To Save a Lord (Ladies Always Shoot First Book 2) Page 2

  Kitty hurried downstairs. The duke kept scent hounds, but she didn’t want to stir up questions by requesting one, nor did she know how to guide them. She did know one dog she could use to find Harry, though. Caesar.

  The mastiff, locked inside for the shooting, pranced, eager for a chance to go out. Kitty took him east. That was the direction Nathan had gestured the day before, and where the trails into the deep forest lay.

  Once they neared the trees, Kitty knelt before Caesar and took his great big, slobbery face between her hands. “Find Harry, Caesar. Harry.” She hoped she could find him before the contest began. Or, at least, steal enough time alone to apologize. Maybe do more than apologize, if…

  Caesar turned, nose to the ground, and set off. Kitty followed, her mind more on the result than the hunt. Harry had walked away from her last night, but she wouldn’t let him again. Not until she had an answer. She’d never thought of Harry as anything more than Annabel’s reserved older brother. Last night, the heat in his gaze had turned him into something more.

  Caesar led her down a wide trail, well maintained though a bit shaggy. The groundskeeper still hadn’t trimmed the grass. Kitty knew the broad walk curved and angled back, but the mastiff turned off onto a narrower path shrouded by trees.

  After what Kitty guessed had to be well over half an hour, she began to suspect Caesar was more likely trailing a deer than Harry. She must turn back soon. It wouldn’t do for her to go missing. Kitty bit her lip. Muffled by the trees, the faint first shots of the contest echoed.

  “A bit farther,” she whispered in the quiet woods. “If they’ve only just started, we have a little more time before we must turn back.”

  Caesar picked up the pace, and the pistol shots quickly faded behind them. Kitty groaned. It really was a deer. She hoped Caesar wouldn’t chase after it when they found it. Annabel would never, ever forgive Kitty for losing him.

  “That’s enough of that. Another swing and I shoot,” a man’s voice said up ahead. “Never thought a fancy gentleman would put up such a fight.”

  Kitty halted, but Caesar bounded forward. “Caesar,” she hissed.

  “Tie his hands,” the man said.

  “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me why you’re doing this?” Kitty recognized Harry’s panting voice. Ahead, the path curved and Caesar disappeared around a tree.

  “We’ve been waiting for one of you to break off. Didn’t think we’d get the heir,” the man said.

  “Fascinating, but not much of an explanation,” Harry said.

  Kitty inched forward. Trees blocked her view, but the men sounded close.

  “What the hell is that?” another man yelled.

  A canine growl sounded. Kitty sprinted around the turn and spilled out into a clearing.

  Harry stood in the middle. A rough looking man stood behind him, pistol shoved through his belt, rope in hand. A second ruffian stood poised between her and Harry, pointing a pistol at a growling Caesar. He snapped the weapon onto Kitty as she slid to a halt.

  Harry’s eyes jerked onto her. He looked skyward in supplication.

  The ruffian nearest Kitty smiled. “It seems we get two bargaining chips.”

  “I think not.” Harry drove his elbow back into the gut of the rope-wielding ruffian. The man doubled over. Harry launched himself at the one pointing a pistol at Kitty.

  She screamed. Caesar jumped toward the two men as they crashed to the ground. A pistol fired. Caesar let out a squeal of pain and dropped, a bright patch of blood on his head.

  “Run!” Harry shouted. He straddled the ruffian who’d shot. He landed a punch to the side of the man’s head, shoving his face into the dirt.

  The other ruffian dropped the rope and jerked his pistol from his waistband. “Move and I’ll shoot,” he wheezed, free arm wrapped around his gut. “Both of you.”

  Kitty clutched her hands to her mouth. What was happening? Her gaze darted to Caesar and she squeezed her lids shut. Her stomach roiled. Someone grabbed her arm. A pistol barrel pressed her neck. She peeked at the scene.

  “Get off him.” The man holding her ordered Harry. “We only need one of you. Let Ralf tie you up or I shoot her.”

  Harry’s mouth pressed into an angry line, but he stood, his eyes locked on Kitty’s. The man Harry had tackled got to his feet, unsteady. Reclaiming the rope, he approached Harry from behind. Kitty shook her head. The barrel pressed harder into her neck.

  “What do you want with us?” Harry demanded as Ralf yanked his arms back and tied them.

  “Our employer wants some assurances from your families, is all. Then they can have you back.”

  “This is about the pier, then.”

  Pier? Kitty remembered the twin’s revelation of the day before. So the ruffians had something to do with their fathers’ business dealings? “Kidnapping is a hanging offense,” she said. “But if you leave now, we’ll never be able to find you.”

  “Hanging offense, is it?” The one holding her chuckled. His breath smelled of rotten meat and stale mead. “So’s murder, so don’t give us any trouble. Is he secured, Ralf?”

  Behind Harry, Ralf nodded. He looked about, then stepped away and retrieved his spent weapon from the ground. Kitty fought tears. She tried not to look at Caesar. The man with a pistol to her neck yanked her arm behind her. She winced and bit back a cry.

  “Come along.” He forced her up the path.

  Leaves crunched beneath boot falls behind her. Harry and Ralf were close. She started shaking. Sucking in shuddering breaths, she sought calm. She put her free hand to her chest, reassured by the lump of the bodice knife. Should she try to stab him?

  Kitty bit her lip. She wasn’t like Annabel. Could she stab a man—even a man holding a pistol? What if she failed and he shot?

  They emerged from the trees into a broad ring of cleared land with a rather large stone cottage in the center. Its neatly thatched roof boasting dormers. Smoke rose from two chimneys. Off to one side stood an orchard and a small outbuilding. In the bright sun, the scene appeared idyllic. If only they weren’t in the clutches of ruffians.

  No one greeted them as they were prodded through the front doorway. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of stale air inside. The place hadn’t been aired out in some time. Their captors marched them to the back of the neat home and into the kitchen where a scared, wide-eyed woman waited. She hurried forward when she saw them. Her eyes passed over Kitty and Harry in a frenzy.

  “My children?” the woman croaked.

  “Yeah, we’ll show them to you, once these are tied,” the man who held Kitty said.

  The woman gasped. “They aren’t with you?”

  Ralf gave an evil chuckle. “She really thought we’d take the blighters along? We only said that so you’d behave.”

  The second ruffian joined Ralf’s laughter. “We hid the little rats good, is all. Too good for you to find before we come back up,” he added, voice going hard. “So stay put or you’ll never see the little snots again.”

  Still snickering, the men marched Kitty and Harry to a cellar door and down the steps. In the cellar, light streamed through two small, high windows, illuminating the massive space. There was a well, and rope strung for hanging winter wash. Food-filled shelves lined three walls. They were shoved and dragged to an empty area below one of the windows.

  “On the floor,” Kitty’s ruffian ordered Harry. “Ralf, tie his feet.”

  Harry sat, movements awkward with his hands bound behind his back, his expression wrathful. His hair gleamed with streaks of gold in the rectangle of light under the window. Illuminated dust moats swirling around him. Ralf took down a clothesline and tied Harry’s feet, then secured Kitty’s feet and hands. She fought fresh tears as the ruffians clattered up the cellar steps, her arms already aching from being bound so tightly behind her. Above, the door closed and a lock clicked.

  The cellar went silent, save for Kitty’s ragged breath. She scooted around until she could lean her shoulders against the wall.
She finally dared to look at Harry.

  “Kit.” That one syllable held a wealth of exasperation.

  “How was I to know you were in the middle of an abduction?” She was proud of how steady the words came out. “And don’t look at me like that. It’s not as if I made you go off into the forest alone.”

  “I was on my way back from searching for you.”

  “I never left. Your brothers wanted you to miss the shooting.” She took a slow breath, still shaking inside.

  Realization dawned in Harry’s eyes. “They wanted you to sleep late.”

  Kitty bit her lip. “And I did. Where are we?”

  “I don’t know for certain, but I’d guess the groundskeeper’s cottage. Whatever they’ve done with him, I imagine the woman we passed is his wife.”

  Kitty swallowed. “Father will never forgive me for being abducted again, and Annabel will murder me for...for Caesar. She loves him.” Kitty’s final words came out as sobs.

  Harry’s expression softened. He pushed himself across the floor to her side. His warm shoulder contacted hers as he leaned against the wall. “Caesar will recover. It looked like the bullet only grazed him. It likely knocked him out. He’ll be up soon.”

  Kitty huffed back her sobs. “They won’t kill us, will they?”

  “I think they plan to use us to stop our families from building a pier.”

  “Harry, that’s ridiculous.”

  “There’s a lot of wealth at stake, Kit. They own the piers, and charge exorbitant amounts to use them. We’re building our own so we don’t have to pay them.”

  “Oh.” Kitty could hardly believe that was worth kidnapping for. “Then we’ll be set free?”

  His shrug brushed her shoulder. “They’re already slated to hang, and we’ve seen them. It’s difficult to say. If I can get my hands untied, we won’t stay around to find out.”

  Kitty swallowed. Harry’s arm shifted as he worked on his bonds. If they were anything like hers, his wrists were enveloped in rope, hands crossed so they reached toward his elbows, with no hope of getting his fingers near the knots.

  Kitty recalled the knife in her bodice. She bit her lip. “Harry, I have a knife. It’s not large, but it’s sharp.”

  He stilled. “You have a knife?”

  Kitty’s face heated. “In my bodice. I got it after…last summer.”

  Harry’s gaze fixed on her chest.

  Her face would glow if it got any hotter. “I can’t get it.”

  Green eyes met hers. “You want me to get it?”

  “If you feel they really might kill us, I believe you must.” Her words came out faint.

  “You’re certain?”

  Kitty managed a nod.

  Harry twisted up onto his knees. He studied her cleavage for a long moment. “I can’t see any way to get a hand in there.”

  Kitty swallowed, nodding again, unable to voice her agreement. The steeply angled sun added a halo to Harry’s darkly curled head, but what he was about to do was not angelic. He lowered his head to her chest.

  Kitty gave an involuntary squeak when he buried his face in her cleavage. Her skin leapt to life. She didn’t know it could feel so very much. Something that felt suspiciously like his tongue slid down the side of one breast.

  She gasped. “What are you doing?”

  He pulled away. “Trying to get the hilt in my mouth.” His breath came nearly as fast as her own. “Should I stop?”

  “N-no.”

  He returned to his seeking. Kitty closed her eyes, trying to think of anything other than Harry’s breath caressing her too-sensitive skin. She was thankful for the wall behind her, because her body felt limp and shaky. She was doubly grateful for the rope preventing her from twining her hands into Harry’s disheveled hair.

  He pulled away, taking his warmth with him. His head came up, eyes alight, a slender, double edged knife clenched in his teeth. He nodded several times before Kitty comprehended. She turned her back to him and struggled to her knees.

  Footsteps clattered above, some quite light, and they both went still. Kitty held her breath, but the cellar door remained closed. The steps crossed to the other side of the kitchen. When the sounds stopped, Harry set to work.

  Cutting her bounds took longer than claiming the knife had. By the time the rope fell free, Kitty’s legs ached and her shoulders screamed. She twisted back around to claw at the rope around her ankles.

  Harry spat the knife onto the floor beside her. “Use that.” He worked his jaw back and forth a few times.

  Kitty grabbed the little knife and reached for his hands.

  He shook his head. “Your feet first.”

  She frowned, but did as he instructed and sawed at the bonds around her ankles. After long moments, the rope split apart and she pulled it from her legs. Footsteps sounded above. She turned a wide-eyed look on Harry, hoping the steps would go away as they had last time. Instead, they approached the cellar door.

  “Climb on my shoulders and through that window,” he whispered.

  “I have to free you.”

  The footsteps stopped at the cellar door.

  “There’s no time. You have to get help.”

  Kitty shoved the knife back into its sheath. Rocking to his feet, Harry came to a crouch below the window. She scrambled onto his shoulder. Above, the lock rattled. She pushed open the window, giving silent thanks it didn’t squeak. Kitty pulled, trying to drag herself onto the ledge. Harry surged upward, all but tossing her through the window.

  The ground outside was inches below the sill. Kitty slithered across the damp grass. The cellar door creaked open.

  The trees and shed, door now ajar, were far across an open yard. Footsteps thumped down the cellar staircase. Kitty flung herself left, away from the other window. Using the stone of the house to pull to her feet, she ran toward the corner and around. Behind her, male voices raised in anger.

  Kitty flattened her back to the rough stone wall. Her heart beat a deafening rhythm. She struggled to make out the voices in the cellar. She didn’t dare put her head around the corner, even though she knew the windows were above their heads.

  “…after her,” Ralf shouted.

  “Be my guest.” Harry sounded unconcerned. “She has quite the head start. I predict you’ll run yourselves right into my rescue party.”

  Ralf spat out a curse so loud that Kit realized he must be at the window.

  “I recommend you run now,” Harry said.

  “We ain’t running,” the other ruffian snarled. “Like as not, your fancy Miss will get lost in the forest, or twist her ankle in a rabbit hole.”

  “If we’re lucky,” Ralf said. “You gather our packs and check everything’s secure here. I’ll take this one out and saddle the horses. I think it’s time to move.”

  “It’ll be easier to travel if we leave him behind, dead like.”

  Kitty stifled a gasp.

  “He’ll ransom better alive,” Ralf said.

  “The girl will tell them he’s alive for ransom. I say we kill him, that groundskeeper and his family, and light the place so they don’t know who’s dead in here. Simpler.”

  “Leave the groundskeeper and his family out of this.” Harry’s voice was hard with anger.

  “Get up and stay quiet,” Ralf said. “You’re always wanting to burn and kill, Cleon. If we get caught, judge is more lenient without killing.”

  “Judge’ll hang us either way. The girl was right about that.”

  Kitty winced.

  “If his lordship makes trouble, we’ll do it your way, now get a move on,” Ralf said, his voice fading.

  Cleon’s reply was too distant to make out. Kitty realized they must be leaving the basement. She had to get help, but the trees were too far away to risk. She’d be visible from too many windows. As it was, the moment someone stuck so much as their head out a window on her side of the house, they’d see her.

  She had to get inside. She could hide better there, and maybe reach Harry. F
ree him before the ruffians rode off with him.

  Heart pounding, Kitty inched toward the nearest window. It was curtained and didn’t have a latch. She crept to the next and darted a glance into a small parlor. Two young children with wide eyes stared back at her. Kitty put a finger to her lips.

  The children, about four and six, inched nearer. Fortunately, the parlor windows could be opened. Kitty motioned to the latch. The older of the two, a girl, shook her head. Kitty steepled her hands, mouthing please. The little boy tottered over and flipped up the latch.

  Kitty pushed the window open. “Shh, don’t scream,” she whispered. “I’m here to help.” She sat on the low sill and swung her legs over.

  “Are you friends with the bad men?” the girl asked, her eyes serious.

  “I am not. I hate the bad men. I’m going to stop them.” Kitty put her feet on the floor. She stood and closed the window in case anyone circled the house. Long curtains framed her. She was flanked by a writing desk and an armchair.

  Chapter Three

  F ootsteps creaked in the hall. The children spun toward the door. Kitty scanned the room. She snatched a candelabra from the desk and dove behind the armchair. Crouched there, she prayed the children would remain silent and the footsteps would pass.

  The steps paused. A key scraped the parlor door’s lock. Kitty tried to breathe quietly, the weight of the candelabra reassuring in her hand. The door to the room opened and someone tromped in.

  “Get close together, brats,” Cleon’s voice said. “I only got one rope left.” His heavy tread drew near. “Come on now. Closer.”

  “What are you going to do?” the girl asked.

  “Tie you up so you little brats can’t go for help,” Cleon said. “Be a good girl and hold this.” His steps moved through the room, as if he walked in circles.

  As he arched away, Kitty dared to peek around the chair. The girl held one end of a rope. Her brother huddled against her side, arms about her. Cleon marched around them, wrapping them together. Kitty ducked out of sight before he made the turn back toward her.

  “The angel won’t let you tie us up,” the little boy said.

  Cleon snorted. “Yeah, and I’ll go to hell for my sins. Ain’t no angels watching over you, boy.” His heavy steps made another turn.