Her Noble Lords Read online

  My features must betray my confusion since he offers more information in settlement of my unspoken question. “The same way we entered, through the window.”

  We are four floors in the air, the walls outside are sheer, a drop of fifty feet into the freezing, filthy moat. I whimper behind his hand.

  “Fear not, my lady, we will see you safe down to the boat.” He shifts a little, enough to release the bedclothes which hold me trapped. He keeps his hand pressed over my mouth as he draws the covers away to expose the pale silk of my nightdress.

  “Ah, very pretty. I suspect married life will prove pleasant enough, for me at least.” He turns to glance over his shoulder at his brother. “Bind her wrists.”

  Sir Piers grabs my hands and uses one of Lady Eleanor’s scarves to secure them together in front of me. Stunned, I offer no resistance.

  “That’s good. We cannot risk you making a sound and raising the alarm. You will understand the need to gag you, my lady.”

  I shake my head, attempt to wriggle free. It is to no avail.

  “Eleanor, I am about to remove my hand from your mouth for a moment. If you make so much as a murmur I will have no hesitation in rendering you unconscious. Do you understand?”

  I can only stare at him, bemused. They have mistaken me for the countess. I need to tell them of their error, then surely they will leave and allow me to remain unmolested. I shake my head, trying desperately to form words under the earl’s palm.

  His fingers tighten around my jaw. His grip is painful, choking me. I lie still.

  “One sound and you will regret it. And the outcome will be unchanged. You are coming with us. I ask you again, do you understand?”

  I am shaking. Violent tremors course through my body. I have never been so afraid in my life. But amid the terror he holds my gaze, his expression grim, determined. His intent is clear—if I make a sound he will render me unconscious. I have no choice, at least, not for now. I nod and close my eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks.

  He releases his hold on my jaw and I gulp in several deep breaths. I am hauled to a sitting position.

  “Open your mouth, my lady.” This voice is different, though only very slightly. A fraction deeper, the merest hint of a rasp.

  I lift my eyelids to see Piers is the one now holding me. He has another of Lady Eleanor’s scarves in his hand. He gives my shoulders a light shake and I obey.

  As soon as I part my lips he shoves a rolled-up scarf into my mouth. He secures that in place with another length of silk. My lady will be furious when she notices the disappearance of her belongings as well as her maid.

  I know a brief moment of near hysteria as I realise she will assume I ran away and worse, that I have stolen her property.

  “Stand up.” Piers tugs on the scarf binding my wrists and pulls me from the bed. I stand before them, my mistress’ sheer silk nightdress doing little to protect my modesty from their gaze.

  “I had expected her to be taller.” The terse remark is made by Piers as he allows his gaze to travel the length of my body.

  “She compensates in other areas.” Ralf’s appraisal is curt. He is intent on stuffing a gown, leather shoes, and several chemises into a rough sack. Lady Eleanor will be livid. The earl ties the top and throws it to his brother. “You go first. I’ll follow with my sweet little bride.”

  His words and the immediate prospect of being forced out of the window, spur me into further desperate protests. I try to scramble back into the bed, shaking my head violently. It is to no avail. Ralf grabs me and hauls me up against his body.

  Piers moves to the window and sits astride the sill. “It would be a shame to bruise her but do what you have to do. We cannot risk her alerting the guards.”

  “Aye. We’ll be right behind you.” Ralf cups my chin in his hand, tilting my face up toward his. “Eleanor, I want you to lift your arms above my head and loop them around my neck.”

  I shake my head again but with less conviction.

  “Do it of your own volition, or I will do it for you. You know what that will entail.” His tone has hardened. This is it.

  Defeated, I lift my bound hands and reach up to slip them over his blond waves. His hair brushes his shoulders and it is soft against my numb wrists. As soon as I am holding him as he instructed, he shifts to lift me in his arms. With two long strides we are at the window. I crane my neck to see Piers a couple of feet below me. He is holding fast to a stout rope, his feet planted firmly on the dark grey masonry. He flashes us a grim smile, his teeth glistening in the thin moonlight.

  “Ralf has you and you are safe, my lady. But know that I am just below and will catch you should either of you slip.”

  I whimper, the sound lost in the silk gag. Ralf lowers his face to my ear.

  “Do not be afraid. Trust me. Trust us. We will not let you fall. You are, after all, to be my bride.”

  I am rigid in his arms, clinging tight around his neck.

  “My lady. Eleanor—it will be all right. I promise you.” It is Piers again, his low, calm voice penetrating the haze of fear which threatens to overwhelm me. I look down again, meet his sure, confident gaze and I manage a little nod. I have no option but to trust them with my life.

  “I am going to seat you on the sill now and climb past you. Do exactly as I say.”

  I shake my head and try to hang on even more tightly. How my perspective has shifted in the last few moments.

  Ralf positions himself astride the sill as Piers did a short time ago. He places me on the edge, my bare feet dangling in the cold night air. Carefully he inches around until he is in front of me, my arms outstretched around his neck. He has hold of the rope in one hand and he leans away from the wall, his feet firm against the stone.

  “Come forward and wrap your legs around my waist. Keep in close to my body.”

  No. No. No! I cannot do it. I just cannot.

  “Madam, remember the alternative. I can and will carry you down, with or without your assistance.” His voice is cold, dispassionate, and dripping with certainty. The fingers of his free hand are clenched into a fist. I know what comes next. Unless I obey.

  I shuffle forward. Sobbing behind the gag as the safety of the window becomes just a memory.

  “Wrap your legs around me, Eleanor.” He uses his free hand, no longer clenched, to adjust the bottom of my nightdress, hitching it up around my knees to free my lower legs. The icy bite of November wind against my exposed skin causes me to shiver even more.

  “Once down you will have a cloak. Come, let us be quick.” His tone is encouraging now, warmer. I abandon any hope of escape at least for the moment and hug his body as tight as I can. I hook my ankles together and press my cheek against his broad chest.

  “Mmm, that feels nice, sweet bride. I regret your reluctance to marry me but trust in time I will be able to convince you of the merits of the idea. Certainly, I have no doubts regarding our compatibility. I am sure you will have realised that by now.”

  He starts the descent, the movement of his hips causing me to rock against him. I am naked under the flimsy nightdress. My exposed quim pressed into his midriff. The swell of his erect cock nudges my bare bottom, the only barrier between us the rough wool of his breeches. I am under no illusion at all regarding his enthusiasm for the married state.

  For myself, the imminent prospect of a watery grave has dampened any ardour I might otherwise have felt for this object of my childhood devotion. That and the less than chivalrous treatment meted out to me thus far. I hang onto him, my eyes shut tight. I know if I look down I will lose whatever remains of my shattered wits.

  I fight down the mounting panic, each step my captor takes bringing me closer to safety. Or not.

  He has made it clear he intends to marry the countess. His intentions toward her worthless servant are far less clear. He is likely to just toss me into the moat anyway, as soon as he learns of his mistake.

  Chapter Two

&nbs
p; “Almost there. Just a few more feet.” The disembodied voice from below offers reassurance though I doubt Ralf St. John requires any such comfort. For myself, the news is welcome. If we were to hurtle down into the moat now I might have a slim chance of surviving the impact at least.

  Moments later the solid hips and thighs which have been all that prevented me from plummeting into the green depths slide away as Sir Ralf stands upright.

  “You can put your feet down now, my lady.”

  He may think so. I prefer to cling on like a limpet.

  A low chuckle somewhere to my rear suggests Piers St. John finds my terror amusing. “She appears to have discovered a fondness for you after all, brother. Mayhap you will not need to spank her quite so hard as you feared to attain the necessary acquiescence.”

  “Perhaps so. Though she has still caused us a great deal of trouble, this little bride of mine and that cannot go unremedied.”

  “Aye, we both have a score to settle there. But first we need to get her safe to our camp. Put her down and assist me in rowing.”

  “Eleanor, you can open your eyes now.” Ralf murmurs the words to me, his breath tickling my ear. The sensation might be pleasant were it not for the fact they apparently intend to beat me anyway, despite my cooperation in the matter of my abduction. “Put your feet down on the deck and let go of me now, my lady.” He pats my bottom, the gesture familiar yet menacing too given his intention to mete out discipline, however undeserved.

  I release my legs and lift my hands over his bowed head. My attempt to stand unaided comes to naught as I slump to the planks below my feet. Piers crouches beside me.

  “Here, wrap yourself in this, countess.” He covers me in a warm fur cloak which I recognise as one of Lady Eleanor’s finest.

  “Keep still and cause us no trouble and you will not be harmed.” Ralf has taken up position on one of the cross benches, a sturdy oar in his hands. Another man, a soldier by the look of him, is seated alongside, ready to lend his efforts too. I surmise the third man now with us was left to attend the boat while the St. Johns scaled the walls of Wellesworth keep to seize Sir Ralf’s reluctant bride from her bed.

  He has gone to a great deal of trouble, though much good it will do him. As soon as the gag is removed I will acquaint him with his error. Meanwhile, the prudent course seems to be to lie still and attract no more attention than I must.

  The moat is not unduly wide, it takes no more than half a minute or so for the three men to pull us to the other side where more men await. There are horses too, uncannily silent in the predawn darkness. The boat is hauled onto the bank and Piers St. John springs over the bow to help secure it. Ralf bends to help me to my feet.

  “You will remain bound, madam, but the gag will be removed once we are away from this place. Come, I will assist you.” He doesn’t wait for my response. Instead he takes a firm grip on my elbow and ushers me toward the front of the small boat. He hands me over to his brother, who lifts me over the side and settles me on dry land. My legs immediately crumple again.

  “Steady, lass.” Piers catches me and cradles me in his arms, just as his brother did up in Lady Eleanor’s chamber. With just a couple of strides he has reached one of the horses, a massive dark grey beast, and tosses me up onto the saddle. He follows me up onto the animal straightaway, one solid arm securing me against his front as he uses the other hand to steer the mount away from the castle. Seconds later we plunge into the dense woodland surrounding Wellesworth.

  I bounce painfully against the horn of the saddle, unable to secure a more comfortable position with my hands bound and the gag prevents me from pleading for assistance.

  Piers slows his horse a little and leans forward to speak to me. “Turn around and sit astride, my lady. Tuck your feet under your cloak. I will not let you fall.” Despite my helplessness he seems to be aware of my plight and not insensitive to it. He would no doubt be considerably less concerned with my comfort were he to realise he is pampering a mere servant. Nevertheless, I accept his advice. Things will change soon enough, as soon as the truth is revealed.

  After perhaps twenty minutes or so hard riding, our little group slows to a walk. I look around me to see that it has taken seven men to abduct me, including Ralf and Piers. The two brothers are riding alongside each other at the head of the troop.

  “Any sign of pursuit?” Piers asks Ralf.

  “None. I think we can remove the gag now. Keep her wrists bound though.”

  Piers tugs the silk scarf from around my face and I spit out the fabric which has been in my mouth. My tongue feels dry and I long for a drink of cool water. Wordlessly Ralf produces a small leather pouch from his saddle and hands it to me.

  “Here, take a few sips. It will feel better.”

  Grateful, I clutch the pouch between my bound hands and do as he tells me, then I offer the pouch back.

  This is it. Now I am able to tell them what I have needed to say all along. I am not Lady Eleanor Marwood. I open my mouth to do so and the words freeze on my lips.

  As soon as they know, what will happen next? I am of no value or importance to them. Certainly, they will have no reason to take me to their camp, nor to deliver the spanking they mentioned, which is surely a good thing. And Sir Ralf will most certainly abandon any notion of making me his bride.

  During the time I spent at Egremont I do not recall either of the brothers earning a reputation for cruelty or vindictiveness. Once they appreciate their mistake they will most likely allow me to go free, perhaps even drop me off in the nearest village. I will be able to make my way back to Wellesworth and hopefully Lady Eleanor will accept my explanation for her missing items. I might even be allowed to return them to her since the brothers’ motive for trespassing in her castle was most certainly not robbery. Encouraged by my analysis I swallow hard, stiffen my spine, and make my announcement.

  “There has been a misunderstanding. I am not the lady you are seeking.”

  “I beg your pardon. Did you say something, madam?” Ralf manoeuvres his mount closer.

  “I am not Lady Eleanor.” There, it is out.

  He regards me for several moments, his gaze assessing. At last he speaks. “I see. Yet still you were to be found sleeping in her bed, decked out in her finest silks, scented with her delicate perfumes. And you expect us to believe you are not she? I suggest you relinquish this attempt at deception, my lady. It ill becomes you.”

  I stare at him, open-mouthed. It never occurred to me I would not be believed. “But, it is true. I am Lady Eleanor’s maid. My name is Linnet Routh.”

  “And lady’s maids sleep in featherbeds at Wellesworth castle, I suppose? You will find we are less grand at Egremont, I fear.” His tone is mocking, yet carries a note of irritation.

  “Please, you must believe me. Lady Eleanor was—elsewhere—this evening and she instructed me to take her place in her chamber. I understand why it appears as it does but truly my lord, I am not she.”

  “Elsewhere?” Piers joins in the exchange.

  “Yes. She is…” I hesitate, wondering whether to tell the entire truth or not. I opt for a version of it. “She had cause to inspect our store of weapons and the task took her longer than she must have anticipated.”

  “Even if that story were not false, which I am convinced it is, it would not account for the fine quality of your rather delightful attire, my lady, nor your enticing aroma. Lavender, is it?”

  I curse my liberal use of my mistress’ oils and soaps as I bathed earlier. “I, she allows me to…” I fall silent. The account sounds farfetched even to me and I happen to know it is true.

  Ralf leans over to take my chin in his hand. He turns my head so I face him, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Unless you want to be gagged until we reach Egremont, I suggest you desist from this course at once. I will not abide lies, my lady, as you will soon learn.”

  “But—”

  “Be silent, madam, or I will silence you.”


  I stare at his stern visage and stifle any further attempt to explain.

  The next two hours pass in relative quiet. My own lack of conversation is born of sheer terror. I had been so sure they would release me. The only shred of comfort I can find in all this is the certainty that the truth will emerge soon enough. Perhaps then…

  But what will happen to me in the meantime?

  “My lady, answer me if you please.” Piers taps the back of my hand, the touch firm though not hard enough to hurt me.

  “Sir? I’m sorry… what?”

  “I said, do you need a moment’s privacy before we reach the camp? There will be none to be had once we are there.”

  “We are near, then?”

  “Perhaps ten minutes more. You may take a moment in yonder bushes though, if you need it.”

  “I, yes. Thank you.” My mind races. This could be a chance to escape. It might be my only chance.

  “You are woefully transparent, my lady.” Again Ralf draws near. “If you so much as contemplate making a run for it you will be caught, stripped, and given twelve strokes with the switch for your trouble. Do I make myself clear?”

  I gape at him. I am no stranger to a switching, usually at the hands of my volatile mistress, though never more than three or four strokes. Sir Ralf is considerably stronger than she is. A beating from him will hurt. I am not convinced I would survive it.

  He quirks his lip. “I see that I do. Your choice, my lady.”

  “I… I will not try to escape. You have my word.”

  “Aye and we know what that is worth, given the fantasy you wove earlier.”

  I do not attempt to reiterate my case since it is clear my word alone will not suffice. “I am sorry, my lord. I swear, I will not cause any difficulties.”

  Piers reins the horse to a stop and assists me to the ground. “You have five minutes. You will answer me each time I call out to you. Yes?”

  “Yes, my lord. Would you untie my hands please, so that I may—”

  “You will manage. Unless you prefer one of us to accompany you.”