Sin With a Scoundrel: The Husband Hunters Club (26 page)

Chapter 37

R
ichard began to kiss her, desperate to return to the heady days he’d spent with her at Arlington Hall, when his life finally looked to be sailing out of rougher seas and into calmer waters. She seemed more than willing to oblige him, and as he cupped her breast through her nightgown, stroking the taut nipple, she moaned softly.

Suddenly neither of them was able to bear clothing between them, and he was tugging at her nightgown while she was tearing at his shirt, both frantic in their efforts to be naked. Their mouths fused, hot and needy, and he grasped the soft globes of her bottom and drew her against him, so that she could feel the rigid length of his erection.

She was already wet and ready for him, and moments later he was entering her. She welcomed him in, hooking her leg over his hip and pushing against him. The sideways position was new to her, but she didn’t seem to be fazed by it, not his Tina.

“Marvelous girl,” he gasped, his mouth open against her breast, suckling her as she let her head fall back and moaned in ecstasy.

“Splendid man,” she managed, and then one more thrust and she was shattering around him, her body quivering while he groaned into the soft place between her shoulder and neck, one of the places he’d been dreaming of these past few days.

It was over all too soon for Richard’s liking.

She curled against him, as if she wished she could enter his skin, and although her unbound hair was tickling his nose, he didn’t move. Not an inch. He loved her, and she loved him, and all he needed now was to capture Sutton, bring the Captain to justice, and take possession of his home from Evelyn.

Not a great deal to ask.

S
utton crept toward the bed, and it wasn’t until he’d reached it and stood, staring down on the shape under the covers that he realized he’d been tricked. It was too late then of course. He felt the barrel of a pistol pressing painfully into his kidneys.

“Who are you?” a voice rasped, but even so he could tell it was a woman. Was this the little lady he’d come for? He didn’t think so. He couldn’t imagine her with a gun at his back.

“I’m a friend of Miss Smythe,” he said with a rough laugh. “Didn’t she tell you I’d be visiting her tonight?”

The gun pressed harder, but he remained still, and then it was withdrawn. He heard her step back but wasn’t inclined to try to overpower her, not until he knew what he was dealing with.

“Turn around,” she hissed.

Slowly, carefully, he turned to face her and wondered if his surprise was evident on his face. It was the beautiful lady of the house, her bright hair like flame around her shoulders, a shawl over her nightdress, her feet bare on the bedroom floor. He spent a moment in silent admiration before raising his gaze to hers and found her eyes as cold and heartless as he knew his own to be.

It seemed they were well matched.

“You’re no friend of Miss Smythe. You’re the one they’ve been talking about, the one who’s come to kidnap her. Or kill her.”

It wasn’t a question.

Sutton gave a little bow, expecting any moment to hear her call out for help or to feel a bullet plowing through his flesh and bone. But neither happened.

“I don’t like Miss Smythe,” she said at last. “She is interfering with my own plans. I’m not going to stop you taking her. But you might want to try the room at the end there.” She nodded over her shoulder toward the farther part of the house. “And you might want to wait until my brother-in-law has finished with her.” And then she smiled at him.

He felt his body harden instantly and made a move toward her, but the pistol came up, perfectly steady, aimed with deadly accuracy.

“I’m not interested,” she said. “I’ve always found intercourse overvalued. Make use of Miss Smythe instead, I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Sutton gave a guffaw. “I think I could make you interested, but another time.” He moved sideways, toward the door, and she followed his movement, the pistol trained on him. He knew he’d be back one day. She’d said she wasn’t interested in him, but she was thinking of pleasure, and he guessed she might be more interested in pain. Like him.

With a regretful smile he closed the door.

The corridor was lit by a candle behind glass, flickering slightly in the movement of air. Sutton made his way silently toward the room at the end, aware of sounds coming from inside, familiar sounds.

Good. It was just as she’d said. The woman was in there with Eversham. Well, that was useful; he could deal with them both at the same time.

“I
’m sorry I made you break your promise,” Tina whispered, her cheek pressed to his. He pulled her closer. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d achieved it, and he accepted that when it came to his own ladylove he was no expert, but he was enjoying the sensation of having her compliant in his arms once more.

“Tina, I wanted to break my promise. You were just too delicious, and I couldn’t play the martyr any longer.”

She giggled. “And now we’ve broken it again.”

“Have we?” he said with pretended horror.

She smiled against his skin. “I love you. Can I say that? You told me you loved me, and I was horrible to you. With reason,” she added, lifting her face to look at him sternly. “But I do love you, and I want to tell you so every day and every night.”

“Only if I can make love to you every day and every night.” He stroked her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear. “This business with the Captain is nearly over anyway, but even if it weren’t . . . I want to marry you. Anthony would think I’m insane refusing to be happy until his killer is caught, he’d laugh at me. I just . . . I had to . . . for his sake . . .”

She gently kissed his lips. “I know you had to, Richard, and I love you all the more for the man you are.”

He was thinking of making love to her again, only this time slowly, bringing her to her climax again and again, but suddenly she stiffened and her eyes opened wide in shock. She was looking at something just beyond his head, and sensing another person in the room, but too late to react, he tried to leap from the bed.

The blow was savage and took him hard on the crown of his head, and the next thing he knew he was drowning in darkness.

He fought against it, struggling to the surface again and again, only to be dragged back down. But slowly, through waves of pain and nausea, Richard fought his way one last time to the surface and pulled himself onto land.

He opened his eyes.

Someone was holding his hand and his head and shoulders were resting in someone’s lap, with a very feminine bosom pressed to his face. Just for a moment he thought it was Tina, that she was safe, that everything was all right. And then Evelyn said:

“Richard, oh Richard, something terrible has happened!”

And he knew everything wasn’t all right after all.

Chapter 38

T
ina woke to complete blackness. As if all the light had gone out of the world and she’d been left without a candle. Was she still in her bedroom at Eversham Manor? It was when she struggled to sit up that she realized her error.

Her hands were tied behind her back, and she was having trouble breathing—there was something over her head. She deliberately slowed her breathing, calming herself, and found with her mouth open she was able to get enough air into her lungs. Gradually memory returned—the man had been in her room, the man with the cold eyes and nightmare face, and he’d struck Richard.

Richard had gone limp, without a sound, and lain in her arms like one dead, and although she’d tried to help him, tried to fight for them both, a sack had been placed over her head, and she’d been carried away.

For a time lack of air, shock, or sheer terror had made her lose consciousness.

It wouldn’t happen again, she told herself determinedly, and began to tug at her wrists to see how tightly she was bound. She must escape and get back to Richard; she mustn’t let this nightmare man destroy her happiness.

“So you’re awake at last.”

The voice was unfamiliar and close. Tina jumped.

“I thought I’d kidnapped Sleeping Beauty.”

“What do you want?” she said, and found her voice a hoarse whisper. “My family has no money!”

“I don’t want your money.”

She didn’t want to ask, she really didn’t, but the words spilled out anyway. “What do you want then?”

She heard him take a step, and now he was so close she could hear him breathing. Something cold, like metal, scraped across the soft curve of her breast above her bodice, and she flinched away.

“Very nice,” the man whispered, “very nice indeed.”

“Leave me alone. Mr. Eversham will come for me, and if you hurt me, he will punish you.”

“I’m terrified.” A breathy laugh accompanied the mocking words, but at least his footsteps moved away.

Tina slumped in relief, leaning back against the hard surface where she lay—it felt like a wooden settle or bench, and when she stretched out her foot, there was a definite gap between herself and the floor below. At least her ankles weren’t bound, and if she got the chance, then she could run, although running with a sack over her head and her wrists tied wasn’t ideal.

Just then there was a pounding on the far side of the room; it sounded like a fist on a door. She heard Sutton cursing and then a shout. Richard? Had he come to save her so soon? But it wasn’t Richard. Her hopes were dashed when the door was pulled open, and Sutton and the newcomer, obviously familiar with each other, began to argue.

She could catch a few words here and there, enough for her to understand they had had a serious falling-out. Her hopes lifted; any falling-out between these villains was surely a good sign for her.

“You fool . . . I knew I’d find you here . . . predictable . . . you’ll get us all caught and . . .”

She was finding it difficult to breathe again, there didn’t seem to be enough air in the sack, and there were dark specks floating before her eyes. In a moment she would faint, and then she would be helpless to stop them if they wanted to harm her.

Tina cried out, struggling to sit up. And then, so suddenly she was blinded by the candlelight, the sack was swept from her head, and she could breathe. And see.

Her gaze focused on the man before her. He was holding a candle, the flame flickering and smoking, but it seemed brilliantly bright after such darkness. His features were familiar but she couldn’t . . . Tina blinked and then cried out in relief.

“Mr. Little! Oh thank goodness!”

But in the next instant she realized her joy was premature. This man was not her savior. He was just another of her enemies.

The words spilled out of her aching throat, even though she knew they’d be better left unspoken. “You’re the Captain, not Horace. You’re the Captain, and now you’ll kill me just as you killed Richard’s brother.”

Little stared at her and then threw an order over his shoulder to Sutton. “Get her some water.” Sutton did his bidding, but Little took the water from him and squatted down beside her. Gently he lifted the mug to her lips and held it while she sipped, only then realizing how very thirsty she was. At last she leaned away with a sigh. “Better?” he asked with his familiar smile.

Tina did not smile back, even though it would have been simple to do so, to fall into believing him her friend. Perhaps she could pretend that all of this was a terrible mistake, just like Horace’s arrest, and after a moment all would be explained, and she could go home.

And then she remembered Richard, hurt, perhaps dead, and her eyes filled with tears.

John Little’s brow creased with concern, and he began to search in his waistcoat pocket until he found a handkerchief, using it to dab at her cheeks where the tears were trickling. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured her. “I know you’re afraid, but there’s no need to be. And I won’t let Sutton hurt you, either,” he added, with a savage glare in the direction of the other man.

“Don’t untie her,” Sutton warned. “She’s not the helpless creature she pretends to be.”

But John Little ignored his advice and began to saw at Tina’s bindings with a pocketknife he’d also produced from his waistcoat. He was leaning close to her, and she could see how weary he looked and the stubble on his cheeks where he hadn’t shaved. She’d never known Mr. Little less than perfectly turned out, and it was a shock to see him so disheveled.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her kindly.

Tina considered refusing to answer but decided it was better to remain friends with him, outwardly at least. They were being so polite, and yet she remembered the look in his eyes when he’d imagined Margaret’s American drowning in the cold river water.

“Yes, thank you, I am a little hungry.”

“She’s hungry. Get her some bread and cheese,” Little snarled over his shoulder to the other man.

Sutton didn’t argue, and that told Tina a lot about John Little’s true character. He’d hidden that ruthless side behind a bland exterior, but he was a chameleon, someone who could show a different self to fit in with the company he was keeping. Her skin prickled. This man was playing at being her friend, but it wouldn’t last; soon he would turn on her. She must get away from him.

Startled, Tina felt his fingers brush her cheek and she flinched away before she could stop herself. She heard him give a regretful sigh.

“There was a time, Miss Smythe, when I thought I might persuade you to marry me. And then dear Margaret seemed a better prospect, and she was very keen. Oh well, water under the bridge now.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“What do you think?” He smiled in anticipation. “Come, Miss Smythe, make a guess.”

She didn’t answer, and suddenly she didn’t really want to know, but it was too late. She’d stirred the sleeping beast, and he was leaning over her, his fingers touching her again. “Please don’t,” she begged.

“Why not?” he snapped. “You’re a beautiful woman. Don’t you want men to admire you? I’ve seen the way Eversham looks at you and the way you look at him, so don’t play the innocent with me.”

“They were in bed together,” Sutton interrupted, satisfaction in his voice. “That’s how I managed to get her. Eversham was too busy to notice me until I walloped him.”

Little took his hand away from her skin with a look of distaste. “Shame,” he said. “I don’t like spoiled goods.”

Tina gave him a defiant stare. She’d rather be spoiled by Richard than pampered by a man like John Little, and she wanted him to know it.

Sutton came to hand her a rough metal plate with a hunk of bread and some dry-looking cheese. Tina took it from him and began to eat, to distract herself from their stares and the dread that was growing inside her with each passing moment. She hardly tasted a bite and was surprised when she looked down at the plate to find it empty.

“Good girl,” Little said, taking the plate from her and rising to his feet. “Get some rest now, Miss Smythe. You have my word you are safe for now.”

As if, thought Tina, his promises were worth anything. But she thought it best to give an obedient nod and lie down on the hard settle, closing her eyes. She felt him placing something warm over her, and when she dared to look, saw it was his cloak.

But at least they hadn’t tied her up again although there was no chance of her escaping with the two men in the same room. They sat by the far side, closer to the fire, and she could hear the murmur of their conversation although she couldn’t make out what they said apart from once or twice when one of them raised his voice.

She sensed they were arguing about her. They were trying to decide what to do with her. Sutton would kill her now, but Little still had a conscience about it, perhaps because he knew her. He’d want to at least pretend she wouldn’t suffer.

Tina found herself dozing off despite her efforts to stay awake, and when she woke again the bag was back over her head and her wrists were being bound roughly. She cried out, struggling, but it was useless, and she finally subsided. Someone was tearing holes in the covering over her face, and she was relieved to find they were airholes and, something her captors didn’t realize, they gave her some vision.

“Come now, Miss Smythe, don’t make this difficult.”

Why not? she thought wildly. Why shouldn’t she make it difficult?

They forced her to her feet and held her up and she stumbled along between them, out into the darkness. She tried to see where she was, but there were only snatches of shapes and colors—a cottage and a faint light, the wrinkled face of an old woman pressed to the dirty windowpane. She opened her mouth to cry out, but the curtain fell back into place, and it was too late. Perhaps she’d imagined the face, perhaps she was losing her mind.

There was a coach waiting, and they pushed her into it and onto the seat. Then the door slammed, and she was alone. It seemed that John Little didn’t even want to ride inside with her now that she was damaged goods. After a moment the vehicle started to move, and as it traveled away from Richard, she began to lose all hope of seeing him again.