Chapter 5

The first of November dawned extremely cold with a thin layer of frost coating the hard, dry ground. Tierra and Page sat in the morning room breaking their fast when Kathleena appeared in the doorway. Her hostess waved her to enter as she sipped her tea. "Good morning. Did you rest well?" Kathleena nodded, smiling in thanks as a servant stepped forward to seat her. "Shall I have cook prepare something special for you?" Shaking her head she helped herself to a cup of black coffee and a piece of dry toast. The couple frowned at each other and Page cleared his throat.

"We've sausage, or bacon if you prefer. They are both equally delicious." Again, she shook her head. Patting her stomach, Kathleena frowned. "Oh, I see," he responded, understanding her dilemma. "I'm sorry that you're ill."

Later, while Tierra was busy with cook planning the menu for the upcoming week and Page was working in his study, Kathleena happily headed toward the stables. Her mal de mer (nausea) had all but vanished throughout the day and she felt a sudden urge to tour the grounds. Deidra snorted, buffeting a hard skull firmly against her mistress's shoulder when she came closer.

(I do not accept your apology, you traitor! Leave off again and it's the glue factory for you!) The Frenchwoman smiled as she quickly readied the animal for their outing. Patting her horse's fat sides, she shook her head. (Ah ha! Been eating your head off, I see. I believe you need this ride more than I.) A cold wind whipped wildly about them causing the hair to rise from the back of Kathleena's slender neck. Quivering violently, she grabbed an extra saddle blanket hanging nearby and expertly bounded onto Deidra's back, draping the woolen material tightly about her slim shoulders. Trotting the bay from the paddock down the maple lined drive, Kathleena noted the autumn foliage she'd so admired but a few days ago had shed from the ancient trees, leaving nothing behind but bare branches in its wake.

With a gentle flick of the reins, the woman urged her animal into a brisk gallop, smiling happily as she realized, for the first time in a long while how truly wonderful she felt on horseback. Neither the icy nip in the air nor the horrific violence she'd experienced at the inn dampened her spirits. A half of an hour had passed when suddenly Deidra snorted, tossing her large head and cantering sideways. The Frenchwoman patted her mount's neck lovingly. (See ma chere, just a week ago you would not have become so winded so soon.) Eyeing a small pond, Kathleena dismounted and led the animal to drink, rubbing long velvety ears. (I suppose you've earned a bit of a rest.) As she waited for Deidra to satisfy her thirst, the woman pulled the saddle blanket more tightly about her thin form and glanced across the water. Her pale eyes wide with sudden terror.

With a tremble, Kathleena shook her chestnut head. (Mon Dieu. Please! Not again!) Every time she came upon a body of water... Every time! Memories fought to draw her again into the past, to the day of Pierre's death. Although able to curb the vivid images, she couldn't help but recall the sounds, the screams... her screams. Save him! Save him! Burying her face in her hands, Kathleena sobbed silently. So lost in her misery she failed to hear the crunch of footsteps approaching from behind. She gasped airily as strong fingers dug painfully into her shoulder turning her about. Dear God! She stared up into hell itself.

(Duncan!)

With him now savagely clutching her throat, Kathleena instinctively raised her hand to fight him off. No... It would do no good. Either he would kill her or he wouldn't. He took much pleasure in her pain, her fear. Although truly horrified, she vowed she would not satisfy him this day. Slowly, her hand lowered. Despite her valiant effort to remain passive, the fear radiating from her beautiful eyes gratified him enormously. Duncan shoved her away, causing her to stumble.

Glaring up at him, she sadly noted that he bore no scars from the grotto where she had dug her nails into him. He smiled evilly. "They were not deep. You are not strong enough to cause me any lasting damage. Know that." Quickly, he changed the subject. "You seem rather surprised. Am I not a man of my word?" Suddenly Kathleena closed her eyes as his warning of long ago came back to her. Do not become too at ease while in America. One day you will turn around only to find me standing there. Dear Lord! She would never forget.

"Explain yourself!" he snarled at her. She arched a shapely brow in question. "I have lost a good man because of you." Scowling at her continued look of confusion, Duncan growled. "At the inn."

Kathleena's face grew pale. Quickly scanning the ground, she found a sharp stick. He watched dispassionately as she struggled to scrape words into the earth. 'Tried to rape. Not good!'

Seizing her arm he twisted it painfully and yanked the frightened girl up against him. "You should have allowed it," he mocked. "In fact, you should have felt honored. How many men do you assume will actually give you a second glance?" With his free hand he grasped the neckerchief, tearing it away from her throat. "Especially while you bear 'that'?"

Wincing at his hurtful words, Kathleena wrenched herself away and, without thinking, smacked him smartly across the face. Duncan's dark head snapped back more in astonishment than pain. As narrowed eyes shot blue flame of hatred, she raised a hand to her throat. What had she done? The punishment sure to follow would no doubt be severe. As severe as the last? Worse? Tense as a cornered rabbit, Kathleena readied herself to run.

Viciously seizing her slim waist, Duncan squeezed the breath from her lungs, laughing as he began to pull her deeply into the forest. Reaching out, she tried to clutch Deidra's reins causing her mount to rear back in fright and gallop away. "No matter," he tsked, "she cannot help you." Suddenly his voice dropped to a low timber and he whispered in her ear, "No one can."

(No!) She couldn't, wouldn't let him hurt her again. Kathleena fought for her life. With arms and legs thrashing wildly, she scratched and bit him until the Frenchman, growing bored, fiercely slammed his fist against her jaw and she slid into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

The sun began to set as she was jostled awake. Kathleena stiffened. She was draped over Duncan's shoulder. "Good," he smirked, callously dropping her face first onto to the frozen ground below. "I was afraid you were going to sleep through everything. Now where would be my pleasure in that?" He glared down at her lying in a crumpled heap. She stared up at him, dazed from her fall and cradling the arm she had used to try to protect her head. "Now, what to do?" he said, tapping his lips as if in thought. "What to do?" She trembled more from fear of what horror he was planning than from any winter breeze. "Cold are you? Do not worry. You shall be warm soon enough." Kathleena shivered anew at his sinister laugh and cryptic words.

Dragging her behind him, Duncan gathered dead twigs and started a small fire. Finished, he spun and, clutching one of her delicate ankles viciously pulled a leg out from under her. Lying on her back, Kathleena tried to catch her breath. She froze, cringing at the metallic sound of something sliding from his belt loop. Another knife? No, it wasn't a knife. Holding it before her, he turned the tool allowing the firelight to reflect from it. "Have you any idea what this is?" Narrowing her blue eyes, she studied it. Finally, she shook her head. He laughed softly placing it deep into the base of the flames. "Before this night is over, I promise you, you shall." He turned to her then, his eyes gleaming. Coming to his feet, the handsome madman stared down at her and Kathleena swallowed hard.

"Oh my dear, " he sighed, "it would please me so much more if only I could hear your screams of agony. Oh well, no matter," he shrugged. "I shall just use my imagination." Raising a boot, he aimed a malicious kick into her side knocking her onto her back. Kathleena's sharp intake of breath made him smile broadly. "Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps I am going to enjoy this immensely."

Clamping her eyes tightly shut, she felt heavy snowflakes strike her face, feverishly praying he would kill her when his next blow connected with her ribs...

A deep knock echoed throughout the hall and as James answered the door, he came face to face with a gaunt, elegantly clad gentleman standing in the entryway. "Good evening, sir. May I help you?"

"I am here to see Page Vogel. My name is Barnabas Collins."

The butler nodded with a smile. "Mr. Collins. Of course. My master is expecting you." He stood aside to allow the man entrance.

"Forgive me, but it is my custom to accept entrance from none other than the owner of the home."

"And you have it." Page smiled, extending his hand as he stepped into the room. "Welcome to my home, Mr. Collins."

Pumping his host's hand firmly, Barnabas warily stepped across the threshold. "Mr. Vogel, I am very pleased to meet you...finally. I do apologize for the delay in acknowledging your correspondence but as you are certain to sympathize, business can be, at times, rather consuming."

"No need to explain. I understand completely." With an awkward smile, Page surreptitiously rubbed his palm against his thigh. When he'd shaken the man's hand, it was as cold as ice. He could still feel the bone deep chill. Turning toward his servant in an attempt to hide his discomfort, Page said, "James, please take Mr. Collins' cloak. We shall be in the study. No interruptions."

"Yes, sir."

Leading the Englishman down the corridor to his private domain, Page heard the sharp snap of his guest's walking stick as it touched the floor with every step. "What an unusual piece. A wolf's head, isn't it? Very attractive indeed." Barnabas nodded in thanks. Opening the double doors, his host motioned to a chair.

"Would you care for a drink, Mr. Collins?"

"It's Barnabas. Thank you. No."

"Page," he offered as he poured himself a scotch and soda and took a seat across from the elegant man. "Well now, about your horses..."

An hour later their business concluded, both men mutually satisfied with the outcome. Page rubbed his hands together in avid anticipation. He was now the proud owner of two stallions and four mares. Collins promised delivery before the height of the breeding season. Thrilled, Page looked forward to the day when his grounds would be home to dozens of the beautiful beasts.

Standing at the window, Barnabas gazed up at the star studded night's sky when suddenly the doors burst open. Frowning Page groaned, "James, I thought I -" Smiling at his fiancée, he introduced her. "Barnabas Collins… my betrothed, Tierra Benjamin." As the Englishman bowed in greeting, he could see intense panic in the young woman's eyes. It was an emotion he recognized instantly for he had seen it countless times before.

Page too, saw her deep worry. "Love, what's wrong?" Running into his strong arms Tierra tugged the lapels of his suit, something she only did when she truly felt out of sorts. He pulled her away. "My God. What has happened?"

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "Oh darling. She's missing!"

Utterly confused, Page asked, "She? Kathleena?"

A dark head shot up at the mention of the name. Page quickly explained. "Our house guest at the moment." Nodding, Barnabas anxiously waited for the distraught woman to continue.

"I went to fetch her for dinner and she wasn't in her room. I questioned Bridget in passing and she thought she'd seen Kathleena head toward the stables after lunch. I checked with the groom. He informed me that Deidra had only just returned to the paddock without her." Tierra choked back an ugly sob, her eyes bleak with despair, "Page, I inspected the horse myself. The mare looked absolutely mad with fright." Finally she broke down, crying hysterically against the hard wall of his chest. "She's in great danger. I just know it."

"Shhh, darling," Page cooed, stroking her hair, "I'll find her... I promise." Turning to his guest, he apologized. "I'm sorry–"

Barnabas interrupted with a wave of his hand. "There's no need. But I would like to assist in the search."

Stunned, Tierra looked at the gaunt gentleman. "Thank you, Mr. Collins."

As Page assisted his fiancée in readying a bundle of essentials, the Englishman gather his cloak and headed for the stables. Deidra screamed, eyes rolling, ears pinned back as he led the animal from her stall. "Whoa girl," he said, carefully buffeting her side. Glowering darkly, he found nothing to signify foul play. No blood. No injuries. Nothing.

"Damn!"

Page rushed in, carrying a satchel near to bursting. "Tierra is wholly convinced that something terrible has happened to Kathleena…" Then he lowered his voice. "So am I."

"Your fiancée is quite upset. Stay with her." Barnabas motioned for the bundle. When the American hesitated, he added, "I am a superb tracker. I will find her much more quickly if I am alone." He couldn't allow Page to stand in his way of doing what he must. Ever since meeting Kathleena, ever since she was nearly raped at the inn, he felt an uncontrollable urge to see her again. What he could not understand was why? Determined to know the answer, he first must find her. Leading his own animal from the stall, Barnabas grasped the horse's mane and digging his heel into a muscular thigh mounted bare back. Page cringed for the beast but quickly realized that the animal obviously found no pain in his owner's actions.

"Before you go, there's something you must know about Kathleena. She's unable to speak."

"I know." At Page's look of surprise, the thin man quickly explained. "I've met her. The night she'd arrived in town." Turning to leave, he suddenly remembered. "My cane."

"You left it on my desk. I'll fetch it."

Alone, he trotted his horse next to Kathleena's. Leaning over, he inhaled the mare's unique scent. Committing it to memory he quickly pulled away as Page returned, casting the Englishman a curious look. Sliding the walking stick through his belt loop, Barnabas clutched the sack. "Assure Miss Benjamin that I shall find her friend."

Following her mare's hoof prints back into the forest, Barnabas cursed loudly as the trail was lost under newly falling snow. This was taking too damn long! Closing his eyes, he called upon his immortal powers, beginning to see the auras of life forms emerge. Deer and rabbits, disturbed by this newcomer darted between barren trees and along the low lying brush and brambles. Sniffing the crisp air, a long elegant nose singled out Deidra's scent. He turned Dalmiir east. Riding on, he paused every few moments' searching his surroundings, suddenly drawing up short. In the distance a pack of wolves were taking shape, investigating the ground, their growls, low and deep. As he charged his steed into the group, the wolves scattered for a brief instant. Sliding from his stallion's back, the man unsheathed a deadly rapier hidden in the shaft of his cane. Barnabas spotted the young woman he was searching for; lying on her side in the snow, the aura radiating from her slight form was very faint. He knew he must get to her soon or he would be too late.

"Dalmiir… Protect!"

The horse screamed in answer to his master's command as the vicious horde charged toward the pair. Immediately, two creatures lay dead from Barnabas's blade, warm blood gurgling to turn the snow crimson. A third slain as the strong stallion kicked the beast in its side with such force the animal sailed through the air, snapping its spine against the wide trunk of an oak tree. Now, only two remained; the alpha male and his mate.

Crouching low, Barnabas trembled in pain, his human form suddenly gone, instantly replaced by a wolf of enormous size. Pelt, jet black, golden eyes and sharp fangs glistened challengingly. Not willing to lose such a valuable prize, the leader of the pack snarled, charging. It pounced, sharp claws and teeth bared for the kill. In an instant, Barnabas reared up on his hind legs. Swiftly grabbing his enemy by the throat, he shook his head firmly. The wolf's lifeless body landed in the snow, its jugular hanging from deadly jaws. The final animal was no match and, howling mournfully at the loss of her mate, scampered into the woods.

Morphing once more into man, Barnabas rushed to the woman, falling to his knees beside her. She took shallow breaths, small plumes rising into the frigid night air. Feeling the pulse in her throat, he found it very erratic. Slowly he turned her face to him and reeled back on his heels. She was extremely beaten, her jaw so swollen he couldn't match her to the woman at the inn. Instinctively, Barnabas knew that this was no random assault. The vicious bastard who had done this enjoyed great pleasure making her suffer. She knew her abuser well.

Barnabas Collins shook his head. There was no time to dwell on that now. He must warm her, care for her if she was to live. But where? She was in no condition to travel a great distance. A thought sprang to his mind. The cave! Of course! He spotted it last evening while secretly scouting the property. It was but minutes away. Gently, he scooped her slight weight into his strong arms. Although unconscious, Kathleena felt something pressed against her, causing excruciating pain. A single tear slid down her battered cheek.