Page 70 of A Tale of Two Dukes

“Not a soul in the house. It appears our sneaking about was for naught. Based on the level of dust in the unoccupied rooms, I suspect Hugh lives here alone or with a scant number of servants. I cannot tell if they do not exist or if they fled when their master was away.”

“Knowing that arse, it could be one or the other. Damnation. Now we have no way of knowing where he’ll be.”

“Ah, you would think that. But again, it appears our luck is holding out.” He brings out another scrap of paper, a piece of a map. “The route here is marked. Could be that’s where he’s taking her?”

“That, or he’s trying to throw us off their trail.” Taking the piece from him, I study it, my blood turning to ice in my veins.

If this is correct, he plans to take her to the far-off shores. Knowing what I do about his business, he could pack her up on a ship and I’ll never see her again. His constant trade with the Americas is the perfect cover, and with her muddled by opium, they’ll just think her seasick.

“We haven’t a moment to waste. If he is indeed heading there, he’s already at an advantage. Come, your house is on the way. We will alert the servants to contact the others, letting them know where we’re going. I can only pray this is accurate and not a deterrent to set us on the wrong path. While we’re gone, the others can continue the search locally.”

As I turn to fetch my horse, a blast of fear races through me, enough to drive me to my knees. Whiteport is at my side, his face lined with concern. Flashes of images race through my brain, all of them tainted with terror.

Through Catherine’s eyes, I see the carriage. A man sits across from her while she lies draped over the lap of another. His hands rove about her body as if he owns it, taking liberties no man should.

Rage fills my soul as I’m forced to endure what’s happening to her. Though granted, feeling it second hand is nowhere near as horrific as what she’s going through. How I wish I could just travel through the bond and break those hands that act as if they own her.

They squeeze her backside, but my little kitten stays silent, not wishing to draw their attention. She’s awake somehow, and through the confusion, I realize she’s not supposed to be. Even now, her thoughts are groggy, ethereal, as if she’s in some sort of trance.

Closing my eyes, I focus on every bit of information I can, but none of it makes sense. The only thing that stands out is names here and there. Loxburn. Apparently, the earl there owes Hugh a favor.

And that’s when I realize his end game. Gretna Green. The place I was prepared to take her so I could seal our vows as husband and wife.

“Bloody hell,” I scream out, jumping to my feet. “It’s a trick. He’s not planning to take her to the shore. He’s fucking going to Gretna Green.”

Whiteport’s face pales as he rises. “But that means-”

“That means I must get to her first. Tell the others. I’ll ride on ahead.”

“Like hell you will,” he grumbles, turning the opposite way. “I’ll ride with you. You needn’t make this journey alone. The others will understand when you bring your mate back home with you.”

Unable to voice my gratitude, I nod and focus back in on Catherine. I’m coming for you, my love. I need you to stay still and safe. You will be in my arms soon enough. A calm washes over her as everything goes blank between us once more.

CHAPTER 29

Catherine

I dip my head above the waves, somehow lucid for a few precious moments. But all too soon, I’m back in the dark. William’s words lap at my brain, soothing me as I repeat them in my heart and mind until the inky blackness overwhelms me once more.

The rocking of the carriage makes me ill, but I find I’m unable to ease my stomach through voiding the contents. Nothing works again. It’s as if I’m restrained by unseen hands.

How I long for the blessed nothingness and pray for it to overtake me. This liminal space between waking and unconsciousness drives me mad. At least this time, I know it’s not my normal affliction.

This doesn’t feel like those moments where I’m caught between waking and sleeping. Besides, the longer I lie bound on top of this stranger, the more I feel my brain trying to work.

At least it does for a few moments before exhaustion takes over. Hands grip at me, tearing at my flesh, but I’m unable to even so much as cry out. I will myself to fall back into the nothing, finding that a far better alternative.

* * *

Pain. It explodes through me, forcing a cry from my lips. But it’s silent, a mere motion of my lips with no release. Those hands grab me again and hold me close, burying my face into a shirt.

Again, that stench of wetness and mildew drives into my brain. I know this smell. It should have some meaning, some registering on my mind. All I know is it’s not William.

My lashes flutter open, and my eyes are stabbed by the dying rays of the sun. At least I’m no longer in that infernal carriage. The rocking motion is no more, and so my stomach can rest for the moment.

“She’s waking.” The voice reverberates in my head, pounding against my skull.

“Good. I want her fully cognizant for what happens next.” The one that holds me speaks with such conviction that my body begins to shake of its own accord.