22
AT A QUARTER to five, Isa slipped out by the garden door, where Mary Grace was waiting for her with a horse she’d requested for herself from the stables. Everyone had been told that Isa was frantic over her husband’s disappearance in pursuit of the thief, and had gone to her rooms to watch for him out of her window. If anyone tried to see her, Dr. Worth was to hold them at bay by saying she had fallen sick from worry and needed to be left alone, that he was tending her and she needed rest.
“Good luck,” Mary Grace whispered as she handed over the reins. “I’ll be waiting here for your return.” She blushed. “And his lordship’s.”
Rupert had told his guests that he was joining the search for the thief. Then he’d ridden off into the woods to meet with Victor and the others on the road.
Now she must do her part. Isa reached Strathridge Road in a few minutes, then rode down it with her pulse pounding madly. Gerhart was here somewhere. She could feel him watching her, feel his eyes on her.
Her only consolation was that he had Amalie with him. That was all that mattered.
She listened for sounds of the men in the woods but heard nothing, which reassured her. If she couldn’t hear them, then Gerhart couldn’t, either.
As she rode along, she started to worry. How far down the road had the men positioned themselves? What if Gerhart made her go miles and miles? It would be dusk soon. Surely he didn’t mean to do all of this in the dark.
Then she heard the clopping of horse’s hooves, and she tensed. Before she could turn to look, a voice ordered in Dutch, “Keep your eyes ahead, Isa.”
Gerhart.
Her heart felt as if it would beat right out of her chest. She scanned the woods lining the road ahead of her, wondering where Victor and the others might be. Had they come this far? Were they watching her now? Or had she outstripped them?
Even if they were nearby, they’d agreed not to approach Gerhart as long as he had Amalie under his control, since it would be too easy for him to ride off with her before he could be caught. Too easy for him to hurt her.
Her hands tightened on the reins. Pray God he wasn’t that much a villain.
“Listen carefully,” Gerhart went on in a low voice. “I want you to hand the diamonds back to me.”
She frowned. “Not until I see Amalie.”
“You’ll see her soon enough,” he growled, “but only if I get the damned diamonds now! Hand them over, or I swear I’ll leave you here on the road, and you’ll never see her again!”
Did he think her a complete fool? Her temper rising, she turned in the saddle to see Gerhart riding just behind her. But there was no sign of Amalie.
Her blood ran cold. “Where’s my daughter?”
Gerhart scowled at her. “I know your husband has to be around here somewhere,” he clipped out as he spurred his horse to come up beside her. “I’m not fool enough to bring her with me.”
“You said for me not to tell him, so I didn’t,” she lied. “I kept my side of the bargain. Now keep yours, curse you!”
His gaze narrowed on her. “Not until you give me the diamonds. If you do it now, I’ll go fetch her and bring her back to you. If you don’t, I’ll assume you don’t have them and we’ll be done. And little Amalie will be ours to raise.”
Victor’s voice sounded in her ears: Just remember, don’t give the diamonds to Gerhart until you have her in your hands. I don’t trust him.
Neither did she.
“That wasn’t our agreement,” she said, slowing her horse. “I’m not giving you anything until I see my daughter.”
“You try my patience, Isa.”
“And you try mine!” she spat. “How can I even be sure you have her? You didn’t give me enough time to find out from the school if she was gone. It’s possible you and Jacoba got into the school to talk with her by telling them you were her relations. You could have got the hatpin from her then. For all I know, she’s still at school, and this is just another way you and my sister are trying to get money out of me!”
His face went cold. “Are you willing to risk it?” A snide look crossed his face. “Can you imagine what your husband will say when he learns that you bartered your daughter’s future for a handful of diamonds?”
That twisted the knife in her chest. But she dared not take the chance that he would keep the diamonds and Amalie, too. That necklace was the only thing she could rely on to get her what she wanted.
And she could rely on Victor. He was here somewhere; she knew it in her bones. He would never let Gerhart get away with this.
“Either you give me Amalie,” she said firmly, “or I ride off with the diamonds. The choice is yours.”
He blinked, clearly shocked that she was standing up to him. Then his face clouded over. “Fine,” he snapped. “Let your daughter’s future be on your head.”
He spurred his horse into a gallop and rode past her down the road. For half a second, she sat frozen. Did he really mean to end this now?
Perhaps she should agree to his terms. Wouldn’t it be better to take the chance that he would keep his word, rather than risk the possibility of Amalie disappearing forever and Victor and his men never being able to find her?
Separately, we remember our weaknesses and our self-doubts and we falter . . . Gerhart said those things to make you doubt yourself . . . We have to hold firm to what we know, what we believe: that together we can save our daughter.
Believe in yourself.
She did. And her every instinct cried that Gerhart was bluffing—that if she gave up the diamonds now, she would never see her daughter again.
Turning her horse, she rode back in the opposite direction. Her heart was hammering in her chest; her blood ran like sludge through her veins. Oh God oh God oh God, she prayed, please don’t let this be the end. Please let me be right about Gerhart.
After what seemed like an eternity, she heard hoofbeats behind her and Gerhart rode up alongside her. She’d won this round!
Gerhart glowered at her. “Follow me,” he ordered. “I’ll bring you to her. But if you don’t have those diamonds on you, I’ll make you both regret it.”
She had no doubt of that.
Whirling the horse back around, he set off at a gallop. She followed, fear gripping her chest. The men had their horses with them in the woods, but they couldn’t follow through the dense growth on horseback, and they dared not follow on the road unless they kept far enough behind for Gerhart not to see them. Which meant they’d have to stay far enough behind not to see her.
So how would they find her, especially if he left the road?
She squared her shoulders. She would simply have to lead them to her.
♦ ♦ ♦
VICTOR WAS FIT to be tied. Isa had ridden past his spot what seemed like hours ago, though it had probably been a few minutes. She’d been alone. And just seeing her perched on the horse, back straight and face bloodless, roused his every protective instinct.
Where the devil was that bastard Gerhart? Would he show? Or had he figured out that they were up to something?
The longer he stood there, the more terror gripped him. For the first time, he understood what Max’s father must have felt when his son had disappeared. How fitting that Victor should suffer the same. Though it hardly seemed fair that he—or his innocent daughter—should be punished for his father’s sins.
He wouldn’t let that happen, damn it! He would hunt Gerhart to the ends of the earth first.
Several more minutes ticked past. Then he heard a vaguely birdlike cry. He thanked God for his training as a soldier; otherwise, he wouldn’t have recognized Lochlaw’s birdcall as the same signal they’d agreed upon. He could only pray that Gerhart hadn’t noticed it.
Moving as swiftly through the woods as he could with his horse, he came upon Lochlaw pacing in his designated spot. “Thank God!” the young man cried when Victor reached him. “Your wife rode past with some fellow just a short while ago. He was in front of her, and she was following him.” He cast Victor an anxious look. “Neither of them had Amalie.”
Victor’s heart stopped. “Damn that bastard! I knew we couldn’t trust him.” Creeping up to the road, he gazed down it, but there was no sign of anyone.
Within moments, Tristan and Dom, who’d also heard the cry, were at his side. Lochlaw began telling them what he’d seen as Victor brought his horse onto the road.
When Victor mounted, Dom grabbed his reins. “You don’t want to be seen by him.”
“I know,” Victor said. “But I can’t let him get too far ahead of us either, or we’ll never find him. He has my wife and child, damn it!”
“You don’t know that for certain,” Tristan said quietly as he brought his own horse up onto the road. “Lochlaw saw no sign of a girl. Perhaps this really was all about the diamonds. Perhaps Amalie is still in school, and your wife is just joining her family with a fortune in stolen jewels.”
Victor cast him a hard stare. “I thought you believed her.”
Tristan’s expression was pitying. “Those diamonds are worth at least seventeen thousand pounds. You said that yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Victor said. “She’s not stealing them. That much I know.” He snatched his reins from Dom. “So you two can help me, or you can sit here. But I’m going after my family.”
Lochlaw thrust out his chin and mounted his own horse. “So am I.”
“Either way,” Dom pointed out to Tristan, “we have to retrieve the jewels, old man.”
Leaving them to climb onto their mounts, Victor spurred his horse forward, but he’d only gone a few feet when he spotted something white fluttering in the growth beside the road. “Hold up,” he said. Halting his horse, he climbed down to find Isa’s fichu caught on a thistle.
Had it flown off in her mad dash after Gerhart? No, that couldn’t be. He’d seen her pin it on securely this morning. So what the devil—
Ah. A slow smile curved his lips. “Come on,” he told the others, jumping back onto his horse. “My wife is leaving us a map.”
They rode silently, four abreast, scanning the road as they went. First they found a ribbon, part of the trim from Isa’s gown. Then a garter. Then some lace that had clearly been ripped from her petticoat.
After that, however, the articles of clothing stopped. “Devil take it,” Victor muttered as they pulled up after riding awhile without seeing anything. “She must have run out of things to discard.”
“I only saw one garter,” Tristan said. “I believe most women wear two.”
“Good point,” Victor said. “We must have missed something. We should retrace our steps and broaden our search to beyond the road.”
Within moments, they’d found a scarf caught on a branch next to a half-hidden track through the woods. But it was on the side of the road near the river.
Victor’s heart sank. They were headed to the river? That didn’t bode well.
He rode swiftly down the cart track, leaving the others to follow. The fact that she’d left her scarf worried him. Gerhart could notice such a thing. God only knew what he would do then.
Fear for her spurred Victor on. He didn’t have to go far before he spotted her other garter on a tree branch. And shortly after that, he heard voices arguing ahead. Reining in his horse, he tied it off and drew out his pistol as he crept closer on foot, not wanting any noise to alert Gerhart to his presence.
Then again, Gerhart was shouting so loudly, Victor wasn’t sure the man could hear anything. He caught snatches—“Jacoba, you’d best . . . now . . . the child will”—before he got near enough to see what was going on.
And it struck him with terror. In a small clearing near the bank of the river, Isa faced down Gerhart, who stood clutching a golden-haired girl against him.
His own girl. Amalie—oh God.
Gerhart had one arm about the child’s middle and his forearm clamped against her throat, as he must have done with Isa earlier in the day, and it was all Victor could do not to vault into the clearing to knock the bastard down and throttle him to death.
But he knew better than to let emotion guide him right now. Too much was at stake. Before Victor could reach him, the former wrestler could easily break Amalie’s neck. And Victor’s gun was no use with Gerhart holding the girl so close. He dared not risk hitting his daughter.
Fighting for calm, Victor tried to determine how best to proceed.
“Gerhart, I did everything you asked,” Isa choked out. “You have the diamonds now. Just let Amalie go! Don’t hurt my baby!”
“He won’t hurt her,” Jacoba said, sounding anxious. “You won’t, will you, my love?”
“He hurt me,” Isa snapped. “How do you think I got these bruises on my neck?”
Jacoba looked shocked. “Gerhart, you didn’t . . . you wouldn’t . . .”
“Stay out of this, Jacoba. The girl will be fine as long as Isa does what I say,” Gerhart growled. “I just need the child a while longer.”
“Please, Uncle Gerhart,” Amalie squeaked in a girlish voice that made Victor’s heart twist. “I don’t want to go in the boat!”
Then Victor spotted a dilapidated skiff, half hidden by the trees, pulled up on the bank. God rot him, Gerhart meant to go out on the river in that thing. And take Amalie with him!
He would beat the bastard to a bloody pulp!
“Listen to me, my dearest,” Jacoba said, clearly unsettled by her niece’s pleas. “We don’t need either of them anymore. Just give Amalie back to Isa. We can be well away in moments. It’s not as if my sister can stop us once we’re on the river.”
“Perhaps not, but her damned husband is bound to be lurking about.” He dragged Amalie back toward the skiff. “Clearly she left her scarf somewhere to show him the way, and I daresay he’ll find her soon enough. Having the girl with us will just ensure that he lets us get away.”
“And then what?” Isa cried.
“We’ll leave her in a safe place—assuming we aren’t pursued.”
“But Gerhart—” Jacoba began.
“Come over here and get in the damned boat!” he cried.
Victor felt rather than saw Dom, Tristan, and Lochlaw edge up beside him. The baron couldn’t hold back a gasp when he saw the scene, but fortunately Gerhart was too intent on dealing with Isa and Jacoba to notice. Casting Lochlaw a warning glance, Victor pressed his finger to his lips.
Tristan jerked his head in the direction of the boat. Guessing what he intended, Victor nodded. As Tristan and Dom slid through the woods toward the river, Victor indicated to the baron to stay put.
Time for a distraction. Gerhart wasn’t expecting anyone other than him, and he meant to keep it that way while Dom and Tristan got into position.
Victor watched, heart pounding, until the other two men reached the riverbank and slipped into the water. Then, dragging in a deep breath, he walked out into the clearing with his pistol drawn.