He's No Prince Charming (Ever After) (7 page)

With a nausea-inducing jolt, he realized he was more like his father than he ever cared to admit. With shaking hands, he took a drink to dull the painful thoughts.

Ignoring Miss Green’s reproving stare, he glanced back into the bedroom. He knew of the girls’ personalities only through
ton
rumor. He believed the one least likely to give him trouble was Ginny, or the Ninny, as society had dubbed her. He silently approached her bedside, Danni at his heels. He glanced at Ginny’s dark red mane peaking out the top of the sheets. She would do. He needed only her money. He hoped she wouldn’t mind being married to him when he told her he wasn’t looking for an heir. Ginny was still young, and he wouldn’t care if she had an affair. Marcus thought she could be content with him. Perhaps…eventually.

“Her.” Even to him, his whisper sounded forced.

Miss Green grabbed her sack from him and dug around inside. She pulled out a small vile and a cotton cloth. They stood on opposite sides of Ginny’s bed. “What is that?”

“It’s soaked in an herb solution. It will put her to sleep.”

“She is asleep.”

She rolled her eyes. “And do you suppose she will stay asleep when we move her?”

Marcus had to agree she had a point. Sighing, he pulled down the covers, revealing a pair of wide, terrified blue eyes. Ginny’s mouth opened wide to scream
. Damn it.

He clamped his hand down, halting the sound. Miss Green let out a groan, quickly handing him the now wet cloth. Marcus forced what he hoped was a reassuring smile to his lips as he lifted the cloth to Ginny’s face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Her eyes widened even further and she began to tremble. He feared he didn’t have the stomach to see this through, but he had to save Caro. Suddenly, Ginny’s eyes rolled back in her head and her body went limp before he had even placed the cloth over her mouth and nose.

“What happened?” He panicked. Could he have hurt her unintentionally?

“She must have fainted.”

Miss Green looked uncertain and then shrugged. “Do it anyway.”

Determination coursed through him as he held the rag to her face for a few moments. Satisfied, he stuffed it in his coat pocket. “Hush, but move quickly!”

She was already packing up her bag as Marcus began to lift Ginny. With a grunt, he pulled the girl up and tossed her over his shoulder. He groaned as he lifted her. He really shouldn’t have drunk so much.

“Shhhhh,” Danni hissed.

“Ugh, I’ll never be able to carry her all the way. I’m afraid I might drop her.”

Miss Green gave him a considering look, her eyes skimming over his body. He felt himself warm a little under such close scrutiny. He hated to think she was looking at his face.

“What are we going to do?”

Marcus grunted, his mind already assessing the possibilities. Then his gaze landed on the moonlight. He followed it to the window, and then glanced at the sack in her hand. “You have the rope, right?”

“Never leave home without it.”

“I’ll lower her out the window.”

Miss Green glanced from the small window back to the girl. “I don’t know if that is a good idea.”

“Nonsense, it’s brilliant.”

Marcus quickly tied the rope around their victim’s chest. He fashioned it into a type of harness, padding it with sheets and a dark-colored shawl found at the end of her bed. Miss Green stepped back, allowing him easy access to the window.

Easing the window open, he carefully positioned the woman on the sill. Danni then stepped closer to help. Their bodies brushed tantalizingly against each other. His skin tightened under his coat. He gulped against the sudden rush of heat throughout his body.

Burying his desire next to his past, he gently slipped Ginny from the window frame. Danni stepped closer and helped him carefully ease the girl out the window. When she slipped out the frame, Marcus released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Danni’s soft grunt echoed his. He was about to step back to take control of the rope and ease Miss Foley-Foster to the ground when the rustling of movement reached his ears. He froze, halting Miss Foley-Foster’s progress out the window.

Please, please, let it just be someone turning over in their sleep.

W
hat is it
now
?”

Marcus waved away Danni’s comment, holding his free hand up to his lips. He waited for her nod before he shifted his gaze about the room. Just as before, six girls remained in their beds. None seemed in a different position and he could not see the flash of gleaming eyes in the hazy moonlit room. Fear gripped him more fiercely than it had in a very long time. His heart pounded against his lungs, making it almost impossible to breathe. His shaking palms heated with sweat. God, he needed a drink.

Danni motioned silently with a questioning tilt to her head. He shook his head. Nothing.

The rope tied to poor Miss Foley-Foster cut into the flesh of his hands. Ignoring the discomfort, he stepped closer to the edge and braced himself against the window frame. Hand over hand, he inched the girl to the ground, careful not to let her bump against the side of the house. With a soft thud, she landed on the lawn. Marcus turned to Danni, who was staring intently through the gloom at the beds again. He sent her a curious look.

The fear in her face told him all he needed.

Marcus nodded and gestured to the rope.

Danni glanced behind her at the beds one more time before grabbing her sack. Marcus stepped aside to allow her to go first. No bickering this time. She tied her pack on her back and grabbed the rope. Swinging her legs out the window, she eased down as fast as she could maneuver. Marcus stepped close to the sill again, watching her quickly shimmy down. A fission of fear brushed his spine. What if she fell?

He had just begun to envision himself being discovered in this bedroom late at night with one unconscious daughter and the broken body of Miss Green below, when tugs on the rope indicated she had jumped safely to the ground. He could barely see her move to untie Miss Foley-Foster. After another panicked scan around the bedroom to reassure himself all was well, he searched for something to anchor the rope for his own descent. The room housed only one item that would hold his weight. He quickly fastened it around a large wardrobe, knowing it would considerably shorten its length. Easing himself out the window, he slid down the rope, burning his palms in his haste. He couldn’t leave Danni alone with their captive longer than necessary. He still couldn’t trust what she would do. She was a wild card in a plan full of pitfalls.

Sure enough, when Marcus reached the ground, Danni was beside the woman, trying to wake her. No doubt she planned to slow down their escape. Glaring at her, he struggled to lift the girl’s dead weight and lumbered awkwardly towards the hidden gate. Danni followed close on his heels. Now that they were almost home free, they couldn’t move fast enough.

Once they were hidden in the darkness of the alley, Marcus slipped Miss Foley-Foster off his shoulder. He straightened his strained back before leaning against the cool wall and heaved a broken breath. He reached for his flask, desperate for the hot flow of liquor in his veins. He focused to steady his trembling hands. He’d done it. He’d actually kidnapped a woman.

He felt like hell.

When Danni managed to regain control over her own nerves, she whispered shakily, hiding her fear with a disdainful glare at the whiskey flask.

“Do you think anyone saw us? I thought one of them might have woken.”

“No, but…” Marcus swallowed a burning mouthful of golden courage. “If anyone did, I doubt they’ll be a problem.”

“What about a description?”

Marcus paused, turning over her words. “Unlikely. What could they say? A monster and a leprechaun stole their sister?”

Danni smirked mournfully as the full impact of her crime hit home. Her gaze shifted the sleeping heap of Miss Foley-Foster.

“You
still
plan to take her to Gretna Green?”

He glanced suspiciously at Danni. Gulping another mouthful, he said, “The deed is done. Why shouldn’t I?”

“I am getting out of here, then. I’ll just see you off. Phillip will not protest overmuch.”

He smiled at his unwilling partner with condescending fondness. She was a fool if she thought he would allow her to stay in London to raise the alarm. Marcus knew she was bold enough to foolishly march up to the front door of the admiral’s house and sound the alarm the minute their carriage turned the corner. No, she was coming with them, one way or another.

His mind turned over the possibilities, trying to identify the best way to force her into compliance. With a frown, he glanced down at Miss Foley-Foster, staggered to his feet, and heaved her into his arms.

The idea came to him just as they entered the light around the traveling carriage. Phillip hopped down from his perch, his eyes bugging at the body Marcus carried. “Oh! Please do not tell me you did what I think you did!”

Danni ignored the driver, opening the door of the carriage. The coachman did not cease, his voice rising in panic. “Miss Danni! I thought you were only jesting when you said you were kidnapping someone!”

“Hush, Phillip! We are only borrowing her for a little bit. There won’t be a problem.”

The man snorted, sending Marcus dirty glances. “It’s
his
doing, isn’t it? Women simply have no sense to avoid men’s corrupting influence.”

Marcus placed Miss Foley-Foster comfortably in the coach before he stepped close to Phillip. He dropped his voice an octave, using everything about him that stirred up fear. “You will cease this prattle this moment, or I shall eat you!”

Phillip turned silent and pale, and shrank back in terror. It never ceased to amaze him that people thought he would do it. The effect was ruined by Danni’s ill-timed snort of disbelief. “Oh, yes, Phillip. He’ll boil you and add a bit of salt to ensure taste.”

He glanced at Phillip’s smirking form before turning to Danni, who was wrapping Miss Foley-Foster in a traveling blanket.

“I hope you realize I was trying to defend you, madam.”

She barely spared him a glance. “I do not need any assistance when dealing with my employees, my lord. Now enter the carriage, please. You must depart.”

Marcus clenched his fists, suppressing his anger. Sticking a hand in his pocket, he found the handkerchief he’d used on Miss Foley-Foster. In the same instant he found relief that it had not been lost during their escapade, he feared there would not be enough sleeping draft left on it to have its proper effect. But it was his only real option at the moment.

He approached her from behind as she tucked Miss Foley-Foster’s feet under the blanket. Marcus gripped her body tightly against his, ignoring the scent of roses on her skin, and pressed the cloth roughly over her nose, whispering in her ear, “So sorry, but I can’t let you tell anyone until we’re far enough away.”

Her response was a sharp elbow to his ribs. Marcus grunted, but it was a feeble effort, as the drug had already won. She collapsed back against him. He quickly placed her in the coach, next to Miss Foley-Foster. He staggered back, his mind wild. After a frantic search, he pulled out his flask, draining half its contents. Another crime, against another woman. What was he turning into?

Phillip’s weak whimper drew his attention. He was staring at him, frozen into immobility like a rabbit caught in a hunter’s trap. He barked at the man, “Gretna Green!”

The servant glanced at his mistress before scrambling up into the driver’s seat. Marcus gently placed a lap rug over Danni’s legs. He climbed in, shut the door, and took the opposite bench. The carriage lurched forward. Marcus sagged back into place, exhausted. The hardest part was done. Now they just had to make it to the little town in Scotland without getting caught.

Should be easy.

Griselda, or, as she was affectionately called, Grisly, quickly pushed back her covers and inched her way across her bed. She slipped off the end, her small feet tangling in her sisters’ hand-me-down dressing gown. The cold of the floor seeped into her soles as she fought free of the fabric. It didn’t help that she was violently trembling. She finally rushed to the window, her braided rope of bright red hair swaying from side to side.

At the high sill, she realized she was too short to see out. Her blue-gray eyes fell on the small bookcase in the corner. Padding back and forth, she piled the books as fast as she could until she could see down through the open window properly. The book stack tilted beneath her, but held. Griselda watched as her elder sister was roughly carried across the garden below towards the hidden gate. Moments later, she heard a fiercely ordered “Gretna Green!” barked into the night, and the rush of a carriage headed north along the road leading away from her home.

She glared at the vanishing carriage from her window, her infamous temper rising. Grisly could barely think through the red haze. She realized what she had to do. Someone had come and stolen Ginny away. No one was going to take her sister where she didn’t want to go.

Determined, she kicked the train of her gown free of her feet before hopping off the stack. She glared at each of her sisters in bed, annoyed they had slept through such a horrid event. Stamping her foot, she drew in a deep breath. She was going to do exactly what the admiral did when he wanted the attention of his gaggle of girls—yell.

“Wake up! Someone’s taken Ginny!”

I
hate you!”

The booming voice bounded around inside Danni’s head like a cannon shot. Groaning, she moved to cradle her splitting skull, but another hand beat her to it. A cool compress rested gently on her brow, moving slowly back and forth to soothe the pain. Unbidden, a sigh escaped her lips. The pain dulled from the cold.

A second hand came beneath her neck, the rough warmth supporting her as a tin pressed to her bottom lip. The tang of metaled water filled her mouth, coating it in iciness. She shuddered, pressing back into the warm hand, the water traveling down her throat and into the pit of her roiling stomach.

Another shriek of anger made her wince, erasing the soothing effects of the water and compress. Despite the ruckus, the rough fingers at the nape of her neck began to move in small circles over her muscles. Another sigh escaped her, her skin tingling with pleasure at the foreign touch. No one had ever done this for her before. The feeling was heavenly.

“I hate you! I bloody hate you!”

A fresh wave of irritation shot through her. She moaned in anger. Whoever was yelling needed to stop. She attempted to open her eyes, but the morning light was blinding in its intensity. Danni immediately slammed her lids shut, hating feeling sick and weak. Her world rocked roughly back and forth, jostling her and the contents of her stomach.

Tin pressed to her mouth again. She drank greedily, even though her mouth felt like cotton and her tongue seemed too big for her mouth. Turning towards the source of the hands, she rested her head on a corded arm. The contrast of coolness and heated skin sent a peculiar heat rising inside her. Clutching her stomach, she feared she was sicker than she’d thought.

“I will hate you forever!”

Gritting her teeth, Danni tried to rise with her eyes still held tightly shut, but a particularly violent bump threw her back down. Her confused brain registered its first fact. She was in a moving coach. She clutched her stomach as the contents of her stomach sloshed again, trying to swallow down the rising tide and fighting to keep her dignity. She smacked her lips to generate more moisture to swallow. The cold edge of what she assumed was a canteen pressed again to her mouth.

“I hate your hell-ridden guts!”

A pained grunt sounded above after the exclamation. She thought it was odd someone should keep yelling like that. Her brow knitted as her mind started to work again. The yelling and the roll of a carriage didn’t fit with her apparent illness. She should be at home being cared for…

With a rush her memories flooded back to consciousness. The blackmail. The kidnapping. The goddamn window. And the…

Danni sat bolt upright, forgetting her still unsettled state. Her eyes felt gritty and achy against the bright sunshine. She had to squint against it and what she saw made her lips stretch in an upward curl.

Fleetwood was crouching on the floor of the carriage, a wet cloth and flask in hand. His green eyes were weary and intense as they stared her down, daring her not to laugh. Behind him was Miss Ginny Foley-Foster. Her nightgown was hiked scandalously above her knees, her back pressed against the opposite side of the carriage, allowing her to brace her feet on Marcus’s back, which she was currently stomping repeatedly against. “I hate you, you plague-infested beast! You drugged me!”

With a long-suffering sigh, Fleetwood handed Danni the flask, his voice worn as he spoke. “You’d better drink this. It helped Miss Foley-Foster recover remarkably well.”

Danni bit back her smile, rubbing her aching brow. She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “How long ago was that?”

“Two hours.”

A short bark of laughter escaped Danni as she swallowed another generous sip of water. She glanced again at Ginny, who was lost in the rage of her temper tantrum, continuously kicking and flailing about. Her fiery hair hung wildly about her, her eyes like raging sapphires set in a blazing red face.

“Go to hell, you hated devil!”

Despite his obvious pain, Fleetwood grimaced sheepishly, giving Danni a playful look. “I think it’s safe to assume she hates me.”

She stifled another smile. His tired look tugged at some place near her heart. It was unsettling and best forgotten. “It would seem that London’s Ninny has a temper.”

Fleetwood’s response was another grumble. Danni glanced down at the canteen. She took another healthy swallow; the water eased the effects of the drug. Staring down at the water, she let anger slip into her voice as she spoke, unable to resist the dig. “I trust this isn’t drugged as well?”

Fleetwood grunted as Miss Foley-Foster landed a particularly good kick. “If it was, I’d be giving it to her.”

Danni frowned, surprised at this teasing side of him. She’d seen him only as a bully. He still was, in fact. So why did she want to laugh? Had the shared experience of kidnapping bonded them? Was she as bad as he now? She sniffed at him.
Impossible.

At the sound, his green eyes darkened and his face shuttered. With perverse pleasure at the sight, she glared intently, rallying her temper. She would not have any soft feelings for him. Not for a man who had now drugged and kidnapped her as well. Before, she was just angry at his manipulation. Now he’d added a physical attack. She glared. “You didn’t have to kidnap me, too,
my lord
.”

His own gaze narrowed, a disbelieving snort escaping him. “And let you walk up to the house and alert everyone before I could get out of London?”

She crossed her arms. Why couldn’t he be lack-witted, the drunken sot! It would make everything so much easier. As she glared, a smug smile emerged on his face. He knew he’d beaten her. She hated him.

“Damn you, Fleetwood.”

“Oh! That’s a nice word!” They both turned a surprised look to their captive. They hadn’t even been aware she had quieted and was raptly listening to them. At their mutual attention, she resumed her tirade. “Damn you! I hate you both!”

Danni glanced back at Fleetwood, who managed to shrug despite the abuse to his back. She watched him wince as a kick landed in the same spot twice. Enough was enough.

“Miss Foley-Foster.” Danni tried to talk calmly to her, but the girl ignored her. Sighing, she shouted sharply. “Enough!”

The girl halted for a moment, glancing at her with surprise. The cease-fire was all Fleetwood needed. He spun on his feet and caught the girl’s feet in his hands. She squirmed, trying to claw at his face. Her blue eyes were wide with panic. Danni could understand her fear; the poor thing had no idea what was going to happen to her and Fleetwood was a very frightening man.

Striving for patience, she moved to the opposite seat and caught the girl’s hands in hers. Miss Foley-Foster’s eyes widened and pooled with tears. “No one is going to hurt you, Ginny. May I call you Ginny?”

She nodded silently, obviously too overcome with fear to utter a word. “All right, Ginny. My name is Danielle Green and this is Marcus Bradley, Marquis of Fleetwood.”

Ginny glanced incredulously at Fleetwood before looking back at Danni. “If you promise to stop hitting his lordship, we’ll let your feet go and he will sit on the opposite side of the carriage from you. How does that sound?”

The fear slowly crept away from Ginny’s eyes, only to be replaced by a slight narrowing, the sure sign of a scheming mind. Danni wanted to stand and applaud the girl.

“I’ll stop hitting him.”

Fleetwood let go and fell back in the opposite seat with relief. The moment Danni loosened her grip, Ginny raised her foot and kicked Fleetwood in the face. He let out a howl of pain and cupped his hands over his bruised nose.

“Now I’m done.”

Danni froze in shock. She had sincerely not expected the girl to act quite so quickly. Part of her wanted to cheer, but when she looked at Fleetwood, the more sensible part of her wanted to run for safety. He rose from his seat, letting go of the nose he’d been holding. His eyes blazed with deadly fire as blood trickled from a nostril. His lips peeled back, revealing snapping teeth. A growl rolled from deep within his throat. He appeared a true beast in that moment.

Ginny still lay prone on the seat, frozen in terror. She was no longer spitting with fury. Instead, tears leaked slowly down her face. Danni was terrified, too. But she’d be damned if she let Fleetwood hurt the girl, not after all the trouble they went through to get her. Shoring up her courage, Danni threw herself between them. Ginny caught hold of her and roughly shifted to hide more securely behind her, using Danni as a shield. So much for cheering this girl’s gumption, Danni thought wryly, as Ginny’s nails painfully pierced skin.

“Get back! I will not let you hurt her.”

He paused, his body subtly jerking. If Danni hadn’t been watching for a sudden move from him, she’d have missed it. Something akin to hurt flashed in his green depths before a snarl of frustration escaped him. “Move, woman.”

Danni shifted position, determined to stand her ground. His hands clenched into fists, his chest and body heaved with barely contained emotions. He radiated animalistic power. Suddenly, his fist unclenched and he caught hold of her. Danni gasped with surprise as his calloused hands encircled her upper arms. He held firm, tight enough that she couldn’t wiggle free, but not hurting her.

Without seeming to expend any effort, he lifted her, turned within the tight coach quarters, and tossed her roughly on the seat next to him. Danni was too confused to do anything but remain there. She’d never been manhandled in such a way. She wanted to spout her outrage, but knew that moment had passed. Their gazes met in silence and held for a second too long. His rage was gone. He seemed spent, and did she see regret, even hurt, in his eyes?

Fleetwood turned abruptly towards Ginny. Fear rushed back into her ashen face at the sudden onslaught of his attention. Her eyes widened and freckles darkened against her alarming pallor. He loomed over the girl’s quaking form, his voice low with fury. “I will not hurt you.”

He brusquely tossed her the shawl Danni had stuck in the coach earlier. Ginny watched him as prey would watch a predator.

He cleared his throat, his anger still present but much more restrained. “Do not kick me again, madam.”

Ginny’s hands caught hold of the shawl, tugging it tightly about her. Her large eyes scanned Fleetwood, her mind clearly turning over his words.

In the silence, Fleetwood rested back in the coach seat next to Danni, head down, hands clasped between his open knees. He sighed deeply.

“I do not wish to hurt you, Miss Foley-Foster. I know I have no right to ask it of you, but would you please do me the courtesy of not judging me by my appearance.”

Danni watched in wonder at the rapid transformation from beast to a seemingly broken man. She was certain Ginny was going to reject him outright, to tell him to go to hell. But she did not.

“It is your behavior, sir, that I am currently judging you by, not your appearance.” She paused, her voice taking on a thoughtful note. “But I do understand false masks.”

He gave her a long, quiet look, as if deciding whether to believe her words or not. He slowly nodded and settled back in his seat.

Danni sat in stunned disbelief, trying to digest what she’d just witnessed.

She’d never considered that something like a peace treaty might be formed between these two parties. She had been certain that Ginny would remain a furious, hapless victim until the end of this wretched play.

She glanced back and forth between the two—each silently staring out the same window, each wearing expressions of thoughtful repose.

Ginny leaned back against the carriage seat, blue eyes rimmed red with tears and wide with stress. Her red hair tumbled loosely over her shoulder, wild-looking from her attempts to harm Fleetwood. She clutched at her purple and orange shawl as if it were armor. A sharp pain pricked Danni’s heart at the girl’s pale and exhausted face.

Her gaze flicked to Fleetwood, lingering. Scars marred otherwise handsome features. Lines of weariness crisscrossed his drawn cheeks. His eyes were sunken, defeated, vulnerable.

Why didn’t the idea of Fleetwood and Ginny together sit well with her?

“Did I break it?”

Ginny’s voice broke Danni’s disturbing thoughts. Her gaze was fastened on Fleetwood’s nose, which he’d taken a rag to moments before. His set face turned towards hers, a slight shake the only indication that it hadn’t been.

The relief with which Ginny sank against the seat was palpable. “I know I should not care since you kidnapped me from my bed, but I’ve never hurt anyone before.”

Fleetwood barely nodded again. Danni was starting to feel a pinch of annoyance at him. The poor girl was trying to talk to him, and after his earlier attempt at reconciliation, he was not being accommodating to her awkward apology.

Ginny drew a strand of long hair between her fingers, quickly wrapping it about in her nervousness. “What is to become of me? Am I to be held for ransom? Are you after the secrets of the Admiralty? I can assure you I don’t know anything about my father’s work.”

Fleetwood’s gaze locked on Ginny’s. He tensed, as if expecting a blow, but remained silent. He slowly met Danni’s eyes, and then reached quickly for his flask. Danni couldn’t wait any longer. The poor girl had a right to know her future.

“He plans to marry you in Gretna, Ginny.”

Her eyes widened in shock, darting from Danni to Fleetwood. “Pardon?”

“His lordship is in need of money and you have a very large dowry.”

“No! I cannot marry like this!”

Danni shot Fleetwood a lethal scowl at the girl’s wail, but he wasn’t looking at Ginny or Danni. He was staring out the window, gulping another deep draft from the flask.

“Please,” she begged, “do not make me marry you, my lord. Use me as ransom instead. Then you will have the funds you need.”