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An Impetuous Abduction
Patricia Frances Rowell
Passion’s Prisoner! Moments after Persephone Hathersage stumbled upon a band of thieves, the terrified young lady was spirited away on horseback! But trepidation soon gave way to desire for her brooding, battle-scarred captor…Phona knew any impropriety with this nameless rogue would tarnish her reputation for ever – not to mention plunge her into even further peril! However, appearances could be quite deceiving…
Glancing back at the girl as theyclimbed the bank into the oldtrail, he felt very thoroughly thecad she had called him.
A marauder, returning to port with his prize in tow.
And quite a prize she was. Beautifully made. Impressive mettle. He found the task of making himself forget the feel of her warm, soft body struggling against his to be more than he could manage. As was trying to remember that he was a gentleman.
“Lord Hades” did not feel like a gentleman.
Hastily dismounting, he hurried back to his hostage. “Come, we still must travel a bit farther. You will ride with me.”
She stumbled, and he slipped an arm around her. She was shivering, her teeth chattering. If he didn’t get her to shelter soon, she would be ill.
The business with the girl had taken its toll on him—not the physical struggle so much as the sense of responsibility, the worry over her future.
And his, come to think of it. For absconding with a nobleman’s daughter might have severe consequences if he were found out…
Praise for
PATRICIA FRANCES ROWELL
A TREACHEROUS PROPOSITION ‘…a page-flipping, high-action adventure.’ —Romantic Times BOOKreviews
A DANGEROUS SEDUCTION ‘Rowell creates a wonderful Gothic atmosphere, using beautiful Cornwall and its history of smuggling and shipwrecks to enhance her story.’ —Romantic Times BOOKreviews
A PERILOUS ATTRACTION ‘Promising Regency-era debut… a memorable heroine who succeeds in capturing the hero’s heart as well as the reader’s.’ —Publishers Weekly
Patricia Frances Rowell lives in the woods of Northern Louisiana with her husband, Johnny, in a home they built themselves. There they enjoy visits from their collective seven children, numerous children-in-law and eight grandchildren, as well as making friends with the local wildlife. Please stop by her website at www.patriciafrancesrowell.com to visit.
Recent novels by the same author:
A PERILOUS ATTRACTION
A DANGEROUS SEDUCTION
A TREACHEROUS PROPOSITION
A SCANDALOUS SITUATION
AN IMPETUOUS ABDUCTION
Patricia Frances Rowell
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is about family, and it is dedicated to
my first family—My parents, Willard Houghton Moore
and Mary Edna Butler Moore, and the best brother
in the world, John Willard Moore
And every time for the love of my life, Johnny
AND A WORD OF THANKS
To the kindest of all editors, Ann Leslie Tuttle,
my appreciation. You took a chance on me and
gave me the chance I needed. Thank you, dear.
Prologue
1796, Derbyshire, England
The little girl plastered herself against the wall, her gaze held fast by the long streamer of ribbon she twisted around her finger.
“Come now, Phona dearest.” Mama smiled and placed an encouraging arm across her shoulders. “You want to play the game with the other children, don’t you?”
A cold paralysis enfolded the child. Everyone was looking.
At her.
She pushed harder against the wall. Her mother pried the ribbon loose from her clenched hand. “Now, Phona, my love, you don’t want to rumple your new frock. You must be perfect for your party.”
Phona clutched her pristine white skirt with both hands and transferred her gaze to the tips of her white kid slippers. The immobilizing chill seemed to be taking even her breath.
She could not. She could not. She just could not.
“Phona.” Her mother’s smile faded as she jerked the fabric away from Phona’s small hands and tried to smooth it. “This is the outside of enough. Come and join the game. The party is for you.”
The little girl began to chew on her knuckle. Tears pushed their way out from behind her eyelids. She didn’t know these children. She didn’t know the other ladies. They were all looking.
At her.
Someone tittered. Mama seized her arm and pulled her away from the wall, yanking her fingers out of her mouth. “That looks very disagreeable.” She was not smiling at all now. “Do not be such a baby, Phona. You are a great girl of five years. Big girls do not cry at parties.”
A sob burst out of the child’s constricted throat, but not a word could she utter. Someone else laughed.
Now Mama looked angry. “I went to a great deal of bother for this, and now you will not even play.”
Had a pride of lions descended on her, Phona could not have, at that moment, moved. Could not have run away.
Her mother had on her scary face now. She gave the girl a hard shake and leaned the scary face close to hers.
“Persephone Proserpina! You are embarrassing me!”
She was dragged from the room in disgrace.
Chapter One
1811, Derbyshire, England
There he was again.
The stranger on the hill.
Phona reined her gentle bay mare to a halt in the lee of a small copse and patted her on the neck. “What do you think he is doing, Firefly? He has been there on that tall, awkward-looking horse four times this week. And many times in the last several months.” She shaded her eyes with her hand. “I can’t see his face under that brimmed hat.”
The mare twitched her ears.
“No, he never makes a sound. I look up, and there he is, like an apparition in a penny dreadful. And like most apparitions, I suppose, he doesn’t seem to see me. Do you think he is a shade, Firefly?” The mare shook her head, rattling her bridle and bit. “No, I’m sure you are right. He must be flesh and blood.”
Between one breath and the next, the man disappeared again, leaving Phona to wonder if she and Firefly were wrong about his substantiality. “Did you see that? What can he be doing?”
The particular hill on which the non-apparition had appeared lay beyond her family’s land, so heeding all the usual cautions and admonitions, Phona never rode that far.
Today, however, she would make an exception. “Come, let us go and see if we can discover what is so interesting about that specific hill—other than the rider who so often appears atop it.”
Firefly sidled a bit. “Oh, stop that. I know that approaching him is completely improper. Today I have no patience with proper, nor with cautions and admonitions. None at all.”
Whoever the man was, speaking with him would be better than talking to her horse. Which was far better than the conversation of Old Ned, her presently evaded groom. Which was infinitely better than going to the little party of young ladies and their mothers to which she and Mama had not been invited.
Mama would have the vapors. Again.
Except that Mama was already having the vapors over the crushing snub dealt her by Mrs. Rowsley. Phona sighed. “I love Mama, Firefly. You know I do. But sometimes I become very out of patience with her.” And with cautions and admonitions.
Turning Firefly toward the distant hill, Phona gave her a tap of the crop and cantered across the rolling green landscape, enjoying the warm sunshine on her face and the crisp spring breeze streaming through her hair. She skirted scattered clumps of vegetation, drawing in the fragrance of early flowers emanating from them, and guided her mount around the numerous rocky outcrops. They jumped the drystone wall separating the Hathersage property from the neighbor’s and pulled up.
Finding herself at the foot of a steep incline dotted with large boulders, Phona slowed her mount to a walk as they began the ascent. As she neared the top of the hill, strange sounds began to drift to her on the wind.
Clanks and thumps. The jingle of harness and the creak of cart wheels. Coarse voices calling to one another. What in the world? There should be nothing here but open countryside.
Phona reined in. What must she do about this unexpected development? She certainly could not risk encountering a group of rough men by herself. She should turn back. But what were they doing on the far side of that hill? Perhaps she could find a spot to peek over the ridge without being seen. Of course, if she did, they might—
How long her prudent self might have debated with her more adventurous one, Phona never learned. Suddenly the sound of hoofbeats erupted just above her. She looked up to see the stranger on the tall, rawboned black burst over the crest, galloping straight at her, wild hair flying from under the hat. A glimpse of a scowling, dark-bearded visage ended the argument in a heartbeat.
“Run, Firefly!” Phona tugged her mare’s head around and kicked her sharply into motion. The steep slope forbade the pell-mell gallop her pounding heart demanded. A misstep on the rugged terrain would likely result in a broken leg for her mount or a broken neck for herself.
And certain capture.
Steady, steady. Every sense clamoring for precipitous flight, Phona forced herself to control her horse.
Oh, God. The noise of the chase was growing louder.
And closer.
He would be on her in seconds. She must find a way…
A copse of trees rose in front of her. If she could cut through them, perhaps she would gain some time, and even possibly lose her pursuer. Her little mare dived into the shelter as if she, too, feared for her life. They leaped over small bushes and fallen branches and careened between the trees.
Branches clawed at her face and raked her hat off her head, the scarf all but strangling her before giving way. Seeking protection from nature’s assault, she leaned closer to the mare’s neck, keeping her body as low as possible. The sound of the following hooves faded a bit.
Could it be that the man hesitated to squeeze his big, ugly horse through the narrow spaces? Fortune was favoring her at last. Phona angled away from where she had entered the grove. If she could make her way back to her own land, the ground was easier, and she had known it for a lifetime. She could not imagine that he would hound her all the way to her home.
Phona and the mare emerged from the trees. She glanced to the right, and despair welled up in her. Whatever its deficiencies of appearance, the stranger’s black must be a powerful beast. It had circled the grove in the time it took for her to go through it.
The next few minutes would be a head-to-head race. One which her small mare could hardly hope to win. Doubts notwithstanding, Phona turned down the hill and gave the horse her head.
The contest ended in moments. Thundering hooves pounded up alongside her, and a hard arm circled her waist. Phona fought to keep her seat, but found herself dragged, kicking and trying to scratch, onto the saddle in front of the stranger. His other arm wrapped around her, capturing her arms and clamping her tightly against him. A hand closed over her mouth.
An angry whisper sounded in her ear. “Listen to me and listen well. As you value your life, do exactly as I tell you.”
Phona turned to look over her shoulder at the menacing face. All dark. Not only did a thick brown beard cover the lower portion, but a black patch hid one eye. She stifled a gasp.
A rough hand grasped her chin. “When I drop you, lie as you fall. Lie as if you were dead. Do not move! Do not even breathe until I return.”
In the distance, Phona heard another set of hoofbeats closing on them. Oh, Lord! What now?
Her captor let out a roar and pulled her head sideways, his callused fingers sliding across her skin. And dropped her. As she hit the stony ground, Phona heard another voice shouting, “Is she dead?”
“Aye,’ ardesty, she’ll talk to none.” The dark stranger turned his horse back the way he had come, putting it between her and the other speaker.
Dear heaven! He had feigned breaking her neck! Who were these people? Phona took the hidden moment to shift her head to an awkward angle, then lay motionless.
Her attacker spoke again, in a Cockney accent. “Ye best get that load ’andled and get the ’ell out of ’ere before they come lookin’fer ’er. When her mount comes in without the chit aboard—”
The second man uttered a word Phona had never heard before and added, “These bloody hills will be swarming with searchers. Come, man. Move your arse!”
As they galloped away, Phona opened her eyes just enough to confirm something that she could hardly credit. The arm which had removed her from her mount so efficiently ended not in a hand, but in a sharp, black iron hook.
As he watched the departing convoy disappear into the next dale, Leo kept a wary watch. He could not quite see the girl where she lay on the far side of the trees, and he knew his confederates would leave a lookout in their wake to watch their back trail. He prayed he had frightened her sufficiently to keep her still. If she tried to run, the sentry might very well see her, and if he did, she would die.
Or the sentry would.
Or Leo would.
After an agonizing wait, he finally saw the scout ride away after his party. He eased his mount down the side of the hill and around the grove. The girl still lay where she had dropped, ringlets of auburn hair flung out around her, her head turned at a very strange angle. Ye gods! Surely he had not actually killed her!
Leo spurred to her and leaped out of his saddle. Going to one knee, he gently shook her shoulder. “Miss Hathersage?” She did not respond. Perhaps she had fainted from fright. He shook her a bit harder. “Miss! Can you hear me?”
Still no response. Just as panic was about to descend on him in full force, he noticed the infinitesimal movement of her breast, rising and falling as she breathed. Thank God! Sliding his left arm under her shoulders, he lifted her to a seated position, careful not to touch her with the hook. Her head lolled like a rag doll’s. He used his good hand to feel the bones of her neck. They seemed sound enough—
At a rattle of stones below him on the hill, Leo sprang to his feet and yanked the pistol from his belt, dropping the girl to earth once again. This time he heard a distinct “Ow!” and glanced down in time to see her roll to her feet and bolt down the slope, making for the sound he had heard.
