A Stranger at Castonbury(68)

Catalina only had a glimpse of blond hair before she shouted, ‘Now!’

Alicia brought her jug crashing down on his head, and he collapsed to the floor, entangled in the blanket. Catalina saw it was the footman unconscious on the floor and not Webster, but there was no time to think. She grabbed Alicia’s hand and they ran out of the door. They were almost free of the clearing around the cottage, the sky growing dark around them, when Webster stepped out from behind a tree.

He caught Catalina around the waist and swung her off her feet. Her hand was torn from Alicia’s.

‘Run!’ Catalina screamed, and Alicia took off as fast as she could. She quickly disappeared into the dusk, and Webster wrenched Catalina’s arm hard behind her back until she gasped with the pain.

‘You Spanish whore,’ he said harshly, twisting even harder. ‘You always have to be where you’re not supposed to be. Just like in Spain. My quarrel was with Alicia, not you. But you’ll do just as well to draw Hatherton out.’

Catalina remembered what Webster had tried to do in Spain, the horrible hot weight of his body on hers, and she kicked out at him as hard as she could. Through the cold haze of terror she hardly knew what she was doing, but she felt her teeth sink into his hand as he tried to silence her.

‘Whore!’ he shouted. He lifted her higher in his arms and carried her back into the cottage just as the footman staggered out. ‘I’ll deal with you later. I have to catch that bitch Alicia first.’

He shoved her into the room and slammed the door behind her. Before she could throw herself at it, she heard the bolt drop back heavily into place. As she sank to the floor, the stub of the candle flickered and threatened to go out, leaving her alone in the semi-darkness.

Alicia got away, she told herself. She would surely fetch help.

But in the meantime Catalina was by herself. She wrapped her arms around her waist and closed her eyes as she envisioned that day she had married Jamie in Spain. His hand in hers as he led her up the aisle, his smile as they promised themselves to each other. It had meant so much to her then; it had meant everything.

It still did. She only wanted the chance to tell him that.

She sank down onto the floor, her arms around her knees and began to sing in a shaky voice. ‘Conde Niño, por amores es niño y pasó a la mar...’





Chapter Eighteen

Jamie didn’t like the feeling of disquiet that came over him as he looked up at Alicia’s house. He wasn’t sure what had urged him to come here, but when Lily told him that Catalina had gone into town again something had told him he had to follow her.

And now he was glad he had. The guard he had set on the house that day had vanished. Everything seemed just as quiet and peaceful as ever on the street, yet he knew so well how deceiving appearances could be.

On the way out of Castonbury he had seen William Everett and asked the man to meet him there at Alicia’s house. He hadn’t arrived yet, but Jamie took his pistol and dagger and climbed down from the curricle. He silently went up the front steps and found the door ajar.

Every muscle in his body tensed and went on alert. He nudged the door open with his boot and slipped inside.

He listened closely for any hint of noise, any slight rustle of movement, but there was nothing. The house was eerily silent.

‘Catalina? Alicia?’ he called. His voice echoed through the empty hall. He went through to the sitting room and heard the grind of broken glass under his boot.

In one frantic moment he saw the shattered window, the overturned furniture. Catalina’s shawl on the floor. In the centre of the settee a dagger hilt was standing straight up. Jamie stumbled forward to find a note pinned under the blade.





If you want your whores back, Hatherton, go and get them at the old sheepherder’s cottage in the woods....





‘Lord Hatherton? Are you there? What has...’ Everett appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath as if he had run after Jamie. ‘What has happened here?’

Jamie silently showed him the note, and Everett’s sun-browned face turned pale. ‘He has taken them, this man Webster?’

‘To the hut at the edge of the woods,’ Jamie said tightly. If that bastard Webster had been writing a melodramatic play he could not have chosen better than to take Catalina to the place where they had made love. Where they had finally found each other again. Now it was her prison.

But he would have her out of there soon enough. And then he would kill Webster.