Page 77 of A Bride By Morning
Gabriel started down the hall, motioning Callihan to follow him. “Did the rider have anyone with him on the horse?” he asked as Callihan followed him up the stairs. “She might be gagged or otherwise unable to alert them.”
Callihan looked at him sharply. “They didn’t say. Lady Montgomery?”
Gabriel gave a grim nod as he entered his room and shucked his dressing gown. He shoved himself into the same clothes he’d worn earlier. “She sought solitude about an hour ago and isn’t anywhere to be found.”
Callihan gave a frustrated breath. “I thought you were supposed to—”
“Keep her with me?” Gabriel clenched his jaw as he fastened the buttons of his jacket. “We had a row. She found out about Wentworth’s offer.”
“So she found out you’re being a fucking idiot.”
Gabriel shoved on his greatcoat, flashing Callihan a glare. “Save your lecture for another time. We need the horses saddled, and I want to know where Grant and Hart last saw Medvedev. Wake up every one of your men. This ends tonight.”
His hands shook with fear as he pondered that his wife might be dead. But, no. His mind would not let him consider that option. For now, Medvedev would keep Lydia alive. She was a tool to taunt Gabriel, nothing more.
But that didn’t mean Medvedev wouldn’t hurt her.
Gabriel needed to find her first.
38
Lydia stirred, the redolence of stone, rain, and smoke overwhelming her.
She opened her eyes, blinking against the warmth of a small fire nearby—trying to remember where she was.Medvedev. The library. She was grabbed from behind and knocked unconscious.
The reminder jolted her senses from their dazed delay, exacerbated by the dull ache at the back of her skull. She ignored it, concentrating on her surroundings: the rope that secured her hands behind her back, the cold stone floor under her, the arch of rock above the fire pit. She was in a cave—and she did not know if this cavern was anywhere near Langdon Manor or if Gabriel would locate it. He had to know she was missing by now. But the audible downpour outside dimmed her hope of discovery—riding in such conditions would put Gabriel and his men in peril.
Footsteps sounded near her, and a man emerged from the cavern’s shadows. Medvedev. He was an older man with dark hair, powerfully built and broad-shouldered. His form matched his codename:Bear. He wore a patch over one eye that partly concealed the narrow scar over his cheekbone. But that only added to his impact—even Lydia knew to fear this man just by looking at him.
He stepped over to the firepit and settled on the pallet near the blaze’s edge. Then he reached into his coat and took out a sharp, gleaming knife. Dread seized Lydia in its claws, but he only lifted a fragment of wood and began to carve it, flicking the blade with deft precision.
“You’re finally awake,” he said calmly, his Russian accent lilting his words. “I’d worried that I had hit you too hard. I’ve heard the English have hard heads, but yours is very small.”
With a bit of a struggle, Lydia pulled herself into a sitting position. Her arms ached from their placement behind her back, and the constriction of the ropes numbed her hands. “Do you care for my welfare, sir?” she asked, keeping her voice calm.
“No.” His answer was honest as he concentrated on his task. Chips of wood scattered to the ground as the carving took shape. “I care to keep you alive as it suits me.”
Concentrate on finding a way out, Lydia told herself.
She felt for some yield in the rope that secured her hands, but he had fastened them in a knot that permitted no movement. Lydia tried to focus on him as she felt around behind her. “And what do you intend to do with me?” she asked.
Medvedev lifted a shoulder. “I haven’t decided yet. I will have to see how I feel about your husband in the next hour.” His gaze flicked to her. “He has made me very angry,kotik.”
Lydia slid her hands across the stone at her back, seeking something sharp to cut through the rope. “Because he took your eye?”
There.The sharp edge of a rock pricked at the tip of her finger. Lydia carefully placed the rope against it and began the painstaking process of slashing the binding. She tried not to let anything show on her face as she gently pressed and pulled. Pressed and pulled.
The criminal raised a hand to his face and tapped the cheek on the side of his missing eye. “This is no great sin,kotik. In my world, we expect to sacrifice a bit of flesh to the brotherhood; it’s in our nature. No, what Alyosha did was far worse: he betrayed his oath.Thatis the sin I cannot forgive.”
Lydia felt the edges of the rope as it frayed, fighting the impulse to scratch faster. She could not let him know that she was working through her bindings. “Because he came home?” she asked quietly. “Because he married me?”
Press. Pull. Press. Pull.The effort was slow and agonizing. The sharp rocks began to abrade her hands.
Medvedev set aside the piece of wood and rose to his feet, his dark stare intent on her. Lydia went still as he approached, his craggy features shaded in the firelight. When he crouched before her, Lydia began to understand why Gabriel had so many nightmares of Moscow—why this man had become his nemesis. His coldness scraped beneath Lydia’s skin like fingernails, and his regard as he studied her was the equivalent of a pistol to her temple.
Except that he still held the wicked blade in his hand, so close to her leg.
“Did Alyosha tell you of the code among thevory?”
