Chapter 21
Fighting down the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, Gideon pushed his way through the surging, shouting, anxious crowd. Many people tried to waylay him, but he shook them off, cursing each second-long delay.
By the time he broke free and ran through the open French windows onto the flagstone terrace, he judged nearly four minutes had passed. Most likely Julianne's abductors had either a horse or carriage nearby. Probably in the mews. Pausing only long enough to slip his knife from his boot, he sprinted across the grass toward the back of the garden, gaze scanning, ears straining. Up ahead, near the gate leading to the mews he saw something pale against the dark ground. Heart pounding, he raced toward the object.
He halted and with a combination of hope and dread he bent down to retrieve it. And found himself holding one of Julianne's satin slippers, the intricate beadwork matching that of her gown. He grimly tucked it into his jacket and opened the gate. Bloody hell, which way had they gone? He looked to his right. Empty. Looking to his left, he saw something on the ground, visible in the moonlight, about thirty feet away. He ran toward it then bent down to scoop it up. Julianne's other shoe. Had she inadvertently lost them while struggling with her kidnappers or purposely kicked them off to provide him with clues? Gideon didn't know, but he was grateful just the same.
He raced through the alleyway, halting when he reached the street. No sign of a horse or carriage. Now where? Toward the park? The river?
His gaze fastened on an object about twenty feet away, on the ground beneath the dull yellow haze of a gaslight, and he raced toward it. He was still more than a dozen feet away when he recognized it as Julianne's reticule. He quickly opened it and discovered only two items: a handkerchief and a button… a button he recognized as the one he'd ripped from his breeches in his haste last night. She'd found it. And kept it with her. He ruthlessly shoved aside all the emotions that evoked and frowned. Odd that the reticule was directly under the light. Almost as if it had been purposely placed there.
He looked ahead and saw something beneath another gas lamp in the distance. He raced ahead. And his suspicions were confirmed when he discovered a woman's white lace glove. Just like the one Julianne had worn tonight.
These clues were simply too perfectly placed. Someone wanted him to find them. Which meant it was either Julianne trying to lead him to her.
Or her abductors, trying to lead him into a trap.
Julianne closed her eyes and tried to fight off the panic pressing in on her by pretending she wasn't engulfed in suffocating darkness. That the hood covering her head wasn't really there. By concentrating on figuring out a way to escape. And she couldn't do that if she succumbed to the terror threatening to swallow her.
In the blink of an eye, one of her abductors had grabbed her from behind and clamped a beefy hand over her mouth. Before she could even assimilate what was happening, a foul-tasting rag was stuffed in her mouth, a hood dropped over her head, and she was swiftly carried away.
Two men. There were two men. Both very strong. One held her around her knees, the other around her shoulders. She tried to kick and claw, twist and squirm, but they held her too firmly.
Running, they were running, and between the jouncing and foul rag and the hood engulfing her and the fear strangling her, nausea rose in her throat. She heard what sounded like a gate opening and closing. Her reticule was wrenched from her wrist, her shoes and gloves yanked off.
Then she felt as if she were being heaved upward like a sack of potatoes. She landed on her stomach with enough force to knock the wind from her lungs. After several seconds she managed to pull in an unsteady breath. The smell of leather and horseflesh assaulted her. Dear God, she'd been tossed over a saddle. Rough ropes quickly bound her hands behind her back and her ankles together.
'Ye just keep quiet and still.' The rough whisper, muffled by her hood, sounded next to her ear. 'Unless ye want yer friends to suffer needlessly.'
Someone mounted the horse, and she was lifted as if she weighed no more than a feather and laid facedown across hard thighs. The horse took off at a gallop and a hand pressed into her back to keep her in place. She heard another horse following closely behind, clearly the other kidnapper.
Gideon…Gideon would come after her, and she didn't know if she were more terrified that he would find her or that he wouldn't. If he didn't, God only knows what these two men meant to do with her. But if he did find her, with two kidnappers and only one of him, Gideon could be overpowered.
Her body bounced against the saddle, each jounce shooting pain through her. It seemed as if they rode for an eternity, but it couldn't have been more than a quarter hour before they slowed down. After another few minutes they stopped, and Julianne was pulled down and slung over a burly shoulder. She thumped there for another minute or so, and with each bump against the man's wide back, her dread grew. But along with that dread came an unexpected surge of fury. By God, she wasn't going to allow these ruffians to hurt her-or Gideon, if he found her-without a fight.
She heard the squeak of a door with unoiled hinges opening. A few minutes later she was lowered to the ground where she landed with a less-than-gentle thunk. She forced herself to remain still. Perhaps if they believed her unconscious they'd remove the hood. Or speak freely in front of her. And if she discovered a way to lash out at them, she'd have the element of surprise on her side.
'Ye didn't hurt her, did ye?' asked one of the men. ''Cause we ain't supposed to hurt her.'
A statement that lent her a bit of comfort.
'Naw. She just bounced about a bit,' said the second man.
'But she's one o' them delicate ladies. And she ain't movin' none. Ain't her but the Runner we're supposed to kill.'
A statement that struck utter terror in her heart.
'Maybe she can't breathe with that hood,' the second man continued, sounding a little worried. She felt a hand clasp her shoulder and give her a slight shake. 'She ain't movin'.' A second later, the hood was pulled off. Julianne forced herself to remain immobile and keep her eyes closed. She felt rough fingers press against her neck.
'She's alive,' the man said, clearly relieved. 'Just swooned.'
'Good. Then we don't need to worry about her. Let's keep watch for the Runner.'
Their footsteps echoed, moving away from her, and Julianne peeked her eyes open. She was lying on the wooden floor of what, based on the crates stacked around her, appeared to be a warehouse. About twenty feet away, a sliver of moonlight spilled through one dirty window, a pane of glass her abductors were looking through.
Julianne wriggled her fingers and feet, but she was securely bound. If only she had something sharp to cut through the ropes. If only she had her embroidery scissors!
Moving carefully so as not to make any noise, and keeping her eyes on her abductors, she worked to free her hands. The men were engrossed in their whispered conversation, which she unfortunately could not hear.
As she tried to escape her bonds, she also used her tongue and teeth and lips to push the rag from her mouth. If she couldn't get free, at least she could scream out a warning to Gideon when he arrived.
The rough ropes bit into her skin, stinging her flesh, but she kept sawing her
