Rogue of the Isles (40 page)

Mari took another breath as the room slowly stopped spinning. Other things were beginning to fall in place. Nicholas’s sudden appearance in London’s social Season and his seeming disinterest in anyone except her, how seemingly eager he had been to pay her court. The maneuvering he had done—trying to create scandal that would ensure her ruin, forcing her to accept his proposal. Mari remembered all his flowery phrases and flattering compliments. She had believed each and every one of them, while criticizing Jamie for not being the cultured, refined gentleman. Shame crept over her. She had been stupid to believe all of Nicholas’s lies. She had been even more stupid not to appreciate Jamie for what he was.

Jamie. He had never gotten her message. He didn’t know she loved him.

Wesley laughed as tears sprang to her eyes, and he stuffed the gag back into her mouth, tying a cloth around it before walking to the door. “I’m going to get more whisky,” he said, “but don’t worry. Nicholas should be here shortly. I understand he is a bit vexed, so I expect taking your precious maidenhead might be quite painful, and things might get rather bloody when he shoves his cock into your ass, but you did ask for such treatment, didn’t you?”

He chuckled again when Mari tried to answer and only made a muffled sound. “Then it will be my turn.”

Jamie drew his dirk when someone banged loudly on his door. He nearly dropped it in surprise when he saw Mari’s aunt with Effie and a young stable boy standing in the hallway. The hair at his nape stood on end. “What is wrong?” he asked as he stood aside to let them enter.

“Marissa has been abducted,” Agnes said without preamble when he’d closed the door.

“What? How? Has there been a ransom note?”

Mari’s aunt blinked as rapidly as Jamie’s succession of questions, tears brimming. “There has not been a ransom note yet. I think Seth can better explain what happened.”

Frowning, Jamie turned to the boy, who looked frightened enough to swoon, and forced himself not to bark a command. “Tell me what ye ken, son.”

The boy swallowed hard, his eyes darting to Effie who nodded before he looked back at Jamie. “Lady Barclay paid me to bring you a letter.”

“A letter? When was this?”

“This morning, a little before noon.” Seth’s voice trembled, and he took a step backward. “A man took it from me before I could fight him. I am sorry, sir.”

Jamie wondered if the lad was afraid of him. He squatted down to be on the boy’s level. “’Tis nae yer fault if ye were accosted. What happened?” Seth looked up at him doubtfully. Jamie forced himself to smile. “Go on. Tell me all of it.”

When the lad finished, Jamie stood, the cold, calm concentration that took over in battle manifesting. Someone had hired two killers to attack him earlier, and apparently the townhouse had been watched if someone had followed the boy here to the boardinghouse and then seen fit to try and kill the young lad to silence him. Jamie’s every instinct told him the Frenchman was involved, although now that Mari had made her choice, there would be no reason for him to be. Mari had probably written the letter to let Jamie know of her betrothal, so why was it so important he not get it?

“Have you notified Algernon yet?” Jamie asked Agnes.

She shook her head. “Marissa told me this morning she had declined Mr. Algernon’s offer to marry her last night.”

“
What
?” Jamie’s heart stuttered, and he was sure he had not heard correctly. Mari had turned the French bastard down?

“She came home early from the ball and said she was not feeling well. Since I had a horrible headache, she waited until this morning to tell me.” Agnes’s eyes widened. “You do not think Mr. Algernon had something to do with this?”

“I think the damn—excuse me—Frenchman has everything to do with it,” Jamie said as he checked the two dirks in his belt and the
sgian dubh
in his boot. Taking the huge claymore from a hook on the wall, he strapped the scabbard to his back while Seth’s eyes grew big and round. “I think I’ll pay him a visit.”

He strode out, feeling more elated than he had been since their return to London. Mari had made her choice. Now Jamie was free to pursue any method of persuasion to convince her of his love. He could think of one beginning with finishing what they’d started that snowy morning in Scotland. Jamie touched the weapons on his belt. Come hell-fire or high water, he would find her.

Mari was
his
.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Mari stared at the door Wesley Alton had just locked. The filthy cloth in her mouth made her want to gag, and she tried moving it with her tongue to no avail. Forcing herself to remain calm, she tried to think. She had no idea how long it would be before Nicholas arrived. She
had
to get out.

Mari looked around for some sharp object Wesley may have left. There were probably knives in the drawer, but she was bound to the chair, unable to stand or open a drawer. Her eyes rested on the empty liquor bottle sitting on the lopsided coffee table. It was about the right height for her bonds. Could she somehow break the bottle and use a piece of glass to saw through the rope on her wrists?

Desperately, she began to inch forward, a slow process since the chair was heavy and the floorboards uneven. The ticking of the clock grew louder—or maybe it was her own heart pounding—but the sound made Mari all too aware that time was passing much too quickly and her process was tediously slow.

She glanced anxiously at the door. Nicholas had been angry last night, but she had not thought he would do something as drastic as arrange an abduction. But then she had not known he was Wesley Alton’s son either. Did madness run in families? Even if it did not, she knew Nicholas hated Jamie enough to make taking her virginity pure revenge. Mari shuddered. She had no misgivings about Wesley either, knowing Jillian had come close to being raped by the man as well. Ian had saved Jillian.

Jamie had no idea Mari was even in danger.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears, making her sinuses swell and threatening to close off her air supply. Mari stifled the sobs, having no time to waste on self-pity. She had been an absolute fool, but she would dwell on that later.

Finally, after what seemed like long, long minutes, she made her way to the small table. Alternating trying to lift her seat and shuffling her feet, she managed to turn the chair around so her hands were in position. Craning her neck to look over her shoulder, she stretched her fingers toward the bottle.

It was out of reach.

Had she been able, she would have screamed in frustration. Mari tried maneuvering the chair closer to the table and caught her skirt on the splintered side.
Drat it!
She tried pulling away and then she stopped. Maybe she could use the splintered edge? She placed her hands alongside the fragmented piece, praying it would work, and began to saw at her ties.

Tick. Tick. Tick.
The clock droned on.

Mari heard footsteps outside, and she stopped breathing. Had Nicholas arrived or was Wesley returning already? She had no idea how much time had elapsed.

The footsteps moved on. Her breath returned and she kept working.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Mari finally felt the rope begin to give a little and tried to remember what Jamie had told Robin and Joseph to do the day he’d trained them on getting out of bonds. She wished she had paid more attention to what Jamie had said rather than watching how the muscles in his arms flexed when he moved.

Something about drawing in the thumbs to make the hands smaller…

Mari forced her hands to relax, slowly tucking her thumbs into her palms and folding her fingers over each other. She began to rub her wrists together, pushing against the slight loosening the frayed rope allowed. Feeling one hand begin to slip past the other wrist, she tugged while continuing to scrape against the rough edge of the table.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

This had to work. One of her palms was almost even with the other wrist now. Maybe just a little more…

Footsteps sounded outside again. Two people this time. Mari hacked faster on the rope.
Please Lord, don’t let it be them.
One more frantic tug, and the rope gave way. Nearly crying with relief, she jerked her hands loose and removed the gag. The footsteps had passed. Mari made quick work of untying the rope around her waist and stood, whimpering a little at the stinging sensation in her legs. She stumbled toward the door and opened it cautiously. The road directly in front of the tenement was clear save for the couple who had gone by—a sailor and a doxy.

Mari stepped out and ran in the opposite direction.

“Where is she?” Hand on his dirk, Jamie pushed past Nicholas, sweeping the sitting room with a glance, taking in an easel, drawing table and minimal furniture. The door to the bedroom stood ajar, and he detected no movement or sound there.

“Am I supposed to invite you in?”

“I’m already
in.
Where is she?”

Nicholas gave him a cold look. “I do not recall inviting you here, Highlander.”

“Do I look like I give a damn whether ye
invited
me?” Jamie tightened his hand on the dirk handle. “For the last time, where is Mari?”

“I have no idea. We had a bit of an argument last night.”

“She broke things off with ye,” Jamie replied.

“Then why would you think she would be here?”

Jamie resisted the urge to put his fist in the Frenchman’s smug face. “Mari is missing, and we suspect she has been abducted.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “You do not seriously think I had something to do with that?”

The bastard didn’t seem surprised. Even worse, he didn’t sound concerned either. “I think ye had everything to do with it.”

Nicholas shrugged. “You are entitled to your opinion. You have stated it, so please leave.”

“Not until ye tell me where Mari has been taken.”

“Really, this is getting quite tiresome. You have no proof she has even been abducted. The girl does not hold to convention. She probably decided to go off on her own to some place.”

“I’d be of a mind to explore that thought except young Seth turned up soaking wet and mud-drenched from being dumped in the Thames,” Jamie said, watching Nicholas’s eyes. They dilated ever so slightly, a sure sign he knew more than he said.

But Nicholas merely shrugged again. “Boys fall into rivers all the time.”

“He didnae
fall
in. The lad was knocked on the head delivering a letter to me.” Jamie kept watching Nicholas’s eyes. “One man took the note, the other dragged young Seth off.” Was that a slight twitch to the right the bastard made? Jamie let his own gaze slant. A wool overcoat lay crumpled on the floor near the drawing table. Sticking out from under it was a walking cane and something that looked like grey hair. He frowned. Why would—intuition hit him like the hilt of a claymore. The
elderly
gentleman he’d seen earlier hurrying along the street with no obvious need for the cane he carried had been Nicholas. Jamie met Nicholas’s gaze. “Well, now. Young Seth described his attackers.” He pointed to the clothing. “The one with grey hair was wearing that coat and carrying that cane.”

Nicholas snarled and lunged at him. Jamie blocked the blow with his left arm, smacking his right fist into the Frenchman’s jaw. Nicholas lurched sideways, grabbed the poker near the hearth and advanced, thrusting as though it were a sword. Jamie eyed him steadily. The poker wasn’t a bad weapon, but the blunt end would do little harm the way Nicholas wielded it. Jamie sidestepped and spun, drawing the huge claymore from its scabbard as he did. He swung it in a figure eight as he moved toward Nicholas, backing him toward the wall. A second swipe knocked the poker from the Frenchman’s hands and a third had the point of the big sword under Nicholas’s chin.

“Now let’s talk,” Jamie said.

She was free. Giddy with relief, Mari hurried down the street hardly believing she had escaped. She would have had no idea how to loosen bonds if she hadn’t listened to Jamie when he’d instructed the footmen, nor would she have had the wits to look for something besides an obvious knife to cut the ropes had it not been for Jamie stressing survival skills over and over again. Never again would Mari dismiss his ideas as silly or think him overly protective—and she planned to tell him so as soon as she saw him. Soon…

Mari slowed and looked around. She had no idea where she was. From the dilapidated row houses lining the road, she knew it was a rough neighborhood at best, a place where ruffians and louts and thieves probably lived—possibly even cutthroats as well. Even as she pondered, a door of a nearby house swung open on uneven hinges and a sluggard lurched out, dressed only in breeches and filthy undershirt. He leered at her, clearly quite foxed. Mari quickened her pace. She needed to get off the street before she ran into more vermin or worse, Wesley or Nicholas.

The Thames could not be far. She had heard the noise from warehouses on the other side of the place where Wesley had taken her. If she reached the river, she could follow it until she came upon something familiar or, better yet, found a hack for hire that would take her home. Home to Jamie.

Turning down a side street, she soon heard the sound of sloshing water hitting pier pilings. Rounding the corner, she came to a wharf where three dockhands were securing a skiff. “Could you help me please?” she called out. “I seem to be lost.”