Horatia was at breakfast when someone started beating on the door so hard, she thought it would break.
La Valle strode swiftly into the room. “My lady . . .”
“The duke?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Now what? Please show him in.”
Instead of rising, she motioned the duke to the table and called for tea. “Your Grace. What brings you here at such an early hour?”
Rather than sitting, he paced. “I am here to inform you that Lady Caroline is now the Contessa of Huntley.”
This
was
news. Horatia did not even have to feign her surprise. “Indeed? And how do you know this?”
“My grandson went after her, and when he found them, the English bishop told him they’d just been married.”
“How precipitant of them.” She took a sip of tea, wondering if the news was good or bad. “You know how it is when two young people are in love.”
He stopped and turned on her. “Are you not upset?”
On the contrary, she was enormously relieved and could have collapsed at his feet and kissed them for bringing her the news. Perhaps now his grandson would give up on Caro. “How should I be? They are both of age and betrothed. I would have expected them to marry, though I had hoped for a large wedding with both families in attendance.”
He seemed a bit taken aback. “
Sì, sì,
of course. I understand you depart Venice soon. I shall wish you a good journey to the lake.”
After he left, Horatia heaved a sigh of relief. What bishop could Huntley and Caro have got to marry them? And why did they marry? They hadn’t been getting along at all when they’d left. She frowned. If it was true. She rang for La Valle. “We leave within the hour. Lady Caro and Lord Huntley are apparently wed. I do not think it will appear at all strange if I leave immediately.”
He bowed. “That is not a problem, my lady. I’ve already sent word to the stables to have the coaches readied.”
“La Valle, I want to travel as quickly as possible. Can we reach Genova in five days?”
He raised a brow. “If you wish it, my lady, I will make it happen.”
An hour later, Horatia and her servants, other than an older couple who would act as caretakers, took gondolas to the mainland, where she found the vehicles already packed.
Two hours into her journey, Horatia’s carriages were stopped by the marchese. With exquisite politeness, he bowed. “My lady, I thought you were not traveling until the morning.”
She raised an imperious brow. Now was not the time to kowtow to a spoiled aristocrat. “Having been informed by your grandfather that my nephew and goddaughter were married, I decided to leave early. Now, remove your men from the road.”
“Perhaps you would like an escort to the lake, my lady,” di Venier said. “The roads are not always so safe.”
How dare that loose fish threaten her. She smiled politely. “I would not wish to take so much of your time, my lord. My journey will not be swift, as I plan to visit friends along the way and cannot disappoint them.”
“As you wish, my lady.” The marchese sketched a bow and took off in the opposite direction from Venice with his band of riders following. Now where was that stupid man going? Drat, she should have discovered what his plans were.
“La Valle.”
“My lady?”
“Have one coach travel to the lake and then take another road back to meet us,” Horatia said. “I do not think di Venier would accost us at the villa, but if he is intent on finding Lord Huntley and Lady Caro, he may well look to see if there are people in residence.”
“May they be informed of the threat?”
Horatia nodded. “Of course.” She tapped her chin. “Bring me the maps this evening when we stop. I think I shall plan a route that will leave the marchese guessing if he tries to pursue us.”
CHAPTER 9
H
untley escorted Caro to her chamber. “If you agree, I’d like to leave even earlier than usual to-morrow.”
Though her heart was in her throat, she refused to allow her fear to show. Raising her chin, she asked calmly, “Because of the marchese’s men?”
“Yes,” he replied. “With any luck at all, they’ll decide they’ve lost us, but I don’t want to drive through Bolzano when it’s light and take the chance of being seen.”
“We may leave as early as you wish.” Caro considered how far they’d come since she first thought he would try to take complete charge of their escape. Other than the surprises at dinner, which she enjoyed more than she could have imagined, Huntley had willingly included her in all the plans for their journey.
He grinned slightly. “Thank you. If five o’clock is agreeable to you, I’ll tell the others.”
She nodded and went to open the door, but his arm reached around and, without touching her, opened it for her.
If only she’d met him before she’d been raped. How different everything would have been. Her voice was not quite steady. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Caro.”
She turned back to him and gazed into his steady blue-green eyes. “Yes?”
His voice was deep and comforting. “I won’t let him touch you.” Her throat became so tight, water couldn’t pass. She had never been so afraid and yet felt so safe at the same time. The idea of what di Venier could do terrified her. Yet Huntley made it seem almost as if the marchese was a child’s bogeyman. Like the monster who, as a child, she’d thought lived under her bed. If only she could bring herself to believe her husband could in truth protect her. She knew he’d try, of course. Not trusting herself to speak, she merely nodded.
When she entered her chamber, Nugent was ready to prepare Caro for bed. “Nugent, we’ll leave at five in the morning.”
“Yes, my lady. I spoke with Mr. Maufe, and he told me they’d run into the marchese’s men, so I thought we’d be making an early start. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
After Caro’s gown and under-garments were removed, she lifted her arms for her nightgown, Caro waited until it had slid down her body before responding. “The news that we are still being hounded means we’ll not be able to slow down. Someday, I’m going to visit the region again.”
“That would be pleasant,” Nugent said as she combed out Caro’s hair. “I’m glad his lordship has matters well in hand. He’s not a man to be trifled with.”
She met her dresser’s gaze in the mirror. “He is much more competent than I expected.”
Snorting, Nugent continued to comb Caro’s hair and then braid it. That they were still being followed bothered Caro greatly. Yet her dresser noticed the same thing she had: Huntley was proving to be much more of a man than she’d previously thought. The rage on the marchese’s face when the prelate told him she and Huntley were married still caused her heart to pound in fear. She’d seen that expression on a man’s face previously, right before his fist slammed into her face, knocking her to the floor.
She slipped onto the cool bed. Nugent pulled the featherbed up over Caro and blew out the candle on her night–table.
Caro tossed and turned before finally slipping into a restless sleep.
Hands grabbed her roughly and soft, wet lips pressed hard to her face. Her stomach revolted and she thought she’d be sick. She moved her head from side to side in a fruitless attempt to avoid the wetness. She tried to push him off, but he grabbed the bodice and ripped her gown, shoving her against the wall. Biting down hard on his lips, she tasted the sharp tang of blood. He muffled an oath, and his fist came at her. When she fell, her head hit the floor. She tasted more blood—hers. He got between her legs and she was still struggling when there was a sharp pain. She screamed, and screamed, and screamed.
Caro bolted up and cried out as Nugent reached her. “There, there, my little lady. It’s not but a bad dream. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Her maid cradled Caro and rocked her back and forth, as she’d done all Caro’s life. Sobs mingled with mewing sounds. “Nugent, when will it stop?”
She gently stroked Caro’s head. “I don’t know, my lady, but the dreams will go away in time.”
Finally, Caro’s heart stopped beating so quickly and she was able to calm herself. A knock came on the door, and Maufe said, “I have warm milk for her ladyship.”
“I’m coming.” Nugent tucked Caro back under the cover called a featherbed. “I’m just going to the door, and I’ll be right back.”
Caro nodded and lay staring up at the overhead bed hangings.
Her dresser returned and handed her the milk. “From his lordship. It has honey and cinnamon, like he used to have.”
“Please thank him for me.”
Nugent looked as if she would say something, and then shook her head. “I will.”
When Caro was finished, her dresser took the empty cup and set it on the small table by the bed. “You sleep now.”
She did. And this time, she dreamt of a kind man with brown hair, who made her laugh and fed her chocolate.
It was still pitch-dark when Nugent woke her. “Come, my lady.”
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Caro stood and went to the basin where the warm water awaited her.
After quickly washing and dressing, she met Huntley in their parlor.
Their parlor
. Even after a few days, it seemed so natural to take her meals with him. “Thank you for the milk last night. I slept peacefully after that.”
He held the plate for her as she made her selections. “It used to help me when I had bad dreams as a child.”
He poured her tea, as he had since the first morning.
When they were safe, she’d have to think about their marriage and what they would do. Maybe he’d want to divorce her. Come to think of it, what were the grounds for divorce? “I’ll eat quickly.”
Huntley nodded and applied himself to his food, while surreptitiously studying Caro. She’d scared him to death last night when she’d screamed. He had only just remembered to grab his dressing gown before he opened the connecting door to her chamber.
Nugent had held Caro as she cried and gulped for air. As if sensing him, her maid had glanced up and shook her head. He might not be able to comfort his wife, but there had to be something he could do. Then he’d remembered what his nurse used to do when he had a bad dream.
Maufe had been behind Huntley when he’d turned back into his room. Huntley put a finger over his lips and closed the door. “She’ll be fine. Get some warm milk infused with a bit of valerian, add honey and cinnamon, and take it to her.”
His valet left the room and, in a surprisingly short time, was knocking on Caro’s door. Huntley had made his way to the connecting door, opening it to watch as Nugent gave the cup to his wife and nodded to him.
He stayed until Caro’s breathing calmed enough to assure him she was asleep, and he had racked his brain for something else he could do to help her. There was nothing, but if he ever found the man who’d hurt her, he’d make him pay with his life.
When she’d come down for breakfast, she had dark smudges under her eyes and yawned. She finished her cup of tea and took a bite of bread with cheese.
“How are you doing?” he asked as he poured her more tea.
Smiling brightly at him, she replied, “I’m much better.”
“Caro, if the dreams happen again, if there is anything else I can do, please feel free to command me.”
Caro gazed steadily back at him. “You are very kind.”
Stabbing a piece of ham, he stifled a growl.
Kind
. Kind was not how he wanted her to see him, except maybe some of the time. He struggled to hold back the primitive warrior who wanted to kill to protect her, and confront di Venier instead of playing this cat and mouse game. Yet going after the marchese would only put Caro in danger. At every turn, Huntley’s need to defend his lady was being stymied. He wasn’t allowed to fight the marchese, he didn’t know who the blackguard was who’d hurt Caro, and he couldn’t even kiss his wife.
Huntley’s voice was huskier than he’d wanted it to be. “Caro.”
Her eyes flew to his. “What is it? Not more bad news?”
“No.” How could he tell her she was his, his to care for, his to protect, and she need never worry about her safety again? “We need to leave soon.”
“Do you think we’ll run into them again? The men looking for us?”
Huntley searched her face. Her expression was calm, but her eyes reflected her fear. He wouldn’t lie to her. “I don’t know. Eat and we’ll go.”
He felt the need to stay close to her and escorted Caro to her chamber. “I’ll see you shortly.”
She gave him a small smile. “We won’t be long.”
Once the door closed, he returned to his room to find Maufe already packed. Only one bag was left to take to the coach. “My lord, is her ladyship better?”
“Yes. She needs some more sleep, but she’ll be fine. I want to get out of the marchese’s reach as soon as possible. The closer we get to the pass, the less influence he has. Tell everyone to keep their eyes and ears open.”
“Yes, my lord,” Maufe said and left the room.
When Huntley arrived in the yard, the coaches were loaded and ready. The morning was much cooler than the previous one had been, and he expected the weather would become colder still as they climbed high into the mountains. They’d been traveling for almost a week, and he’d wanted to be in Austria by now. “Maufe, make sure the fur rugs are in the carriage and there are hot bricks below. I don’t want Lady Huntley catching a chill.”
Maufe bowed and his lips twitched. “No, my lord. Every provision for her ladyship’s comfort shall be made.”
“I know. I’m like a nervous cat.” He rubbed his chin. “Bear with me, and I’ll try to get us all out of this without any of our people being killed or injured.”
When Caro came down, he handed her into the coach. The floor was already warm from the hot bricks under them, and he tucked the fur around her.
Her lips curved up as he stepped back to survey his handiwork. “Huntley, thank you, but it’s not that frosty. I am perfectly fine.”
He resisted an urge to growl. “It is getting late in the season and will become colder as we travel farther into the Alps.”
She gave him a curious look. “Of course, I didn’t consider. Thank you for thinking of it.”
The coach lurched forward as he tried to relax. It was still full dark, the stars and moon bright in the sky. The vineyards surrounding the inn took on the appearance of a dark maze. Several minutes later, when they reached the main road, Huntley reached under the seat to retrieve the chess box. There was just enough light from the inside coach lanterns to see, but when he glanced at Caro, her long brown lashes rested on her cheeks, and her breathing was deep and steady. Quietly, he placed the box on the seat next to him and, once again, took in the view. Mountains rose up from the narrow valley floor, casting dark, uneven shadows around them.
In the antelucan light, his two carriages sped through the ancient Roman town of Bolzano. Fortunately, the only traffic they encountered were farmers bringing in their wares. It must be market day. For Caro’s sake, Huntley fervently prayed any other travelers, most particularly the marchese’s men, were still abed. He glanced at her again and hoped she wouldn’t have another nightmare. He doubted she’d respond well to him trying to calm her.
They were pulling into a coaching inn to make a change when Caro finally woke.
She covered her mouth with a small gloved hand and yawned. “Where are we?”
Grinning, he opened the door as the coach stopped. “Brixen. We’re half-way to Brennerbad, but the steep road has slowed us down.”
Caro glanced around. “It must be almost noon. I can’t believe I slept so long.”
“You must have been tired.” He held out his hand. “We’ll stop here for a while.”
She gave him a wry look. “The last time we did that we ended up having to marry.”
Huntley laughed. “Yes, well, we don’t have to worry about
that
anymore.”
Smiling ruefully, she shrugged. “No, it’s already done.”
Yes, for better or worse, it was done, and she was his, for the rest of their lives. Although outwardly his wife seemed to accept that fact, he wondered if her appearance of acquiescence was caused by the danger she was in. He had the feeling it was. There must be a way for him to tie her to him, and the sooner he found it, the better.
He and Caro were walking into the inn in Brixen when Dalle, who’d been on horseback as an out-rider, rode up. “My lord, get you inside. I’ll have the coaches hidden.”
Caro started to whirl around, her lips open to question Dalle. Huntley grabbed her arm and dragged her into the inn. “There’s no time. Pull your hood up. We’re going to find a table in the corner of the common room. Whoever it is, they are less likely to look for us there.”
“I’m sorry. It was just such a shock.”
He placed his hand over hers. “I understand. Will you do as I say?”
“Yes.” She settled her hood over her hair and followed him toward the back of the large room filled with tables and crowded with midday customers. Servers carrying large trays laden with plates dodged them. The ceiling was low, and there was only one fireplace. Each time the door opened, cold air blew into the room. The other diners, a mix of locals and travelers, were too busy eating to give Huntley and Caro more than a glance.
He found a table behind one of the large square support posts away from the windows, which were the only source of light for the room. “Stay here. I’ll get a wine for you.”
A serving girl hurried toward them. He ordered, and had just taken a seat next to Caro when shouting erupted from the corridor.
Di Venier.
The marchese was demanding to see who was in the inn’s private parlors.