The Accidental Courtesan (25 page)

How had she allowed this to happen? Emotion was the enemy when it came to men. Somehow this American had breached her defenses without her knowing and dug himself a large spot right in her heart.

Through her tears, she couldn't find Gavin's coach, so she settled into the shadows of the one closest, without a coachman seated above, to review her heartbreak. Leaning against the frame, she let the tears flow down her cheeks, uncaring if rivulets of wetness ruined the powder.

In the distance, she heard him call for her, and she stepped deeper into the shadows, and into something she knew instantly was not part of the coach. It was a movable object of flesh and bone that was much larger than her, and a pair of hands caught her in a viselike grip.

She let out a muffled yelp when an arm snaked around her waist and a hand clamped over her mouth!

T
he dampness from his sweaty palm made Noelle gag as bile rose in the back of her throat. Her second scream sounded no more frantic than a kitten mewing. It was nearly impossible to breathe, and harder still to comprehend what was happening. All she knew was that she was in danger.

Her body shook with cold, biting fear. She felt herself being lifted against a burly chest. Then her captor spun and sped off with her.

In a blink, the shock wore off and she realized that in the seconds when she'd fled from the startling realization that she loved Gavin, she'd forgotten about the thieves, the danger, everything.

A mistake that might well prove fatal!

Gavin's calls got farther away as the night swallowed Noelle and her captor in inky darkness. The man pressed against her back smelled of fish and soiled clothing and sour flesh. He was large enough to keep her feet from touching the ground as he raced through the night with lumbering speed.

He had her, and he wasn't about to let her feeble struggles cause him to lose his prize. And struggle she did.

His hold was so tight that she couldn't breathe well, and she felt woozy. The kidnapper moved with surprising agility for one so large, darting in and out around coaches and doing his best to keep out of sight.

If only a coachman or footman would see her plight and come to her aid, or at least call out for her release. All she could hear over her panic were his footsteps and the loud and rapid beats of her heart.

She did her best to make noise behind the hand, managing a weak, muffled squeal or two. A vicious cuff to the side of her head ended her struggle as the world around her went black.

 

G
avin thought he heard a soft cry, and his stomach tightened painfully. In the seconds it had taken for her to escape from his arms, he knew, just knew, she'd gotten into trouble. He had to find her quickly.

Whatever happened was his fault. If she was injured, or worse, he would forever live with the guilt of allowing her to attend this ball.

Of letting her leave his sight.

He cursed as he searched frantically in the darkness for any sign of Noelle. He'd known there could be danger, and he'd let her unexpected kiss distract him and muddle up his brain. This was the consequence. If the thieves had her, the cost would be devastating.

Terrified for Noelle, he rushed past the coaches, pausing every few steps to listen for signs of which way she was headed. The distant crunch of gravel turned him south at a steady lope, and he hoped he wasn't on the trail of a footman searching for a bush in which to relieve himself.

Fearful that that was exactly what might happen, he said a silent prayer for help and tried to distinguish fleeing footsteps from impatient horses jingling their harnesses and pawing at the hard earth.

“That way.” A voice from above startled him, and he looked up to see a shadowy coachman pointing east.

“My thanks.” Gavin ran. He was now pretty certain she'd been snatched by one of his attackers. If she'd merely run off, he'd have found her by now. Noelle would know wandering London at night wasn't smart. She wasn't upset enough to forget the dangers of the city. No, wherever she was, it wasn't her choice. Gavin quelled rising panic. Any one of the three men wouldn't think twice about despoiling her, given an opportunity.

A distant moving shadow caught his eye, and he headed in that direction. A large form was moving stealthily past a coach near the end of the row. In the slip of moonlight escaping the clouds, Gavin could see a bit of red skirt and knew he'd found Noelle. There was one coach left, and the bloke seemed to be heading for its safety.

It was a rattletrap conveyance, but for a getaway the kidnapper wouldn't need anything more than wheels and horses. Gavin muffled his footsteps as best he could, hoping he wouldn't be spotted. He moved with care toward the coach, trying to hurry without allowing the man to catch wind of his presence. The man had to know Gavin would be searching for her.

Gavin got close enough to see the kidnapper glance over his shoulder and seem satisfied he wasn't followed. Gavin could barely make out another man high in the seat as the kidnapper reached up, yanked open the door, and stuffed a limp Noelle inside the coach.

“Go! Go!” The burly man clambered inside behind Noelle, and the coach lurched to life. The horses strained against their trappings and bunched up for a run. Gavin darted from behind a gray carriage horse with the kidnappers' coach boot in his sight.

He jumped, catching a handhold just as the team took flight down the darkened street. The speed and pits in the road almost launched him off the boot, but sheer determination kept him on the coach.

He could not let them get away with Noelle!

Rage drove all other thoughts from his mind except saving Noelle. He adjusted his body to the sway of the coach, shucked off his coat, and began a precarious climb to the roof and the driver.

The task was difficult enough when a coach wasn't moving. Fortunately, he knew a thing or two about coaches. He and his friends had often hitched rides on passing conveyances as they traveled around Boston on their boyhood adventures. In addition, years spent climbing ship riggings had made him fairly nimble.

Though he was pushing the grand age of thirty, he felt confident he could make the climb.

Failure could mean Noelle's death.

It turned out that executing the act was easier in his head than in reality. Handholds and footholds were difficult to find in the dim light and made the climb precarious as the old coach pitched and swayed. The driver clearly understood the nature of his crime and planned to get away with Noelle as quickly as the ancient coach could manage and still remain upright.

Gavin ground his teeth each time his foot slipped or his hand was unable to tightly grasp a hold. Though the distance to the top of the coach wasn't great, it took a supreme effort to finally pull his body onto the roof.

The driver called to the team for added speed, and the scraggly-looking horses did their best to comply. The man was so focused on his race that he failed to see Gavin coming.

Gavin saw just enough of the man to recognize him as one of his attackers. The smaller one. The confirmation brought him no satisfaction. It wasn't enough to ambush him on the dock. When they kidnapped Noelle, they'd made an enemy.

The driver didn't see Gavin's fist until it was too late. The attacker grunted and toppled off the seat onto the street. Gavin dived for the reins.

The horses slowed not a bit with the change of driver. Gavin kept the steady pace but changed their destination. He eased the team toward Cheapside and hoped he could remember the address he'd been given. The distance wasn't great, but with Noelle helpless inside the coach with her kidnapper, it seemed like an eternity until he finally turned the coach onto the correct street.

With only a sputtering streetlamp to guide him, he found the town house he sought and stopped the team.

“Blast, Farley!” came an angry voice from within. “Why are we stopping?”

Gavin quickly climbed off the coach as the town house door opened. Mister Crawford, his investigator, limped down the steps, his rumpled shirt halfway untucked from his trousers, his hair askew.

The look on Gavin's face and a quick tip of his head clued the investigator that something was amiss, and he silently took up a position on the other side of the coach's door.

“Farley!” Grumbling followed, and the coach swayed. The door was flung open with a thud. The kidnapper was about halfway out the door, muttering curses the entire time, when two pairs of hands jerked him from the coach. He let out a cry and landed face-first on the street. A few sharp blows to the head and he didn't move again.

“Get him tied up before he rouses from his stupor.” Gavin removed his cravat to bind the kidnapper's hands and left him to Crawford. He climbed into the coach and dropped to his knees beside the seat where Noelle lay. She was breathing but unconscious. The bodice of her gown was askew and the hem of her skirt was slightly raised. He cursed, and vowed the stranger would pay for touching her.

A quick examination showed she had not been violated, and he eased her into his arms. She felt so small, so helpless, as her head lolled against his chest. With care, he climbed from the coach and joined Crawford, who was pulling the addled giant to his feet. The investigator shot a quick glance at Noelle, then winced. Gavin had no time for questions.

“She's alive,” he said, and headed for the open door.

Between the two of them, they got their prisoner and Noelle into the house. Gavin took brief note of the sparse furnishings as Crawford pushed the man forward and led Gavin upstairs to a small parlor. He quickly stretched Noelle out on a worn settee.

Crawford pushed the kidnapper into a chair and pulled a tie from a drape to bind his legs. The large man glared but said nothing as his heated gaze fell on Noelle. He licked his chops in an exaggerated and disgusting manner.

Gavin straightened, enraged. He walked over to the stranger. His fist caught the kidnapper on the side of the jaw, and his face jerked sideways.

“That is for kidnapping an innocent woman.” The second blow split the man's lip and sent spittle flying. “And that is for touching her.” He flexed his fingers and knew his knuckles would be aching tomorrow. His voice was low and menacing as he bent and bunched the man's lapels in his hands. “Had you raped her, I would have cut you apart one piece at a time.”

The thug's tongue swept over the bloody cut. “Given a few more minutes, I'd 'ave shown the leidy what it means to be with a real man.”

The third blow silenced him.

Crawford grinned as the kidnapper's head lolled against the back of the chair. “Well done.” He walked to a sideboard and poured two drinks. He handed one to Gavin, who tossed it back. Crawford lifted his own glass and followed suit. “Now, would you like to explain, Blackwell, why you have brought this to my door?”

Gavin cast a glance at Noelle. She let out a small groan. He hurried to her side. Red, knuckle-sized bruises marred her temple and cheekbone. It sickened him to think of what she might have suffered had he not managed to find her in time.

“This was the only place I knew I could come to without stumbling across anyone I know.” Gavin brushed back her hair. Tenderness washed through him. “I thought we would be safe here.”

“And Lady Seymour?” Crawford asked. “Would you care to explain why you have her and why she's dressed for a costume party? If I'm to risk my neck to shelter her, I'd like to know what I'm facing.”

Gavin stared. “I'd forgotten you know her.”

Crawford shrugged. He poured himself another drink. “I've done some work for her brother-in-law, His Grace.”

This wasn't surprising. Crawford was the man to call on when someone needed investigative work done and didn't want the Bow Street Runners involved. He was known for his skill and discretion. That was why Gavin had hired him to find Bliss's maid. So Gavin gave him the shortened version of events since they'd last spoken about the stolen necklace.

This time he informed Crawford of Noelle's part in the case. There was no reason to keep that from him now.

Gavin cocked his head toward the footpad. “I need your help getting information from this bastard.” He broke off further speech as Noelle twitched. Gavin watched her eyes flutter open and confusion fill her face. He dropped to one knee and took her hand. He smiled reassuringly. “Shh. You are safe, love.”

Noelle blinked several times and looked around the room. When her gaze caught the unconscious man in the chair, she was visibly startled. “Who is he?” she whispered.

Gavin followed her gaze. “He's one of the men who ambushed me and kidnapped you.” He struggled not to walk over to the chair and beat the kidnapper to a bloody pulp. Unconscious and tied or not. Gavin then watched her gaze flick to Crawford. The investigator nodded.