Kat Martin - Silk and Steel

v1.5

July 30, 2008

To my great friend, Meryl Sawyer,

and her beloved late husband, Jeffrey,

who will long be missed by all.

L ady Kathryn Grayson slipped silently into the shadows behind the door of the old stone stable. She shivered, her tattered, dirty night rail little protection against the chill, the straw on the cold dirt floor scratchy beneath the soles of her bare feet. At the front of the stable, she could see a skinny, freckle-faced groom and the gleaming black of an expensive traveling carriage.

Creeping closer to the door, she saw that the conveyance was ready to depart and that it bore the gilded crest of a noblemanthe head of a wolf above a silver sword. Two footmen stood in conversation with the driver a little off to the left and as she listened to their conversation, her heart began to pound. The carriage wasn't traveling to London, but preparing for a return to the country. Dear God, it was headed away from the city! If she could find a place to hide in it, she would be safe!

Her excitement increased, her breath coming faster, a frosty mist in the cold morning air. She had to get away and the sooner the better. The carriage was the perfect solution.

She watched a moment more, surveying the sleek, finely polished lines of the expensive coach, feeling a wild surge of hope. The luggage boot at the rear would workif there was room for her inside. She prayed there was, took a deep, steadying breath to calm the tremors running through her, and prepared to move quickly, before the footmen returned to their places aboard. When she heard the men laughing, saw that their attention was focused on a pair of barking dogs, she sprinted for the back of the carriage, her bare feet flying over the muddy earth, her dark hair swirling around her, a mane of tangles that brushed against her shoulders as she raced along.

Jerking up the leather cover, she climbed inside, settled herself between the trunks and satchels, tried to calm her furiously beating heart, and said a fervent prayer that no more luggage would be added before the coach departed.

Seconds passed. Her pulse rang in her ears. Though the morning was chill, sweat dampened the hair at her temples and trickled down her sides. She heard the men approaching, taking their places on top of the carriage. She felt it dip and sway with their weight, then the four matched blacks strained against their traces and the carriage rolled off toward the front of the inn.

It paused only briefly, long enough for its single passenger to climb aboard and settle himself against the leather squabs. Then the driver whipped up the team and they were off.

Hidden safely in the luggage boot, Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief and allowed her weary body to slump against the black laquered wood. She was tired. So terribly, incredibly tired. The night had been exhausting. Running, then walking for miles in nothing but her dirty nightgown, her legs aching, her feet cut and bleeding, terrified all the while that they would find her. When she stumbled upon a road and the ivy-covered inn, she'd said a prayer of thanks and carefully made her way to the stable at the rear.

Several hours later, asleep in a pile of straw, she'd awakened to the jangle of harness and the luffing of horses as they were led into their traces. Kathryn had known in an instant that this was her chance to get safely away.

Now, as the cool fall day began to warm, heating the space in the back of the carriage, her tired muscles relaxed and she began to doze. She slept off and on, awakened once when the carriage paused at a roadside tavern late in the afternoon and its occupant departed, probably for a bite to eat. Kathryn ignored the rumble in her stomach that notion brought and relaxed once more as the coach resumed its journey, too tired to even notice when the wheels jarred into the ruts in the road.

The hours dragged past. Her legs were cramped in the tight confines of the luggage boot. Her back and shoulders ached, and a dull pain nagged at the back of her neck. As the coach rolled along, she was almost grateful she hadn't had anything to eat or drink, since there was no possible way she could stop to relieve herself.

The rhythm of the carriage heightened her need for sleep. Her head slumped forward onto her chest, her slumber deepened, and Kathryn started to dream.

She was back at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, huddled on the cold stone floor of her dingy, airless cell. Fear surrounded her like a heavy morning mist, making her throat feel tight, and she eased farther into the corner, pressing her back against the rough gray walls, wishing she could disappear inside them. Along the row of cells, she could hear the other inmates and her hands crept up, covering her ears to block the screams, pretending she couldn't hear them.

Her heart beat raggedly, pounding into the silence she created inside her head. Dear God, she was living in hell itself, or at least man's version of it. What demon had fashioned such a place? How much longer could she endure it? The sound of footfalls traveled toward her, the rattle of chains as the guards approached, leading some poor unfortunate back to his cell.

Or perhaps they were coming for her.

Kathryn sank down, curling into herself, wishing she could disappear. She had eluded them for a time, been silent and docile enough they had left her alone. But sooner or later they would come for her as they had the others.

The footsteps grew louder. Her heart beat with fear. Sweet God, don't let it be me. Someone else. Anyone else. Not me! Not me! She saw them then, one tall and heavy through the shoulders, with thick lips and dirty blond hair queued back from his face with a thin piece of leather. The other was short and fleshy, his stomach protruding over course brown breeches stained with grease.

Kathryn fought back a sob as they paused at the door to her cell, a pair of heavy iron shackles draped over the fat man's arm.

Through the bars in the door, he flashed her a lecherous grin. "Evenin' missy. Time for us to take a little stroll."

"Nooo!" She began to back away, desperate now, her eyes darting around for any means of escape. She knew what they wanted, what they'd done to some of the other women. She'd escaped them until now, though she wasn't quite sure why. "Leave me alone! Get away from me! I'm warning yougo away and leave me be!"

The taller man merely grinned, but the fat man laughed out loud, a harsh, cruel, bitter sound that sent chills down Kathryn's spineand jerked her from her dream.

Her heart was pounding, her nightgown damp with perspiration and clinging to her body. She tilted her head back against the wall of the luggage boot and reminded herself the dream wasn't realnot anymore. By some miracle of fateor perhaps divine interventionshe had tricked the two vicious guards, escaped the end they had in store for her, and managed to flee St. Bart's.

Kathryn forced herself not to think of it, to bury it deep inside and dwell instead on keeping her hard-won freedom. She was free of the hospital, free of the madhouse she had been locked up in for nearly a year.