Alexandra stumbled, her white slippersslipping in the mud and she shivered as the rain increased.
“Lean on me,” Rachel said. “That was foolishbut very brave thing to do.”
“Keep yere bloody mouths shut.” Wartrasped.
Harnesses jangled, hooves pounded. A coachappeared on the other side of the felled tree. Wart opened the doorand his body blocked the seal on the door from her view. Hemotioned with his gun for them to get in. Alexandra hesitated.Visions of her last abduction swam before her. This time she wouldnot be so lucky.
“I will not leave with you.”
Wart shrugged. “Get in or get a bulletthrough your head.”
Alexandra narrowed her eyes. “Why the extracoach? Why not shoot us and be done with it? I believe you areordered not to hurt us.”
Wart swung up his gun in her face. “I getmiserable when I’m wet and cold and you never know when this pistolmight go off.”
Rachel nodded, boarded the coach and heldout her hand. Alexandra refused. Wart raised his gun and slammedher on the side of her head.
* * *
Alexandra’s eyes fluttered open, awarenessseeping into her skull. Her body felt leaden, sluggish. Her stomachroiled. She touched her head and groaned. An egg-sized bump grew onthe side of her head. The world tilted. Oh, God. Was she going tobe ill?
Boosting herself up on one elbow, sherealized she was lying in a bed. A beam of light shattered the darkas it pierced through a window, making her eyes hurt. Another waveof nausea rose in her throat. Flopping back down, she draped onearm over her eyes to block out the painful light.
When the nausea calmed, she looked at theunfamiliar silk wall garishly embossed with plumes of ferns andinterwoven with long panes of mirror.
Seeing her reflection in the mirror, shegasped. Someone had undressed her. She wore only her chemise. Evenher shoes and stockings had been removed.
Wherever she was, it was obvious she was aprisoner. She swung her feet around and to the floor, touching thesoft carpet, then tiptoed across the room to the closed door. Sheturned the doorknob.
Locked.
Her heart sank. She leaned against the doorand knocked. “Is anyone there?” Her throat felt scratchy andparched, she coughed. No response. She swung around, scanned foranother escape route, right to left…and up above…where she saw herreflection. The ceiling was covered with mirrors.
Seeing a mark on her forehead in thereflection, she reached to touch it. Ouch! It hurt. She withdrewher wet and sticky fingers.Blood.She turned and poundedher fist on the door. “I cannot open the door. Does anyone have thekey?”
“Alexandra? Is that you? Are you allright?”
A woman’s voice. Was that Rachel? Stillgroggy, Alexandra shook her head, then moved to the other side ofthe room. What the hell was going on? She had been in the Rutlandcoach going to the Duke of Banfield’s for tea. Shots. They’d heardshots. Men fell dead. A struggle.
She spoke through the wall. “Rachel?”
“I’m here.”
“Where are we?”
“The Duke of Westbrook’s home.”
She shook her head again. Clarity was nother friend. “Why?”
“Think, Alexandra.”
A chill clawed up her spine with slowrealization…all that had been done to the Rutland family had beenthe Duke of Westbrook’s doing.
“Dear God in heaven. We are his pawns. Hewill use us to lure Nicholas, Anthony and Duke Richard here.”
Alexandra examined the window. No way couldshe fit through the small aperture. She peered below. Threestories. A wave of vertigo hit her and she waited for it to pass.“Odd, but this room has only one tiny round window, about aseven-inch diameter and too small for me to fit through. There isno escape.”
“My window is small and far too risky toclimb down in my condition. I’ve tried picking the lock to noavail.
