A sick relative probably wouldn’t win her any sympathy, but if one had passed away suddenly he would be extremely hardhearted to refuse her leave.
She would have to send herself a letter somehow. If she suddenly received word of a dead relative without getting a missive addressed to her, then there was little hope of getting away and keeping her position. The downstairs footman collected the post from the nearby village of Ford every morning. She would need to get down there before he left.
Formulating a plan, Isobel drifted to sleep.
***
At first, the dream was sensual. She was standing in a darkened room with Matteo, who held her in a passionate embrace. Her body was pressed against his while his long-fingered patrician hands moved over her body. In her fantasy, Matteo was well and whole—and she was enjoying the touch of his gloved hands with an indecent amount of enthusiasm.
But soon the soft caress became hard and threatening. The air in her lungs expelled violently as her chest was compressed with an arm tightening around her like a vise. Gasping for breath, she flailed wildly. Something was shoved into her mouth and covered with something rough.
Certain she was being smothered to death, her eyes flew open as she clutched at the hand on her face. In the darkness of her room, she couldn’t make out anything but a large hulking form bent over her.
Terror flooded her body like mercury coursing through her veins. Panicked, she clawed at the hand covering her mouth in order to plead with Matteo for her life.
The realization it was not him came as movement from the shadows caught her attention. The massive hand over her mouth was strong and calloused, the hand of a laborer or a servant.
She tried to scream, but it was muffled by the gag that had been shoved into her mouth as she was hauled out of bed. Lashing out with all her strength, she kicked and screamed anyway, trying to get her assailant to release her.
“Help me. This one’s a hellcat,” her attacker hissed, and she nearly froze in surprise.
The man had spoken in Italian.
More muffled noises came as the second man stepped from the shadows to join the first, crossing a shaft of moonlight as he did so. He was shorter and thinner than the first and she recognized him as the older servant that served Matteo in his illness. Which meant that the one holding her was the muscular, blunt-featured one.
She doubled her efforts, a terrified whimper escaping her as she fought with all her strength, but it was useless. The second man took hold of her legs while the first held her arms and tied them together. They dragged her to the door and spirited her down the steps of the servant’s staircase.
They moved with practiced speed and stealth—a realization that made her heart sink. She doubted anyone had heard her muffled cries for help. Despite her struggles, she was soon out of doors, the cold night air seeping through her thin lawn nightgown with icy fingers. Tears welled in her eyes as she was unceremoniously dumped into the count’s waiting carriage and locked inside. The two men climbed onto the driver’s box, and the conveyance sped away.
The carriage lantern was unlit and the curtains were drawn. In the dim interior, she could only make out the faint outline of the benches though the moonlight filtering through the covered windows. Isobel tried to sit up, but the violent rocking of the interior and her bound hands made it nearly impossible. Twisting she wormed and crawled until she was sitting up, using her legs to brace herself against the bench. With her hands tied in front of her, she lifted stiff fingers to her mouth to pull at the hastily tied gag.
It took some effort to pull the cloth binding off. Coughing and spitting, she yanked at the gag until it came off in her hands. She couldn’t be sure in the darkness, but the object in her hands resembled a man’s cravat.
Oh, God.
Was this what had happened to the others? Had they been snatched from their very beds to feed the beast?
In spite of what she knew, it was hard to acknowledge that she was referring to Matteo. Unable to process what was happening, her thoughts skittered over what had transpired to bring her to this point, kidnapped and being taken to him in the dead of night. And her mind threatened to freeze and go dark over what would happen next.
Sweat beading on her lip, she tried to force her hands apart to loosen the rope tying them together. The coarsely woven line bit into the flesh, burning her skin as she desperately attempted to work herself free.
The carriage rumbled to a sudden stop. Isobel was thrown to the floor as the door flew open. The larger of the count’s two servants climbed inside and hauled her up with both hands. His fingers dug into her flesh as he dragged her from the carriage.