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Stretching up, he kissed her hard on the mouth as he took the pistol concealed in her hand.
Their guard made a derisive noise. “You’re going to make me cry in a minute,” he taunted. “Get moving. Mistress is waiting.”
He did not say it back. The absence of his reply stung, and her mind struggled to rationalize it as she disembarked.
There was no time. But even a quick “And I love you” would have sufficed.
Perhaps he was reluctant to speak in front of our captors? Men often shied away from declaring love for a woman in front of others for fear of being perceived as weak. He’d kissed her with great passion after she’d spoken, but that kiss had been a preplanned distraction to mask the transfer of her pistol.
A gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach made her suddenly queasy as she approached the nearby building. Does he truly love me, or is he merely using me to achieve his ends? Have I been an utter fool again?
Stop it. Now was not the time. She’d verify his feelings for her later, when their lives were not in jeopardy.
The sight that greeted her eyes upon entering the building was something straight out of a nightmare. They’d been brought to a slaughterhouse. Hooks hung everywhere from thick chains, many bearing a flank or haunch of fresh pork, as if the place had only just been deserted. A pile of severed hogs’ heads rested beside a gore-covered wooden block to her right. Deep gouges marked the block’s center, a testament to the axe that lay propped against it. Flies buzzed all around, and the sour stench of raw meat and old blood saturated the air, making her want to gag.
As she walked, she spied Emma standing to the side, a hank of her long hair held tightly in the fist of their erstwhile driver, a naked blade at her throat. Tears slid down the child’s cheeks, but her eyes were full of fire.
“It’s been a long
time since last we saw each other, has it not?” said a distressingly familiar voice. At the end of the row stood the woman who’d once sold her in bondage to a soulless murderer.
Jacqueline forced herself not to flinch as she met Boucher’s cold gaze.
She’d aged badly. Her face, once matronly and full-fleshed with prosperity, was now thin and sallow. Wrathful eyes squinted from between puffy lids above and shadowed bags beneath. Her once-plump figure had melted away.
Only Boucher’s voice remained unchanged. “You’ve caused me a great deal of inconvenience, you and your friend. But no more, thanks to Sally, here.” Turning, she gestured to someone standing out of sight.
A gasp tore free of Jacqueline’s throat as Sally crept forth from the shadows. Holding her hand was a sobbing little girl. Marian. So she was telling the truth.
Right behind them was the “footman” who’d ushered them here. In his hand was a pistol—aimed at Sally’s head.
The girl’s welling eyes implored Jacqueline.
Boucher chuckled. “As you can see, I have the upper hand. Do as I say, and I’ll have Fergus let them go. Disobey, and you will watch them both die. Their blood will be on your hands.”
“No, it will be on yours,” Jacqueline replied, lifting her chin in defiance. “Tell them the truth—that you leave no witnesses.”
Another humorless chuckle. “True enough. But you cannot blame me for wanting to punish you after all you’ve done. You nearly ruined my life, girl. Now you’ll pay the price.”
“Leave her be, Boucher,” said Will from behind her. “Your argument is with me. I’m the one you want.”
“You are indeed,” agreed Boucher with a sly smile. “But as Raquel said, I don’t leave witnesses.”
She nodded, and the two men flanking Jacqueline grasped her elbows and began to propel her forward.
“Resistance is pointless, girl,” said Boucher. “You’ve come to sacrifice yourself on behalf of your brats, so keep your end of the bargain, and come quietly, or I’ll give the order for my men to take action against your school.”
Jacqueline gritted her teeth and dug in her heels. “You think me fool enough to trust you to let them go? Even now, our people are closing in on those you sent to kill my girls. Even if we die here, they will live, and you will be identified and hunted until you are brought to justice. Your plan has failed!”
A careless shrug lifted Boucher’s shoulders. “What is the testimony of a child against a kindly old woman like myself? By this time tomorrow, I’ll have a new name and a new life to go along with it.”
Gathering her courage, Jacqueline spat at her. It fell far short, yet it was a satisfying gesture. “Your soul will still burn in Hell. Make no mistake, your punishment is coming. No one escapes death forever.”
“No. But I’ll put it off for a while yet,” replied Boucher. “Now come quietly, or I’ll tell Fergus to shoot the big one and gut the little one.”
Behind her, Will coughed.
It was the signal Jacqueline had been waiting for. Releasing all her tension, she slumped between the two men holding her, as if in a faint. At the same time, Emma screamed and a shot rang out. But the shot came from behind rather than in front where Sally and Marian were being held.
