Christmas at Draycott Abbey by Christina Skye Page A

of black Range Rovers parked in anticipation of the meeting inside.
    One of the men had been flanked by four bodyguards. Clair had tried to see his face. He had noticed her attention, gesturing his bodyguards toward her in a single, cold gesture.
    But they had not pursued her. She had prayed it meant nothing.
    Before dawn they had come to her room. They had carried her, drugged and bound, from house to house for days, until Clair lost track of time.
    But they had stopped the drugs the day before. That told her they needed her clearheaded and open to pain—ready to talk under torture.
    And when they removed her blindfold briefly, she knew it was the truth. If they let her see their faces, she wasn’t going to come back from wherever they took her next.
    Sitting tensely in the cramped car, listening to the rain, Clair sat up straighter. She refused to give in to fear or pain. This was her gift for Nina, the beautiful, innocent sister whom they had destroyed and tossed away once they were finished with their pleasures.
    They would pay for that. And they would harm no other women. Clair would see to that, no matter how much it cost her.
    The man in the front seat lit a cigarette.
    Stupid , she thought. The flame would ruin his night vision. And it was the one small gift she had waited for. She had already eased open the door lock during stolen seconds of the long drive. The car wheels skidded, taking the turn too fast, skidding on the narrow uneven road.
    As lightning cracked, she hit the door with her shoulder, kicked back at the unprepared guard beside her and then vaulted out through the rain into the night.
    Rain pelted at her face. Brushes crawled and scraped at her wet skin. But she forced her way forward, pushing through the mud, upward in the darkness.
    Up the slope angry voices called out curses in three languages. Car lights shifted, flying over the muddy ground. Clair ducked, finding cover behind a dead rose bush. A line of stones hid her progress as she stumbled forward, biting her lips against a sob as pain shot through her bare feet and legs. She would have only one chance at escape. If they found her, she had no doubt they would kill her.
    And it would not be fast and easy. It was not their way.
    Her breath caught and she fell flat. There . Behind the rocks she saw a man’s shape.
    It was him .
    Nina’s lover.
    Nina’s cold betrayer. The handsome, well respected man whose identity she had come to unveil.
    As pain pelted against her frozen body, Clair could only pray she was not too late.

     
    Ian strode along the great drive, his face to the wind. Churchill was scouting the trees at the edge of the abbey’s woods, eager and silent. Ian followed, watching for footprints or signs of intrusion.
    So far there was nothing.
    And the rain was growing harder. Wind tossed the great oak. Soon every footprint would be swept away in the mud.
    Grimly, the royal protection officer turned up his collar, feeling adrenaline burn in his blood. Standing on the hill, he let the night swallow him, let the small sounds drop into his consciousness as he awaited any sign…that should not be there.
    Somewhere a bird cried sharply.
    Clouds parted and revealed a ragged moon. Then darkness fell over the abbey once more.
    And man and dog hunted.

Too close , she thought wildly.
    But she had to stop no matter how they harried her. She couldn’t keep up the killing pace. Her lungs were ready to burst, her heart hammering. It was partly the remains of the drugs they had given her. And partly it was her forced captivity and immobility over the long weeks.
    Clair flinched as another silenced bullet raced past her. This time the bullets struck stone, sharp fragments spraying her wrist. One cut deep into her forehead.
    She ran.

     
    The storm’s fury grew. They tracked her, merciless and silent, waiting for every burst of lightning to trace her against the darkness.
    Farmland gave way to green lawns. Expensive estates. The kind of houses