Authors: Karen Robards
Tags: #American Light Romantic Fiction, #Romance, #Literary, #Regency fiction, #Romance - Regency, #Romantic suspense fiction, #Romance - Historical, #Fiction, #Regency, #Romance: Historical, #Historical, #Sisters, #American Historical Fiction, #General, #Fiction - Romance
B
ETH’S HEART KNOCKED
against her rib cage as she descended the broken-down, slippery stone steps at what felt like breakneck speed. Mary and the others crowded close behind her, although they no longer clasped hands, as each had to feel her way down the stairwell alone to keep from falling. She could hear their panicked breathing, and the shuffle of their feet. Enclosed by stone walls that were repellently slimy to the touch, the narrow passage seemed to have been chiseled out of solid rock. Having pushed them before him through a door he had somehow managed to open in the dark, her handsome housebreaker, whose appearance on the scene was proving as miraculous as it was astounding, was now bringing up the rear. She was in front, with no idea of where she was heading, other than down. Over the moldy scent of the walls, she thought perhaps she could smell the sea, and there was just enough grayish light seeping up from below to make her think—hope—that they were racing toward some sort of exit, a door or window that was open to the night.
She prayed it was so. Despite the closed and hopefully locked door that stood between them and the rest of the cellar, the sounds of pursuit were terrifyingly close. Thumps and bangs and clatters, so loud it was clear their pursuers were now in the chamber they had just vacated, echoed off the walls of the narrow chute they were escaping down.
“Where’d they go?”
“Hold that lantern high!”
“Bloody wenches have to be here somewhere.”
“They’re hiding, don’t you know?”
“Search behind those barrels. See if any of those trunks open.”
“’Ave a care. Whoever’s ’elping ’em did for Malloy.”
“Aye, well, shoot ’im and grab the bawds.”
“Could they have doubled back?”
The barely muffled voices were sharp with frustration. The accents varied from gentlemanly to broad Yorkshire, with the gentlemanly one seeming to be in charge, which to Beth’s mind indicated that the servants had now been joined by at least one of their masters. Knowing that they were mere yards away in the room at the top of the stairwell made Beth’s blood run cold. From the voices, she guessed there were at least six, and possibly more. It could only be a matter of time until one of the band spotted the door. When that happened . . .
She shivered. They needed to be well away before then.
A moment later, just before she reached the ground, Beth could at last glimpse where they were headed as she looked out through the open door at the end of the stairwell. The place where she would emerge was night-dark rather than pitch-black, thanks to glimmers of moonlight that filtered in through the mouth of what appeared to be a large cave and glinted off the mirror-smooth blackness of a narrow finger of water. As she reached the bottom of the steps and ran out onto it, toward the water, the ground beneath her feet was rocky sand—a beach. Just strides away, the small inlet lapped at the shore. The arched mouth of the cave—for it was a cave she was in, with stone rising steeply all around to form a soaring ceiling over her head—must open to the sea beyond.
“Blimey, they be comin’.” Mary rushed to join her, with the other women tumbling from the stairwell one by one to race behind her.
“They’re coming, they’re coming.”
The frightened warning rose from every throat.
Pulse leaping, whirling around to face the stairwell opening, Beth listened to the rattling and scraping that filled the air and identified it as the sound of someone attempting to open the door at the top of the stairs. Clustering together now in a tight group just a couple of yards from where the tide lapped at the shore, none of them knowing where to go next because, except for the mouth of the cave, which could only be reached by water, there seemed to be no way out, the women exchanged frightened glances.
“There’s no damned boat that I can find, and the water just off the shore here drops to about twelve feet deep.” The housebreaker caught up to them. Since he came from a direction other than the stairwell, she thought he must have been searching for a boat in the dark. “Can you swim?” His eyes were on Beth, and the question was clearly directed to her. He had been moving fast, but didn’t seem even faintly breathless as he stopped in front of her.
“Yes,” Beth answered, glad her voice sounded far calmer than she felt.
“No!” the blonde cried at the same time, clutching at his arm.
Shrugging her off, the housebreaker caught Beth’s elbow. His large, warm hand slid beneath the silk to close around her bare skin. “That simplifies things. We must just . . . ”
“I canno’ swim either!” Mary grabbed a handful of Beth’s domino, which billowed behind her as the housebreaker pulled Beth toward the water. Grabbing hold of the domino, too, and moving with them, the others chimed in together.
“Nor I!”
“Nor I!”
“I’m sorry for it.” The housebreaker glanced around. He did not sound particularly sorrowful, Beth noticed. “If you hide, perhaps some of you will escape.”
“There’s no place
to
hide.”
“’Tis sitting ducks we’ll be!”
“I saw a boat in the cellar!”
“Bah, ’tis of no use to us now, is it, with them in the cellar with it?”
Beth could feel the frantic tug of their hands on the domino even as the housebreaker determinedly drew her on toward the water. She couldn’t talk, and in fact could scarcely breathe. The prospect of leaving the others behind was terrible, but the alternative was something she knew she could not survive. The pounding from the top of the stairs turned into a drawn-out, metallic screech that cut through the night. Beth’s already racing heart thumped even harder. There was no possibility of mistake: their pursuers were now attempting to force open the door.
“What be that?”
“They’re forcing the door.”
“Cor, what do we do?”
The panic in the other women’s voices flayed at her like a whip.
“The water will be cold,” the housebreaker warned in her ear. “I’ll stay beside you in case you need help.”
“I don’t need your help.”
A lightning glance at the mouth of the cave confirmed it: the distance was not that great. With the water so smooth, Beth knew that, cold or not, she could swim it with ease.
“Ye’ll not leave us! Please, please!”
I won’t be taken
. Just thinking about what she would endure if that happened made Beth shake like a blancmange inside.
I can’t endure it. Never, never
.
They were just a couple of paces from the edge of the water. She must needs kick off her shoes and untie the domino . . .
The metallic screeching from the top of the stairs was so loud now that it almost drowned out the other women’s frantic voices. Its increasing volume underlined that they had only precious minutes or even seconds left in which to escape.
The water gleamed black before her. From the corner of her eyes,
she saw Mary, her mouth moving in a plea that the pounding of Beth’s pulse in her ears would no longer allow her to hear, and the faces of the others, too. Terrified faces . . .
Terrified, just as she was terrified.
Fear tasted like vinegar on Beth’s tongue. The temptation was almost overwhelming. But to leave them without any protection at all, to abandon them to their fates while she saved herself, was something she discovered she just could not do.
Swallowing, squaring her shoulders, she dug in her heels hard just one small step away from the water’s edge. When the housebreaker looked back at her inquiringly, she shook her head.
“I can’t go without them.” Her voice was hoarse, raw.
“What?
Oh, yes, you can.” His hand tightened on her arm, and she realized that he was about to pull her into the water by force majeure if necessary. “When we reach safety, we can send the constable back for them. He should arrive in time to—”
“No.” Beth wrenched her arm free and leaped away from him to the accompaniment of what sounded like a collective female moan of relief.
He
would not leave without
her,
they all knew, although why that was so she wasn’t quite sure. Her thoughts flew to that stolen kiss. Was he helping her escape only to secure her for himself? She didn’t know—but he
was
helping her, and for now that was enough. His motive she would worry about later. Clearly the others’ fear wasn’t so much that she would leave them, but that he would. They looked at him as the best source of protection they had. She remembered the knife, flying out of nowhere to lodge in the throat of the huge man who was choking her. Remembered, too, how he had dealt so handily with William, and realized they were right. He was strong and able, handy with his fives and, if the knife was any indication, with weapons, too. But he would be so badly outnumbered . . .
“Damn it to hell and back, we’ve no time for this folly. That door will not hold forever.” The housebreaker’s ire was evident in his tone as he advanced on her. Surrounded by the others, who fell back with her, Beth backed away. Even as their voices swirled around her unheeded,
she held his gaze. He was clearly angry, clearly bent on imposing his will on her. She’d had personal experience with his strength, and had no doubt that she stood little chance of withstanding him if he chose to simply pick her up and bear her off. First, though, he had to lay hands on her again.
A sudden sharp
pop
and a triumphant male cry punctuated the terrifying groans of metal being systematically pulled apart.
Heart in throat, Beth glanced back toward the stairs.
“They’re breaking through,” Mary gasped. Some of the others clutched at Beth, their expressions fearful.
“What do we do? What should we do?”
Making a harsh sound under his breath, the housebreaker reached Beth with a single stride that was far longer and swifter than anything she had foreseen and caught her by both arms, frowning down at her. His hands were large and incredibly strong, and he held her in a grip that this time she knew she couldn’t break. The others fell back a little, looking from one to the other of them with both fear and indecision plain in their faces.
Beth knew what they were thinking very well: Should they attack the man they hoped would help save them? From their expressions, she could see the answer was clearly no.
“Let me
go
.” Beth had visions of being borne away into the water willy-nilly, and scowled right back at him. “If you force me, I’ll not swim a stroke.”
“Please, sir . . . ”
“Help us.”
“Oh, please.”
“We be beggin’ ye.”
As the chorus of pleas continued disregarded around them, his eyes took on a dangerous gleam as they bored into hers. His mouth thinned and his jaw hardened to granite. His grip tightened cruelly, and he pulled her up onto her toes while Beth stared right back at him with undeterred defiance.
“I mean what I say,” she told him.
After a brace of seconds in which the issue hung in the balance, some of the hardness left his eyes and his mouth twisted into a wry sort of grimace. His grip eased. He glanced around at the women, who were now gathered in a circle around them both. One tugged at his sleeve, another laid a beseeching hand on his arm; all implored him with their eyes as well as their voices. Watching his face, Beth got the impression that he was, at the very least, wishing them all at Jericho.
“God save me from all bloody women.” His tone was harsh, but Beth recognized the words as capitulation and felt a rush of relief. His hold on her loosened enough so that she was once again standing flat on the beach. She smiled at him. He did not smile back. It didn’t matter. Though he was obviously less than pleased with the prospect, she knew he would do what he could to help them withstand their pursuers, who were, from the sound of it, in the last stages of tearing the door from the wall. But would it be enough? Not likely. He was only one man, after all. But if they all worked together, perhaps . . .
“We can help you fight them off,” she said, and the others chimed in eagerly.
“There be rocks . . . ”
“We can throw sand in their eyes when they gets close.”
“Sand? I’ll scratch their bleedin’ eyes out for ’em, I will.”
“Rocks and sand against guns? We must—”
“No.”
He sent a quelling glance around. “If you lot want to help, then you’ll do what I damned well tell you. Nothing more, nothing less.” His eyes gleamed blacker even than the nearby water as he looked down at Beth again. As she met them she was suddenly, forcefully put in mind of a predator. “That goes especially for you, my girl. Do I have your word that you’ll do exactly as I say?”
“Yes,” she promised.
There was a change in him that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. It was too dark for her to read the fine points of his expression, but he seemed now to emanate a savage energy that spoke more of beast than man. His hands had tightened on her arms again, and she was
perfectly sure that unless he chose to release her, she wouldn’t be able to get away.
“Then hide, damn it. All of you.
Now
. Get down behind the rocks and stay there. Keep your heads down. Do not make a sound. Do not come out until I come for you. Do you understand?” His eyes were on Beth.
“Yes.” Beth answered along with the rest.
“Go, then.” Releasing her, he made an imperious gesture that sent them rushing away.
Beth ran with the others toward the clumps of rocks that rose perhaps hip-high from the sand. Even as the women split up into groups of different sizes to accommodate the sizes of the rocks they crouched behind, another sharp
pop
followed by a victorious yell and, within seconds, the dull thud of boots pounding on stone told Beth that their pursuers had broken through at last, and were rushing down the stairwell toward them.
Oh, no
.
Her heart leaped into her throat. Her gaze fastened on the mouth of the stairwell.
“Ayee.” The soft cry came from the apple-cheeked brunette, who immediately clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle further utterance. Along with Mary, she was hunkered down with Beth. No one else made a sound, but the fear in the air was as palpable as the smell of the sea.