Malicious delight flashed in her eyes. “Oh, I believe you understand my reasoning perfectly, Tony.”
She turned to motion to someone outside the dungeon’s door and a large footman dressed in canary yellow livery entered to place a chair in the centre of the dark, damp room.
“Have a seat, darling,” Lady Kerr said in her deceptively silken voice.
Damn. Gabe should have listened to Mary when she had expressed her suspicions about Lady Kerr. He should have been more aware of what was going on around him, more alert, more… He shook himself internally. There was no use in berating himself for not realizing the lady’s guilt. Right now, he must think of a way out of this.
Lady Kerr’s giant brute of a footman—where the devil had he come from?—lifted Gabe bodily off the ground and sat him on the thoroughly worn chair before wrenching his arms behind the backrest to trap his wrists together with chained iron manacles. The man was strong, Gabe gave him that.
The manacles were tight and effective. The brute then moved on to tie Gabe’s feet to the chair’s legs with a length of rope.
With a commanding flick of Lady Kerr’s wrist, the footman obeyed the silent command, retrieving the spent pistol from her hand and exiting, closing the dungeon door behind him. The scraping of wood against stone echoed around them, until with a final clunk, the door was shut, leaving the room entirely black.
“Mmm,” Lady Kerr’s voice rumbled sensually. “I do enjoy the darkness, but…”
Her voice trailed off as the sound of her footfalls replaced it. There was a scrape, the sound of stone striking stone, and then poof, a flame lit the end of a torch. Lady Kerr strode around the room lighting other torches with hers, before she placed it in its own ring mounted on the stone wall.
With the room brightened, it looked oddly more ominous than before. Rats skittered along the side of the walls, seeking shelter from detection, and a small heap of bones lay nestled in the corner. Lord, Gabe hoped it was an animal’s bones, deceased of natural causes.
“Now we may have a proper discussion.” Lady Kerr stood before Gabriel, her hands on her slender hips. “You must know by now who I am, and what I’ve done. But you have me at a disadvantage. Who are you?”
Gabe suppressed a smile. All at once, two things became clear. One, Lady Kerr was unquestionably a traitorous spy working for Bonaparte, and two, she hadn’t any proof of Gabriel’s identity, merely suspicion. He must be convincing as an innocent and, with luck, she would be disabused of her assumption and Gabe’s identity would remain intact.
He had endured torture before—had trained for it, as a matter of fact—and he could certainly withstand questioning from Lady Kerr. “My name is Mr. Anthony Spencer, and I—”
Crack! Her hand connected with his cheek in a surprisingly painful slap.
“Try again,” she said.
“I am Anthony Spenc—”
Crunch! Her fist connected agonizingly with his nose, the awful sound echoing in his ears, before blood began to spurt from his face. Damn, had she knocked out a tooth? Gabe ran his tongue over his teeth the metallic zing of blood consuming his mouth. They were all still there. Thank God!
“Again,” she grunted.
Gabe again suppressed his grin. Instead he swallowed his pride and released a frightened whimper. “I am the youngest son of Sir Peter Spencer. I have—”
“Argh!” With a frustrated growl, Lady Kerr stormed to the dungeon door and opened it.
She stuck her head through the opening to speak briefly with her brute.
Gabe strained against the manacles to no avail. He might be able to stand, but with his ankles bound to the chair and his wrists tied behind him, he was at such a disadvantage that he would never win in combat against this madwoman. He was well and truly caught.
The door scraped closed once more and Lady Kerr returned with a weapon in each hand. She dropped a bullwhip to the ground several feet away before advancing on him with a six inch, fearsome-looking, blade.
“I believe this clothing is in the way.”
“I rather like it,” he said.
Her face darkened as she advanced. She took the knife to his coat, slitting the sleeve from his wrist to his shoulder. Bloody hell, she must be strong!
“That was a nice coat!” he said indignantly.
Ignoring him, she slit the other sleeve and pulled the mass of wool from his person. She proceeded to remove his waistcoat, holding within it the vital documents and the hairpins that could have so helped him at this moment. That thought brought another question to mind. She had discovered him outside her husband’s study; would she not have wondered if he had taken anything from within?
Lady Kerr tossed what was left of his coat and waistcoat across the dungeon to slide along the filthy floor. With a malevolent smile on her lips she leaned over him to press a punishing kiss to his tightly closed lips.
There was so much that was fundamentally wrong with his current dire situation, but one thing was certain: Lady Kerr was an abysmal kisser. Mary was far superior.
His eyes widened. Good God, Mary!
Had she been caught as well? Did she know of his capture? How did she fare? Did she worry? Had she heard the gunshot?
Gabe felt the scrape of something sharp against the under side of his chin, dragging him forcedly from his thoughts.
She pulled away from him, his cut, bloody cravat hanging loosely from her clenched fist and her face red with his blood.
“Mmm… I love the smell of a man’s blood.”
“That came from my nose,” he grimaced.
“Delicious…”
Gabe closed his eyes against the disturbing image of Lady Kerr licking his blood from her lips. And he thought of Mary. His Mary, with long, curling auburn hair and warm, kind, shining grey eyes. Mary, with laughter that echoed gaily through a room and lightly lilting on the air, over hills and on the breeze to seep deep into his heart like a soothing balm.
Rip! Lady Kerr tore his shirt noisily from his person, a gasp of delight on her lips.
“Ooh, sweaty, bloody, and half nude. Precisely how I like to conduct my little experiments.”
Mary, Gabe kept his eyes shut and thought of her. Mary, who played with him as a child, shared his secrets, commiserated with his pitiful woes, and always waited for him when he was away at school.
He felt Lady Kerr drift away from him, but he kept his eyes shut.
Mary, who always looked so pretty in the dresses her mother would make for her but Gabe was too afraid to compliment.
Snap! Gabe’s eyes squeezed tighter and he released a roar of pain as the tip of Lady Kerr’s bullwhip connected with his bared chest, slicing through the thick skin there.
Mary! His mind cried. Mary, who danced like a siren calling to sailors and kissed like a goddess personified. Mary, who made him feel things that he had never before experienced and had not the faintest idea how to put into words.
“Who are you?” Lady Kerr shouted at him.
He opened his eyes to gaze at Lady Kerr. How could any man find her even mildly attractive? Her dark eyes were filled only with malice, her brow marred with deep scowl lines…and her heart was shrivelled and blackened from the hellfire burning inside her. How long had she been dead inside, he wondered? And how had he not noticed it before?
“My name is Anthony Spencer, my la—”
He broke off as she swung her arm up, the bullwhip arching high into the air, and the expression of pure evil etched on her features.
Gabriel shut his eyes as the crack rent the air and the tip of the bullwhip made yet another slice through the flesh of his chest. Gabe roared.
Mary, he repeated the litany in his mind. Mary who had put her trust in him, who had offered him her body, which he had so foolishly refused. Bloody hell was he ever a fool! When he found a way to escape the vile Evelyn, Lady Kerr, Gabe would make it his duty to beg Mary’s forgiveness and take her… Take her, tup her, make love to her, God, he would make her moan and scream w
ith delight and beg for more. And he would delight in giving her precisely what she asked for. Repeatedly. For countless nights and eternal days for the rest of their lives if necessary.
Thud. Gabe grunted as the lady’s small fist connected with his cheek. When had she abandoned the whip? His eyes snapped open. He could feel his face swell from each hit, each slap as her merciless attack continued.
Gabe groaned and cried out with each hit, though his reactions were mostly exaggerated. While the woman was persistent and eager, she lacked the strength and imagination to do him lasting harm—unless she decided to put her weaponry to use once again. Her attack was still painful, however, and with continued hits, Gabe could be in great danger of serious injury…or losing his life.
Finally, she stepped back to gaze at the result of her fine, ruthless progress of mauling him. She smiled foully, apparently pleased. Gabe felt ill.
The door scraped open on creaky hinges, garnering his and Lady Kerr’s attention, and in strode Mary, as though jumping from his thoughts and into flesh and blood. His heart leapt. Mary’s hair hung loosely around her shoulders and waist and she wore—bloody, bloody hell, what is she wearing?
Gabe nearly swallowed his tongue. Mary wore virtually nothing on her upper body; only a thin layer of sheer material stretched from her shoulders to just under her nearly nude, pert breasts. Each dusky nipple strained against the transparent gauzy fabric. Her arms were draped with the same material to tighten at the cuffs at her wrists. Her midriff was entirely bare; the soft skin of her pale belly veritably calling out to be licked. Her layered skirts flowed to the floor, but—good God!—they had a slit going from bottom to high on her thigh, just begging to be spread wide so one might sample what lay beneath.
Mary’s lips curled back in an aroused grin as she placed her hands on her waist, deliberately displaying her flagrantly exposed figure. She cocked one hip, allowing her belt of shining coins and bells to jingle.
Despite himself, Gabe’s cock twitched.
“Oh yes,” she lowered her voice to a husky thrum. “Please tell me I can join in this erotic game.”
What the devil?
Mary walked toward him, her hips swaying deliciously with each step.
Apparently, Lady Kerr was stunned into silence, for she simply stood back and watched as Mary halted before Gabe. He looked up into her bright, grey eyes, wishing he could tell her just how sorry he was for what he had done and how he had treated her.
Lady Kerr, having suddenly realized the dangers of having the two of them so close, called out, “Guard!”
Crack! Gabe grunted in shock.
He blinked his swelling eyelids rapidly to clear the stars from his vision, then stared disbelievingly at Mary’s impassioned features. “You struck me!”
Her eyes rolled back as she shut them in an aroused expression that entirely confused Gabe. What was she doing?
“Oh yes,” Mary moaned, earning another twitch for his still-eager member.
“Hit him again,” Lady Kerr called. Apparently having decided that she could handle them on her own, she flicked her wrist to send her man away.
Mary wound her hand back and slapped him again, so much harder than Lady Kerr had. Gabe groaned as more stars danced before his eyes. The woman was going to knock him senseless!
With an aroused, yet slightly malicious grin, the likes of which Gabe had never seen grace her perfect, full lips, Mary very slowly rounded the chair. Once. Twice. Then halted at his back.
Her nails scraped his scalp as she fisted her fingers tightly in his hair. Gabe grimaced as she yanked his head backwards to hit the back of the chair. She pressed her lips to his ear.
“You’ve been naughty, yes?”
“N—no,” he stammered.
She tightened her grip on his hair and thunked his head against the chair’s back again for emphasis. “You have been naughty. You began this little game with Lady Kerr and you didn’t invite me…”
Gabe felt something slide into his palm while she spoke. Oh, the sly woman. The genius! Of course his Mary would think to do something like this. But blast it, did she have to hit him so hard?
“You naughty, wicked boy, playing with the other girls and not with me.”
Chapter 29
Having given Gabriel her concealed hairpins, Mary released his hair.
Slowly, sensually, with hips swaying, she made her way to his front once more. Every moment that Lady Kerr allowed her to take control of this “erotic game” was one more moment that Gabe had to try to free himself.
Please let this work!
“I do so adore how you play with your toys, Miss White,” Lady Kerr stepped forward to halt at Mary’s side. “I commend you on your abilities.”
Swallowing the bile that rose into her throat, Mary turned to Lady Kerr. “Why thank you, your ladyship. I am a quick study. To be shamefully honest, I…rather relished it.”
Lady Kerr gestured toward Gabe. “Then please, continue.”
Mary turned toward Gabe, prepared to deal another blow. But the look in his eyes stopped her. He blinked once, then looked to one side of the room. Mary understood his signal; he had picked the lock of the manacles and wanted her to move out of the way.
She winked her comprehension. In the appearance of rounding behind him again in order to “play” with him, Mary stopped behind the chair.
The moment she had repositioned herself, Gabe surged upward in a motion shocking for someone who had been as sorely abused as he had, and in one swift motion, shoved Lady Kerr with both hands, one cuff of the manacles still fastened around one wrist. Lady Kerr fell over backwards, screaming on her way down and landing firmly on her bottom, the back of her head thudding dispassionately on the hard surface of the floor and knocking her unconscious.
Gabe wavered on his feet before crouching down to untie the ropes at his ankles.
Despite vehemently despising Lady Kerr, Mary hurried to her side and checked for her pulse. Thump-thump, thump-thump. She was alive, most assuredly.
The door scraped open and the large footman rushed inside, apparently having heard their lady’s shout of distress.
Gabe leapt forward, prepared to combat the man. Mary was amazed that his injuries did not appear to hinder him. His face, chest, and one side of one thigh were soaked in blood, and the flesh of his face had begun to swell.
With a bounce to his step, Gabe bounded toward the man and punched him square in the jaw. The footman howled and doubled over, giving Gabe an opening to jump on the man’s back, grasping the chain for his half-opened manacles with his other hand and pulling tightly against the man’s neck.
Thinking quickly, Mary retrieved the length of rope that had been used to tie Gabe’s ankles to the chair, rolled Lady Kerr to her side, and bound the lady’s wrists together. Just as she made the final tug, two meaty hands encircled her neck and pulled her to her feet.
With a strangled gasp and panic leaping through her breast, Mary used one hand to pull at the man’s fingers, and the other to reach behind her head. She scratched his cheek and made contact with one of his eyes, and he grunted in response.
“Goddamned beast!” Gabriel growled. “Won’t bloody well lose consciousness.”
The footman thrashed, knocking Mary off-balance.
Gabe roared in frustration. “That’s enough!”
There was the clink of a chain, a gasp, and a loud thunk, and Mary was released. She stumbled forward and spun around, holding her throat and pulling in deep, relieved breaths.
With a vacant expression, the guard slowly tipped sideways until he fell to the ground with a solid thud, Gabe standing over him with his manacles fisted in one hand.
“Are you well?” Gabe asked, stepping toward Mary. “Did he hurt you terribly?”
She rubbed at her neck, where the guard’s painful grip had been only moments before. While it still stung, Mary didn’t believe that a dreadful amount of damage had been done. “I am well,” she said, her voice turned gruff.
“Have I killed him?” Gabe sounded entirely too fervent.
“No,” Mary croaked, rising. “We had best make our escape quickly.”
“Just a moment.” Gabe stopped her as she stepped toward the door.
Mary looked back at him and patiently waited as he used her hairpins to unlock his second wrist from the manacles.
“That was very dangerous what you did, bursting in like you did,” he said with his face turned down as he focused on his task.
Mary’s brow drew together in a puzzled frown. “I beg your pardon?” Gratefully, her voice was beginning to return to normal.
He jerked his head toward the man on the ground. “That guard is enormous, he could have hurt you in any number of ways.”
“Worried about me?” Mary smiled. “I assure you, I can handle myself around men, Gabriel.”
“You had better hope so, coming in here dressed like…” he nodded at her attire before tossing his manacles to the floor and rubbing his wrist, “well, like a harlot.”
The warmth that had begun to spread through her chest fled swiftly to be replaced by an ever-familiar aching pain.
She opened her mouth to utter a harsh rebuttal, but snapped it shut, glancing toward the rough stone floor. What was the point in arguing when he was so absolute in his low opinion of her? Embarrassment of the previous night flooded her once more and she forced it aside. Now was decidedly not the time.
“Come, we must make our escape before they awaken.” She shook her head at him. “And for heaven’s sake we must clean and bind those wounds before you get infection.”
Mary turned toward the dungeon door.
Gabe caught her arm. “Mary…”
She turned to gaze at him questioningly.
“I apologize. It was wrong of me to say that you looked like a harlot. You saved my life, and deserve appreciation and respect, not disparagement.” He shifted his feet, discomfited.
Her heart lurched in her chest and Mary swallowed past the unexpected lump in her throat. “While I appreciate your sudden attack of conscience, Gabriel, now is certainly not the time to discuss it. In fact, if we dally any longer we are likely to be killed.”
The Thespian Spy: The Seductive Spy Series: Book One Page 22