Lost Lady by Jude Deveraux Page A

ever to escape his hold over her, she must do it very soon.
    â€œNo goodbye kiss?” Travis joked, standing by the door. ‘Nothing to keep me warm out there all alone?”
    Grabbing her other shoe, she threw it at him, but this time he ducked before it hit him. He was laughing as he locked the door behind him and went down the stairs.
    At least tonight she was too tired to stay awake, but the bed did seem to get larger each night.
    She woke to the quiet thunder of what could only be Travis attempting to tiptoe about the room. Keeping her eyes closed, she pretended to be asleep, even when he leaned over her and kissed her cheek. When he seemed to have left the room, she drowsily listened for the now familiar turn of the lock, and when it didn’t come she sat bolt upright in bed. After rubbing her eyes twice, she was sure that what she saw was real—the door was wide open.
    Not another second was lost as she jumped out of bed, slid the velvet dress over her head, and grabbed her shoes. Ever so quietly, she hugged the door with her back as she left the room and went onto the stair landing. Never having seen the inn except for the inside of one room, she was startled to see how isolated the room was—alone at the head of narrow, steep stairs, and, from the smells, at the bottom seemed to be the kitchen. Craning her neck until it threatened to break, she saw what was unmistakably Travis’s leg and high boot near the foot of the stairs. But even as she began to lose hope, a clatter of horses and carriages sounded outside, and a man’s voice cried for help. With great happiness, she saw Travis run for the door.
    Within an instant she was down the stairs, through the nearly empty kitchen, where the few employees were intent on the activity outside, and finally out into the bright sunlight of the street.
    There was no time to spend on the fact that her feet were bare, because she knew Travis would discover her escape very soon. For now she had to put time and distance between them if she was ever to manage her escape.
    In spite of her good intentions, her feet began to hurt too badly to ignore them much longer, and people were beginning to notice her. Slowing down for a moment, she saw a dark alleyway between two buildings, and she made her way there, crouching down between several horrible-smelling wooden fish crates. I must think! she commanded herself, because she knew that without a plan she could never gain her freedom.
    Sitting on one of the crates, she slipped on her shoes, tying the laces about her ankles. As she did so, she calmed her racing heart and began to consider her alternatives. She needed somewhere to go, a place to hide until she could get a job, and especially a place to hide until that insane American left the country.
    Lost in thought, she wasn’t aware of the shouts in the street until she was practically looking at Travis, his legs spread wide, hands on hips, his profile to her. It was minutes before she realized that he didn’t see her, that he was only shouting orders to the people in the streets. The idea that he’d give orders to strangers renewed her determination to escape this man. Making herself as small as possible, she crouched down among the boxes, praying he wouldn’t see her.
    Even when he turned and ran down the street, she didn’t relax or move, because she felt he wasn’t one to give up. No, Travis Stanford was too sure he was right to ever give a thought to anyone else’s opinions. If he’d hold someone prisoner, he’d certainly not let that prisoner escape without a fight.
    Remaining in her stiff, uncomfortable position, she tried to come up with a plan. First she’d have to get away from the docks, and the way to do that was always to keep the sea at her back. Smiling, she thought that shouldn’t be difficult to do and was sure she had half her problem solved. The other problem was where to go when she was away from the