To one unfamiliar with the cave it was deceptively small, appearing to have only one main room. Kenna knew better and was quite pleased that her memory of its twists and turns was serving her so well. What looked like a corridor through the rock on the left actually was a dead end. Kenna took the right passage, halting when she reached the entrance to the cave’s interior chamber. The lantern that had signaled the ship sat unattended on a shelf of stone and cast the room in a yellowish glow. Crouching low, Kenna pressed her face between a narrow fault in the rock and peered in.
The two men from the boat stood with their backs to Kenna, blocking her view of the one they confronted. Then one of the men bent over to brush at something on his leg and before he straightened and stepped to the side Kenna saw he had been hiding not one, but two people from her view. Kenna was too numb from this night’s events to do more than blink owlishly when she recognized the Elizabethan lady and her highwayman escort.
“Why did you answer our signal if you had nothing to tell us?” one of the men demanded to know. Only after he asked the question did Kenna realize he was repeating himself impatiently.
Victorine’s reply was soft and somehow weary. “I thought you may have something to tell me.”
The man cursed in rapid French and continued to make demands of Victorine in the same language. Kenna’s knowledge of the language was limited to drawing room conversation but she could catch enough to understand that he was berating Victorine for her stupidity. Kenna almost felt sorry for her and wondered why Rhys did not defend her. Abruptly the man switched to English. “You haven’t forgotten why you are here? You recall what hangs in the balance, do you not?”
“I cannot forget,” Victorine admitted. “But a word, just a word from you would—”
“Would mean nothing, m’dear.”
Kenna gasped but it was swallowed by Victorine’s. It was not Rhys who answered, but Lord Dunne. Somehow he had managed to enter the cave as easily as he had years ago, and still Kenna had no idea how it was accomplished. She glanced at the hem of Victorine’s gown and saw it was not muddy or wet. Rhys’s boots glistened a bit but he had been outside with the lantern. Kenna understood their path to the cave was undoubtedly the same as her father’s.
“Robert—”
Lord Dunne brought his hands away from his side and showed everyone in the chamber that he had not come unprepared. In each hand he carried a primed pistol. “Victorine. Come here.”
Victorine looked fearfully at the men in front of her and glanced uncertainly at Rhys’s shadowed face before she stepped to her husband’s side.
“Couldn’t you trust me, Victorine?” Lord Dunne’s voice was filled with regret. “These men are naught but liars, including, to my everlasting regret, the one you looked to for help.”
Kenna held her breath while her father steadied his pistol on Rhys. “Would you have her betray us all so that you might venture into some new scheme? I had not thought you could be capable of this—not betraying your country for some notion of world peace designed by Napoleon. And that is what you intended, is it not? Don’t bother to answer.” He waved one pistol in the direction of the two men from the boat. “Their presence here is all the proof I required. I should kill you, you know. But I can’t. At the very least I should bring you before the courts, but I find my pride too great to allow you to shame my house. I will grant you the opportunity to leave Dunnelly and England. It is better than you deserve.”
Kenna placed her hands over her ears, unwilling to hear another word. It was nonsensical talk, all of it, and she was better off not knowing what it meant. Rhys opened his mouth and made some reply but Kenna did not know what he said. Victorine was crying now and Kenna thought she looked pathetically wretched as she buried her face in her hands. Her father must have thought so too, for his face softened and his attention was diverted long enough to allow one of the Frenchmen to dive for the lantern, knock it over, and plunge the dank chamber into complete darkness.
Kenna’s hands dropped away from her ears as shouting and shots reverberated about the cave. There were pained grunts as fists flew, striking out blindly in the hopes that knuckles would connect with flesh. There was another shot, then silence, aching and deep. A hard knot filled Kenna’s middle and closed her throat as Victorine screamed Robert’s name. The necessity of reaching her father spurred Kenna into action. Under cover of the unrelieved blackness of the cave, she crawled into the chamber and narrowly missed being trampled by a pair of feet fighting for their balance in the aftermath of the scuffle. There was a rustle of skirts and protests from Victorine as she was dragged from her husband’s side.
“Find the lantern,” one of the Frenchmen ordered.
Kenna froze as her fingers touched the lantern glass.
Someone was crawling toward her, arms sweeping the ground to find the misplaced light. She held her breath, immobile, until one of the hands touched her arm.
“Diable! Comment—”
Kenna grasped the lantern’s iron ring and swung it for all she was worth in the direction of the surprised voice. The Frenchman screamed in pain as the glass shattered against his face. Kenna’s victory was short-lived as she scrambled away from his flailing arms and was jerked back when he caught the ends of her scarf.
“His lordship brought assistance,” he grunted, wrapping the scarf about one fist and bringing Kenna closer to him.
Kenna thought he would strangle her and she waited for the breath to be choked from her body. The last thing she expected was that her captor would use his free fist to break her unremarkable nose.
* * *
Something cold and wet tickled Kenna’s fingers and she curled them into her palm as if to protect them. A moment later the wetness engulfed her hand. She stirred uneasily and slowly, not knowing what to make of her surroundings. It occurred to her she may have gone blind, for it was just as dark upon opening her eyes as it was when they were closed. Gradually awareness gathered at the corners of her mind and she could find no reason to give thanks for it.
The chamber was quiet save for her own labored breathing and the gentle lapping of water at her feet. “Papa?” There was no answer, nor had Kenna expected one. “Victorine?” Again the silence.
It was when Kenna tried to stand that she discovered her hands and feet were bound. She struggled with the ropes but they held her securely. Water swept over her hands again and this time it did not retreat more than a few inches. When it made another pass her hands remained covered. Kenna struggled to her knees, and crawled awkwardly for higher ground. Water lapped at her boots, soaked her breeches, and followed her progress across the cave floor. She slipped once and nearly fainted again as her broken and swollen nose bumped her forearm.
Fighting for air through her mouth, Kenna slid a few feet forward on her belly. Her harsh intake of breath became a keening cry as her fingers curled around the ruffled edging of a linen shirt. She had found her father’s body.
She screamed…
Chapter 1
January 1815
