on her back staring into the cloudless blue sky. She pushed herself to her elbows but immediately fell back as blackness threatened to return her to unconsciousness.
Her backside was soaked through from the thin layer of bilge water that covered the bottom of the boat. Somehow she’d lost her bonnet, and she wore only one glove. From what she could tell, she was alone in the boat. But why? And where was the coachman who’d kidnapped and drugged her?
Cautiously, she lifted her head and attempted to peek over the edge of the boat. Thankfully, the boat was still tied to the dock, and she hadn’t been set adrift in the ocean.
At the squeal of a door opening in the nearby warehouse, Victoria flattened herself against the hull. Was her captor coming out? If so, what was he planning to do to her?
She closed her eyes and swallowed a scream. God help me.
“Be calm, Victoria,” she whispered. If she panicked, she wouldn’t be able to think clearly. And right now she needed every bit of clarity she could find.
At the slap of footsteps on the wooden dock, she glanced around the boat for anything that might be of help. Her options included a fishing net, tin bucket, or rusty hooks. If she could get a hold of the hooks, she might be able to wield them like weapons. Or even the net. She could throw it over the man and trap him.
But the footsteps sounded close, and she didn’t have enough time to reach those items. Instead, her fingers brushed the long handle of the oar lying by her side. She closed her eyes as the tall shadow of the coachman fell over the boat. He paused for a moment as though looking at her. Then the boat sank deeper into the water and wobbled as he climbed inside.
She tried to still the trembling in her limbs. She didn’t know what this man was planning to do to her or where he was taking her. But she couldn’t wait to find out. Especially because no one else knew where she was or what had become of her. Except, of course, Theresa.
Her friend’s betrayal stabbed her anew. How could Theresa have done this? They’d been best friends for as far back as Victoria could remember. She didn’t understand how a friend she’d trusted and loved could turn against her.
Did Theresa want to stop her wedding to Nathaniel? And why? Her friend had always seemed excited about it, had gone shopping with her for her trousseau, had helped her with so many of the plans. Why would Theresa do all those things if she didn’t want the wedding to take place?
Victoria cracked open an eye and discovered that the coachman had begun to untie the rope that held the boat to the dock. His back was turned to her. If she acted quickly enough, perhaps she could take him by surprise.
Her hand shook as she gripped the oar. She wasn’t a strong woman, and she didn’t know how she would possibly be able to attack him. But she had to at least try. Before she could change her mind, she pushed up as nimbly and quietly as possible. The sway of the boat masked most of her movement. When she was standing, she tried to catch her balance and at the same time lifted the oar.
As if sensing a change in her presence, her captor glanced over his shoulder. His eyes rounded, and he swiveled. Before he could react any further, she swung the paddle as hard as she could toward his head.
The board connected with his cheek and temple with a resounding thwack. The momentum of the hit forced him backward. He stumbled over the middle bench, tripped over a tin bucket, and was unable to catch himself. Amidst a slew of curses, he fell into the small wedge of the stern, his feet sticking straight up in the air and his backside lodged against the hull. He struggled to rise from the tight spot, but could hardly move.
Victoria threw her oar overboard and pitched the other one into the water as well. She scrambled out of the boat. Then she unwound the last bit of rope holding the vessel to the dock and shoved it toward the deeper water.
“You won’t be able to run from me. I’ll track you down!” yelled the coachman, squirming in the tight spot. Victoria knew it was only a matter of time before he freed himself.