Abigail quickly scanned the letter she received from Kilkenny and then closed her eyes in relief.
“Praise be to God,” she murmured silently.
Father O'Day would accept the girl in Kilkenny and take care of her during this time. She must make immediate arrangements to take her to Ireland.
Chapter 17
Mohammed cradled the glass of brandy in his large hand. Alcohol was forbidden in Islam, but he knew why people succumbed to its lure. He was desperate for news of Katharine, and so far the trail was cold. Lord Fairfax had tried to find out what had happened to her, but had been equally unsuccessful.
When the boy mentioned the man with the scar, Mohammed felt his blood run cold. He knew of a man from Arabia who was a well-known mercenary. He had committed crimes for which he was never held accountable, and he had eventually fled Arabia.
Jean Baptiste was a mercenary whose barbarity and cruelty was for sale to the highest bidder. Mohammed knew of the man by face and reputation, and was chilled to the core to think of Katharine in Jean Baptiste’s clutches. What was even worse was that someone had hired Jean Baptiste to make Katharine to disappear, and Mohammed wondered who that might be.
That Katharine was in his hands, pregnant with their child, caused him to shudder. He cursed Allah silently and then hung his head in his hands. Where was she? How was he to find her?
Mohammed turned to his greatest advisor and friend, Abdullah, sure in the knowledge that he would help him. Together with Lord Fairfax, they would find Katharine.
***
Katharine’s vision swam but finally focused. A kindly older woman sat beside her, sleeping. The room was bare except for the bed, a single chest of drawers, a small table, and a chair. It was sparse in decoration, except for a single cross nailed to the wall.
She couldn’t remember how she had come to be there, but she did remember the vile man and his abduction of her.
/> He had tried to violate her, but she had fought him. She tried to remember something else that was nagging at her from the back of her mind, but she couldn’t grasp it. She remembered a struggle and the strange red floor, but little else.
Her head ached and she settled into a disturbed sleep.
***
Jean Baptiste nursed his beer, slowly sipping the drink.
His plan had to abduct the woman and make a purse of gold in Arabia was gone. Everything had been perfectly planned until he had had that bitch alone. He was irritated and, as an old habit, he fingered the deep scar on his face.
He had only wanted a brief taste of the woman, and nothing more. He had been without a woman for a while and had been beckoned by her soft curves, sea-colored eyes, and lush lips. Her curves were made for sex; that much was clear.
Abdullah had wanted her on the ship to Arabia, but he never said anything about Jean Baptiste sampling the goods for himself. He had only wanted a quick taste, for his cock to be milked, and then to take her to the destination. But, the trollop had turned on him like a wild banshee.
He downed the beer and asked the barmaid for another. He watched the barmaid’s bottom twitch as she walked away and he stroked his cock.
With bright red hair and a plump figure, Jean Baptiste thought she would do just as well.
He went outside the tavern and relieved himself. When the barmaid came outside for a bit of air, he grabbed her arm.
“No, don’t,” she gasped, but he was too strong for her.
“Quiet,” he told her.
His cock was already straining his breeches as he thought of the young blonde’s face. He pressed the barmaid into the back wall of the tavern.
Someone had begun singing a bawdy song inside and a fiddler joined in. Soon the whole place was alive with music and glasses clinking. No one would be able to hear the red-haired girl cry as her skirts came up against her wishes.
“It will be over soon,” he told her roughly.
His body anchored her to the wall as he pushed her legs to wrap around his waist.
She tried to fight him once, but he slapped her sharply across the face.
“Do you want to be unconscious? I’ll knock you out if that be your wish. Settle down, little tart,” he growled at her.