Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(271)
They had approached the top of the stairs when suddenly he thrust Shanna against the wall and pressed the pistol against her throat to ensure her silence. He peered around the corner to watch as the front door was pushed open by a wiry, red-haired man who stepped aside to let Ruark enter. The latter’s hands were filled with tools and odds and ends of wood. The man followed Ruark in and, after closing the door, helped him place his load in the corner.
“Jamie Conners is the name. I be looking for a Mister Pitney.”
Shanna could see Gaylord’s frame stiffen as the stranger introduced himself.
“Mister Pitney is right in here.” Ruark led the man into the drawing room.
Once the hallway was clear, Billingsham took Shanna to the bottom of the stairs, forcing her in front of him as if to shield himself and pressing against the wall, waving the pistol as if a host of enemies threatened him. He dragged her to a halt. Voices could be heard from within the room. Shanna considered pulling loose and flinging herself away from her captor, but even as the thought came, Gaylord’s hand caught a fresh hold in her hair and twisted her head painfully to one side as if to warn her to silence.
“Nah, I had no reason to kill me girl, but I know ‘oo did,” the Scotsman’s voice came to them. “ ’Tain’t this one here. The one I’m after was bigger and heavier.”
Ruark watched the man flex his arms to indicate greater strength.
“But he’s here, the damn blighter is. Begging yer pardons, ma‘ ams.” The man snatched his hat from his head and crushed it in his hands. “He come when I weren’t about the dock and took his baggage what I followed clear from London. Off to the Beauchamps’ place they said he was.” The small man studied each face before him carefully. “Ye ain’t got no others? About so tall?” He held his hand a full head higher than his own. “ ’Bout as tall as Mister Pitney here. Sort of a dandy one he were, with lordly garb and a big feathered hat. Aye, a knight of the realm he were.”
“Sir Gaylord Billingsham!” Ruark snorted.
“Aye, that’s the name!” the Scotsman chortled. “Sir Billingsham!”
Shanna twisted in Gaylord’s grasp, but he turned a silent snarl to her face and raised the pistol as if he would strike her. Pushing her ahead of him, he rounded the stairs and headed for the back of the house. The servants had gathered in the kitchen to prepare the midday meal, and it was an easy matter for Gaylord to push Shanna through the back door without being seen. In a moment they had gained the shelter of a line of shrubs that led near the former stable. He swung her easily over the rail fence and was soon urging her toward a stand of forest.
By the time they entered the copse, Shanna was breathless beneath the stricture of the gag. There, Jezebel and a saddled horse of the Beauchamps waited. The mare wore only a blanket tied on with a rope. Two bags of provisions had been thrown across her back. Without pause, Gaylord lifted Shanna astraddle and tied her feet with a length of rawhide wrapped beneath the horse’s belly. Standing back, he surveyed his labors then laughed with a chilling lack of humor.
“Not the usual comfort, perhaps, but adequate. As you can see, I was going to use the mare as a pack horse but she will serve to carry you instead, my dear.”
He reached out and freed her hands, prodding her with the muzzle of the rifle.
“In front if you don’t mind, my lady.” He bound her hands together and, giving a dour chuckle, laid a hank of the mare’s mane across her fingers. “Be sure to hang on, my dear. ‘Twould hurt me no end should you fall, not to mention yourself, of course.”
He snickered at his own humor and stepped into the saddle of the other mount, displaying a skill at horsemanship that had not been evident on his other attempts. Jezebel had no bridle, only a rope halter, and now Gaylord looped the loose end of the lead rope about his arm and set his heels to the flanks of his steed. Helplessly Shanna looked back over her shoulder, and ragged fear assailed the courage she tried to muster. There was no sign of an alarm being raised as yet from the manor, and her hopes of escaping this madman dwindled rapidly. Whether bent on murder or rape, he’d have his way, just as he had with Milly and the other girl.
There was little she could do to delay the flight, but whatever there was she would seize upon and work to its limit.
They crossed the open pasture at a fierce pace, heading straight for the tall oak on the far side. Shanna kneed the mare to one side and the other, trying to hinder the retreat as much as possible. The horse snorted and lunged at this misuse, and, if not succeeding in delaying, Shanna at least had the satisfaction of seeing Gaylord’s arm stretched to its limit.