“The others are waiting,” the first man said.
He spoke in vernacular English, but his voice was cultured. An educated man, someone of the noble class or in frequent contact with the nobility.
“You take her an’ give me the rest of my money now,” Carter said. “I already risked more’n I like. I don’t want nothin’ more to do with you lot of devil-worshippers.”
Devil-worshippers?
“Put her in the wagon, and you can go.”
She bit her lip to keep from crying out as she was tossed through the air. A sharp pain shot through her shoulder as she landed with a hard thump. Wooden slats creaked beneath her as the wagon rocked from the impact of her weight.
“Mind you keep your mouth closed,” the man with the cultured voice said. “I warn you—I know spells that would leave your cock limp for the rest of your days.”
Carter spurted a string of oaths. Then she heard the clink of coins, following by receding footsteps. The wagon rocked again, this time with the weight of someone getting in the front. With a lurch, it moved forward.
As the wagon bumped along, she rocked herself from side to side, intent on rolling off the back of the wagon. Once, twice, she rolled over, and then… damn, she hit the side of the wagon. She gathered her strength and bounced herself. She was wrapped so tightly, it was slow going. Inch by inch, she moved until her feet fell off the end.
“Halt, John!”
At the woman’s shout, the driver brought the wagon up sharply, which sent Linnet sliding forward away from the end of the wagon. She wanted to scream in frustration.
The next thing she knew, there was someone beside her, unwrapping the blanket from her face.
She saw a flash of starlit sky, and then a cloth was over her face. It had the same distinctive odor as before.
“Noooo!” Her scream was muffled by the cloth. In vain, she struggled against the bindings that held her fast.
Linnet awoke with a blazing headache. For a long moment, she lay on her back, staring at the ceiling with no notion of where she was or what had happened to her. Yet her skin prickled with the knowledge that she was in danger.
Slowly, it came back to her. How long had she been in the wagon? How many times had they reapplied the cloth? She had no sense of either.
She lifted her head and had to grit her teeth against the throbbing pain in her head. A hint of light filtered in around the edges of a single barred and shuttered window, and even that hurt her eyes. She was lying on a pallet in a narrow room. The weight she had felt on her hands and feet were chains. When she tried to sit up to see better, she was hit by such a wave of dizziness that she was forced to drop her head back down.
A tear slid down the side of her face into her hair. What was she doing here? Kidnapped, drugged, and chained like a dog! If she had listened to Jamie, done as he begged her, they would be at his parents’ castle now, planning their wedding feast.
But nay. She had to poke her stick into the hornet’s nest once more. After that disastrous encounter with Gloucester, however, she had done nothing to pursue her enemies. She had been too despondent to care. Once Master Woodley confirmed the mayor’s spotless reputation for honesty, she had no notion where to look next in any case. Regardless, her earlier actions must have threatened someone powerful—and evil.
No matter what she’d done to bring this on herself, Jamie would come save her if he knew. No matter his wretched betrothal to someone else, no matter his fury with her, no matter his determination never to cross paths with her again—Jamie would come if he knew she was in danger.
To keep her courage up, she imagined Jamie coming down a long corridor to reach the door to this tiny room, fighting his way past twenty men. Such a warrior he was! How magnificent he would look, his sword swinging left and right, high and low, as he struck down one after another.
Then he would kick the door open with a great crash. He would stand for a long moment in the doorway, his chest heaving, praising God he had found her still alive. And finally, he would drop to his knee beside her narrow cot, take her in his arms, and—
Click. Click. Click.
Linnet turned her head toward the sound of a key in a lock. Her heart stopped in her chest as the door latch slowly lifted.
Chapter Thirty-eight
“Someone put it about that Lady Linnet was doing witchcraft,” Mistress Leggett said. “Black witchcraft.”
This was the third time Jamie had heard this since he arrived in London to find Linnet gone and her house empty. There had been whispers for months about nobles in the highest circles being involved with witchcraft and dark arts, but he’d never heard a word about it in connection with Linnet. Until today.
“I didn’t believe it for a moment,” Mistress Leggett said, fanning herself, though the room was far from warm. She sat with her knees apart and her bulk overflowing the small stool on which she sat. “But if any noble lady was going to be accused of sorcery, ’twas bound to be her.”
“Why Linnet?” he asked.
“She doesn’t act as men think a woman ought. And she won’t pretend they know better. That’s enough to put a woman at risk.” Mistress Leggett’s jowls shook as she nodded her head. “Believe me, I know.”
