Tiger's Eye Read Online Free

and turned away.
    “When?” Her voice rose shrilly. To be free again …! Only now, when the prospect of being safely released was at hand, did she realize how truly frightened she had been.
    A careless wave of his hand was her only answer. He lumbered from the room, closing the door behind him as he left her alone again in the dark. Isabella lay there for long moments, flooded with relief. Soon she would be free of fear—free!
    Then, slowly, she frowned. Her giddy anticipation faded as she realized that something did not seem quite right.
    She had seen him clearly, could identify each and every feature. He knew it, and didn’t care. What did that tell her?
    As Isabella worked it out in her mind, she began to shiver. There was only one possible interpretation: they had indeed gotten what they wanted—the ransom—but instead of releasing her as agreed, she was to be killed. That was the only solution that made any sense. The man had been so careful not to let her see him, or any of them, up until now, when it was all over. If they meant to let her go, common sense dictated that they should be doubly worried about concealing their identities. Once free, she could go to the authorities and identify them. If caught, they would certainly spend a long time in gaol. They might even hang.
    The more she thought about it, the more certain Isabella was that she was right: the man didn’t care if she saw his face because they had already made up their minds to kill her.
    Her heart seemed to stop. She could barely draw breath. Bound hand and foot, she was helpless to resist in any way. At any moment they might come in and shoot her, or strangle her, or smother her with a pillow, or …
    Panic clouded her mind, sent her thrashing wildly on the bed. Frantically she jerked against her bonds, not caring how the rope cut into the flesh of her wrists and ankles, kicking and writhing with all her might as she fought to get free. The bedstead banged against the wall.…
    “What’s goin’ on in ’ere?” Her captor was back, glaring at her from the open door, the candle held high as he surveyed her frenzied movements. Until now, she had been an ideal prisoner, causing no trouble, hoping that her meekness would make it easy for them to let her go when the time came. Now she knew that the time would never come. Again he had not bothered to conceal his face. Isabella stilled for a moment, fighting panic. She had to think!
    Her eyes were wild as she stared at him, her chest heaving with terror that she fought to control. Would he divine that she had guessed what they intended to do? If he did, would he kill her now? She could not allow panic to consume her. If she did, she would stand no chance at all. There must be something she could do, some way …
    “I said, what you kickin’ up such a dust about?” He took a step into the room. The candle’s golden glow bathed the bed. Above it, his face looked fiendlike, menacing. It was all Isabella could do to bite back a scream.
    She could not give way to panic. Her wits were the only weapon she had.
    “There—there’s a mouse in the bed,” she gasped in a squeaky voice that was caused by true fright. The inspiration had come upon her from nowhere. She let it take her, hoping, praying.… “Oh, please, it’s burrowing in the bedclothes! You must help me! Oh!”
    Desperately she began to writhe again, jerking and thrashing and crying out, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” in shrill fear. The bedstead banged against the wall, scooted over the dusty floorboards. Scowling, the man approached.
    “Help me! Help me! Oh! It’s—it’s right under me! Oh!”
    “Oh, for Gawd’s sake,” the man muttered, and set the candlestick down on the bedside table. Isabella continued to whimper and thrash as he bent to untie her ankles. When they were free, she kicked wildly at the bedclothes, doing a praiseworthy imitation of a featherheaded female crazed with fear of a small rodent.
    “Be still, or I’ll—” The