65
Gabriel leaned forward in the saddle, flicking the reins, riding hell for leather over the uneven terrain. The Arabian’s hooves pounded against the ground, spitting up dirt. Each gallop felt like a spike was being driven into his skull. He wanted to vomit. He wanted a bloody drink.
He shuddered with relief when he entered the forest and was forced to pull on the reins, slowing the punishing pace as he got his bearings. His eyes darted around the thick copse with its ancient elm and oak, uncertain. He hadn’t anticipated this. The times that he’d gone to the club, it had been dark and he’d already been well into his cups. And Thomas had guided them.
The horse shifted, impatient. Twigs snapped beneath the beast’s hooves. Leaves rustled around him. Gabriel heard the sharp trill of a bird somewhere above him, answered from a neighboring branch. He touched his heels to the Arabian’s flanks, moving slowly forward. He considered returning to the castle. Let Alec handle this situation. Who was he to play hero? But then he heard a faint noise in the other direction. The stream.
He remembered the stream.
The horse gave a snort as he tugged at the reins, and wheeled the animal around.
Alec had never felt this kind of icy terror. His stomach roiled at the thought of Kendra in Thomas’s clutches, as they rode into the courtyard a minute later. They’d organize a search party. They now knew who they were looking for, but not the where. And every second the monster held Kendra brought her closer to death.
Alec thought of the torture the other women had endured. He thought of the search that had been organized to find the maid, and how that ended. Christ Almighty.
He brought his horse to a stop so abruptly that the poor beast reared up on his hind legs, then did a skittish sidestep. There was more activity than normal in the stable yard, with all the carriages being prepared for the departing guests. A stable boy rushed over to grab his reins as he swung down from the saddle.
The Duke and Sam rode into the stable yard as he pointed at one of the grooms. “You! Go and gather up men for another search! Thomas—”
“Alec!”
He broke off as Rebecca ran toward him. “Not now, Becca. Thomas has kidnapped Kendra! We need to find her!” He glared at the groom who was still standing, staring at him wide-eyed. “Goddamnit, I told you to gather the men! Move your arse!”
A murmur rippled across the stable yard. Several men began to approach.
“We need to organize another search party. Thomas is the fiend we’ve been looking for! He—”
“No!” Rebecca grasped his arm.
“Becca!”
“No! You don’t understand! It isn’t Thomas. It’s Morland. Morland is the monster!” she shouted at him.
“You’re mistaken, Becca. We’ve been to the hermit’s shack. We’ve seen his madness!”
“He assisted Morland.”
Aldridge and Sam jogged over. “How do you know this?” Aldridge asked.
Rebecca swung around to look at the Duke. “G-Gabriel. Gabriel told me.”
Alec grabbed her by the shoulders. “Gabriel knew?”
“Yes. No. Oh, hell and damnation! There is no time to explain! He told me that Morland has a club, like the Hell Fire Club. There’s a cave on Morland’s property. Gabe has gone there now. He believes that’s where Thomas may have brought Miss Donovan. Oh, dear God, Alec . . . you must save her!”
“Where is this cave?”
“I do not know! Captain Harcourt may be able to take you there. He and Gabriel attended the club together. That’s where they were the first night of the house party.”
Aldridge frowned. “Where is Harcourt now?”
Rebecca dashed anxious tears from her eyes. “Most likely preparing to leave.”
Alec didn’t wait. He ran toward the castle, nearly knocking down several servants who were in his way. “Harding!” he shouted when he saw the butler ahead of him, in conference with Mrs. Danbury.
“Sir?”
“Where is Captain Harcourt? What room is he in?”
“He shared a bedroom with Mr. Digby. In the east wing, second floor. I will send for—”
“Bloody hell. No time.” He grabbed the startled butler’s arm and shoved him forward. “Show me!”
66
Kendra closed her eyes and held her breath, expecting to feel the deadly kiss of the blade as it eviscerated her. Instead, she felt a tug, and then heard the ripping of cloth.
Another kind of horror seized her as cold air washed over her, pebbling her skin.
“You son of a bitch!” The chains rattled again as she jerked her arms in a primordial response. Yet no shot of adrenaline could give her the strength to break free of the shackles. The steel cut into her wrists, but she didn’t care. Panic overwhelmed her. “You fucking bastard!”
Morland laughed. “Such language. You are not a Lady, Miss Donovan.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you!”