A Lady Dares

by Bronwyn Scott

  ‘Stop it. It was awful. Everyone in there was talking about you,’ Elise groused. Smiling was the last thing she felt like doing.

  ‘If you don’t like the conversation, my advice is don’t spend so much time in the ladies’ room.’ Dorian laughed. ‘Now, come and dance with me and let’s give them something to really talk about.’

  ‘You were waiting for me?’ Elise felt her spirits lift as she took his hand and let him lead her out to the dance floor for the opening waltz.

  He gave her a naughty half-grin. ‘There’s no one else here worth waiting for.’

  ‘That will come as a disappointment to many of the ladies present.’ Elise put her hand on his shoulder, wanting to read more into his words than she safely should. He’d made her no promises save to defend her against Tyne should it be necessary. ‘Don’t you want to know what the ladies were saying?’

  Dorian shook his head. ‘Not really. I can guess and it won’t happen. I’ll never turn decent. They can all let go of that fantasy right now.’

  Elise smiled, but she understood the warning was there for her, too, just in case she needed the reminder—and she did. She’d been toying with the premise of a decent Lord Dorian Rowland off and on all day. ‘I like you just the way you are.’ Although the liking made things more complicated. ‘I wish society would say the same thing about me.’ She gave a little pout as they turned at the top of the ballroom. Dorian was a masterful dancer. ‘Today hasn’t gone well in that regard.’

  Dorian smiled, but didn’t deny it. ‘You knew there was a chance of that. Still, today was not an entire loss. People are impressed with the boat, as we’d hoped.’ Dorian swung her in a tight turn to avoid the other dancers, his grip firm on her waist, possessive.

  We. How she loved the sound of that! Elise smiled up at him. ‘Impressed enough to order from me?’ If she meant to avoid selling the shipyard, she had to have orders and soon. There’d been no sign of Tyne and her boat had shown well, but Tyne and Hart couldn’t be fobbed off forever. ‘A decision must still be made about Hart’s offer.’ After her reception today, her earlier resolve was wavering. Maybe she should take the money and ethics be damned.

  ‘Really? I thought you’d made your mind up.’ Dorian raised an eyebrow in disapproving challenge.

  ‘I keep prevaricating. The day of the trial run, I was certain I could keep the yard and the boat. But I don’t know if I’m willing to risk so much. If I turn them down, I am engaging in war.’

  ‘And your principles? You know what those men are, Elise. You would take their money and give them a prime location from which to carry out their activities?’

  She gave him a sharp, serious look. ‘I’ve never heard you talk like that. You’ve run arms, too. You can’t turn hypocrite.’

  ‘Not like them.’ Dorian’s tone was equally harsh. ‘Those men are nefarious. I don’t care if Charles Bradford and his father have decided to consort with them. The Bradfords and their ilk can’t make men like Tyne decent. I’d rather you didn’t do any amount of business with them.’

  ‘Then you’d better hope I find buyers for the boat design because it’s all I’ve got left to support myself with.’

  ‘You can’t build boats without a shipyard,’ Dorian shot back. ‘I guess that settles it. You couldn’t possibly sell right now. Where would you build your boats if you did?’ He was right. She hated when he was right.

  ‘This is hardly the place to talk about business,’ Elise snapped. He was dancing her breathless with his grace and speed. She could barely think, let alone contemplate the options laid before her.

  ‘Or the night,’ Dorian whispered seductively at her ear. ‘We had a beautiful day on the water, a delicious dinner, and I have a fascinating woman in my arms.’ She felt his hand at her back pull her closer to him. ‘Why don’t we go back to the yacht, drink champagne and make love? I’ve wanted to get you out of this dress since I saw you in it. Come with me, Elise.’ his eyes were hot as he said the words. She’d follow him anywhere in that moment, so potent was his gaze, the touch of his hand at her back. If only he’d ask her to go somewhere else besides the boat and bed.

  It was cold on the river when they returned. Elise shivered as she lit the lanterns. A fog had formed in their absence and the sail home would be slow.

  ‘Elise,’ Dorian called out, working the sails. ‘Go below to the cabin and stay warm. Open some champagne and I’ll be down shortly. But don’t, under any circumstances, take off that dress. I want to do that.’

  Elise climbed down the ladder to the cabin, her mind on the lovemaking to come. Maybe tonight, she’d finish what she’d started with the champagne the night of the fire. Between her distraction and the darkness, it didn’t register until too late that she wasn’t alone. Someone was in the cabin! She could make out the vague form of a man.

  She summoned a scream, but it never came. A rough arm seized her from behind, dragging her against a barrel-chested form, a hand clamped across her mouth. A match flared to life across the cabin, illuminating the form of a man, this one with dark satanic eyebrows and black eyes. He calmly lit the lamp and crossed his legs, sliding a sharp-looking knife out of a sheath.

  ‘Please, Miss Sutton, have a seat. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Damien Tyne.’ He fingered the knife. ‘I believe we have unfinished business.’

  Real fear came to Elise for the first time since the whole duel for the shipyard had begun. The man before her was evil personified, from the devilish wing of his dark brow to his sinister eyes. She knew instinctively he was a man who gave no quarter. She had not truly guessed the depths of such malevolence.

  The fear fuelled her. She fought her captor, kicking and twisting in his grip, but she was no match for the burly giant. He wrested her into a chair and shoved a gag in her mouth in spite of her best efforts to stop him. Tyne tossed him a length of rope and fright coiled in her belly at the thought of being entirely helpless against the knife, at being unable to warn Dorian.

  Tyne gave her an oily smile. ‘We can’t have you running off until our business is concluded. How long do you think it will be before Rowland joins us? I do so look forward to meeting him again.’

  Elise strained her ears. She could hear Dorian’s footsteps overhead. She could hear him call out her name, wondering what was taking her so long to retrieve the champagne. She struggled against her bonds, desperate to warn him, to tell him not to come down.

  ‘Elise! Whatever are you doing?’ His voice was closer now, his feet nearing the ladder. She willed him to stop, to use some sixth sense to know danger waited below.

  ‘Ah, good,’ Tyne muttered. ‘It won’t be long. Your lover and I go back quite a ways, Miss Sutton. Perhaps he’s told you?’ His eyes slid in Bart’s direction. ‘Get ready.’

  Elise watched in horror as Bart positioned himself behind the doorway with a club. Dorian’s boots appeared first. He had a fraction of a second to take in Tyne’s appearance, his hand reached instinctively for the knife in his boot but he couldn’t retrieve it before Bart’s club met with his skull. The thud of wood on a skull sickened her. Elise felt her stomach churn. She watched Dorian collapse unconscious. She was on her own. It would be up to her to save them both.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Why in blazes did his head hurt? Dorian groaned against the pain. There was bound to be a lump. He attempted to raise an arm to test the side of his forehead and found he couldn’t. In his befuddled state it took a moment to realise why. He was bound at the wrists and ankles. What was going on? This was not Elise’s doing.

  He pushed his fuzzy mind past the throbbing to gather his thoughts. Elise had gone down for champagne. He’d come to check on her and then? Tyne! He remembered that awful last moment of consciousness. Tyne sitting on the cabin bench, looking smug, fingering his bloody, ever-present knife, and Elise bound to the chair, eyes wide with terror. He’d bent for his own knife, but too late. He’d been set upon from behind.

  The reality of
the situation hit him with full force. Tyne had Elise. Dorian had no idea how long he’d been out. How much time had Tyne had? What had he done to her? Dorian willed himself not to panic. He was alive and for the moment that was all that mattered. He couldn’t save Elise if he was dead. Tyne must have crept on board the yacht while they’d been at dinner. Dorian sorely wished he’d hunted the man down in spite of Elise’s objections.

  He forced his eyes shut against the great temptation to take in his circumstances. To open them too early would be careless and dangerous. Once he indicated he was conscious, the next level of the game would be engaged. He needed to be ready. There was light, he could feel it on his face. He could also feel hardness beneath him. The bastard had left him on the floor, probably right where he’d fallen. He could also feel stillness. The boat wasn’t moving. Had Tyne pulled into shore somewhere? That seemed unlikely and it would indicate he’d been unconscious for some time. Tyne wouldn’t risk pulling to shore so close to Gravesend where another of the yachting party might notice them. Dorian thought it was more likely they’d dropped anchor. Tyne would want the isolation of the water for whatever he had planned.

  Dorian opened his eyes, his vision focusing on the bench. Tyne was there, all right, one leg negligently crossed over the other and drinking champagne. His champagne. Dorian knew a surge of anger, but none so great as the surge that took him at the sight of Elise, still bound to the chair. Her gag had been removed. There was no reason for it, Dorian supposed, now that he could no longer be warned.

  ‘Ah, you’re awake,’ Tyne said in tones of false conviviality. ‘We were wondering when you were going to join us.’ He held up his glass of champagne. ‘I am anticipating a celebration. Miss Sutton and I are about to reach a business agreement, aren’t we, my dear?’

  ‘Don’t sign anything, Elise,’ Dorian ground out, levering himself up into a sitting position against the wall.

  ‘Not even to save you, Rowland? I think you might change your mind on that,’ Tyne said silkily. He nodded to someone on the periphery of Dorian’s vision. ‘Bart, you know what to do.’

  A hulk of a man approached, armed with Dorian’s own blade. Dorian recognised him as one of the men from the break-in. ‘Time for a little revenge, Rowland. Shall I start with your face or your hands, or maybe with something a little more dear? I seem to recall I owe you for a kick in the groin.’ He jerked the knife in the direction of Dorian’s testicles. Dorian drew up his legs. If the man got any closer, he could get one good kick in and it would hurt. Bart seemed to understand it wasn’t going to be easy. Across the cabin, Elise choked on a scream.

  ‘So you do care for him a bit. I was beginning to wonder, although you two looked cosy a few days ago during the trial run.’ Dorian felt Tyne’s gaze on him. ‘I like to watch, you see.’ A cold finger of anger ran down Dorian’s spine. Tyne had spied on them. How much had the man seen? Tyne’s gaze returned to Elise. ‘Do you know why I like to watch, Miss Sutton?’ He trailed a finger down Elise’s jaw. Dorian’s insides clenched.

  ‘I like to watch because it’s all I can do any more, thanks to Rowland. He gave me an injury that has subdued my abilities to perform as a man should.’

  ‘Was that before or after you burnt his ship?’ Elise retorted. Dorian mentally applauded her bravado, but she had no true idea what she was up against. Tyne’s evil knew no limits.

  Tyne laughed. ‘It was after, my little spitfire. As I said, it has subdued my abilities, it hasn’t rendered them entirely useless and you seem to have a salubrious effect on them, my dear. Perhaps in a while we’ll see just how salubrious.’

  Elise did pale at that. ‘I’ll sign the deal if you let us go.’

  ‘No!’ Dorian yelled, keeping an eye on Bart. Bart’s next move would bring a fight. He might be bound, but he was not helpless.

  ‘Can I do him now, Boss?’ Bart called out.

  ‘No, I’ve changed my mind. It might be more fun to watch these two argue since they’re at cross purposes. She wants to ink the deal and he doesn’t.’ Tyne finished his champagne and poured another glass. ‘Bart, go up on deck and see how we’re doing. The three of us are going to talk for a while.’

  Dorian knew what was coming next. Tyne’s favourite weapon aside from his knife was mind games. ‘Don’t believe anything he says, Elise.’

  ‘Don’t believe anything he says, Elise,’ Tyne interjected. ‘You’re a pretty girl and a smart one to run your father’s business. Have you thought about why Rowland doesn’t want you to sign the deal? It’s very simple. You’re worth more to him with the shipyard. What are you without that? What could you possibly have that would appeal to a man like Rowland?’ Tyne picked his nails with the knife. ‘He’s nothing more than a pirate. Has he told you? He ran arms.’

  ‘Yes, I know all about it, Mr Tyne,’ Elise snapped with impressive fortitude. Some of her colour was returning now that there was just the one knife between them.

  ‘And you hold with that occupation? He encourages warfare, Miss Sutton. If there’s no war, there’s no business. He doesn’t care for national loyalties. He’ll sell guns to the French to use against the English if there’s enough money in it.’

  That wasn’t how it had happened. Dorian gritted his teeth, struggling with his bonds. He was almost there. He could feel the ropes starting to slip. If he could just get his hands free, the playing field would be a bit more equal.

  ‘I understand you do the same,’ Elise replied coolly.

  ‘I might. What do you care about what I do? You’re not in love with me.’ Tyne grinned cruelly. ‘He would drag you down with him, turn your shipyard into a clearing house for weapons. He’s seduced you into ignoring reason.’ Tyne chuckled. ‘What else Has he told you? Has he filled your head with visions of sandy beaches and the Mediterranean? Has he convinced you to keep the yacht, spinning tales of racing it for prize money maybe?’

  Good lord, Dorian groaned. The man had eyes everywhere. But what came out of his mouth next was by far the most damning. ‘Make no mistake, Rowland wants this yacht. This boat is fast. He’d be unstoppable in it and he’s willing to make love to you to get it.’ He paused. ‘I see the thought has crossed your mind, Miss Sutton. Why is Rowland so willing to invest his time in this project? You’ve wondered.’

  ‘These are his plans, Elise,’ Dorian argued, horrified to watch her eyes dart to him with the old doubts rising in their depths. Hot words from their old quarrel flooded back to him. She’d accused him of what Tyne accused him of now. But there was clarity, too. Tyne and Hart’s plans were clear now. They wanted the better location to expand their own arms business. Tyne wanted to take the yacht back to the Mediterranean where he could continue to sell weapons to those who would fight the Empire while Hart arranged suppliers from here.

  Dorian gave a final tug, his hands slipping free. He would wait for his moment. Tyne rose and leaned over Elise, his blade slipping through the ropes. ‘Miss Sutton, if you’d come up on deck with me? You have five minutes to make your decision. If you choose not to sell, we’ll have no choice but to fire the yard. If you choose not to relinquish this yacht to me, we’ll have no choice but to fire the yacht as well. A pity, really, since you’ll be on board. It’s an incredible craft. Your father knew it. But like him, you’ll be able to go down with the ship.’ Tyne winked to Dorian as he shoved Elise up the ladder. ‘You can go down with the ship, too, Rowland.’

  You first, you conniving bastard, Dorian thought, reaching to undo the ropes at his ankles the moment he was alone. You first.

  Elise stood at the railing, shivering from cold, from fear, her thoughts racing in a thousand directions. Tyne and Bart flanked her on either side. She knew where they were. They were across from the shipyard. She could see the pier dimly. She’d been foolish to think any decision she could make would matter. She could no more save herself than Dorian could. She was just tied with a different type of cord. Tyne would not hesitate to kill her or Dorian. Tyne had killed her father, demonstrating he
’d go to any length. Dorian had been right in that regard and therein lay her one last hope.

  ‘I think you’re bluffing,’ she said with quiet authority.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Her words caught Tyne off guard as she’d meant them to.

  ‘You’re bluffing,’ Elise repeated. ‘You won’t fire the yard. You’ve worked too hard for it.’ Even as she said the words, she knew he wasn’t. In the distance, she could hear Dorian’s dog barking. Someone was there, waiting for the signal.

  ‘I won’t let Rowland have it. If I can’t have it, neither of us will have it,’ Tyne answered with an unconcerned shrug. ‘You should believe me. The same goes for you and the yacht, in case you’re wondering.’

  ‘What guarantees do I have you’ll let us both go if I sign?’ Elise replied smoothly. Dorian’s cynicism had rubbed off on her. For the moment she was glad of it. She stared across the dark water, gauging the distance. Could she swim for it? The distance was not great, but the waters were choppy and cold. Her skirts would be heavy within moments and it would mean leaving Dorian to his own luck. Even if she made it, there’d be an enemy to deal with once she came ashore. Whoever waited in the yard was not her friend.

  ‘Two minutes, Miss Sutton. Bart, prepare the signal.’

  ‘Is this the deal you made my father?’ Elise asked as Bart moved away. If she meant to jump, she’d need to do it now while there was just one of them.

  ‘No, he never saw me coming. It was easy enough to fix the steam valves. I didn’t trust him. If he suspected anything, he might have left a letter or a clue behind and alerted you.’ Tyne chuckled. ‘I’ve been most generous with you. It was Hart’s idea. He thought two deaths in the family would be suspect. He felt things would follow a natural course of events without violent intervention, but you exceeded our expectations and our time limit. You’ve had all the time in the world, Miss Sutton, and now your time is up.’

  ‘You’re wrong, Tyne. Your time is up,’ came the unmistakable rough tones of an angry Dorian Rowland.