Desperate, Liam said, “You cannot force Thea to marry you. Church law protects her.”
As Littlefield had done, Ampleforth squatted on his heels to look at Liam eye to eye. “Ah, but I have a certain bit of leverage with my soon to be wife,” he said, laughing low in his throat. “You see, old chap,youare my leverage. She loves you, and when I tell her that I have you, she will marry me to save your life.”
“No!”
“Oh, yes.” Ampleforth showed all his teeth in a feral grin. “I will keep you alive for now, Carter, until she is mine. Then I will give my friend here gold to murder you.”
“Lord Willowdale will stop you.” Liam urgently hoped he was right, and that Lord Willowdale would see through this man and deny him his sister’s hand.
“Oh, I already have plans for my dear friend Freddie,” Ampleforth said. “I watched him take a nip from the brandy bottle I gave him as a gift. By now he should be near death.”
“Youbastard.”
“No, my parents were wed in front of the Bishop and a whole church full of witnesses,” Ampleforth said, smirking. “No such luck, old chap. With Freddie recently deceased and Thea as my blushing bride, I will inherit all this.”
Ampleforth raised his hands above his head in an all-encompassing gesture. “Then I will have no further use for you, and I will pay Littlefield here handsomely for both you and Freddie’s demise. After all, with all of Freddie’s wealth, I can certainly afford it.”
Chuckling, he rose to stand. “I am off to tell Thea the good news that she will be marrying me after all. Ta, old chap.”
Turning, Ampleforth strode back the way he had come, Littlefield at his side. In a rage, Liam fought his ropes, desperate to break them. He felt blood trickle down to his fingers, his efforts only hurting himself. There was no give in them, and he could not reach the knot save to slide his fingers over it. “Damn you to hell,” he muttered, seeing Littlefield sitting in his spot, waiting patiently once more. “Damn you both.”
* * *
Time passed with agonizing slowness. Liam fought his ropes and succeeded only in wrenching his shoulders painfully, making his wrists bleed. Down the tunnel, Littlefield slept, his torch burned low.It must be night, then.As Ampleforth had not returned with orders to kill him, Liam hoped that meant Thea had somehow still denied him her hand in marriage.Unless even now he had wedded and bedded her and would come in the morning.
That thought brought him agony, that Thea now belonged to the murderer of her parents and brother. Liam did not care if he died, so long as he died keeping Thea alive and free from that monster. He sensed dawn arrive once more and waited for Ampleforth to come with the orders to kill him. Littlefield woke and stirred, standing to stretch. He did not come back to see Liam but sat where he had been. Liam noticed him eat, and drink from the leather bottle, and the sight made him thirsty again.
Liam explored the rope that bound him to the pillar. Oddly, there was enough give in it to pull the knot around to his fingers. Watching Littlefield, he toyed with the knot, but again, it was hard and tight. An hour passed, then two, with no Baron arriving with orders to kill him. Hope rose that Thea somehow kept him at bay and that Lord Willowdale was somehow still alive.
Working the knot, bending his fingernails painfully back, Liam finally felt it give. He was free from the pillar at least, even if he still could not get the rope from his wrists. Unsure how that may help him, as the instant he stood, Littlefield would be on him and retying the knot. If that happened, he knew Littlefield would make sure he could not untie it again.
Hours crawled past as Liam plotted ways to escape. With no orders from Ampleforth, he knew Thea had not married him, had somehow escaped him. But how could he get himself free to help her, to denounce the Baron for the murderer he was? Frantic, Liam’s mind raced, thinking and rejecting any ideas as impossible. But should Littlefield fall asleep, then maybe Liam might rise and sneak away without him knowing.
Littlefield did not fall asleep. Thirsty, Liam finally called out to him. “Might I have water?”
Littlefield rose and came back to stand close by. “Sorry, I have no more water.”
Gazing up at him, Liam observed the man’s slack lips, his lackluster eyes.He is exhausted. He must not have slept in days.Though Liam himself had not slept much lately, his own body, given his circumstances and desperation, still felt strong. Acting on instinct, Liam lashed out with his legs, connecting solidly with Littlefield’s ankles. With a cry, the assassin went down, falling on his back with a crash and a cloud of dust.
His head had cracked against the floor, stunning him for a fraction of a moment. Rising faster than his enemy, Liam kicked him in his ribs, making the man grunt and curl up on his side. Kicking him again, he connected solidly with Littlefield’s face. Blood spurted from his mouth and nose, making him cry out in pain. The third kick to his head knocked him out cold. He lay limp, unconscious, bleeding into the dust and spiderwebs.
Liam nudged him onto his back and used his boot to open the cloak and expose Littlefield’s dagger. Turning around, Liam groped for it and found the hilt with his fingers. Pulling it from its sheath, he set the sharp edge of the knife to his ropes and sawed frantically between his wrists. He felt the dagger slice his thumb, but he kept on and cut through the bonds.
The ropes fell free. Standing, Liam glanced once at his swollen and bloody wrists, then grabbed the longer length of rope that once tied him to the pillar. Rolling Littlefield onto his belly, he yanked the man’s hands behind his back and quickly tied him. The stained ropes that bound his wrists were now too short to be useful. Concerned that Littlefield might find a way to escape just as he had, Liam decided to take him along.
Grabbing Littlefield by the collar of his cloak, Liam dragged his dead weight down the tunnel toward the servants’ door he had sat beside for so long. Liam kicked it open, tossing the tapestry aside, and entered the hallway that was just off the house’s entryway. He had no sooner brought Littlefield out when he came face to face with a stunned Mr. O’Bannon.
Liam had no time to explain or offer proper deference. “This is the man trying to kill Lord Willowdale,” he said, rolling Littlefield toward the butler. “Have you seen the Baron of Ampleforth?”
Mr. O’Bannon gazed from him to Littlefield and back. “He just went up to Lord Willowdale’s apartments.”
“Is Lord Willowdale still alive?”
“Yes. I just sent up food to him and Miss Miller.”
Liam dashed toward the stairs, yelling back over his shoulder. “Keep him tied up, do not let him escape.”
“Liam.”
