One hand absently patted her back while his other fingers traced the dark red spots on the sheet. Blood. Amy’s blood. His stomach knotted, and he couldn’t seem to think straight.
Ford paced the room. “As usual, Kendra, you’re jumping to conclusions. There are but a few drops of blood here, and none trailing toward the window—I doubt she was seriously injured, let alone murdered. Why would this fellow want to kill her, anyway? You said he wanted to marry her.”
“But she wasn’t agreeable!” Kendra wailed. “I’m telling you, he was furious.”
“Look here.” Ford pointed to Amy’s trunk in the corner of the room. “He hasn’t taken the jewelry, has he?”
“No…”
“Perhaps he means only to persuade her to marry him.”
“By wounding her? For heaven’s sake, Ford, think. He’s taken her. If she’s not dead, he obviously intends to ransom her, for her own jewelry or our money.”
With a violent shake of his head, Colin regained his senses. He rose and went to the window, shutting it with a resounding bang. “I doubt he intends to ransom her. He cannot be at all certain we’d pay—we’re not even related.” Colin’s mind raced. In truth, he wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or alarmed that Amy’s abductor seemed to be her ex-betrothed, rather than some crazed criminal. “Are you sure he knows where the jewelry is?”
“No.” Kendra stood up slowly. “No. She didn’t actually admit to having it.”
“I assumed as much.” Ford shot a meaningful look at the trunk. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left it here.”
Kendra stamped her foot. “All right, we bow to your scientific logic. What do you think this is about, then?”
“My guess is he plans to force her to wed him. Then he’ll own her fortune outright.”
“He couldn’t do that!”
“It happens.”
“Ford is right.” Colin’s voice was a command.
The twins turned and stared at him.
Under the circumstances, his imagined scenarios of violent death seemed unlikely. On the other hand, Ford’s conclusion seemed chillingly possible.
Colin took deep breaths to keep from retching at the thought. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he strode to the door, then whirled to face his brother and sister. “Stay here, in case we’re wrong and a ransom note arrives. I’ll be back. With Amy.”
FORTY-SIX
THE SCREECH OF a key working a rusty lock brought Amy instantly alert.
Finally.
Robert slunk in and shut the door behind him, taking pains to lock it before he turned to face her. His pale blue eyes impaled her as he slowly slipped the key into the pocket of his loose breeches. If only she could reach that key, she’d be halfway out of here. But it was impossible at the moment.
Patience, she reminded herself, forcing herself to breathe in a slow, measured rhythm.
He looked much the worse for wear. His shirt was torn, his fawn-colored breeches wrinkled and filthy. His hair hung in lanky strings, and the freckles on his face were obscured by a thin coat of grime. Then again, she thought wryly, she was hardly in a position to pass judgment. Clad in nothing but a ripped nightgown, bruised and bloody, it wasn’t likely she presented an appealing picture herself.
“How are you?” he finally asked.
Her answer was a scornful roll of her eyes. Regardless of her firm decision not to agitate him, she couldn’t bring herself to engage in conversation as though her situation were ordinary.
“Very well, then. Are you ill?”
“No.”
“Are you injured?”
“Not mortally.”
“Good,” he said, striding over to the fireplace. He tossed another log inside, then wiped his hands on his dirty breeches. “I’ve got some errands to run. I just wanted to see that you were all right before I left.” He headed for the door.
She couldn’t let him go so fast. She knew nothing that could help her make plans. “Where am I?” she blurted out.
He hesitated, then turned back. “At an inn,” he answered slowly.
“But where?”
“It doesn’t signify. You’ll be here only until tomorrow.”
“And then?”
“I’ll let you know later. When I’m prepared.”
For what? The words stuck in her throat; she knew it would be useless to ask. “Wait!” she called when he turned to leave again. “I have to…you know…use the chamber pot.”
His lips puckered, but he strode to the bed and reached underneath, retrieving a dusty, chipped pot. When he lifted the edge of the blanket, Amy moved her bound wrists to press down on it.
“Robert, no!” She’d rather lie in a wet bed than have him assist her in this matter.
“Did you honestly think I would untie you?”
“Just my hands, please. I promise I won’t try anything.”
He stared at her, the sound of his heavy breathing filling her ears while she shifted on the bed. “Very well,” he said at last. “But only your hands.”
He newly abraded her wrists as he unbound them, but she gritted her teeth and held her tongue. He slipped the chamber pot under the blanket and stepped away, turned his back and waited expectantly.
Mortified, Amy gasped. “You have to leave.”
He swung back around. “Oh, no…no, I don’t.”
“Please. You cannot do this to me, Robert.” She thought quickly. “I’m sorry we quarreled yesterday,” she lied. “I—I’m sure we can work something out. And—and we cannot really start this way if we’re going to be happy together.”
His eyes bore into hers. She met his gaze, willing him to believe her.
The fire crackled on the hearth.
“I’ll wait outside, but for only two minutes,” he said at last and unlocked the door. “Then I’m coming back in, whether you’re ready or not.”
When he pulled out a pocket watch, Amy recognized the ruby-encrusted case that he’d labored hours over, back in the days when life was normal. With a meaningful glance in her direction, he flipped open the lid and stepped out into the corridor, banging the door closed behind him.
Inspired by his threat,
