Desi yanked on the brass door handle one last time, even as she realized how foolish it was to repeat the same thing and expect a different outcome.The outcome, in this case, would be to flee from this locked room and escape the marquis’s mad clutches.
She had no idea what she’d done to deserve being locked up against her will.And the two French brutes who’d caught her in the marquis’s library and dragged her here weren’t saying either.She wasn’t a timid woman, given to bouts of fear and anxiety, but she’d been unable to stop trembling ever since the men had shoved her inside and bolted the door.
Plopping down on the narrow bed, she glanced around the room.No bigger than a closet, its plastered white walls were damp and mottled with age.A single window admitted a shaft of light, its iron latch bolted fast.A small chair stood in one corner beside a wobbly table on which sat a chipped washbasin.The mattress sagged beneath her as the scent of mildew and stale smoke filled her nose.This must be a servant’s room because it looked nothing like the rest of the Montverre estate.
A lock clanked.Desi’s heart seized.The heavy oak door swung open, and the marquis strutted in, one hand in the air, his jeweled rings glimmering in the light of the lantern he carried.He filled the room with an air of disdainful authority, his powdered wig and silken coat out of place in such a drab place.Two men halted at the door behind him.
“Mademoiselle Starr,” he said smoothly, his French accent curling around her name.“The stray pup our gallant Captain Hyde keeps at his side.”His eyes raked her from head to toe, assessing her as though she were no more than merchandise.“I do apologize for such poor accommodations, but other than the gaol downtown, this is the only chamber with locks on the window.”
Desi shot to her feet, clutching the coverlet she’d been sitting on as though it were armor.Forcing down the fear she felt inside, she raised her chin.“Why am I here?What have I done to deserve this?”
A cruel smile played upon his lips.“Nothing, I assure you, mademoiselle.You are merely here because you are…useful.”He let the word hang, as if gauging her unease.
Desi swallowed hard.Useful?She could only think of one thing she was good for in this God-forsaken time.And surely this man had more than enough women to warm his bed.
When she made no reply, he waved a hand through the air.“As I informed your captain before he left, if he wishes to see you free and unscathed, he will bring me the Ring of Solomon.One trinket in exchange for a trembling dove.A fair exchange, wouldn’t you say?”
An icy chill inched down her spine.Caleb would never give the Ring to anyone.Especially not for a silly girl from the future he’d only met weeks ago.“And if he refuses?”Against her every effort, her voice quivered.
The marquis approached, showering her in the scent of his cologne and wine.His voice lowered, but his words sliced like a knife through her heart.“Then you had better pray, Mademoiselle Starr, that he harbors affections for you.For if he does not…” He gave her a serpent’s grin.“I will sell you.Many a man would pay handsomely for a fair-skinned beauty such as yourself.”
Desi’s knees quaked.Horror strangled her breath.She wanted to slap the man, push him, and make a run for it.But instead, she stood taller.“Caleb…will come,” she said, more to convince herself than this man.
An amused glimmer crossed the marquis’s eyes as if impressed by her bravery.With a mocking bow, he turned and left, slamming the door behind him and sealing her once more in shadow and fear.
♥
A salty breeze wafted in through the stern windows, sending candlelight flickering over the Holy Writing on the page.
The Lord is my light and my salvation;
Whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the strength of my life;
Of whom shall I be afraid?
When the wicked came against me
To eat up my flesh,
My enemies and foes,
They stumbled and fell.
Though an army may encamp against me,
My heart shall not fear;
Though war may rise against me,
In this I will be confident.
Caleb spoke the words out loud from one of his favorite Psalms.A soft purr drew his gaze to Patches, curled up in his lap.Sitting back in his chair, Caleb petted the feline and released a heavy sigh as a familiar peace blanketed him.How long had it been since he’d read the Scriptures?Too long.He used to start each day with a good dose of the Holy Bread, just as his father and grandfather had taught him.
“More nourishing than real bread, the Word of God will feed your spirit and keep you sailing on calm seas under fair winds,” his grandfather, Captain Edmund Merrick, would say.“With these Holy Words.”He’d hold up his Bible.“You can conquer every enemy and live victoriously.”
Caleb had been blessed to have such Godly parents and grandparents.He shook his head.He had failed them, himself, and many others.
