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Panic made Edwina’s blood run cold as she sprinted the rest of the way, bursting through the stable doors as if devils were chasing her. Inside, horses whinnied in fright, steeped in the gloom of a dawn that had not yet pierced the stable windows with its faint light.
“Elspeth?” Edwina called helplessly. “Elspeth, where are ye? Can ye hear me?”
The maid ushered Edwina down the main thoroughfare, flanked on either side by stalls. A sweet, almost sickly aroma of hay and animals met Edwina’s nostrils, turning her stomach. Or, perhaps, that was the fear of what she might see. Elspeth was the kindest, sweetest of girls, and Edwina could not bear to think of her in pain or cut short in life.
“It’s this one, M’Lady,” the maid said, gesturing to the stall that Edwina had dreaded seeing. Buttercup’s stall.
Resting a hand on the stall door, Edwina could not see Buttercup in the darkness. She could, however, hear the pawing and whinnying of the other horses, as if something had spooked them all. The sound sent a chill up her spine, as she eked open the door and stepped into the shadows.
“Easy now, Buttercup,” Edwina murmured, putting her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “It’s only me. Nothin’ to be afraid of. Ye just stay still, and daenae stamp anywhere.”
She pictured Elspeth lying in the hay, wounded and unconscious. With that awful image fixed in her mind, she crouched down and began to fumble her palms across the hay and straw, searching for the solid touch of a body. A living one, with any luck.
“Elspeth?” Edwina whispered. “Elspeth, where are ye?”
Silence echoed back. But there was something unsettling about it. By now, Edwina should have been able to hear Buttercup’s movements in the stall. Unless, she had been removed after the incident?
“Pardon me, but could ye fetch me a torch or a lantern? I cannae see my own hand in front of my face.” Edwina looked back, expecting to see the maid standing by the stall door… but she was gone.
She’ll have run off to fetch Meredith,Edwina reasoned. After all, it was Meredith’s daughter in peril.
Turning back around to resume her search, darkness swallowed Edwina up. Rough cloth scratched at her face, as even rougher hands grappled with whatever sack or blanket had been thrown over her, making sure she could not escape. She sucked in a breath to expel a mighty scream, at the very moment that something wrapped tight around her mouth, choking the cry for help into silence. A gag, Edwina knew, tied on top of the cloth. If she attempted to suck in another deep breath, she feared it would suffocate her.
As terror gripped her, Edwina’s instincts leaped into action, prompting her to wriggle and writhe and thrash as violently as possible. She might have managed to fight herself free, if the sack that covered her had not been pulled tight, pinning her arms to her sides. Her captor clearly knew what they were doing, and how quickly they had to do it.
Those same, rough hands snatched at her wrists, yanking them sharply behind her back. She tried to yelp in pain, but the gag made it impossible. Even drawing in air was hard. As she struggled to breathe through the veil of coarse cloth, she felt ropes being lashed around her wrists and ankles, and knew that no amount of thrashing and writhing could save her.
The brigands… it must be the brigands… they must want their revenge—countless terrible fates raced through her mind, as she was hoisted up by strong arms and thrown over a broad shoulder.
A few moments later, her abdomen lurched as she was thrown onto something solid and living. The telltale whinny let her know that it was a horse, though it was not Buttercup. The sound was more aggressive, more chilling, as if it came from a stallion.
All of a sudden, she was bouncing to the swift pace of the beast, jostled this way and that though she seemed to be lashed on tightly. Unable to see or speak or breathe properly, fear made her heart thunder, until it felt like it might burst from her chest. Still, she hoped she was not fastened to the horsetootightly, as she resumed her desperate squirming. If she fell while moving at such a pace, she would likely break a bone or two, but a broken bone was better than being a brigand’s captive. Of that, she was certain.
“Be still!” a sharp voice demanded. “Ye’re goin’ to make the horse bolt!”
Refusing to heed the warning, Edwina thrashed twice as vigorously. Her body strained against ropes, her ribs bruised by the horse, her muscles on fire, but nothing seemed to help her plight.
“I said, be still!” the voice raged.
It was the last thing that Edwina heard, as something hard collided with the back of her head. Dazed for a moment, she thought of Felix, sleeping soundly in their bed. He would not know she had been taken. What if he thought she had fled? What if he mistook her absence for escape?
Shadows slithered from the back of her head, where her skull pulsed with dull pain, and slowly descended over her eyes. Dark nothingness followed, her mind emptying and her body turning limp as the horse and her captor rode on, racing further and further away from Castle Moore and the man that she loved.
CHAPTER27
A few hours later,with the sun fully risen, Felix awoke to the sound of maids sweeping the hallway outside the chamber. Stretching out, he smiled at the steadyscratch-scratch, knowing that the maids were likely hoping to hear something that was worthy of gossip.
“Love, I think we have eavesdroppers,” he murmured, turning over to pull his wife into his eager arms.
He paused in surprise, finding Edwina’s side of the bed empty and cold. His palm smoothed over the vacant spot, trying to feel for any semblance of her warmth, but there was none.
She must be an early riser,he reasoned, sitting up and yawning through another delicious stretch.
Grinning at the memories of her in the throes of passion, her cheeks flushed, her naked body glistening with perspiration, her lips parted as she called out his name in ecstasy, he had to take a moment to cool the desire in his loins.
With that firmly in his mind, Felix got out of bed, dressed quickly, and headed out in search of his missing wife. He assumed she would be in the kitchens or the gardens, depending on how long she had been awake. He was not worried about finding her, as one of the servants would surely be able to point him in the right direction.
“Have ye seen my wife this mornin’?” he asked the maids who were sweeping the hallway outside.
