Epilogue
Piper’s head hurt like a crocodile had taken a few bites of it and she still couldn’t see.
Well, this sucks. She didn’t think she’d have conscious thoughts after she stopped existing. Or agonizing head pain. And come to think of it, her shoulder was jammed uncomfortably against something hard. It didn’t seem fair. Maybe she hadn’t stopped existing and had merely died? That didn’t cheer her up any, especially since she clearly hadn’t made it to heaven.
Damn it, she thought, instantly feeling guilty for swearing.
It was obviously too late for regrets now. She thought she’d been a pretty good person, but apparently not good enough. Tears stung her eyes as she couldn’t help but think of all the things she might have done differently. She tried shifting around in the dark to ease her shoulder and bumped into something hard on the other side of her. She kicked out with her feet and hit another barrier.
She was in a box. Full panic set in. She hadn’t disappeared and she hadn’t died. Not really. But someone thought she had and now she was buried alive.
Stop thrashing around, she told herself. It would only use up what precious oxygen she had left until Lachlan rescued her. And he would rescue her, of that she had no doubt.
At least you’re not in hell. She tried to comfort herself but it didn’t work. She tried to sit up, whacking her head on the top of her coffin. A hard metallic sound resonated through her throbbing skull and she lay back down, trying to keep the rough metal from scraping at her skin.
Metal? It wasn’t possible she was in a metal coffin. Did they even make such things? What was going on? She kicked upward this time, seeing a sliver of light as she dislodged the roof of her prison a tiny bit. It snapped back into place, once again submerging her in darkness. But it was enough to give her a surge of hope. She wasn’t underground yet. That was a huge plus.
She had to rest, the pain in her head making her want to be sick. There was no way she wanted to lie in a metal coffin amidst her own vomit so she carefully controlled her breathing until she felt well enough to kick some more. And she decided screaming couldn’t hurt either.
Every time she kicked at the lid to her container another splinter of light would flicker down on her, but it would not be budged more than half an inch before locking back into place.
A bang from above made her go still, wondering what had happened. Was it going to collapse on her completely from all her kicking?
Voices wafted down to her and she held her breath to hear better, make sure she wasn’t imagining things. No, she wasn’t. Posh English voices were out there somewhere. She started screaming for help again, getting answered by another loud bang and a stream of swear words.
“I’m in here,” she yelled hoarsely, fighting nausea from her headache and all the exertion in the hot, confined space.
“I know that, you daft woman, I’m the one who put you in there,” one of the posh voices answered her as the lid to her prison was swung open.
Sunlight streamed in, blinding her with its dazzling light. She held her hand up to shield against it as she struggled to get out of wherever she was. Two blurry figures hovered above her. One of them shoved the other out of the way and leaned in closer, hauling her up and out. They were at the side of a road, surrounded by swaying yellow wheat as far as the eye could see.
“Was I in the trunk of a car?” she asked.
No one answered her but it appeared so. And not a very nice one. The two men crowded around her as if to keep her from bolting but she knew she wouldn’t make it ten feet without throwing up and then fainting. One of them gaped at her in horror and looked vaguely familiar, the other she definitely recognized from his uniform.
“You were at the inn in Castle on Hill, weren’t you? The servant with the fancy livery,” she said, pointing at the guest who’d been rude to Lisbet.
Still neither of them answered her, but the other man, clearly the one in charge, pushed the servant aside, glaring at her. Piper narrowed her eyes at him, trying to place where she’d seen him.
He was medium height, and would have been handsome in a pale, British way if he didn’t have a cruel sneer pasted on his face. She leaned against the car, rubbing the back of her head. There was a huge welt back there and it was sticky with blood. These bastards had hit her over the head and stuffed her in the trunk of a car. But why? And oh God, Lachlan. What was he thinking right this moment?
“You imbecile! Who did you bring me?” The pale Brit shook her roughly before turning to his servant with an even meaner glare than the one he’d given her. “Because this woman is not my wife.”
Piper sighed. “Oh bloody hell,” she said. All the newspaper photographs flashed through her mind. “Bloody, bloody hell. You must be Albert.”