Chapter Nineteen

 

Gina opened her eyes. Her head throbbed, and a wave of nausea brought bile to her throat.

“Where am I,” she croaked. It had grown dark, and she barely made out Ogilvie’s face in the moonlight. The horses were at full gallop and there were no lights to be seen, except the moon trailing across the sky through the trees and the lanterns swinging from the carriage.

Ogilvie ignored her. She turned back to the window. It appeared they traveled through woods. She rubbed her bruised jaw. How long had she been unconscious? She tried the door handle again, thinking it better to lie dead on the road than suffer what this man must have in store for her.

“The door is still locked. If you misbehave, I shall have to knock you out again,” Ogilvie said. “As you see there is no one around to help you.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“We are on the road to Scotland. We’ve changed horses and had a meal. All, while you slept.”

Gina fought to hide her fear from him. “I’m hungry,” she said, hoping to distract him.

He leaned over to pull at the straps from a wicker basket on the seat beside him, flinging the lid open. “Here.” He held a plate toward her with a chicken leg and a slice of bread and butter on it.

“And I’m thirsty. Can I have some water?”

“You are a complainer, Miss Russo, are you not? You may have some wine.”

“Water, thank you.”

“Wine or nothing.”

She wanted to fling it in his face, but she needed time to think–she had to plan an escape from this madman. She drank the red wine thirstily and nibbled on the chicken, aware she must keep up her strength.

“This is a tediously long trip we are on, Miss Russo, which will take another two days. We will shortly arrive at an inn for the night. If you behave, I will leave you alone. If you are going to be difficult, I’ll have no recourse but to render you unconscious.”

Aware she’d been holding her breath, she tried to calm herself by breathing deeply. “Why have you done this? What did I ever do to you?”

Ogilvie yawned. “I’m tired, Miss Russo. You shall learn it all in due course.”

“I want to know now.”

“You do?” He looked at her with cruel amusement. “I don’t believe you are the one in charge here.”

She shoved the plate away and watched as Ogilvie put it back in the basket. The horses slowed, and the carriage turned off the road. Ahead, the lights from a building appeared through the trees. “Good. We’ve arrived,” he said, pleased.

Gina’s head grew strangely foggy. A sudden cold realization hit her, that the man enjoyed the cat-and-mouse game he played. She wanted to slap the smug look off his face and promised herself that sometime soon, she would do it. As the carriage approached the inn, she planned to cry for help, but her limbs grew strangely heavy and her head spun.

Gina came to in darkness. She lay on a bed. Moonlight swam in through the window, filling the room with silvery light. She hastily ran her hands over her body and gave a cry of relief. She was still fully dressed. When she stood she staggered, still woozy, and made her way to the door, tugging at the handle. It was locked.

Afraid and icy cold, she rushed to the window shaking uncontrollably. It was barred and too small for her to climb through. She looked around wildly for something with which to smash it.

She seized the chamber pot and bashed at it furiously, but the bars prevented her breaking the glass. Frustrated, she screamed and threw the thick china pot to the floor. Then holding onto the bars, stared out.

She was in a rough-built cabin surrounded by woods. The flickering lights from the inn showed through the trees, too far away for her voice to carry, even if she managed to break the glass.

She used the chamber pot, planning to throw it at Ogilvie when he appeared in the morning. There was water in the basin on the night stand. She washed her face and attempted to tidy her hair that hung in her eyes. Sick and drowsy, she wrapped herself in a blanket and lay stiffly on the bed, listening for someone approaching. She would hide behind the door and try to escape them by running into the trees. If she could make it to the inn, someone might help her.

Gina woke suddenly. Daylight streamed through the window. She looked up to find Ogilvie standing beside the bed. He reminded her of a big spider. Her heart began its wild pounding. On the table sat a tray with a slice of cold meat, bread and butter and a glass of milk.

“Is this drugged with laudanum too, like the last meal you gave me?”

“You’ll have to trust it isn’t, won’t you? Or starve to death. I’ll give you five minutes before we get back on the road.”

“You seem to have planned this very carefully,” Gina said, raising her chin. She didn’t want him to know how scared she was.

A spark appeared in his pale green eyes. “Oh, I have.”

“I don’t understand why.”

“You have five minutes.” He left the room locking the door behind him.

Gina sat dizzily on the edge of the bed and drank the milk. “What did he want with her? He hadn’t touched her, and she saw no desire in his eyes when he looked at her, apart from that fiery glance when he wished to control her. No one would ever find out what had happened to her or where she’d been taken. She wiped away a tear. Blair would believe she didn’t love him.

Ogilvie returned with the coachman. “You’ll be a lot worse off if you struggle,” Ogilvie warned.

The men tied Gina’s legs and hands and placed a gag over her mouth, then wrapped her in a hooded cloak. The solidly built coachman carried Gina along the path. Through the gap in the cloak saw that she had guessed correctly, the cabin lay at a distance from a small white-painted inn.

There wasn’t a soul around as he laid her on the seat in the carriage. Frustrated, she tried not to cry, as the gag threatened to smother her. She took even breaths, fearing hysteria would take her over.

They’d been traveling for over an hour. “I’ll remove the gag if you promise to behave,” Ogilvy said.

She sniffed and nodded her head. Her hatred burned so brightly that if she could get hold of his pistol, she would shoot him dead.

He pulled the gag from her mouth, her lips bruised. Then he barely glanced at her, turning to look out the window. It appeared that he wasn’t interested in ravishing her. Nor did he wish to kill her. Then why did he want her? Although she was still frightened, a tiny, flame of hope began to burn within her.

 

* * *

 

After another full day in the coach, broken by two brief stops where she was carefully guarded, Gina grew afraid she would lose her reason. The only hope she had was to engage Ogilvie in conversation. She tried again, hoping to learn something that might help her escape. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t raise his eyes from his newspaper. “To my home in Caithness. You’ll like it there. It’s magnificent.”

Did he intend for her to stay there with him? The thought struck a shaft of icy horror in her. She would rather die. She swallowed. “How much further is it?”

“We still have a way to go. I’d advise you to stop annoying me with your questions, or I’ll replace the gag.”

Gina lowered her gaze to hide the flash of anger. She would have to bide her time. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.