Love Everlasting (Kingston Novel Book 3), page 31
Logan came forward and briefly hugged Aurora. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like an ogre. Mother can fill you in on what’s going on. Stay here. It’s probably the safest place for you what with your father and brother both out of Town.”
Drake closed his eyes, shook his head, and then opened them again. “I’m leaving,” he repeated, “whoever is coming, better get moving. I’m stopping at Lady Tulia’s residence first and then I’ll begin my search.”
“Milord?” Bartley’s coachman, Kimble, called from the open door.
“Bloody hell,” Drake muttered. “Not again.”
“We know, the front door is open,” Bartley stated. “We’re leaving now.”
“Milord, this note was just delivered by a little street urchin. He tossed it at me and then took off down the street.”
Drake basically pushed Bartley aside and reached for the note first.
Logan caught his father and grinned at the chagrin expression on his face.
Drake’s knees nearly buckled as he read it, probably would have had Benjamin hadn’t offered his support.
“What does it say?” Bartley asked, before snatching the note from Drake’s grasp. “It’s the directions to the old church cemetery on the outskirts of Town. The place, as I recall, hasn’t been used in years. Even the church is boarded up.”
“Thank you,” Drake murmured to Benjamin as he came to his full height. “We now know where Toriana is.”
Bartley met Drake’s gaze. “That or this could be a mission to take us away from Town.”
“I’m going!”
Bartley nodded. “I’m coming with you. It’s a chance we have to take.”
“Let’s go,” Logan stated. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
“What about weapons?” Javan asked. “Are we still going to need them?”
“It wouldn’t hurt for each of us to carry along one or two.” Bartley answered.
“At this point, I believe it will be more important to raid the gardener’s shed,” Drake commented meeting his father-in-law’s gaze. “We need shovels…lots of shovels.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The first thing Toriana noticed upon awakening was the pounding ache coming from the back of her head. The second was the blackness surrounding her. Her hands came out in front of her, coming in contact with the wooden lid of the coffin not more than maybe eight inches from her face.
Fear started crawling up her throat and came hurling out in a scream loud enough that it nearly made her own ears hurt. Then she fell silent.
She wasn’t calm…her fear was still rising at astonishing levels, but she also knew it wasn’t going to do her any good to panic.
She had to stay calm.
Drake would find her.
He had to!
What if he didn’t get to her before her air ran out?
She had to at least try to escape.
But how did one go about escaping a grave?
It wasn’t like being locked inside a room. She was six feet beneath the ground. Banging on the lid would be useless.
Screaming would do no good.
Who would hear her?
Toriana quickly wiped away the eerie answer that came to mind.
And though she would have liked to have some hope that help was coming, she had little of it at the present. Even if Mr. Milton had reached Drake, even if he hadn’t killed him, nobody knew where she was.
It could take hours, days, maybe weeks before they found her…and by then she would be quite dead.
Tears filled her eyes, even as a sob throbbed within her chest. She had so much yet she wanted to do in life. She wanted to have children. She wanted to see whatever nieces and nephews her brother and sisters would have. But most of all, she wanted to grow old with Drake.
“I’m a Telford…we don’t give up,” she muttered, hoping to gain some courage from the very sound of her own voice.
She would not calmly lay here and wait to breathe her last breath!
And she bloody well would not let Tulia get away with her treacherous crime against her!
“You will pay for this night’s deeds.”
Frantically, Toriana’s hands began searching for something, anything, she might be able to use. But after a few moments she found nothing other than a frayed end of her petticoat.
Grabbing it, she began pulling and ripping at the material.
It was the very devil not being able to see what she was doing, but she didn’t let that stop her. She pulled and then pulled some more until she had what felt like a good size piece torn off.
Placing the cloth over her face, she took a deep breath. What she was about to do was going to be painful. Just the thought of it made her stomach feel queasy and sick. Chances were it might even bring on a more hasty death.
What other choice did she have?
None…not if she wanted out…not if she wanted to live.
A rescue was coming.
Not immediately…and not in time.
Placing both hands against the lid she pushed with all her might. She pushed until her arms quivered…nothing…then she started digging.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as splinters of wood tore into her soft fingers. She cried out time and again as they lodged beneath her nails and still she continued digging.
She couldn’t, wouldn’t, be defeated.
She had to try.
She was a Telford!
More importantly…she was wife of Drake Easton!
She had to see him again!
She was not going to die without giving him children!
She was not going to die without giving him at least sixty years of constant love!
And by all that was in her, she was not going to die some quiet death without fighting for the life she wanted with Drake!
She was Toriana Easton…the very woman Drake chose to give his heart to…a woman worthy of his love…and worthy of the fight.
Toriana could feel the warm trickle of her blood as it ran down her arms and still she continued on. It was almost depressing to realize she wasn’t sure how much more digging she would be able to endure. The pain of her raw fingers was like nothing she ever felt before.
She was afraid to stop because if she did the pain might become too much that she wouldn’t start again. Her efforts had become weakened, she knew this, and yet she couldn’t give up.
A faint sound caught her attention. Through her pain she thought perhaps she was loosing her mind, but then she heard it again. It sounded as if someone was above her…as if someone was digging above her.
“Help!” she shouted, banging against the wooden top.
Maybe she had lost her mind. Maybe the pain had brought on the delusion. It didn’t matter, she thought as she continued to shout and dig some more at the lid to the coffin.
Never in her life had she heard anything as sweet as the sound of the shovel as it scraped against the wood. Her relief was so great, she nearly swooned.
There was a mumble of a voice…or was it voices? She wasn’t sure. Maybe her rescuer was talking to himself.
Toriana feared she really had lost her mind, but before that thought could take her further, fresh, night air rushed in as the lid was pried off. She took several deep breaths, filling her lungs, even as she shivered as the cool night air fell over her.
Strong hands gently reached down and lifted her up.
Toriana cried out when her fingers brushed against her rescuer’s arm. Her head fell against his shoulder, even as she shivered again.
“T-thank you,” she whispered brokenly as he placed her on the ground and then covered her with a warm blanket.
She grimaced when he raised her hands to inspect them. She tried to make out his features, but his face was covered with some type of mask. It didn’t matter, for she knew exactly who he was…The Graveyard Bandit.
“Bloody hell!” she thought she heard.
Toriana didn’t dare to look down at the damage. She didn’t want to see it…she could feel it. Already, her hands felt twice as large as normal and the pulsing pain was not something she could ignore.
“I…I w-was trying to d-dig my way out,” she stuttered with a new bout of shivers.
The silence of the night was interrupted by the sounds of carriage wheels and the pounding of several horses approaching.
“Your family has arrived.”
Tears filled her eyes. “How can I ever thank you?”
Leaning close The Graveyard Bandit whispered in her ear.
Before Toriana could respond, he was gone.
“Toriana!”
“Drake! Drake!” Though she tried to shout, it came out sounding more like a whisper to her ears.
Then her loving giant was there in front of her, kneeling at her side, and wrapping his strong arms around her. She inhaled the scent of him. Never had anything smelled as good as him or felt as safe as being in his arms.
“You’re never going to leave my side again.”
“Never,” she promised. “I love you.”
“Is she all right?” Bartley asked, kneeling on the other side of her.
“My hands hurt,” Toriana murmured. “I-I tried to dig my way out b-before I was rescued.”
Drake gently lifted her hands. Grimacing at the sight of them, he growled out several heated words.
“Hell and damnation!” Logan cursed, when he glanced over Bartley’s shoulder.
Fighting back tears, Bartley placed a kiss to her head. “My brave girl,” he whispered.
Javan stepped up beside Logan. First his gaze went to Toriana’s dirt-streaked face and then moved down to her hands. “Bloody hell!” he muttered.
Vance had come to stand on Logan’s other side. As soon as he saw her hands he shook his head in anger and sadness. “My God, elf, you must be in pain.”
“I really d-do wish to go home n-now,” she replied shivering as she looked up at Drake.
“I’ll have you there in no time,” he replied as he carefully picked her up.
“I feared I’d never see you again,” she whispered, laying her head against his shoulder.
“I feared the same thing. I love you more than life itself,” he told her as he carried her toward the carriage.
Bartley walked beside them, his gaze never leaving his daughter. Logan, Vance, and Javan were following behind him.
“You’re shivering something fierce.”
“I k-know.”
“Between the night air and the shock she’s gone through, I imagine she is freezing,” Bartley murmured.
Javan noticed how Bartley tried to adjust the blanket over Toriana’s shoulder as Drake carried her. “Where the deuces did the blanket come from?” he suddenly asked.
Logan raised a brow. “Probably from whoever assisted her out of that grave, would be my guess.”
“Yes. But who exactly would that be?” Javan inquired, glancing about the cemetery.
“All good questions, but questions that will have to wait,” Bartley told them. “It appears as if she has fainted.”
“Aye and for that I’m thankful,” Drake mumbled. “The thought of her in pain twist my insides. I wished I could take it from her.”
“I know.” Bartley nodded.
Gustus, Cyril, Benjamin, and Kimble were all standing ready near the carriage. Cyril held the door as Drake approached. Kimble, with tears in his old eyes, climbed up into his seat on top of the carriage.
“Here,” Drake whispered as he turned and gently placed Toriana in her father’s arms so he could climb into the carriage.
Bartley stared down into his daughter’s face. His heart ached for all the fear and pain she had to suffer this night…and all because of some demented woman’s hate for her.
He could feel no pity or sympathy for Lady Tulia Henden when Drake Easton got his hands on her. She was going to wish she had never dared to touch what was his.
With Gustus’ help, he handed Toriana to Drake. “I’ll send Doctor Stone to your house right away,” Bartley said. “Don’t be surprised when your house is overrun with her mother, sisters, and the rest of us.”
Drake shook his head. “We’re coming to your house. Until this is over, I won’t leave her alone.”
Bartley couldn’t deny his relief at hearing Drake’s plan.
“Alone? And where will you be?” Logan asked.
“Once Toriana is seen to, I’m coming back here to fill in that grave. I want Lady Tulia to believe she has gotten away with her evil scheme.”
Gustus stepped forward. “Just see to our girl. Cyril and I will take care of things here.”
“You both have my thanks.” Drake told the two men, before turning to Bartley. “Are you ready?”
Bartley climbed into the carriage.
“I believe Alianore and I will be staying with you as well,” Vance announced.
Logan glanced at him. “Why’s that?”
“As of yet, we don’t know the extent of Lady Tulia’s madness. Besides that, she’ll want to be there for Toriana. Plus, you’ll have me, along with Gustus and Cyril to help watch over the house.”
“I offer my services as well,” Javan spoke up. “At least until Lady Tulia is taken care.”
“Bloody hell!” Logan muttered with a smile. “It looks as if our home will be overflowing with people.”
Drake wasn’t offended or insulted by their comments. Instead he felt quite touched and honored. “I’d like to get her home before she wakes up,” he stated to no one in particular.
“We’ll be right behind you,” Logan replied before closing the door. “Take them home, Kimble!”
Logan, Vance, and Javan stayed rooted where they were as they watched the carriage make its way out of the old cemetery.
Vance walked over to his carriage and smiled when his coachman, Cheevers, handed him one of the shovels they had brought along.
“Aren’t you going to help?”
“I’ll stand guard, milord,” Cheevers replied, pulling out his pistol and crossing his arms.
Vance laughed. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Always, milord.” Cheevers nodded.
Logan was in the process of removing his jacket as he came to stand beside Vance. He smiled when Cheevers handed him a shovel. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, milord. The more who help, the quicker the deed will be done.”
“You notice he’s not including himself in the ‘more’, don’t you?” Vance asked, with a laugh.
“As I said, I’m standing guard. Now be about your business or we’ll be here all night.” Cheevers gaze went to Javan. “There’s a shovel for you as well.”
Javan removed his jacket as he eyed the older man. “I say, where did you get such a bossy coachman, Surrey?”
Vance laughed. “I inherited him.”
Logan walked over to the dark open grave. For several long moments he just stared down into the dark pit. He couldn’t imagine the fear Toriana must have felt being down there alone or the terror of not knowing if she would ever make it out of there. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it as bravely as she had.
Gustus leaned down and picked up the lid to the coffin. “She was doing her best to get out of there.”
All of them turned their gazes to the claw marks in the wood.
“She had to been scared out of her mind and still she wouldn’t give up,” Vance whispered.
“She’s a tough one,” Javan murmured.
“All my sisters are,” Logan stated in a near growl. “I would love to get my hands on Lady Tulia’s neck.”
“Aye,” they all agreed.
Gustus began shoveling the dirt back into the empty grave. “Won’t be much of her neck left if your brother-in-law gets to it first.”
“I’m going to have to prevent him from killing her,” Logan grumbled as he, too, began shoveling. “I can’t very well have Drake get hanged for doing the world a good deed by getting rid of the vicious witch.”
Vance hid his smile as he put his back to the task of helping. “And how do you plan on doing that?”
“The devil if I know. I’ll probably have to have you help me. In case you haven’t noticed, the man’s a bloody giant and mean as can be when his temper is riled.”
“It’s not like anyone can overlook that,” Javan muttered.
Cyril held his silence as he continued to work along side the other men. Each of these titled gentlemen had sweat streaking their foreheads as they bent their backs to shoveling load after load of dirt back into the grave. Not only was he impressed, but his admiration grew for them. They weren’t like most of their kind.
Vance paused to wipe the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. “Did you notice the other damage to Toriana’s hand?” he asked Logan.
His question made Logan pause. “I couldn’t get past the bloody rawness.”
“If I’m not mistaken, and I don’t believe I am, I thought I saw a distinctive mark on her right hand, her knuckles, to be more precise…a mark we’ve seen twice before.”
Suddenly Logan gave a shout of laughter. “Wouldn’t that be something?”
Javan scowled at the two men as he dug his shovel deep into the dirt and then leaned against it. “What are the two of you talking about?”
“That when we do come across Lady Tulia she’ll either have a black eye or a damaged nose,” Vance clarified, before he too laughed.
“By God, that would be something, wouldn’t it?” Javan murmured, smiling.
“I hope she broke her bloody nose,” Gustus stated, with a nod.
“Aye,” Cyril agreed.
Javan went back to shoveling. “I’d still like to know who rescued her.”
“Maybe when Toriana comes to she’ll be able to tell us.” Logan looked around the cemetery. “Only one person comes to mind when you give it some thought.”
Vance glared at him. “Don’t even say it,” he warned. “I hear enough about that nonsense from your sisters.”
Logan raised a brow. “It only stands to reason. Who else would be out here lurking about?”
“Need I remind you, The Graveyard Bandit robs graves where he can make a profit,” Vance growled out. “Take a look around. Do you see any graves in this poor cemetery that look as if they are worth robbing?”
