoe be far from here and safe.
Let it be—
A whimper, such as an injured animal might make, floated up from the depths of the
hole. Garrett scooted closer to the opening. "Hello? Is someone there?" He leaned
as far into the opening as he dared, closed his eyes, and waited. His breath caught
in his throat as the seconds ticked by.
"Y-yes. Help. Help me,
please
."
No!
Garrett widened his eyes, scrambling away from the well. His heart thumped and sweat
formed on his face and beneath his shirt. As he paced back and forth, he ran his hand
down his face, wiping away the perspiration. It was as he'd feared. A woman's voice
had been his answer. But… the last time he'd had to go into that well… when another
woman had been found there… Garrett hurried back toward the opening.
"Miss? Are you hurt?" Garrett clenched his fists and waited.
"I think… there is something wrong… with my, ah… a-ankle." Her voice was weak. Was
she having trouble breathing? Was Garrett too late to help her?
"Miss, I need to go for help." There was an old gate from his paddock he could use
to carry her on. And blankets, ropes, several grooms to help…
"Please… I don't want to… be alone. Is there a way…?"
Garrett frowned. "But I need assistance. Someone to—"
"I'm not… as badly injured as I first thought. I—" A sob rose from below. "
Please."
Poor woman. She
must be so frightened.
Garrett closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. He had not the heart to
leave her. He bit back a curse and stood. "Stay still, miss. I'll fetch a rope from
my saddlebag." He hurried toward Ashe, wrenched the bag open, and yanked on the end
of the rope he always carried for emergencies. Garrett swallowed hard and shook his
head. This was most certainly an emergency.
His hands shook as he strung out the rope. What if he couldn't rescue her? He couldn't
just leave her down there to die. There must be a way for him to accomplish this task.
Garrett eyed his horse as an idea formed. Would it work? Fortunately, he had a horse
that was obedient to a fault.
Will Ashe stay true to
his reputation?
He tied one end of the rope through the D-rings on Ashe's saddle and hoped the girth
wouldn't break or slip. He led the horse closer to the edge of the hole and gave Ashe
the signal to remain still.
Then Garrett crawled to the well's opening, cupped his hand around the side of his
mouth, and shouted. "I'm coming down for you. I'll try to land as near the center
as I can. Please stay toward one side of the well." He waited.
"I'll try."
Relief flooded Garrett's body. The woman was at least still coherent.
He tightened his grasp on the rope and slid over the top on his stomach, feet first.
Ashe staggered back a few steps when Garrett's weight hit the rope.
"Ashe.
Stand
."
Garrett walked backward down the well's wall, letting the rope out hand over hand.
The rope burned his palms when he lost his grip and slid for a few seconds. His heart
jumped and he sucked in air. What a catastrophe it would be if he fell and injured
himself
as well.
The farther he descended into the pit, the lower the temperature dropped, and his
earlier perspiration vanished. In its place were cold chills, like icy fingers down
his back. How long had the poor woman been down there? It would be a miracle if she
didn't end up with an illness, if she even survived the experience.
Garrett's muscles strained as he gripped the rope in his gloved hands. His boots squeaked
against the damp stone wall. Would the rope hold up under the weight of two people?
He finally touched solid ground under one foot and loosened his grasp on the rope,
but didn't let go.
She had to be here somewhere…
He waited a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There, behind him,
a shapeless form huddled against the wall, her breathing loud like that of a frightened
deer.
"Miss? Are you in tremendous pain from your ankle?"
Garrett's eyes finished adjusting. The woman was small. Long dark tendrils of hair
hung loose from her hat. Large, wide eyes glistened in the gloom, disappeared when
she blinked, then reappeared. Blue, brown, green? Impossible to tell in the low light.
"Yes, sir, I'm afraid so." Her eyes glistened. Was she crying? "I thank you for rescuing
me. I thought…" She glanced up toward the top of the well. "How will we get out? It's
too far and I c-can't climb with my injury."
"Leave it to me. I have a plan. Can you stand?"
She shook her head. "I'm not sure."
"All right, I'm going to lean down close to you and help you up. Are you ready?"
"I think s-so."
Garrett leaned down and took her hand. Her fingers were icy. He gently pulled her
toward him, gritting his teeth when she gasped from the pain. She lifted her face
to him, closed her eyes briefly, and then nodded. "I c-can do it."
He shook out the rope's kinks, watching her chest rise and fall. One breath, two…
the third slower and deeper. She straightened against the stone wall, balancing on
one foot, holding the other foot just above the ground and leaning her palms against
the wall.
Yes, she'll make it to the top.
Reassured, Garrett wound the rope around them and tied it in a slipknot. Her slight
form was pressed against him, shivering, icy, damp. She gripped his arms. There wasn't
enough room between them for her hands to be anywhere else.
"Now I'm going to signal my horse up above to walk on, pulling us up. The signal will
be loud, so cover your ears."
He waited until both of her hands were over her ears and then gave a shrill, long
whistle. His heartbeat thumped painfully against his ribs when the rope remained still.
Had something happened to Ashe? What would Garrett do if that were the case? A few
more agonizing seconds passed. The rope stirred. Garrett's breath blew out in a relieved
whoosh.
He wrapped his arms around the woman, ducking his chin over her, and pressed her head
against his chest. "Miss, pull your arms in. Place your hands on my chest." She slid
her hands from his shoulders, slowly snaking her fingers between them, inch by inch
until her elbows no longer stuck out.
"Good. Try to stay as close to me as possible."
She nodded. Her breathing quickened, blowing tiny puffs against Garrett's neck.
The rope jerked, yanking them around. Garrett stuck his elbow out, pushing against
the stone. The poor woman would be in agony if her injured leg banged the wall. The
rope spun again and Garrett kicked with his boot. He squeezed the woman tight. She
yelped. But better to be crushed to his chest than scraped unmercilessly against that
rough stone.
"Close your eyes, miss." Garrett shut his, too, as tiny pieces of stone rained down
from where the rope slid over the well's lip. Closer to the top, the ride smoothed
out. Garrett swallowed against a lump in his throat, thankful they were almost safe.
She lifted her head and opened her eyes wide. Sunlight kissed her brown hair and reflected
from her eyes, dark brown. Pink cheeks flushed. Her white teeth closed on her bottom
lip, full and lush. Garrett's heartbeat quickened and his mouth went dry.
Under ordinary circumstances, Garrett would not, of course, be this intimate with
a stranger. However, this circumstance was far from ordinary. And he suddenly found
himself quite taken with the way her soft body cradled in the comfort of his. He hoped,
in her current state, she wouldn't notice his physical reaction to her closeness.
Garrett tore his gaze from the beautiful woman who clung to him and glanced up. The
tops of swaying grasses were visible above the rim of the opening.
Almost there
. He let out a sigh as the horse hauled them farther up the stone wall. "Hold tight,
I'm able to see the top."
Another jerk higher and suddenly Garrett's head warmed in the sun. Halfway across
the clearing, Ashe tugged again, his head down. The saddle was still in place and
Garrett gave a gratified prayer it stayed intact. The horse would get a long rubdown
and a sweet bran mash that night.
One final jerk of the rope, and Garrett dug his elbow into the ground, leveraging
him and the woman up and over the well's lip. Another whistle cued Ashe to stop. Garrett
untied the rope and laid the woman gently back on the ground. But her legs still dangled
too close to the pit. He gathered her tight in his arms, pulled her back farther,
and again laid her on the ground. She'd felt cold against him. If only he had a blanket
to wrap her in.
He lay down beside her and sucked in a breath, his heartbeat slowing to a normal rhythm.
Her eyes were closed, but her breathing was shallow and quick. Her skin looked soft
as rose petals after a rain. A pinkish hue colored the curve of her cheek, in an otherwise
pale face. Would it feel as soft as it looked? He opened his fingers, reached forward
slowly, but pulled back, clenching his fist. He could not, no, he would not allow
himself that privilege.
He scooted away, putting an appropriate distance between them. "Where are you hurt?"
She pointed toward her leg, but didn't open her eyes. "My a-ankle. I'm just catching
my breath. I… I'll be fine in a moment."
The rise and fall of her chest slowed. Color returned to her face and lips. Her shivering
stopped.
Thank heavens!
Garrett stood and stretched and then walked toward Ashe and untied the rope from the
saddle. His hands shook. How treacherous the rescue had been! How much it reminded
him of a past he would rather forget.
He wrapped his arms around the horse's neck, and whispered, "What a good fellow you
are, Ashe. I am in your debt." Ashe nodded his head and snorted out a deep breath.
Garrett patted the horse on the rump and watched him plod away, head lowering toward
the grass.
Garrett turned back toward the woman. Her brown eyes, now opened wide, blinked. Long
black lashes brushed against her cheek, fanning around her eyes like petals on a daisy.
What lay behind those dark eyes? What secrets did they hold? She struggled to sit
up, but whimpered and lay back down, her hand tightening to a fist.
"Miss, you are in grave need of a physician. I know it will be difficult for you,
but I must put you on my horse with me and ride back to my home. I will send for the
local physician as soon as we are back at the house."
The woman nodded, but her eyes closed with the effort. She was still breathing but…
had she lost consciousness? Guilt hit Garrett hard in the chest. He was the one ultimately
responsible if tragedy befell this woman from her fall. All those years ago, someone
had carelessly thrown another woman into that very well, tossing her aside as if her
life were nothing more than refuse. If only someone had looked after
her
before it had gotten to that point.
He gritted his teeth. If it took Garrett until his last breath, he would take care
of
this
woman and make this up to her. Somehow.