Chapter 12
The gag tasted foul. Maggie felt like the biggest fool. Why had she not listened to Max when he had asked her to stay put and wait? Worry kicked in. Shep had taken off after them until she did not hear him anymore. A lump formed in her throat and tears rolled down her face. Her little dog had broken ribs. No way should he have been running after her. This was all her fault, and she may lose her pet because of her obstinance. She should have listened to Max and gone to Harlow’s estate. Remorse filled her heart.
Tossed and trussed up like a bale of hay, she bounced on the bottom of the carriage. She felt a warm wet substance running down her face. The cut Dr. Perth had stitched must have popped open when she was tossed inside.
Maggie tried to fight, kicking and punching at them, but it was useless. The two men grabbed her as she turned the corner of the stable, saying nothing. They gagged her before she could scream for help. One thrust a filthy rag smelling of unimaginable odors into her mouth and secured it around her head. She could not bite through it and fought back bile, fearing she would die gagging on her own vomit. Who would do this? She thought of Slade. It made no sense. He was always alone when she saw him.
Suddenly, she smelled her mother’s rose scent and opened her eyes, unable to comprehend where it was coming from.
Daughter, you will get out of this. Use your wits. It was her mother’s voice. Help is coming, but you will have to help them.
At the sound of her mother’s voice, Maggie looked up, catching the attention of the man riding in the carriage. “Ah. I see yer back with us. I knew ye were faking.” He smacked his lips. “’Tis a shame the old man said not to ’arm ye. I’d like a chance with ye.” He reached down and caressed her breasts with his fingerless gloves, licking his lips.
Old man…her uncle?
Mother, please do not leave me. “Mm-mm….” She gagged and tried to roll her body away from him. Her eyes widened when a warming brick appeared above his head, then crashed upon his skull, knocking the filthy man against the window. The brick landed on the seat. Maggie scooted as far away as possible in case his body slumped to the floor, fearing it would cover her.
I am with you, daughter. Again, the faint smell of roses surrounded her, giving her focus.
Her mother had knocked the man out. At least, she thought her mother had done it. Could she be dreaming all of this?
Surely not, her body argued. The coach rumbled off the road onto a drive, jolting her head against the base of a seat repeatedly. Where were they going? Finally, it stopped. The door opened, and another man began cursing the unconscious one. “Just like you to sleep on the job. Git yerself up and help me!”
The driver shoved the man slumped in the seat, causing his unconscious body to pitch forward. He covered Maggie, as she had feared. “Ye good fer nothing!” He heaved the man out of the carriage and onto the ground, then pulled a pillowcase from his pocket, covering her head and most of her body. “Sorry, yer highness! The old man wants to surprise ye.” She heard the man spit on the ground. “I’ll not be splitting this booty with ye, Tad.” She heard him kick the man.
With a grunt of exertion, the driver trussed Maggie over his shoulders and carried her into a house. She felt like she knew the house from the smells and the turns he was making. It was Wyndham. Why here?
“Set her there.” She recognized her uncle’s voice. “And take off that sheet. She will see me soon enough.”
He ripped the pillowcase off at the same time her body landed with a thud on the floor of her father’s office. She tried to roll back to face him, still disbelieving her uncle had arranged her kidnapping.
“Leave the gag. I will remove it when she’s ready to tell me what I want to know.”
“And my coin, milord?”
Grumbling, Silas reached into his waistcoat and tossed a small sack at the man, who grabbed it and scurried from the room.
“A waste of humanity,” he muttered, leaning down into her face. His breath was foul and smelled of cigars and alcohol. “You have no value to me. If things had gone as planned, you would have died with your family. But no, you made things difficult.” He cackled. “I have come for my rightful property. And I thank you for helping me take care of your wastrel of a husband. Now, I want what is rightfully mine.” Her uncle jerked the gag from her mouth.
“You killed my husband and my family. Nothing in this house is yours!” she shouted, spitting to get the foul taste out of her mouth.
He arched his brows and malevolence filled his face. “Yes, but only you think that. I have made sure they suspected you of the dreadful murder of your loving husband. He landed at my feet, and I only had to slice his disagreeable throat. It was my pleasure.” He cackled, his tone sardonic.
“Step away from her, Father.” Slade stepped from the dark hallway into the room. His voice came from low in his throat.
Maggie struggled to see. She recognized Slade, not believing what she was hearing.
“You think to save her? No. You will heed me,” Silas shouted. “I am getting rid of the chit, and now that I think about it, I might as well rid myself of you. You have outlived your usefulness to me, son.” Emphasizing the last word, his voice dripped venom.
Father and son. It was exactly as Max had described.
Her uncle charged Slade. Silas surprised Slade with his assault. The fight escalated to fists, with the two circling each other until the old man pulled
