From what the leader had said to Marianna, it was clear he knew Lord Chetwynd. She wondered briefly if Chetwynd would be angry at her carelessness. But she knew better. He would be concerned for her safety. The only comfort she could take from the situation was that Marianna had not been taken as well.
To keep from surrendering to despair, Isabel decided to plan her escape. From their ruthless handling of her, she suspected they would not release her even if a ransom were paid. She had to at least try to free herself.
Except for the young outlaw called Hardy, the men did not pay much attention to her. But Hardy kept a close watch, and she stayed perfectly still so as not to give him an excuse to put his hands on her again.
At the back of the cave, she could see that the leader was changing his clothes, discarding his tattered outfit and putting on finer garments. Once he was better dressed, he reminded her of a merchant she had seen a few times on their journey. She had noticed him because he seemed to be keeping an eye on their party, and at the time she had wondered if he was interested in one of the serving women. Now she realized she should have alerted Chetwynd or Ingram about his interest. The bandits must have been following their caravan for some days, getting ready to make their move.
Isabel chastised herself again for how easy she had made it for them. She sat with her head lowered to her raised knees, her hair hanging over her face and eyes. She hoped the bandits would not realize she was observing them through her thick curtain of hair. The leader was obviously going to be the one to deliver the ransom instructions to Chetwynd at the convent.
There were several ways he could deliver the message that would not bring suspicion upon himself. The convent would be busy with travelers, and one more merchant would not be noticed. She must try to make an escape tonight, under cover of darkness. The thing she feared most was that they might tie her up and make an escape impossible. She would act docile, which should not be hard, she told herself. Then they might not deem it necessary to bind her.
As it turned out, there was no need to worry about being tied up. After the merchant left, Isabel observed Hardy pouring wine. Looking over at her to see if she noticed, he added some powder to the cup. Since her eyes were still covered by her hair, he had no way of knowing he had been observed. When he headed toward her, carrying the cup, Isabel was sure he planned to drug her. If she was correct, she could pretend to fall asleep and wait for a chance to slip away.
“Maybe a cup of wine will make you feel friendlier.” Hardy smirked, holding the cup out to her.
Isabel pretended he had startled her from sleep. “I am thirsty,” she murmured.
The bandit watched her closely, so Isabel made it seem she was drinking his offering. Fortunately, he could not see the cup was still full, and she took as long as possible, making sipping sounds. When Hardy was distracted by noise from one of the horses, Isabel checked to make sure the others weren’t watching her and emptied the contents into the sand beside her, covering the damp spot with her skirt. When Hardy returned from checking on the horses, he looked to confirm the cup was empty.
Isabel began to wonder how soon the drug was supposed to take effect. She decided she could take her cue from Hardy, waiting to see when he expected her to fall asleep. She just hoped he did not have other ideas for her while she slept. The leader had warned him to leave her alone before he left, but Isabel was not sure how seriously Hardy would take that warning.
Although the outlaws had taken a devious route to reach their hideaway, hoping to mislead anyone who might follow them, she judged that they hadn’t traveled far from the aqueduct. If Isabel could find her way back to where they had captured her, she could hide and hope someone would look for her. Since she had no idea where the Convent of Saint Ives was located, it seemed best to head for a place that was familiar.
Of course her plan depended upon her escape, Isabel reminded herself, and she shivered at the thought of making a move. What she really wanted to do was curl up and pretend she was somewhere else.
Although it was getting dark, the bandits had not lit a fire. Hardy came to stand over her. “Move farther into the cave,” he said, pointing to where they had set their bedrolls.
When Isabel replied, she slurred her words and acted sluggish. “I can’t breathe in close places. Please don’t make me move,” she begged, acting as pathetic as possible. It was not hard to do.
Hardy looked back to where the other men were huddled together, eating and drinking, and must have decided he preferred to have her away from the group. He touched her hair, and she had to force herself not to pull away.
“Sweet dreams, my lady,” he whispered, and moved to join the others.
Isabel sighed with relief and vowed to do whatever was necessary to escape the disgusting bandit.
At first Hardy glanced over at Isabel a few times, but she pretended to be asleep, and he soon became engrossed in the game the men were playing. They had lit some candles, which Isabel hoped made it more difficult for them to see her in the dark beyond their circle of light. She managed to noiselessly arrange her heavy cloak, propping it up with a few sticks and hiding behind it. If they did glance over, she hoped it would look like she was lying under the cloak.
The game they played
