“What will we tell his sisters?”
Patrick gave James another hard kick to the ribs. “We’ll give them a portion of the blunt and tell them he fell overboard on the voyage to America.”
James groaned as Sean lifted his arms and dragged him out of the back room and into the alley where the coach waited. The idiots hadn’t even unharnessed the horse. Sean opened the carriage door and lifted James then shoved him in. When the door closed, James tried to open his eyes, tried to rise to his knees, but the darkness dragged him down.
PHIL SHIVERED IN THE damp, cold darkness. She didn’t know how long she’d been down here. She’d heard arguing, the men’s raised voices, but they had quieted now. Had they left her here? Would they leave her here to die? She had quietly felt her way to the steps and climbed to the top. But when she tried the cellar door, she found it locked. She hadn’t tried breaking the lock or kicking the door open, but she was growing desperate.
Still, her first idea was probably her best. She would call for help when the noise of coaches passing quieted. There was more chance she’d be heard then—if anyone was still about to hear.
In the meantime, she sang songs to herself, little lullabies she remembered from childhood. It was oddly soothing to huddle in the old blanket and sing to herself. She liked to remember when she’d been a child and her biggest worry had been whether her governess would make her finish her French lesson that day. As a child she had much preferred playing in the gardens at Southmeade, especially on sunny days. She liked to pick flowers and pretend they were part of her bridal bouquet. Sometimes she and her older sister would make crowns of them and pretend to be brides.
How silly she had been then. How silly she had been the last few months to ever think James had loved her. He had used her. Her mother had always told her marrying for love was imprudent. Now she saw she should have heeded her warnings. If she’d just married one of her suitors from any of the Seasons she’d had in London, she would not be in this predicament.
But no, she’d wanted love. She’d wanted the fluttery feeling in her belly she felt when James looked at her. In the end, it was all a lie.
She heard footsteps on the boards overhead and held her breath. She didn’t want to hope it was James, but she also did not want to stay here any longer. Please, she prayed silently. He could have the money if only he’d let her go free.
The sound of the key fitting into the lock made her gasp in a breath and rise to her feet. The door at the top of the steps swung open, and a weak yellow light slanted down the steps. Phil squinted at even that much light penetrating the blackness around her.
The man started down the steps and she realized it was not James. She couldn’t see very well, but James didn’t move like this man. This man seemed to prowl.
“I hope ye haven’t been waiting long,” the man said.
It was definitely not James. Phil moved back a step, trying to fit herself into a small corner. “Where is James?” she asked.
“Oh, James, is he? Ye two are good friends, I see.” The man paused at the bottom of the steps and hung the lantern on the hook.
“Where is he?”
“Gone,” the man said. He had dark hair and blue eyes with a slash of brows above them. “He left ye with us. Said we could do what we would with ye. He’d gotten what he wanted, so he had.”
She shook her head. “You’re a liar.”
“Am I? Then where is he, me lady?”
As she didn’t have an answer for that question, she didn’t speak. The man moved closer. “Seems like James and yer ladyship became rather good friends while he was at yer country house. Isn’t that right?”
She didn’t answer. She did not like the way he looked at her.
“James says yer as sweet as a summer peach. He said I should take a bite.”
“No,” she said, her voice surprisingly forceful. “You won’t touch me.”
“How will ye stop me?” He looked around. “No one is coming to help ye.”
“I’ll scream.”
“No one will hear ye. Scream all ye like.”
He advanced on her, and she scrambled back. The wall was behind her, and it offered no protection. He lunged and she fell sideways, toppling over a stack of crates. She grabbed one and threw it at him, but he easily sidestepped it. She grabbed another, and one of the wooden slats broke off in her hand. She clutched it, wielding it like a knife.
“And what do ye think to do with that, lass? Stab me?”
“Get back. Leave me alone or I will hurt you.” She wanted to hurt him, to wipe the smirk off his face. He was actually enjoying this. It was a game to him, while she shook from fear and rage.
He feigned another lunge, and she swiped at him with the shard of wood before she realized it was just a trick.
“Boo!” he said and pretended to reach for her. This time Phil stood still, clutching the piece of wood so hard she could feel the splinters through her gloves.
He lunged again, and she saw too late that he meant it. He grasped her arm and yanked her forward, shoving her to her knees. She held on to her weapon as he came down on top of her, effectively trapping her arms under the weight of their combined bodies. “Get off me!” she said between gulps of air. She struggled to free her arms while he struggled with her skirts. A few wild kicks made him curse as she connected with some soft, fleshy part of him.
And then he grabbed her shoulders roughly and shoved her to her back. Her head hit the floor, and she blinked up at him as he raised his hand. “Maybe ye like it rough.” He slapped her so hard her ears rang. For a moment, Phil couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Pain bloomed in her head and her face, and it consumed her. And then she felt his hand on her legs, and she shook off the pain and raised her hand.
The broken piece of wood was still in her grasp, and she brought it down hard on his back. He let out a piercing howl then looked at her with a feral rage in his eyes.
WHEN THE COACH DOOR opened, James didn’t move. It was easy to lie still. Moving was the real challenge. Someone prodded his legs, and James didn’t react.
“Good,” the man muttered. It was Sean, not Patrick, and James was thankful. Patrick would have been smarter than Sean. He wouldn’t have left James unbound.
Sean pushed James to his belly and tried to position his arms behind him. Apparently, he intended to bind James now. Then he’d take him out of London and dump him somewhere. James had not fought his way through the pain and blackness to succumb to Patrick’s plan. He couldn’t leave Phil. He waited until Sean had both arms behind his back and then had to lean over him to position the rope. That’s when James reared back and caught Sean in the jaw with the back of his head. Sean groaned, and inside his mind, James screamed.
The pain was blinding. But he didn’t need to see. He rolled over, groped for Sean’s coat, grabbed hold and punched him. The punch went wild, striking Sean’s temple. Sean hit back, hitting James hard enough in the chest to make his lungs burn. James fought his way to his knees and threw his weight at Sean, sending them both crashing to the floor of the coach. The horse snorted, and the coach lurched. It was exactly what James needed as it threw Sean off balance. He fell over and James was above him.