His Defiant Amaryllis (Hinley Manor Book 2)

23: Rescue

"I do not think that all who choose wrong roads perish; but their rescue consists in being put back on the right road."
-C. S. Lewis

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Lydia was seated beside her attacker, who now slept with his bandages. The unmasked man was their driver. At the same time, the other man sat across. His arms were on his sides and his eyes were closed. But she could tell that the man was on alert. He'd catch her immediately if she were to make a move or the slightest sound.

She stared at the window. It had been painted black so she could not make out the view. But she can feel the sun's heat against it. Which meant they were out on the open roads. Her ears perked up, trying to ascertain any noise from outside. But they had been riding for a good twenty minutes and she heard nothing.

"There isn't anything for miles, duchess." she heard the man across speak. His eyes remained closed but his lips moved. "This is no highway you rich people venture on. No houses or taverns until the next mountain or so. If you think help will come, well, my sympathies. Your men could never catch up on horses, not with those plum bellies and such."

"You hate the lords, I can see that. But what does that have to do with me?"

He shrugged. "Nothing personal, just business."

"Are you going to ask for ransom? It is money you want, right?"

"Money always helps but that is not all there is. Besides," he leaned forward, eyes wide open now, "the last time we checked, your family has no money. Your father--the earl, was drowned in debts. What ransom can they possibly gather for you?"

"The answer is rather obvious: you will want to extract money from my husband."

"We could. That is a good suggestion." He smiled. "Perhaps we should."

Lydia bit back her tongue. It seems she made the situation worse. No one spoke for several moments. The carriage continued to tread against the uneven path. Every now and then they would bounce up and down. Sometimes she had to hold against the seats to keep herself upright.

The man raised his hand and pounded against the wall. "Gerald, how far out are we?"

A small window slid open, and a voice from the driver's seat sounded, "Not far."

"All clear out there?"

"Well, there's trees and grass. Rocks and mud, but not a single soul in sight."

"Good. Keep driving." he closed the small opening.

From the short time she watched the exchange, Lydia could make out that there was barely sunlight outside. Had they been riding for so long that it was now nightfall?

"Where exactly are you taking me?" she asked. "Come now, you can tell me. It is not like I can scream for help out here."

He grunted. "Are you trying to be funny now, duchess?"

It was her turn to shrug. "Simply making a conversation. You cannot expect me to fall asleep, do you?"

"No, I suppose not." he took a deep breath and said, "We're taking you to whoever paid us. That is all. Now, no more talk, or I will gag you."

She hated being silenced but she would hate more to be gagged. So she complied. Lydia leaned back and tried to close her eyes. Perhaps if she pretended to fall asleep, slumber would claim her. But no sooner did she blink, the carriage veered to the right, then left, straight unto a rock, before it continued to lose control. It sent them bouncing up and down. The man bumped his head unto the ceiling after the carriage halted all too suddenly.