Ruined

by Jess Michaels

  The two men with War followed her in. She watched as they tied her lover to a chair. Watched as Jon got to his feet, his face red and angry.

  “That’s enough,” he barked. “Get out, the lot of you.”

  The others didn’t seem fazed by his outburst. They did as he said without question, and Claire breathed a silent sigh of relief. Jon she felt like she could manage, despite War’s statements to the contrary. But Jon and all three of his cohorts?

  That would have been more difficult.

  “You brought him here?” Aston said as soon as the door shut behind his men.

  She cast a quick glance at War, trying hard not to meet his focused stare. She shrugged. “Him? He’s just a rube I convinced to help me.”

  War’s cheek twitched and his eyes that were so focused on her narrowed to a glare. She ignored that, ignored how much it hurt her to dismiss him like that, but she had no choice if she wanted to protect him. She held her breath as Aston stalked toward War, circling him. She had no idea if he had yet determined that War was related to Jack. If he had…well, she would have to cross that burning bridge when she came to it.

  “Why did you come, Claire?” Aston asked, turning his back on War, at least for the moment. “Why did you sneak into my place and then shout for me?”

  She sucked in a long breath. This was her test now. Her moment. What she did and said next would determine everything in her future. In War’s future. Most importantly, in Francesca’s future.

  “I thought about what you said last night,” she said, forcing herself to lift her fingers as if she wanted to touch Aston’s face. Not quite doing it. “About us being good together.”

  “Claire,” War said from behind her.

  “Shut up!” Jon shouted, his sudden and very angry tone forcing Claire to take a step back. She shivered at the look he was giving War.

  She turned on him, shooting him a look of her own. “I’m going to gag him,” she said softly. “This is between you and me now.”

  Aston arched a brow. “Gag him. You? An interesting idea. Very well.”

  She moved toward War, snatching a piece of discarded rope from the desk as she walked. She mouthed the words I’m sorry before she leaned over him and gently slid the rope into place, tying it.

  He never resisted her, but his stare was filled with anger, hurt, disappointment. She had earned all those things by betraying him tonight. In a moment, he would understand why. She knew he still might not ever forgive her. It wouldn’t matter, though, if he was safe. If Francesca was safe.

  Once War was silenced, she turned back to Aston, her stomach turning. “I know you’re right,” she continued.

  “That we’re good together,” he said, his tone cautious as he searched her face. She hoped she was a good enough actress to hide the truth. That she hated him.

  She nodded. “Yes. And we could be good together again,” she continued.

  “That’s what I want, Claire,” Aston said softly, moving toward her but not yet touching her. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  She smiled in the hopes it would encourage him. Seduce him in. “There have been too many distractions of late. That was what pushed us apart.”

  “Distractions,” Aston said slowly.

  “Like Francesca,” she managed to choke out. “If she stays here with us, she’ll only be in the way. Think about it, Jon. She needs so much. Soon she’ll be talking, walking, staggering around in the middle of a place like this, whining for more from us.”

  His face twisted in what she realized was disgust at the thought. She clung to that with both hands, even though it made her despise him even more.

  “If she were gone,” she said. “I could put my focus back where it should be. On you.”

  She leaned forward and finally forced her fingers to trace his cheek. Aston leaned into her touch with a possessive growl she knew so well.

  “What do you propose?” Aston asked.

  She motioned to War. “The only reason I brought this man with me tonight is because of our daughter. He knows my family. Let him take her, let him deliver Francesca to them. And I’ll…I’ll stay with you.”

  Behind her War started thrashing in his chair, lunging so hard that the wood strained. He shouted around the gag, but the words weren’t understandable. Still, she knew what he meant. He realized her plan now. He realized she was trading her daughter’s life, his life, for her own.

  Perhaps he also realized this was the only way, despite his angry protestations.

  Aston didn’t even seem to notice War anymore. He was staring so hard at her, she almost felt naked before him. It was not a pleasant sensation.

  “We could rule your underworld together, Jon,” she whispered. “Just as you always wanted. I would do as you asked. I would be who you asked. But only if I could finally focus solely on you.”

  Aston moved closer, gliding his fingers into her hair. He tugged, and she was forced to fall into him. He pressed his lips to hers and she swallowed against the rising bile in her throat. She opened to him, despising every slide of his tongue, the taste of his breath. Hating worse that War had to see this, her next betrayal.

  But she would do this. Tonight and for all the long, horrible nights to come.

  Only Jon seemed to have other ideas. He suddenly pushed her away, and before she could react, the back of his hand flew at her. He struck her hard along the face, sending her careening to the floor as pain exploded in her cheek. He moved over her, hand still raised as if to repeat the action.

  “I don’t think so, you lying bitch.”

  War strained against the binds that held him. He heard the wooden chair creaking, but it didn’t give as he struggled. He could do nothing except watch as Aston stood over Claire. Her cheek was already hot red—War had no doubt it would bruise. And Aston didn’t look finished.

  She stared up at Aston, blinking.

  “Stop!” War raged through the rope. The sound was muffled, but Aston spun on him regardless. He paced toward him.

  “When I first saw you with Claire last night, I hated you. Hated you for being with her, hated you for defending her. But I had no idea who you were. Soon enough, I figured it out.”

  War stopped struggling and his gaze slipped to Claire. She’d managed to get up, her cheek now purple. “Jon,” she whispered.

  Aston turned his attention back to her. “You went to Captain Jack. You went to my enemy.”

  “No,” she said, taking a step toward him, hands held out as if in surrender. War didn’t think for a moment that her acquiescence would matter. “It isn’t what you think.”

  “You were there when we talked about Captain Jack’s brother.” Aston’s rage bubbled in every word he spat toward Claire. “No one knew where he’d gone, only that he worked for some rich family. You must have recognized his description, and yet you said nothing to me.”

  “I didn’t know,” she said, but it wasn’t believable.

  “Liar,” Aston repeated. “Instead of telling me the truth, helping me, you ran away from me and you went to him. You gave yourself to the brother of my greatest enemy like a whore.”

  His tone was quiet now. Perhaps that should have comforted War, but it didn’t. He recognized the cold violence of Aston’s tone. He saw it in his dark, dead eyes.

  “Jon, please,” Claire whispered, fear making her voice shake.

  War pulled harder against the bonds. He could do nothing for her now except watch what happened.

  Aston produced a knife from his jacket pocket and moved on her, catching her arms at her sides and slamming the blade against her flesh, much as Claire had done to War the first night she returned. Except Aston was serious. The little trickle of blood where he had nicked her proved that.

  “Stop!” War screamed against the ropes. “Stop, Aston!”

  “I could kill you,” Aston whispered, leaning into her.

  “Aston,” she murmured, her eyes bright with unsh
ed tears.

  “No,” Aston said, sagging as he released her and put the knife away. “No, I couldn’t.”

  The breath reentered War’s lungs and he stopped tugging his bonds as relief overpowered him. Claire shot him a glance, and he longed to jump up and hold her, protect her. Do anything to get to her.

  But he was helpless.

  “I loved you, Claire,” Aston whispered, resting his palms on his desk. “But I don’t want the sloppy remnants of anyone related to Jack. So take your daughter and get out.”

  Her eyes went wide and her skin paled as Claire jolted toward him. “What? You’ll let us go?”

  “That’s what I said,” Aston growled, and reached out to ring a little bell on his desk. After a moment, the door to his office entered and an older woman in ragged clothing appeared. She held a baby girl in her arms, one who looked at Claire and made a squeak of pleasure.

  Claire’s face crumpled as she flew at the pair, tugging her daughter away from the woman and clutching her to her chest. “Oh, baby!” she sobbed, pressing her face into the child’s neck, breathing in her scent. “Mama’s here, Francesca! Mama’s here.”

  The little girl wiggled in Claire’s arms, making faces and wordless noises. It was clear that although they had been separated for almost a month, Francesca knew who Claire was and was just as pleased to see her.

  “Get out,” Aston repeated, pointing to the door. “I have a far better prize than a whore like you.”

  Claire spun on him, her mouth dropping open. “What?”

  “I have Jack’s brother. Thank you, my love, for delivering him. What better bait is there than that?” Aston crossed the room and reached out to tug the rope away from War’s mouth. He scraped the rough binding along War’s chin, but he barely felt it. “Last words for your whore, Mr. Blackwood?”

  “Go,” War said past dry lips.

  “No, I can’t—” she began.

  “Claire, take your daughter and go. Save her.”

  “You’d better listen to your lover, Claire,” Aston said. “I’m not giving you another chance. In two minutes, I’ll give the order to shoot you on sight if you’re seen. I don’t care what bundle you’re carrying in your arms. Get out.”

  Tears streamed down Claire’s face as she clutched her daughter closer. She gave one long, final look toward War. And then she did exactly as he hoped she would. She ran.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Even with a child in her arms, the ride on horseback back to Claire’s mother’s took no more than a quarter of an hour, yet it seemed like an eternity as she eased her way through busy London streets. People stared at her clinging to Francesca as the baby alternated between screeching with confusion and howling with glee.

  She turned her horse through her mother’s gate and hopped off in one smooth motion. She raced up the stairs and burst through the door before Vernon could greet her.

  The butler stared at her, child in arms, hair wild, face bruised. “My lady,” he gasped. “Are you all right?”

  “Where is my mother?” she burst out.

  Behind him in the hallway, her mother stepped into view. “Claire?” she asked.

  Claire raced to her. “War,” she gasped. “He…he was taken. I have to go back to him. Aston might…kill him.”

  Saying the words made her stomach turn and she couldn’t control the moan of utter horror that escaped her lips.

  “What in the world?” came a male voice from the parlor.

  From behind Mrs. Gray, Edward, Evan and Gabriel stepped from the room. Her three brothers all stared at her, then shifted their gazes to the baby in her arms.

  “Please!” Claire burst out. “You must take the baby. I have to go now, time is short!”

  “Come into the parlor this instant,” her mother said, motioning inside. “Explain yourself.”

  Claire huffed out a breath and did as she was told. Her mother was right about one thing—she needed to calm down. That was the only way to help War now. She shifted Francesca onto her hip, smiling at the baby as best she could and eliciting a laugh from her daughter before she faced her family again.

  “I have no time to explain this gently,” she said, feeling her face heat. “Part of the reason I didn’t come home is because I had a child with Aston. An illegitimate child, as we were never actually married. This is my daughter, Francesca. She’s just over a year old.”

  Her mother’s jaw dropped open and she moved toward them. “My God, Claire,” she breathed. She looked at the baby, her eyes welling with tears. “Oh, she’s beautiful, my love. Francesca? A wonderful name.”

  Claire didn’t fight as her mother slipped Francesca from Claire’s arms and cuddled her close. Francesca stared up at the stranger’s face and Claire prepared for an outburst. Instead, her daughter reached up and caught a loose lock of Mrs. Gray’s hair. She tugged gently, eliciting a burst of laughter from her grandmother.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Gabriel asked, coming up to Claire’s side and slipping a supportive arm around her. “Where was she?”

  “Aston stole her,” Claire gasped, the reality of the situation hitting her as she stared at the mother she had left holding the child she had nearly lost. “I went to War, and I all but forced him to help me.”

  “Why War?” Edward asked.

  “Because he…” She shook her head. “It’s too complicated to explain in full right now. He had links to Aston’s world, a way to find him and my daughter. We went to Aston’s hideout tonight, I was intent on getting my daughter back. Even if it meant…” She turned away. “Even if it meant I would never come home. I intended for War to bring my daughter here to you and I would stay with Aston. To protect Francesca. And to protect War.”

  Evan moved forward and tilted her face so he could look more closely at the bruise on her cheek. “That didn’t work.”

  “Aston no longer wants me,” she said, her voice cracking. “Instead he wants to use War to strike out at an enemy. But he’ll kill War if he has the chance. I saw that in his eyes. I must go back, I must help him.”

  Edward’s eyes were wide. “How could War be used to strike out at an enemy?”

  She bit her lip. War’s life was worth far more than his reputation at this moment. “War is Captain Jack’s brother.”

  The room went deathly silent, and her brothers and mother stared at her. There was no doubt why. Captain Jack’s exploits were well known in London Society. He had even been romanticized in a series of stories in one of the papers.

  “Beneath my very nose,” Edward muttered.

  “You know War,” Claire protested. “You know he is a good man.”

  “Yes,” Gabriel reassured. “We all know that. But you can’t go back, Claire. It’s too dangerous. Let Edward, Evan and I go.”

  She raised a hand. “I’m not going to argue this. I know where Aston is, I know what he’s capable of and what moves he’ll likely make. If you will come with me, I would appreciate your help. But I’m going.”

  Her mother stepped forward. “But your daughter, Claire.”

  Claire leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Francesca’s cheek. “War was taken because of me. Because he loves me. Because I love him I can’t leave him there to die.”

  “You love him,” Edward repeated softly.

  She nodded without hesitation. “I have always loved him, Edward. From the first moment I saw him.”

  “Then we’ll save him,” Evan said, moving to the door to call for horses and work on preparing supplies.

  Claire almost buckled in relief. For so long she had only depended upon herself. But with War at her side, she’d begun to believe she could do anything. With her brothers at her side, she knew she could.

  But she could only pray she wouldn’t be too late.

  Aston hit hard for a man of his stature. War spit out blood and turned his face to look at his captor, controlling his pain response carefully. It had been twenty minutes like thi
s, Aston beating him until his knuckles were bloody. War refusing to make a sound.

  His quiet seemed to enrage Aston further. Perhaps that was a bad move on his part, but War was rather enjoying the frustration on Aston’s face.

  If he were untied, he’d love to put a lot more there than mere frustration.

  Aston leaned over, catching his breath as he glared at War. “You think you can’t be broken?”

  War shrugged one shoulder as best he could while tied. “Is that what you want? To break me?”

  “I want Jack to see you broken,” Aston corrected, turning to grab a cigar from his desk. He lit it swiftly and puffed out a burst of acrid smoke.

  “Jack won’t see,” War grunted. “Jack won’t come.”

  He didn’t know if that was true or not. Part of him hoped it was. Aston had no intention of giving him back alive, he could see that. At least he didn’t want Jack to lose his life in some wild plan to free him.

  “Won’t he?” Aston laughed.

  “I don’t work for him anymore,” War said, spitting more blood to the side.

  Aston sat down in the chair across from the one where he was tied. “If true, that will be a great disappointment to me. But then I’ll simply send you home to him piece by piece. Save one.” Aston smiled. “One I’ll send to her.”

  War shut his eyes. Her. He had been trying not to think of her. Claire. She had been trying to bargain for Francesca’s life. Worse, she’d been trying to bargain for his. She would have surrendered herself to Aston’s world even though she hated it just to free her daughter, but also to free him.

  Now she would torture herself forever for having failed.

  He looked at Aston. The man appeared miserable. His mouth was drawn down, his eyes hollow and angry. But not just angry. Sad.

  “You loved her,” War said softly.

  Aston nodded. “Oh yes. And look what she did to us both.”

  War tilted his head. Claire was a common ground for them, as much as he hated that. Perhaps talking to Aston about her might afford him some opportunities. Or at least prolong the inevitable.