‘Scandal does not concern me.’
‘Why not?’ She was almost asleep where she sat now, drowsy with reaction and a strange mixture of tension and relief. And awareness. The room seemed to be full of man... This man who now knew her body intimately, while she knew him not at all.
‘There’s a Scottish proverb I have always held by. They say! What say they? Let them say. I concern myself with the good opinion of those I respect, everyone else can go to the devil. And you, my lady, are asleep where you sit. Bed for you.’
That seemed such a good idea. He was pulling her to her feet and his arms were around her and he smelt of warmth and yew trees, smoke and man, and something musky. Mingled, it made a very excellent scent. ‘Bottle it,’ Caroline murmured, holding on to as much of Gabriel as she could get her arms around. Yes, bed was a wonderful idea. Bed with Gabriel.
‘Asleep and dreaming,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘Come on, one foot in front of the other, and duck...and this foot up and there you go.’
A large hand was under her backside and she was heaved unceremoniously up and into the secret chamber. Her searching fingers found rough wool and Caroline had enough strength to roll on to one blanket and pull the other over her. Then she fell asleep.
Chapter Nine
Caroline woke to the scent of wood smoke mingling with coffee and bacon. A faint red glow marked the entrance to the chamber and she realised that Gabriel must have stirred up the fire and was making breakfast. She stretched, blushing as she remembered last night.
She crawled to the entrance and called down, ‘Gabriel?’ before she could think about being shy.
His voice echoed up the chimney. ‘Stay there and I’ll scout around.’
‘But I need—’
‘Stay!’
He was back within moments. ‘Someone is coming. Keep back, keep silent.’
All thoughts of coffee, of embarrassment, of a convenient bush or of warm water vanished. Caroline retreated into the corner with the valises, pulling the blankets with her, and heard what had alerted Gabriel, the hoofbeats of horses moving fast.
‘My lord?’ That was Gabriel, his voice carrying from outside. He must have left the door open.
‘My daughter. Have you seen her?’
‘Lady Caroline? Not since last night, my lord. Is something amiss?’ Gabriel had remembered his Welsh accent.
‘Of course there’s something damn well amiss, you idiot! She is missing.’ That was Woodruffe.
‘Search the place.’ Her father again. There was the sound of booted feet on the stone flags.
‘My lord, I protest!’
‘You are in my employ and this is my property. I’ll search what and where I please.’ Her father was in the room now, his angry voice carrying clearly up the chimney. Caroline froze into immobility as the scraping of furniture being dragged over the flagged floor drowned out the sound of voices.
There’s virtually nothing to search once they’ve overturned the bed. A loud thud suggested they had just done that.
‘The chimney.’
‘But the fire, my lord. It’s alight.’ That was one of the grooms.
‘Step round it and look up, you dolt. Take the lantern.’
‘I can see the sky, my lord,’ the man said after a moment. A flicker of light hit the wall opposite the opening, but from below she knew the entrance was invisible. ‘There’s no one up there, that’s for sure. And there’s no ladder or rope or anything.’
‘All right, come out, take that path there. You, go down that ride. Look for tracks.’
‘My lord, I may be in your employ, but that does not mean I have to accept accusations of assisting in—what? A kidnap? Abduction? Elopement?’ Gabriel had found just the right note of angered innocence.
‘You, and every man in this place, will accept what I say,’ her father snapped. ‘And you spent time with her. Enough time for her to wind you round her finger.’
‘And why should Lady Caroline do that, my lord?’