Stolen Lady Rated R for later chapters.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the clothes on my back and the shoes on my feet and of course my original characters. The Phantom if owned by me would be locked away. I would not share. I am selfish that way.
Summary
Kidnapped by flesh traders. Rescued by Erik. Can Erik survive another woman claiming his heart? Will he let Christine destroy the growing love he feels for Trinity or can he let go of a love doomed from it's conception and embrace his new love with both hands? Not only a journey in miles but a journey of the heart.
Stolen Lady
Chapter One
Kidnapped and Captured
God it was freezing down in this dark smelly hole in the bowels of some unknown pirate's ship. At least Trinity thought it must be some pirate or God forbid an enemy of her father's who wanted to use her as leverage against him. The former seemed more likely as they were in France. Who here would know her father?
Her father Andrew Hardcastle had wealth and many well known politicians in his pocket. The great state of Virginia was recovering since the Civil War. Reconstruction was a booming business. Her father was not a southerner by birth. Knowing after the war that many would be selling their lands he had gone south to buy as much land and other property as he could. The once rich plantation owners could no longer farm the vast plantation properties without the free labor of the slaves. Upon returning home after the war they soon realized they must sell off much of what they had or lose it all.
Her father being a highly intelligent man and having amassed a goodly amount of money in his first years in America doing any job offered to him and saving as much as he could then investing wisely, had grabbed this golden opportunity with both hands. In the first few years after the war money was being poured into the reconstruction of the south. He jumped at this opportunity that was offered to anyone smart enough to grab hold and hang on during the rebuilding. Money could be made selling goods and buying up large properties the returning plantation owners could no longer maintain. Her father had risen from his French immigrant status to a respectable businessman during his twenty-eight years in America. Now he not only had wealth but he had respect and clout among the political arenas.
Trinity did not care for the term Carpetbagger when the southern genteel society used it to refer to those northerners who flocked to the south grabbing all the south's past glory to line northern pockets.
Her father was an honest man. If he did not take these opportunities someone else would. At least he dealt fairly with everyone. He had no need to cheat anyone. He did not cheat or outright steal anything.
Trinity, her father and mother's only daughter, had gone to Paris to visit her Aunt Millicent. This was supposed to be her last sojourn before she conceded to her father's wishes to marry. Her fiance had still yet to be chosen. Her brothers Lucas and Matthew would inspect each suitor along with her father. She felt like a sheep or cow being sent to market. Her eventual owner would be the one with the biggest bank account or the one who still held a place in the south's elite society. If they were fortunate he would posess both.
Last night they had been boarded as her father's private yacht had been anchored off the port of La Havre. They had been set to sail at first light. Trinity's maid had gone for the night to say a last farewell to the lover she had taken the three months they had been in Paris.
Trinity was supposed to have gone to The Paris Opera last night. An unknown composer was to have debuted his first opera. Don Juan Triumphant. At the last minute Trinity had decided she should stay and organize her belongings as she hated to be stuck below deck during any voyage. Trinity wished now she had gone to the damn opera. She might have missed being kidnapped.
The first Trinity knew anything was amiss was when she heard the first mate yelling for the captain. After that things were a little muddled. Trinity had gone into the passageway to see what the blue blazes all the shouting was about when she met several men coming down the stairs just as she was going up. She had tried to push past them to no good end. Trinity could only think later that fear had rendered her into an imbecile thinking she could plow though four or five men. Needless to say she lost that skirmish. The only thing she received for her valiant effort was a headache from being knocked unconscious by one of the men. They were certainly not of the gentlemanly persuasion.
They had been docked all night. The ship could not be far from where her father's yacht was moored She remembered being blindfolded and her wrists and ankles tightly bound. Some horribly smelling man had tossed her over his shoulder. That was one time in her life she would not have minded losing her sense of smell or at least having a bad head cold.
They had walked only a short distance after a short ride in a small boat. Probably a dingy. All too soon they were on land again. More walking led to what felt like climbing then a straight short walk into some ungodly smelling place. Trinity would rather not think of what the many unpleasant odors represented. It was better just to speculate than know for certain.
When the man stopped she heard loud creaking. That must have been the rusty looking door being opened. After dumping her on the floor chains had been put on her wrists and ankles. She had free use of her hands and legs she just could not move beyond a three foot area. She could see nothing even after the blindfold had been removed. That was a blessing she had given thanks to her creator for granting her that one concession. On the other hand the only way to block out the smell was to quit breathing. Since that had not and still was not an option she endured.
She could hear rustling in the dark so she knew she was not alone. She might as well have been the only poor soul to suffer this fate as misery had stilled everyone else's tongues. Her's had called out for the longest time. Coming close to being without voice she had given up and sank into her own misery for a short time. Anger had driven her from giving up.
No one had come to check on all the prisoners thrown down in this holding tank in the deepest recesses of the ship. Trinity could only guess what they were going to do with all these people. Tales of slave traders and dealers in flesh sold to exotic places of kings and Shahs entered her mind. It was one thing to daydream about a handsome desert dweller coming and sweeping her off her feet to have his wicked way with her and quite another to have unknown and frankly quite unpleasant smelling men render her unconscious then placed her in the bowel of an unknown ship with an equally unknown destination.
Had it only been a couple of days since she left Paris? It seemed an ungodly amount of time in terms of discomfort. Only one night in this dreadful dank hole and already she was willing to beg for a drink. Later she was sure food would be a lure like the apple before the horse beckoning her on.
The darkness was accompanied by bitter cold. Luckily for her she had two petticoats in addition to the normal womanly undergarments. Her dress was also fairly thick. All in all she was cold but not freezing as she would have been had they taken her in her nightgown. Her hands and face were quite cold. For once in her life Trinity was glad of the many layers women were required to wear.
Her mouth felt so dry she was sure a desert had sprung up overnight. She could hardly swallow. To make matters worse she had hand cuffs and her ankles were shackled. As if the one set of chains would not hold her. They had more confidence in her strength than she did.
The sound of the iron door clanging against the outer wall brought her head up. She could see shadowy figures standing in the dim light. They were holding what looked like to be a long sack between two of the men. When they dumped it on the floor she could make out the shape of a man. He fell against her shoulder. Her stomach came up into her throat when she saw his face. Oh the poor,poor man. They had beaten him so severely. His face was covered in blood. His once white shirt was covered in black. He smelled strongly of smoke. The black on his shirt could be ash.
"Mind you put two chains on this devil Buzzard. Fought like he was defendin' hells gates e' did. Took six of us to take 'im down. Captain says he thinks e's the Ghost. The one what burned down the opera house. Ya' shoulda seen his face before the scuffle. Weren't a pretty sight then. Right side all mangled like he was burned. The flesh was all red. Bit sparse on top but that only means e's a virile whelp as I am smooth as a little bairn's butt. I ain't ner' hear tell of no complainin' from my women. They was talkin' in the pub about the poor bloke. Whisked his mask right off in front of everyone she did. Damn if he didn't cut the chandelier right down and drop it in the laps of all those high faluttin' prissy pants. Wonder what the Captain wants with him. 'Spose he could use him as a hand. Ain't like he ain't shanghaied someone afore when we was short a hand. The women don't take much head scratchin' to figure out. Best get back. Captain sent out more men. We need a few more women to make it a full hull."
Just as he turned Trinity spoke. "Please can we have a candle? Just one candle? It is so dark down here. Please?" If begging would get her what she wanted she was prepared to grovel for a while. If they gave her this concession maybe she could win others.
Looking into her pleading blue eyes he could not say no. Against his better judgment he gave in.
"Well don't 'spose there be much ya' can do with a candle. Mind I'll not give ye' a candle stick. Just the candle."
"Oh thank you. You are so kind. I am sure you will be rewarded for your kindness." She shamelessly batted her eyelashes at him and gave him her most come hither look she could manage while wanting to rip his eyes from his eye sockets. He could detect nothing of her thoughts from her eyes or calm look on her face. She looked demure and helpless. If he got close enough she'd show him some of the moves her brothers had taught her when boys first started sniffing at her skirts.
Damn coward had not come close enough for her to even touch more than her fingertips. Just as well as she would have had to reap the ending results of a man who's manhood had been put in question by a much weaker woman.
She lifted the candle high enough to see the man's face. His eyes looked green in the dim light. His hair was a dark color. It was almost black. A portion of his head had thin patches. Not in the pattern of balding men but more as if something had made odd patches fall out. Perhaps it had something to do with the lumps and scars on his face that continued into the hairline. She had thought they were all due to the beating but now she could see the majority of them were old. They didn't look like scars so much as a disfigurement. The new bloodied places were the recent marks made from his fight with the other men. The right side was the side favored with the disfigurement. The old scars on the right side of his face far outweighed the new cuts and bruises on both sides. Beneath all that she could tell he was quite a handsome man despite the marring on his face. She had always been partial to rough rugged men. She didn't mind a blemish here and there. It just meant the man had lived an adventurous life.
When he spoke his voice was heavenly. Deep and husky. His words were not so charming or inviting.
"Who the hell are you? Where the hell am I?"
Well since she didn't know precisely where she was or if she should tell him her name she remained silent enjoying perusing his face and well muscled chest and body. Her father would blindfold her for the rest of her days if he could read her thoughts. If he saw the blush on her face he would send her to the convent he used as a threat when she misbehaved as a child. Her thoughts were far from childish or ladylike.