Her Wicked Proposal: The League of Rogues, Book 3 (26 page)

Cedric’s body began to tense. He started to maneuver them toward the door halfway between them and the man with the sword. “Anne, listen to me very carefully. Get Hartley and escape the house. Do you understand? Go, now!”

Cedric shoved her toward the door. After that, everything happened too quickly. She stumbled toward the door just as the man with the sword came toward them. By the time she reached the door, Cedric had positioned himself between her and the intruder. His foot brushed against his lion head cane, which he picked up.

“Cedric!” she screamed as the man lunged. Cedric swung his cane as though it were a broadsword. The man ducked, but not fast enough, Cedric clipped him on the shoulder.

“Anne, go!” Cedric’s bellow jarred her out of her frozen terror. She needed to find Sean. Find help. She burst into the hall, right into a tall, hard body.

Sean gripped her shoulder, holding her steady. “My lady? What—”

“Find Ashton. We need help! There’s a man attacking Cedric!” She couldn’t think beyond that.

Sean was about to rush into the ballroom, but several men now emerged from an adjacent room, men who couldn’t be their servants. Their clothes were ragged and they all carried pistols or knives.

“My lady, get back inside, it isn’t safe!” Sean pushed her into the ballroom, as he turned to face the advancing men. She watched in terror as he charged the men, fists swinging. One man fell back onto the ground with a single blow. Sean then grabbed another’s arm and broke it, causing him to let go of his weapon. He threw the screaming thug into one of his comrades and picked up the dropped blade. The man knew how to fight, but he couldn’t escape all of the men, not forever.

“Hartley, behind you!” she shouted from the ballroom doorway, warning him just before a pistol fired. Hartley had dropped down an instant before the gun discharged, and the bullet sank into the wall with a crack. He sprang forward and plunged the knife into the attacker before he could pull out a second pistol from his brace.

“Get inside, my lady!” Hartley shouted as two men tackled him and a third got past him to run toward her. She slammed the ballroom door, pushing against the heavy wood to keep it shut.

Before she could recover, she was grabbed from behind, a blade pressed against her side as a warning for her to stay still.

“Don’t move, Lady Sheridan, or you will regret it.”

“Anne?” Cedric’s voice was distant, farther away.

The man had evaded Cedric and gone directly for her. He gripped her by the back of the neck and dragged her in front of him. Two more men slipped through an open window.

Anne tried to warn him of the others coming up behind him, but the man holding her squeezed her throat. She dug her fingertips into his hand, fighting for breath while the invaders wrestled Cedric to the ground. He couldn’t defend himself, lashing out wildly against unseen foes.

“Don’t fight, Lord Sheridan. I have a blade to your wife’s heart. It would be so easy to slip it between her ribs.”

Cedric ceased his struggles and lay stomach down on the floor, the men pinning his arms and legs.

“Bind him,” the man holding Anne barked. Two men used a coil of rope they had brought with them.

Once bound, Cedric was pulled to his feet. His blank eyes drifted in her direction, but she still couldn’t make a sound. The crushing grasp on her windpipe was too much.

“Take them to the coach, and be quick. Dispatch anyone who sees you. We must get back to port in time for the morning tide.”

The man strangling her then let go, only to strike her across the back of her head, and she knew no more.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Darkness. Damn the everlasting black.

Cedric hung from a rafter in the belly of a ship. At least, that was his best guess. The ropes around his wrists chaffed him where they stretched straight above his head. Whoever had strung him up had given him enough slack to have a sure footing on the floor, which was a good thing because the ship kept pitching and rolling.

The briny smell of seawater and aged wood filled his nose. He tried to think clearly. The last thing he remembered was being attacked in his own ballroom by Samir Al Zahrani, whose voice he would recognize anywhere. Then he’d been ganged up on by a number of his men. Then he’d lost consciousness.

Where was Anne? He called out her name, his voice hoarse and his throat dry.

“Ah. Finally awake, Lord Sheridan?” Samir’s cool voice taunted from somewhere in front of him.

Cedric jerked on the ropes binding him. “Where is my wife?”

Samir chuckled, the sound a little closer. “She is entertaining my men. Fair-skinned ladies fetch a high price, and she is in need of the practice in satisfying multiple men. I left her screaming like the English whore she is.”

Cedric jerked on his wrists, the beam above him creaking slightly.

“You bloody bastard, I’ll kill you!” The roar vibrated through his entire body.

“Do be quiet, or I’ll have the men bring her down so you might hear her screams yourself. Pity you cannot see. The sight of her body breaking might have blinded you.”

Cedric fumed as he clawed at the rope to no avail.

Suddenly something sharp dug into his ribs.

“You once said you had a long line of men ahead of me waiting to kill you, Lord Sheridan. But I’ve never been one to wait my turn. Besides, I owe you a fate worse than death. I can envision much, but I’m willing to settle with my original promise—my mares returned and your life as a eunuch. I’ll give you a few hours to prepare, Lord Sheridan. You might die, if you are lucky.” Samir laughed darkly as he dragged the blade’s edge down Cedric’s body to just above his groin. He didn’t cut Cedric, but the intention was clear.

“Now, stay quiet and I might spare your wife a few hours of my men’s attention.”

Cedric’s heart withered inside.
Oh, God, Anne, my darling
…

A despair like nothing he’d ever felt before overwhelmed him. Loving him had become a death sentence for her. For both of them. They had both found happiness only to have it ripped away. Losing his sight was nothing compared to the crushing bleak truth of what losing Anne would do to him. He slumped in his bonds, giving up. There was no hope. Nothing he could do to save her.

“You are fortunate that my mares were well cared for,” Samir continued. “I might grant you death sooner, as a way to express my gratitude.”

“This is all about the bloody horses? Did you steal them back as well?”

“Soon. They are being kept in Brighton, waiting to be put on a more reliable transport ship back to my country. This vessel is fine for human cargo, but as we both know, my mares deserve much better.”

A scuffle of boots announced someone new had joined them.

“I will join my men upstairs, Lord Sheridan, to take a turn with your wife. If she pleases me, I might keep her for myself. While I’m occupied with her, I wouldn’t want you to become lonely. As it turns out, this fellow here is also familiar with your treacherous ways, as you were once intimately familiar with his sister, a lady’s maid for Lady Poncenby. He has volunteered to give you a sound thrashing.” Samir’s laughter made Cedric tense. He was strung up like a side of beef, unable to defend himself.

He couldn’t prepare himself for the blow to his stomach. His breath whooshed out and he grunted as pain radiated out from that point of contact. Another crushing punch to his chest and he wheezed.

“Enjoy your stay aboard my ship, Lord Sheridan. It will only take us three weeks to get home, I believe.” Samir laughed one more time, and then his booted steps on the stairs eventually faded.

“I swear to you, I never touched a hair on Poncenby’s maid.” There was a decent chance this was true. If he could only remember whether Freddy Poncenby’s mother actually had a comely looking lady’s maid or not.

“Shut up, Cedric,” a voice hissed. “Wait until I’m sure he’s gone.”

It took him a second to recognize it. “Jonathan?”

“Sorry about hitting you. I had to make it look convincing.”

“How in the blazes did you end up on Al Zahrani’s ship?”

Jonathan’s hands brushed over his. There was a rasping sound as the bonds on his wrists were cut. He slumped to the ground, his legs weak after hanging for so long.

“I overheard a few sailors in London discussing a plan to kidnap someone in Brighton. I feared it might be you. There wasn’t time to warn you, so I found a way to hop on the ship.”

“The devil you did!” Cedric was so relieved that he nearly laughed, but he didn’t have time. He struggled to his feet. “We have to find Anne.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find her,” Jonathan said. “You have to take it easy and be careful.”

Cedric frowned. “How many are there on this ship?” he asked. The odds were going against them. They were in the ocean on a ship with Al Zahrani and his crew.

Jonathan must have understood the unspoken question.

“Too many to handle on our own. I sent word to Godric before I left port, but I do not know if the message reached him in time, or what he could do for us now that we’re at sea.”

“Damnation,” Cedric growled. “Where the hell is Ashton and that fleet he’s always talking about?”

A distant cry from above their heads silenced them.

“Ship off the port bow!”

“What?” Cedric and Jonathan said together. They’d heard the shout, but even still he was too afraid to hope.

“Jonathan, I need your help. We must find the powder room. Lead me to it, and then we find Anne.”

He had a plan. It just had to work. He refused to accept any other outcome.

* * * * *

Ashton rode up to Rushton Steading, glancing around at the lack of life inside the house. No groom rushed out to meet him. The hairs prickled on the back of his neck as he slid from the saddle and hastily looped the reins of his horse’s bridle over an iron post by the door.

“Cedric?” he called out and walked up the main steps.

The front door was ajar. Ashton tried to push it open, but it only shifted a few inches. He rammed his shoulder into the door and it finally gave. When he was able to slip inside, he froze at the sight of blood streaking across the floor leading to the body of a young man, the body that had been against the door he’d just forced open. Sean Hartley, the footman, lay half-dead on the floor by the door. Around him lay two corpses of men Ashton didn’t recognize. Their rough clothing and the weapons they still held in their hands identified them as dangerous men.

“My lord.” Sean’s words escaped on a raspy breath.

Ashton removed his hat and clenched his fist in rage as he tried to soothe the younger man. He’d been stabbed and wasn’t long for this world.

“Can you speak, lad? Tell me what happened? Where are the other servants?” In a house this large, they should have been everywhere, seeing to their duties.

“It’s the…sheik.” Sean’s ashen face scrunched with pain. “The staff fled to the Pickering estate…going to find help…safe I think…but they don’t know…” He shuddered, his eyes briefly closing.

“Don’t know what? Where are Lord and Lady Sheridan?” Ashton asked the question, surprised his voice was steady. With the rage burning inside him, he could barely think straight.

“Taken…ship in port. The
Maiden Fair
, heard one of the men say it as they left,” Sean said. Ashton pressed a hand to the young man’s wounds, but he’d lost too much blood. Still, he had to try.

“I’m sorry.” The lad’s eyes began to dim.

“You did well, so well, lad.” Ashton tried to think of what to tell the dying man.

“Aye,” the young man sighed, and his head drooped. It wouldn’t be long now.

Ashton struggled to his feet as a loud clattering outside caught his attention. He moved Sean back from the door, hands trembling as he did so.

“What in God’s name?” Lucien’s voice cut through the haze of rage clouding Ashton’s mind.

Ashton saw Godric, Lucien and Charles in the doorway, staring at him and Sean in shock.

“It’s Al Zahrani. He’s taken Anne and Cedric to a ship called the
Maiden Fair
. They’ll still be docked in Brighton if we’re lucky. We have to go.”

Emily and Horatia followed their husbands inside. Emily gasped and Horatia covered her mouth at the sight of the dying footman.

“Who is that?” Horatia asked.

“His name is Sean, and he fought bravely,” Ashton said. His damned blood-covered hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “The servants have fled. We have to go after Cedric and Anne.”

Charles came over to Ashton and offered a handkerchief to clean the blood off of his hands. Ashton accepted the silent offering, unable to look at Sean again. The lad didn’t deserve to die. His loyalty to Lady Sheridan had gotten him killed.

“Emily,” Godric said. “You and Horatia tend to Sean. Make him comfortable if you can.” Ashton didn’t miss the significant look that passed between Godric and his wife.

“Of course.” Emily took Horatia’s hand and ran to get the necessary supplies.

Once they were gone, it was only the three men in the grand hall.

Another innocent death. Another casualty because of enemies they’d made over the years. Would it ever stop?

Godric headed for the door. “I’ll get fresh horses from the stables.”

Charles knelt by Sean, who looked at him helplessly, and sighed.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, taking the man’s hand. Sean seemed to be having trouble staying conscious. “Listen to me, Sean.
Listen.
We will find them. We will save them. And when we do it will be because of your actions here today. You have done a great thing.”

Emily and Horatia returned with what they needed to tend to Sean’s final moments. Charles stepped back and looked at Ashton, his gray eyes were like dark storm clouds. It was rare to see this side of Charles, the side of the man who’d nearly drowned, instead of the carefree joker they’d come to expect. Fear and anger sparked in his eyes, the only part of him that betrayed his fraying control. As long as they’d been friends, it was these small details that Ashton didn’t miss.

“I have the fastest ships, and one of them is currently in Brighton, ready to sail. If Al Zahrani’s ship is not in dock, we will track it to the ends of the earth if need be.”

Charles rose and clenched his jaw. “And when we find him?”

Ashton’s body was coiled like a tiger ready to strike.

“Then we kill him.”

* * * * *

“I’m surprised you do not remember me, Lady Sheridan.” Samir Al Zahrani took a seat in the spacious cabin’s only chair.

Anne was seated in the corner by the narrow bed, watching him the way she would a venomous snake. She clutched the tattered pieces of her dress to cover her undergarments. She’d been roughly handled, her gown ripped, but so far no one had touched her other than dragging her to this cabin.

“Remember you? Of course I do. You nearly ran me over in Brighton a few days ago.” It had shocked her when she’d woken in the cabin and seen him.

Samir shook his head, leaning back in his chair. Dark eyes like polished onyx, without any warmth, stared back at her. “No. We met before that.”

Anne searched her memory frantically, trying to recall what he meant.

“I tried to steal you away on your estate, but it didn’t work. I struck you hard enough that you must have forgotten me. If I had had the chance, I would have taken you then, and enjoyed knowing Sheridan was robbed of his bride. But waiting has turned out so much better. I have you both, and the punishment will be much more satisfying than I could have envisioned.”

Anne closed her eyes, trying remember that awful night when she’d fallen down that hill onto the rocky bank of Cedric’s lake, wounded by a blow to the head. She’d believed she’d stumbled and struck her head. But it had been him. Opening her eyes, she raised her gaze to meet his. She knew what sort of man he was from Cedric’s story, a slave trader. Anne had lived her life bottling up emotions, and now she was ready to unleash them upon this soulless creature that did not deserve the life he’d been given.

Samir didn’t miss her changing attitude.

“I always believed fine English ladies were gently bred. Too sweet and weak. Yet there is fire in your eyes.” He laughed softly and clapped his hands together. “It will be a great joy to break you. And even more rewarding to do so in front of your husband.”

It took every ounce of her self-control not to lash out at him. She wouldn’t win in a direct struggle. Surprise was her only ally. The question was how to accomplish a distraction so surprise would be available to her.

“You are the man he bested at cards. The
slave
trader. A beast among men.” That story she’d been told at Emily’s house seemed so long ago. So much had happened since then. So much had changed.

Samir stood and struck her across the face. Pain exploded where his palm connected. She flinched back, expecting him to come at her again. She wiped a hand over her mouth and tasted the tangy acidic taste of blood. Samir paced away from her, then turned back, his eyes twin burning coals.

“You are testing me, trying to provoke me to kill you. It will not work. I mean to enjoy this.” His smile cut to the bone. “I mean to enjoy you.”

The taste of blood lingered in her mouth, a hint of the torture she knew that was to come if she couldn’t buy herself time.

“You do not know much about my husband, do you?” she asked. “If you did, you would not be so confident right now. You’d be looking out that window, worrying.”

That caught Samir’s attention, but he said nothing.

“My husband is a member of the League of Rogues.”

Samir seemed a little confused. “Rogues? Does that not mean criminal?”

“It means they do not play by the rules. I doubt you’ve ever heard of them. If you had, you would know what sort of man you are dealing with.”