Free The Ragged Heiress by Dilly Court

returned to the log, sitting down and wrapping her arms around her knees as the darkness enveloped them.
    She thought about her parents. Father would be frantic by now and Mama would be prostrate on her bed with a cold compress on her brow and a vial of hartshorn clutched in her hand. Sir John would be furious and Lady Boothby would say it was only to be expected of a wilful young girl who spent her time idling round the house instead of helping the sick and disadvantaged at the charity hospital. Lucetta made a silent vow to atone for her disobedience, but imagining her parents’ distress was too painful and even worse, she might die here in the Balinese jungle and never have the chance to say that she was sorry.
    She buried her face in her hands, attempting to conjure up the face of Sam Cutler, the man who had stolen her heart and for whom she had risked her reputation, and it would seem, her life. She could not exactly describe his features one by one, although she remembered the way his hazel eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and the way her heart fluttered at the sound of his voice. He had awakened something within her that threatened to consume her and had made her reckless with the need to see him again. Would he still be searching for the escaped convicts? Or would he and his men have given up and returned to the
Caroline
? Did he know that she was missing, and if he did, would he come to her rescue?
    It was pitch dark now and she could not see Guthrieeven though he lay just a few feet from her. The rustling sounds in the undergrowth seemed to be even louder and growing closer minute by minute, and she felt as though they were being watched by unseen predators. The foolhardiness of her escapade sat on her shoulders like a heavy mantle. Her pampered, protected life had not equipped her for survival outside the walls of her comfortable home. She had never had to do anything for herself; there had always been servants at her beck and call, ready to carry out the simplest of tasks. She had never felt so lost or so alone in the world. She even found herself wishing that Stranks would return. He was a villain and a ruffian but at least he was human. Who knew what horrors lurked behind every bush and tree?
    Lucetta opened her eyes. She could see a faint glimmer of light filtering through the ghostly grey trunks of the trees and she could hear the sound of men’s voices, the heavy tramp of booted feet, the splitting of cane and the crack of broken twig. It was, of course, just another dream: she had been dozing fitfully all night and then waking with a start as the pain in her cramped limbs became unbearable. Each time she opened her eyes it had been to suffocating darkness, like being stone blind. The noises that she had heard had been the night sounds of the rainforest, punctuated by feverish moans from Guthrie, but this time it was different; the men were speaking English. She pinched herself and it really hurt; she was not dreaming. She was wide awake and help was close at hand.She opened her mouth and tried to call out, but no sound came from her dry throat. For a dreadful moment she thought the rescue party were going to miss them and she reached out with her hands, feeling for a branch or a stone, anything that she could throw to attract their attention. Then her fingers curled around the hard, hairy shell of a coconut and she scrambled to her feet, flinging it with all her might. She heard a soft thud followed by a loud curse and raised voices.
    ‘Where did that bleeder come from? It hit me square on me head.’
    ‘It came from over there. Bring the torches, men.’
    Dazzled by the sudden bright light of a flaming torch, Lucetta shielded her eyes. She could just make out the dark silhouettes of men breaking through the tangle of banana palms and tree ferns. Someone called her name and her heart leapt against her ribs as she recognised Sam’s voice, but relief quickly turned to humiliation as she realised