Taking a deep breath she prepared to scream as loudly as she could, but it died in her throat as she took in the sight before her. The Conte and his other servant were waiting in front of a thatched tenant cottage at the far edge of the Montgomery property.
She had passed it in the early days of her employment when she made it her purpose to familiarize herself with the area around her. Back then it had been in a bad state of disrepair, but she knew from the other servants that repairs had commenced hurriedly earlier this month in order to finish before winter truly set in.
But it wasn’t the sight of the Conte or the cottage that froze her in stupefied shock. No, it was Clarence Montgomery pacing at the edge of the lantern light.
“Sir Clarence!” she gasped as she was hauled in front of the men in her thin nightgown, the large servant holding her in front of him.
Her employer turned to her, anger and a little disgust clearly etched on his face.
“She was supposed to be blindfolded and gagged!” he hissed at the count, his breath steaming in the cold night air.
The Conte shot his servants an angry glance before schooling his features. He turned to Sir Clarence. “It hardly matters,” he said coldly in his coarsely accented English.
Another blast of icy fear blew through her as the count gestured imperiously and the hulking servant began to drag her to the door.
“No, you can’t do this!” she screamed. “I can’t just disappear like the others! Everyone is talking about those missing girls. But I’m not an unreliable housemaid or a poor baker’s daughter! My father was a gentleman just like you! If I disappear in the middle of the night out of my bed, everyone will suspect you!”
Sir Clarence covered his face with his hands before dropping them to glare at the count. “She already knows!” he said nervously. “And if she does then the whole staff does, or will soon.”
“It has to be her. He’s fixated. Now stop dragging your feet. It’s already too late,” the Conte said, his eyes flat and cold as he looked down at Sir Clarence.
The servant resumed dragging her to the closed door of the cottage. She tried to dig in her heels, but her bare feet grazed the ground as she was hauled unceremoniously to the entrance.
“My lord, think of the children!” she yelled back over her shoulder as the other servant threw open the door.
The dimly lit interior of the cottage seemed more ominous than the mouth of hell. Struggling with what remained of her strength, she twisted her head back in time to see Sir Clarence turning his back on her.
The count, however, followed them inside.
The servant behind the Conte entered with the lantern. He hurried inside and set the lantern on a rough wooden table to her left. The light cast the interior of the single room in stark relief.
Little furniture occupied the space. In addition to the table, there was a chair and a fireplace in the process of being retiled. Against the far wall, a mattress lay on the floor. A large and terribly still figure slumped down over it.
It was Matteo, unconscious, with his hands bound behind him.
Chapter 6
Isobel was too surprised to move, even as she was forced to sit in the lone chair in the room. The man began to tie her wrists to the chair’s arms while the other servant faced Matteo and hesitated.
“What is happening?” Isobel asked in a horrified whisper.
This wasn’t what she had been expecting at all. Why would Matteo be tied up as well?
The Conte ignored her. “Don’t dawdle. Untie him,” he ordered, before turning to the other guard. “No one opens this door till morning.”
Both servants nodded before the shorter one rushed to the bound man. He loosened the ropes until he was able to slip them off. Hurriedly, he adjusted Matteo’s arms to a more comfortable position. The movement disturbed the unconscious man and he began to stir.
The sound that came from Matteo as he regained consciousness chilled her to the bone. It was somewhere between a growl and something similar to a cat’s purr—an extremely large and dangerous cat like the lion she had heard once at the Edinburgh zoo with her father.
The noise he made sent a shudder through her. And she wasn’t alone. The smaller servant straightened up as if Matteo really were a predatory cat that had snapped at him. He backed away quickly. Behind her, the larger servant snickered. Then Matteo opened his eyes and he stopped abruptly.
Isobel took one look at those black soulless orbs and knew she was going to die. Time slowed down for an endless moment, then he blinked and his vision seemed to clear. He looked at her, and for the first time really saw her, bound to the chair not more than ten paces from him.
His face contorted. “No!” His voice was broken—guttural and coarse. “No, not her!”
There was a rush of movement behind her. She didn’t have to turn around to know the other men were fleeing. The door slammed shut with the heavy sound a wood thudding against the jamb. It had been barred from the outside, no doubt one of the new “improvements.”