Page 8 of The Rogue’s Embrace

It was such a relief to be able to wash each day. The woman who kept the house for the kidnappers—Maria wasn't granted her name—boiled up a large kettle of water each morning and brought it upstairs. Fresh towels and soap were a godsend. Her captor had even begun to allow Maria a little more time in which to attend to her ablutions.

Her gratitude toward the woman didn't extend much beyond that, especially once Maria realized that the food she was being fed was laced with drugs.

With every meal came the same routine. Whatever was in her food rendered her unconscious within minutes of eating it. She would be given breakfast not long after the sun rose each day. The next thing she knew, Maria would wake in her bed, having no idea as to how she had gotten there. Through the window, she would see the pale light of early evening.

She'd have slept the day away.

But as the days rolled into one another; Maria began to sense that the woman was bored of the whole endeavor. She became inattentive and sloppy with her work.

In the beginning, she would remain in the room and wait for Maria to finish eating, but by the end of the first week she started leaving Maria on her own to eat, presumably only coming back once she had passed out.

The woman's disinterest created an opening—one which Maria did not hesitate to exploit.

On the morning of her fifteenth day in captivity at the house, she waited until the woman had once more left her alone with her breakfast. As soon as the door closed and the key turned in the lock, she picked up the knife from her breakfast tray and quickly headed over to the window. Pushing the curtains aside, she set to work on her secret project.

The window was opaque, which at first had been a disappointment as she couldn't see out, but it didn't take long for Maria to realize the benefits of no one being able to see her or what she was doing.

Over the past couple of days, she had managed to prize the bolt on the window latch loose, and this morning, her efforts were rewarded when it finally gave way.

"Ah,"

she gasped.

Success. Thank God.

Gently pushing on the frame, she cracked the window open an inch. She dared not go any farther lest someone outside notice. Placing her nose up to the gap, she took in a deep breath.

Delicious, fresh air filled her lungs, and joy sparked in her heart. It was a small step, but it gave her hope. She was determined to fulfil the promise she had made to her mother while onboard the ship.

Mamá I shall find my way home. We will be together again.

Hurrying back to her breakfast, which was the same standard offering every morning, a badly cooked pie, she cut off a large piece of it, then carried it over to the window. Crumbling it between her fingers, she let the wind take it away.

"It's a start,"

she whispered.

She would have to eat the rest of the foul pastry, but at least there was a chance now that she might be able to snatch a few hours of being conscious before the next meal—hours that could be used to figure out a way to escape.