Page 11 of Fairest of Heart

“Send Cecil to me, will you?”

Mildred didn’t waste time on words. She nodded and hurried from the tent. The moment the flap dropped back into place, Madame LaBelle dropped the character she’d been playing. Her eyes narrowed to slits, and her mouth contorted into a snarl that would be at home on a rabid wolf.

“How dare you.” The guttural words were barely audible over the pounding of Penelope’s heart. “I give you work, take you under my wing, and you repay me by making a fool of me?”

Penelope shook her head. “No, ma’am. I would nev—”

“Silence!” Narcissa stalked forward. “Little schemer. You had me fooled, but no more. I’ll not be usurped or upstaged. You think yourself so clever, don’t you? Hiding your attributes until the perfect moment presented itself. And I handed it to you on a silver platter. Leaving you with my dress so you could accidentally get caught by Freddie.”

“No! That’s not what I—”

“Your looks might be enough to get a man to do your bidding, but it won’t save you from me. I’ve sharpened my claws on more experienced schemers than you. I’ll shred you to ribbons.”

Penelope’s eyes burned with tears. “I want nothing to do with the stage, I promise. I was only trying to help Mildred get the proper measurements for your gown so you would look your best tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’ll look my best. Don’t you worry.” Narcissa smiled as she reached the front of the dressing table, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small pair of scissors. “It’s you who will dress in disgrace, all of your secrets exposed.”

Holding up Penelope’s dress, Narcissa set the scissors to the neckline and sliced the garment straight down the center. She set shears to fabric again, this time a couple of inches from the bottom hem. After cutting a small notch, she grabbed both sides of the cloth and yanked. The sound of rending fabric slashed Penelope’s composure. A chill swept over her skin, and she trembled as the tears she’d held at bay finally spilled down her cheeks.

“Narcissa?” Cecil Hunt lifted the flap and stepped into the tent. “Mildred said you needed my help.”

“Ah yes, I do.” A wicked smile gleamed. “Miss Snow has betrayed my trust. I want you to dispose of her for me.”

Dispose of her? Penelope’s heart thudded. Her breathing shallowed. Her eyes darted around the tent, seeking an escape. Mr. Hunt’s bulk blocked the exit. The stagehand was built like an ox and possessed a similar level of intelligence, yet his loyalty to Narcissa was ironclad. Completely besotted, he would do whatever she bid. Even now, his face tightened in displeasure as he marched toward Penelope.

Releasing the dressing table mirror, Penelope sprinted toward the back of the tent, diving to the ground and thrusting her head and arms beneath the heavy canvas. She wriggled as fast as she could, but Hunt proved too fast. His weight landed on top of her legs, and he quickly reeled her in. She kicked and flailed, but to no avail. In a matter of minutes, he had her hands bound behind her back with the cloth strip Madame had torn from her dress. He shoved his handkerchief in her mouth to keep her from crying out, then secured her to the support pole at the center of the tent.

“I knew I could count on you, Cecil.” Madame sauntered up behind him and nibbled on his earlobe. “Strong work from a strong man.” Her hands roamed down his arms, then up over his chest.

His eyes slid closed as he leaned into her caress.

Distraught and horribly embarrassed, Penelope looked away from his face only to discover that Narcissa was looking at her, not lost in a romantic moment with her lover. Triumph radiated from the actress as she displayed her power for Penelope’s benefit.

“Take her away while everyone is busy at dinner,” she murmured into Hunt’s ear. “Find a secluded area. No roads, no houses, no one around to come to her rescue. Tie her to a tree and leave her there to face her fate. I want her exposed. To the elements. To shame. To hungry, wild animals. Then return to me and receive your reward.”

Mr. Hunt’s eyes opened, yet he immediately ducked his gaze to avoid looking at Penelope. Twisting to face Narcissa, he dipped his chin. “I’ll see it done.”

5

How had a good deed gone so terribly wrong?

Bound, gagged, and wearing nothing but her underclothes, Penelope bounced face down across Cecil Hunt’s lap as he rode away from camp. Twilight dimmed the sky, concealing her abduction. She screamed for help, but the gag muffled her cries and choked her breath. She tried to writhe her way off the horse but couldn’t break free of Mr. Hunt’s grip. Blood rushed to her head. The saddle horn bruised her hip. Tears clogged her throat and nose, making it hard to breathe. Mr. Hunt had wrapped a dark brown blanket around her to camouflage the white of her petticoat and camisole. The fabric trapped her. Stole her sight. Drained her hope.

Penelope’s body slackened. She couldn’t escape. Not yet, anyway. Better to save her strength in case a better opportunity presented itself. Though at the moment, Penelope found it hard to believe any such chance would materialize. How could it when her opponent was so big and so determined to fulfill his duty?

As the horse slowed to navigate the thickening vegetation, the memory of another rider flashed through her mind. One who’d carried a passenger across his lap as well, though his intention had been to heal, not destroy. The thought of the stoic cowboy—a possible lawman, no less—restored a bit of her hope. He was out here somewhere.

He’d been concerned for her welfare when they’d met mere hours ago. Ready to lend aid. Surely, he’d assist her escape should he cross her path. Lord, cross his path with mine. Please.

As Penelope watched the darkening ground pass under the horse’s hooves, she clung to the image of that rugged cowboy, building him up in her mind. He was no mere deputy. Not even a town marshal or county sheriff. He was a Texas Ranger, one of the men of legend she’d heard about since entering the state. Men who would stop at nothing to see justice done. Driven. Fierce. The best of the best. He would come for her.

It didn’t matter that he had no reason to be out on the trail after dark. Nor did it matter that Mr. Hunt might be taking her in a completely different direction than the cowboy had traveled. Her Ranger would come. She had to believe that. Otherwise she’d be crushed by despair.

Yet the night grew darker, and no one came.

Mr. Hunt finally drew his mount to a halt and dumped her off his lap. She fell to the ground, her legs collapsing under her, her head thumping the earth. The blanket slipped down her body, exposing her face and shoulders. Cool night air slapped against her skin, but it also jarred her mind.

Run!