Dropping the heavy scissors into her apron pocket, Elise slipped through the sculptured hedge that bordered the end of the courtyard. She was led by the anxious barking across a lush greensward, and as she approached the place where large shrubs had been planted in a maze, she was encouraged by the nearness of the animal, for his whining seemed very close now.
Elise entered a long, narrow lane bordered on both sides by tall hedges, and at the very end of the aisle of green sat a small, male canine, barking and whining. As soon as he saw her, he leapt up and, with tail wagging, made a dash forward to greet her, but he was brought up abruptly by a leash that was attached to the collar he wore. The other end of the tether was caught somewhere within the shrub that grew nearby. Though the fluffy little dog jumped around and tried to get free, he could not break away. Sitting down again, he wagged his tail and whined forlornly, as if begging her to come release him.
Elise laughed and hurried toward him. “What are you doing here all alone?”
He cocked his head from side to side, as if trying to understand, and she ruffled his curling thatch vigorously behind his ears. “Never mind, little boy. We’ll just take you home where you can romp as free as the wind.”
She bent down to free him, then realized the ornate lead had been deliberately tied to a sturdy green stalk near the bottom of the shrub. She frowned in bemusement, unable to fathom why anyone would tether a dog in this place and why they would do so on Bradbury lands.
“You always were fond of those things,” came a voice behind her.
With a gasp Elise whirled around as she came to her feet, of a sudden feeling much like a woman drowning . . . being sucked under by waves of overwhelming fear. She knew that voice only too well! It was one she had come to dread and hate more than any other. “Forsworth!”
“Why, if it isn’t Cousin Elise,” he mocked. “Imagine seeing you this far from home. I’d have thought that husband of yours would have built a tall, stone wall around the house to keep you safe.”
Elise wasted no precious moment with words, for she was immediately aware of the danger to herself. She turned to flee, only to stumble over the dog who was bouncing eagerly at her feet.
Forsworth was a step behind He caught her arm and whirled her around to face him again. His teeth showed in a savage snarl as he swept the backside of his hand had across her cheek. “You won’t escape me ever again, you bitch!”
Elise staggered in a white haze of pain for a frozen moment of time, then slowly her mind cleared and she glared up at him in renewed loathing as she wiped the back of a trembling hand across a bloodied lip. A multitude of disparaging titles tempted her tongue, but she held still, well aware that she trod on dangerous ground. This was no chance meeting. Forsworth had deliberately lured her away from Bradbury, using the dog as bait, and from the dusty condition of his leather jerkin and thigh-high boots, he had ridden a far distance to reach her.
“What is it you want, Forsworth?” Her tone did not conceal her repugnance.
The generous mouth twisted in a smug, self-satisfied smile. “Why, Elise, have you forgotten so soon?” he queried in feigned amazement. “I only want you to tell me where the treasure is.”
“How many times must I tell you?” she gritted out. “I don’t know where the treasure is! My father never told me where he hid it! There may not even be any for all I know!”
A heavy sigh gave evidence of his displeasure. “So it’s to be that way again, eh? You and me. Arguing and fighting.” He shook his head slowly, as if greatly sorrowed by the idea. “You know it will go hard for you this time. I’m not as lenient as I used to be.”
She scoffed “As if you ever were! You’re about as deadly as a poisonous viper, Forsworth. Everyone should be wary when you slither from your slimy hole.”
“Viper, is it?” he snarled. “I’ll show you!” His long fingers closed cruelly around her upper arm, and he began to slap her, venting his desire for vengeance. The small dog quickly scurried beneath the shrub, where he whined and cowered in fear, sensing all was not right between these two.
Elise struggled to remain alert beneath the hash battering. She tasted blood in her mouth and clenched her jaw against the painful blows, but still they continued, and she knew she would not be able to withstand much more without slipping into uncaring oblivion. Concentrating had on the moment, she slid her free hand downward into the pocket of her apron. Clasping the heavy scissors in her fist, she snatched them forth and, with a forceful descent, stabbed them into the arm that held her imprisoned. With a pained yowl Forsworth stumbled back, holding his arm as he gaped in horror at the pair of shears that protruded from his shirt. A slowly widening ring of red spread outward from the wound, darkening the cloth. Grasping the makeshift weapon, he wrenched it out, giving a great cry of pain.
Elise had anticipated the need for swift flight and was already whirling, catching up her skirts. She forced every bit of strength she possessed into her quest for freedom. She heard the thrashing, stumbling advance of her adversary behind her and knew that if not for his pain, he would have overtaken her in a thrice. His muttered threats rang in her ears, and they only gave her impetus, for she could well imagine what would happen if he caught her.
She flitted about a corner, and her breath left her as she crashed headlong into another tall, solidly muscled form that blocked the lane. Her panic knew no reason as she cried out in alarm and struggled blindly against the one who now held her. She could hear the charging Forsworth behind her, coming ever closer.
“Elise?”
Once again she recognized the voice that spoke to her, and she jerked her head up with a gasp to find Quentin’s face close above her own.
“What has happened here?” he demanded, frowning sharply as he wiped his knuckles along her bruised cheek.
“Let her go!” Forsworth commanded, seizing her arm. “She’s mine!”
Quentin brought a hand down sharply upon his brother’s forearm, breaking his hold, and pulled Elise to safety behind him. When Forsworth tried to follow, he shoved a broad hand against the younger’s chest and pushed him back. “Back off!” he barked. “You’re not touching her again!”
“I’ll beat her to a bloody pulp!” railed his sibling. “I’ve taken enough from that little bitch!” He thrust his arm forward to display his wound, flinging flecks of blood across his brother’s velvet doublet. “Look what she’s done to me!”
Quentin turned his lips in repugnance at the beaded droplets that bejeweled his doublet and lifted a hand to flick them away in disgust. “From what I’ve seen of her battered face, Forsworth, you deserved it,” he observed “And I cannot fault Elise for defending herself. Your manners are about as swinish as an ill-tempered old boar. I swear Mother never taught you anything.”
“I’ll take no more of your inane prattle, Quentin!” Forsworth cried. “Now let me have the wench!”
“Need I remind you, dear brother, that the wench, as you call her, is our cousin?” Quentin stressed the question as if he found it necessary to impress a lackwitted lad. “And I, for one, am appalled to see how you’ve abused her. In good conscience I could not give her over to you, knowing what you’d do. Now desist with this fool’s play and be gone from here!”
Forsworth pulled back a fist, intending to let it fly into his brother’s face, but with a swift flick of his wrist, Quentin slipped a dagger from its sheath and pressed its point threateningly into the leather jerkin that covered the lean waist of the other.
“Have a care for your life, Forsworth,” he warned direly. “You could have more of your blood spilled right here and now, and I would consider it your just due. I’ll not be cuffed about by you!”
“Are you going to give her to me?” Forsworth demanded.
Quentin’s ridicule was blatant. “I do believe Elise struck the wits from your head when she hit you that time. Or was she right in saying you were addled before the event?” He dropped a hand on the younger brother’s shoulder as if lecturing
him soundly. “Go back to where you came from and see if you can staunch that flow of blood ere you bleed to death. I don’t intend to give Elise to you. She’s in my protection now, and ‘twill be death to pay if you try to take her from me by force. I swear I will slice open your belly ere you take her.”
Forsworth jerked away from the other’s touch. “Get your hands off me, you Judas goat,” he snarled and stepped awkwardly away, glaring at his brother. “Be warned, Quentin. I’m coming back for her.”
The elder smiled tolerantly. “As you wish, Forsworth. I’ve no special love for you that I would mourn overlong at your loss. I always thought we were half-brothers anyway.”
“Meaning?”
An amused grin slowly traced the handsome lips. “Meaning I believe you’re a bastard child, Forsworth, of no kin to Bardolf Radborne.”
“Damn you!” the younger shouted “You’re calling our mother a slut! An adulteress!”
Quentin shrugged casually. “I always thought you inherited your slow wits from some simple dolt, and we both know that my father was a man with a good mind.”
“If he was so smart, why’d he let himself be poisoned?” Forsworth sneered.
“What do you mean?” Quentin questioned sharply.
Now it was Forsworth’s turn to gloat as he indicated Elise. “Ask her all about it.”
The older brother slowly turned his head until he could see his cousin over his shoulder. “What is he talking about?”
Elise wrung her hands in distress, knowing that Quentin had held his father in great esteem.
“Tell me!”
She jumped at his barked command and reluctantly revealed what she knew. “ ‘Twas rumored in my father’s house long ago that Cassandra poisoned both my mother and your father.”
“The bitch! I’ll kill her.”
Forsworth chuckled in derision until the elder caught the front of the leather jerkin with such force that it nearly knocked the younger brother back upon his heels. Snarling his rage into his brother’s face, Quentin shook him had enough to rattle the teeth in his head
“You bastard, I’ll scrub your face from one end of this lane to the other if you don’t stop that!”
Forsworth’s humor was effectively squelched, and he gritted through grinding teeth, “I’m no bastard!”
“You’re no brother of mine!” Quentin shoved him away in disgust. “Get out of here!”
“Not without Elise.”
“Be gone from here!”
The younger started at the command, then his eyes went beyond his brother to fix the lady with a glare. “I’ll make you sorry you were ever born, slut.”
Elise did not try to hide her revulsion for the man. “My regret has always been that we were born blood kin. You can be assured I’ll take hope that we’re not kin.”
“Watch for me,” he warned. “I’m coming back to get you.”
“Watch out, or she might get you first,” Quentin scoffed.
Forsworth jeered at his brother’s humor. “You needn’t worry about me, brother. I’ll not give this bitch another chance to sink her nails into me.” Then with a final sneer, he turned and ran off down the lane.
A sigh of relief escaped Elise as Quentin faced her, but she realized by the pained look in her cousin’s eyes that he was hurting inside. “I’m sorry about Cassandra and Uncle Bardolf.”
“I should have expected as much.” He heaved a sigh, calming himself. “There’ve been times when I’ve wished she wasn’t my mother.”
Elise laid a gentle hand upon his am and murmured in gratitude, “Thank you for being here when I needed you.”
Quentin swept her a solemn bow. “The pleasure has been all mine, madam.”
“But why are you here?” she inquired, somewhat perplexed. “How did you manage to find me?”
“I went to the house and was told you were out in the garden. When I went to look for you, I saw where you’d been working, and then I heard the dog barking.” He glanced back at the whining animal. “ ‘Twould appear that Forsworth has left you a present. Do you think he brought it to make amends?”
“Not likely,” Elise answered dryly and, wiping her bruised and bloodied cheek on her apron, went to where the animal strained at the leash. The wagging of the short tail quickened as she loosened the tether and freed him, but he wove an eager, crisscrossing path in front of her skirts as she tried to walk.
A slow grin twisted Quentin’s lips. “Forsworth was going to present that dog as a present to the Queen, but he’s never been able to gain an audience with her. He was hoping she would be so fond of his gift, she would bestow a title on him.”
“Clever woman, the Queen, to deny him access to her court,” Elise commented, then looked up at her cousin with a querying brow raised. “Did you come for a visit?”
The smile faded from Quentin’s face as he took on a serious demeanor. “I came to tell you that I’ve discovered where your father is being held prisoner.”
“Where?” The question was expelled from her lips in a breathless rush.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to show you. ‘Tis too hard to explain.”
Elise fretted anxiously. “Maxim isn’t here, and I promised him I wouldn’t leave the house unless well-escorted.”
“Rumor is in the wind that the kidnappers are getting ready to move Ramsey, perhaps to send him out of the country again. ‘Twould appear that every wasted moment is another stroke against us. Even now he may be en route to a waiting ship. If you take time to secure an escort, we may be too late. I’ve sent a message to Lord Seymour in London, making him aware of everything that is happening.”
“But how will Maxim know where we are if I go with you?”
“He knows the countryside well enough to find the place where I told him to meet me. I can lead him the rest of the way.”
A small frown betrayed Elise’s bemusement. “But what benefit will my presence be to my father? How can I possibly help him?”
“You can tell the kidnappers that the treasure is on its way, that your husband will be bringing it to buy your father’s freedom.”
A strange prickling shivered down Elise’s spine. From far off, she could hear Anne calling her, and with great care she asked, “Why would Maxim bring the treasure?”
“I’ve heard it said that he knows where it is. It only seems right that he would want to ransom Ramsey with it.”
Though Elise would have denied the possibility of Quentin being the kidnapper, the question screamed at her. How could he otherwise know? How could he have received such information about Maxim and the treasure if not by way of the Queen’s attendant telling him?
“I hear Anne calling me. I’d better go and tell her I’m all right.” Cautiously Elise kept her steps slow as she turned away from him, explaining, “Besides, I must change my clothes and have my mount saddled. I’ll meet you at the house.”
Quentin followed on her heels. “I took the liberty of having your mare saddled for you, Elise. She’s tied with my mount nearby. You must come with me now, or all will be lost.”
“Really, Quentin, I must change my clothes,” she insisted, trying to control the quiver in her voice. “Anne will be worrying about me.”
He laid a gentle hand upon her shoulder, setting her heart to thumping wildly. “I must insist you come now, Elise.”
She bolted into a run, startling Quentin by the sudden change in her manner. Realizing he had somehow blundered, he cursed and raced after her, easily overtaking her. He clasped both arms about her waist and, swinging her off her feet, clamped a hand over her mouth as he pressed his face near her ear. “Whether you struggle or not, Elise, you’re coming with me. I need you to talk some sense into your father. He’s been too stubborn for his own good.”
Her reply was lost beneath his hand, and she fought against him with every measure of her being. It pained her terribly to believe that Quentin was the hated kidnapper, for she had truly liked him, and she could only marvel at how thoroughly she ha
d been fooled.
Chapter 31
IF MAXIM HAD ONCE considered the fair Elise a thorn in his side, then Quentin must have compared her to a sharp stave. It took most of his strength and all of his resolve to bring her under control without setting up an alarm at the distant Bradbury Hall. He jerked his hand away from her mouth with a curse and stared almost in amazement at the neat curve of teeth marks left in the fleshy part. In the next instant she drew a breath to scream, and visions of a venging horde descending upon him from the house promptly filled his head. His need for haste in subduing the birthing squall was frustrated by her thrashing head and overactive teeth. Finally he jammed a kerchief into her resisting mouth and then sucked on a frayed knuckle. He caught up the long apron she wore and wound it around her arms and hands until those flailing and clawing members were both restrained. With a small knife he cut off a length of the apron tie and used it to secure the gag which she was wont to spit out.
Laboring against the resistance of this most uncooperative and tenacious sprite, Quentin lifted her in his ams and had to fight to keep her within his grasp as he made his way through the shrubs. She writhed like a slippery eel that refused to yield and gave his greater strength a severe testing as she kicked and twisted in a frenzied effort to escape.
“Dammit, Elise! Keep still!” he barked when he nearly dropped her.
A wild thrashing of her head accompanied her mumbled reply, and he knew he wasted his breath. His band of men stared in awe as he stumbled forth from the tangle of shrubs with a strangled oath, the best he could manage after receiving the full, backward thrust of her arm against his throat. He coughed and wheezed in air through his bruised pipes, seriously questioning his decision in going alone to get the maid. He soon found lifting her to the back of her steed was no less of a problem. The moment he turned away to fetch a cord to bind her with, she slithered down to the greensward. He stretched out an am to catch her, but she ducked beneath the horse’s neck and raced away as fast as her bonds would permit, much to the amusement of his men. Chasing her down, he scooped her up again and this time received the full thrust of her elbow to the jaw. He staggered in a daze for a moment, feeling as if his brain had just been jarred loose, and stumbled back toward the steed. He restored her once more to the saddle, then wrapped her skirts with the rope until she could scarcely move her legs. Taking no chances, he wound it around her waist and the pommel until she was lashed securely in place. Still, when he chanced to meet her glaring gaze, he read her unbridled hatred and her promise of dire recompense, should the opportunity present itself.