Heat raced through her, squelching the stabilizing anger. “No one would believe your word over mine. You’re hardly a paragon of Society. I would discredit you. Claim you’re seeking money for your debts.”
“No, not me perhaps, but my cousin Mrs. Richard Ogle would be more than willing to listen to my tale. And repeat it.” Mrs. Ogle was one of the worst gossips of the ton. She had ruined many a young maiden’s chance of a good marriage. The more salacious the rumor, the greater her delight in spreading it. He adjusted the frayed cuffs of his greyed linen shirt. “Twenty thousand for my silence.”
“Twenty thousand? Even if I paid you the money, there would be nothing to stop you from coming back for more when you get yourself into trouble again. And you will, you know.”
“You’ll have to trust my word as a gentleman that I won’t ask for more.”
Minerva barked a laugh as she slid a little closer to freedom. “As if I would trust your word. You may have been born a peer but you are obviously no gentleman. I won’t give you any money.”
Hampton slapped both hands on the wall, bracketing her, the blade clinking a few inches from her ear. “Think of your brother’s future if word makes the rounds that he was force to muck out the stables to pay his debts. The two of you would be cut everywhere. And Drummond would be ruined as well.”
“I don’t care.”
He pressed his body into hers and trailed grimy fingers down her face and throat. Dirt was packed under his broken nails. She pushed at his chest, but he caught her wrists. “You don’t care what happens to you? You know, it’s been quite some time since I’ve had a woman, and you’re already letting Drummond between your lovely legs.”
She turned her face away so he wouldn’t see her panic and forced ton-style haughtiness into her voice. “It’s been quite some time since you’ve had a bath too.”
“If you do not agree to my bargain, I will take you right here against the wall.”
His spittle dotted her cheek, and she wiped her cheek against a shoulder. “I could scream and have half the town down on your head in an instant.” She yanked her hands out of his grip. Her flash of relief died under the knife. Still pressed into her body, he stroked the blade against her cheek, freezing her struggles.
“You’re correct. Better to take this somewhere a bit more private. You don’t seem to find scars repugnant. Perhaps I’ll leave you a few to remember me by.” He trailed the knife down her face until the point rested under her chin. He screwed the tip into her skin, and blood trickled down her neck.
For the first time, she feared for her life. In France, Rafe had faced this fear day after day with bravery and strength. Minerva could only cower, her throat closed to nothing, her lungs starved for air. Her head swam, and when he forced her to the nag, her body refused to fight.
“Up on the horse, my lady.”
She didn’t remember how she got onto the saddle, but within a moment, he was behind her, the knife’s point pricking her side.
“If you’re quiet and cooperate, I’ll not harm you, and as soon as that imbecilic brother of yours pays me, I’ll let you go. Is that understood?”
She managed a nod. Hampton guided them out of the alley but turned away from the village center. They soon veered off the road and into a copse. The weak sunlight filtering through the braches made it feel more like dusk than the middle of the afternoon.
It wasn’t long before she spotted a cabin through the trees. Decrepit, the roof caved in on one side and windowless. It seemed a more appropriate house for squirrels, mice and birds. Hampton’s retreat was in such contrast to Rafe’s idyllic cabin, it was laughable. Instead, tears welled and crawled down her cheeks.
* * * * *
Jenny peered around the side of the inn and watched Minerva ride off with the strange man on an old, beaten horse. Was he a gentleman friend from London? A finger of unease trailed down her spine. Minerva wouldn’t have left her without word. She ran to her papa’s shop.
“Papa, please, something’s not right. We need to find Lord Drummond or her brother and at least let them know.”
“Now, Jenny mine, I know that you think the lady is your friend, but she’s quality, and I’ve seen them do strange things. It’s probably one of her London suitors out to take her for a ride. Most likely, she wouldn’t want you spreading tales.” Her papa patted her arm.
Jenny bit her lip. Was her father right?
“These folks are different than you and me. Taking lovers here and there is nothing to them. Not that I’m saying that’s what the lady is doing, but perhaps she’s having a secret meeting, eh?”
She shook her head. “No. I have to get back to Wintermarsh.” The decision made, urgency lent desperation to her voice. “Papa, I need a horse. I can’t wait for the wagon to finish loading. Anyhow, it’s too slow. Is there a horse in the stable I can borrow?”
“Jenny Mitchell, you can’t even ride.”
“Tom’s been teaching me. I can ride well enough. This is important. I feel it. Please?” Jenny laid a hand on her papa’s arm and pouted. He threw up his hands in surrender, and she almost smiled. She’d always gotten her way with her papa.
He bullied the inn’s hostler into saddling a sturdy gelding. Clenching her jaw, she rocked from foot to foot while the men argued over the tightness of the girth straps. Finally, her papa heaved her to the saddle, a long way off the ground. Vertigo swam her head until she got her feet firmly in the stirrups.
“You have to get the horse back tonight according to the lad here.”
“I’ll send Henry back with the horse and for the wagon,” she called over her shoulder, jouncing down the road. While it was true that Tom was teaching her to ride, her lessons had consisted of walking around the paddock on a short Shetland with Tom handling the reins. Luckily, while considerably larger, the gelding was lazy. So lazy, he wanted to plod all the way to Wintermarsh. She managed to force him into a trot by digging her heels into his side.
By the time she reached the turnoff, her teeth had been shaken loose and her legs trembled from her tight clamp. Amazingly, the horse seemed to know which direction to head for oats and a rubdown and broke into a faster trot toward the stables without her having to attempt a change in direction.
Tom ran to grab the bit. “Jenny, love. What the devil is going on?”
She fell into his outstretched arms. Grateful to be on solid ground, she kissed him.
“What’s the matter? Something’s wrong. Is it your father?” Her pressing kisses muffled his words.
“Not Papa, but Lady Minerva. I need to see Lord Drummond or her brother. Something’s amiss.”
“They got back not a quarter-hour ago. Come with me.” Tom tried to pull her along, but her legs refused to cooperate. Tom swung her up into his arms to stalk quickly toward the house.
Jenny studied her betrothed’s profile while she caressed his bristled cheek. “I could get used to this, Mr. Donahue.”
“Could you now? Perhaps I’ll carry you to bed every night then, Miss Mitchell.” Tom’s eyes filled with the promise of pleasure. Warmth bloomed in her belly despite her worry.
“I wish we didn’t have to wait.”
Her petulant tone made him laugh. “We’ve discussed this countless times. You aren’t seducing me into your bed before you make an honest man of me.”
“But I love you, Tom. I’ll still respect you come morning, you know,” she said impishly.
“Lass, it’ll be all the sweeter from the anticipation, trust me.” At that, he kissed her nose and climbed the steps to the door before setting her down.
“Can you walk now?” At her nod, he opened the door to find Cuthbertson taking a tray of tea and biscuits to the study.
“Is that for Lord Drummond, Bertie?”
“It is indeed, Tom. Is there something wrong in the stables?”
“Not the sta
bles. Jenny needs to talk to Lord Drummond immediately. It’s about Lady Minerva.”
The butler shooed them into the study. “Master Rafe, Master Simon, Mr. Donahue and Miss Mitchell need to see you for a moment,” Bertie announced them and set a tray next to Rafe’s armchair.
Tom pulled Jenny to stand in front of the two men. Thankfully, he kept his hands on her shoulders and his warm body behind her. Lord Drummond couldn’t help the way he looked, but the man intimidated her boots off. Her voice wavered. “It’s Lady Minerva. We took the cart to Lipton together. I sent her into the inn to stay warm while I was visiting papa. Next thing I knew, she was riding away with a strange man.”
Rafe’s stomach fell to the cellars.
Simon jumped to his feet, ashen faced. “What did the man look like, Jenny? Did you catch a glimpse?”
“They were on the north road but cut into the woods past old Lizzie’s cottage. I never saw his face, but he looked rumpled and rode a swaybacked spotted nag. A hundred if it was a day. Something wasn’t right, my lords. She would never ride off like that.” Jenny wrung her hands and refused to meet his eyes, but she told the truth.
“Thank you, Jenny. Tom, go saddle Aries and a horse for Simon. Be quick,” Rafe said curtly. They were still in riding clothes, and Rafe bellowed for Cuthbertson to ready their hats and coats.
“Rafe. It might be Hampton.”
Rafe spun and pinned Simon with his eyes. “Why do you suspect him?”
“He’s been sending me notes for the past month begging for money. Ever since the debacle in town. In the last one, he threatened to expose our bargain unless I paid him a substantial amount of money. I told him to go to hell, of course. I can weather whatever he metes out.”
“What of Minerva? She would be ruined.” Rafe cut his gaze away. Who was he to chastise Simon?
“He’s an arse but still a gentleman. I didn’t think he would stoop to something so vile. What can we do?” Shaken but steadfast, Simon didn’t make excuses or hide.
“We get her back and shut the blackguard up. Permanently, if necessary.” Rummaging in his desk, he found the knife he’d taken off Hampton in the summer. He slid it into a sheath in his boot and strode to the door. Simon followed in his wake. After swirling his greatcoat around his shoulders, Rafe shoved his hat low over his brow.
“Do you have an idea where he might be holed up?” Simon twirled his hat, crumpling the brim while they waited for Tom.
“There are abandoned cottages in the woods he might be using. Although they’re in terrible disrepair.”
“His last letter was rather insulting toward Minerva. We need to hurry.” Simon looked to his boots.
Rafe clenched his jaw, barely restraining himself from taking off at a run. “He will die a very painful death if he’s touched her. Be sure of that.”
He met Tom halfway, grabbing Aries’s reins and leaping to the saddle. Aries was in full gallop before Simon had even gained his mount. Rafe pulled up outside of Lipton. A wavering line of trampled grass led into the woods.
“Here.” Rafe pointed along the makeshift trail. They dismounted, leaving their horses to pick at the dried grass, and crept through the woods.
“Can’t you be a bit quieter?” Rafe bit out.
“Christ, I thought I was being quiet,” Simon whispered, hunched over on his tiptoes.
Seeing a derelict cottage through the trees, Rafe stood Simon by a tree and gave him the knife. “Stay here and…keep a lookout.”
This was the most important rescue operation in his life, and Rafe couldn’t afford to have Simon muck it up. He crept up to the cottage. A paralyzing image of Minerva dead and bleeding out froze him to the side of the window, struggling to breathe. Her cutting, imperious voice carried out the window, shooting life back into his body. Whatever else had happened didn’t matter—she lived.
Hampton paced while she tugged against the frayed ropes. Somewhere between being dragged into the hovel and tied to the bed, her backbone reconstructed itself. Escape was her goal, but at the very least, she would stay alive. Rafe was coming. She could feel him drawing nearer.
The charming cottage Hampton called home was falling down around their ears. Mold, excrement and a heady assortment of noxious aromas filled the air. She breathed through her mouth to keep from tossing her accounts all over the bed. No need to add that to the stew.
“The note has been sent, and I expect a reply soon. I’m not sure how long it will take to raise the money, however, so you might be stuck here for a few days.” Hampton played with the wickedly sharp knife, cutting her a sly glance. “How will we pass the time? Do you have any ideas, my lady?”
“I suggest you slit your throat. I wouldn’t recommend that you still be breathing when Lord Drummond finds you,” she replied in the voice she used to use to browbeat Simon.
“Yes, your lover. I’m truly shocked. If I knew you were so easily seduced, I would have pressed my suit with you in London.”
“As if you would have had a chance, Hampton. Lord Drummond is a strong, capable man, while you are a dissolute, stupid boy who has played with the wrong people and gotten in over his head.”
“Boy, am I? I’m man enough to plow your cunt, you little bitch!” Hampton stalked to the bed and leaned in with the knife.
She squirmed back into the filthy, greyed pillows. Instead of slicing her face as she feared, he worked the tip of the knife into her dress at the waist, drawing blood. Then he swooped the tip up, cutting her dress and chemise open. He pulled aside the fabric and bared her breasts, licking his lips. He fondled her, and she wrenched at her bonds. Her wrists burned where the rope tore at her skin.
He fumbled with the buttons of his breeches. The fall fell open, and Hampton pulled his small clothes down to expose his erection.
Minerva stared and did the first thing that came to mind.
She laughed.
“That is what you’re planning on using to prove your manliness? Goodness me. Granted, I don’t have much experience, but you’re so small. Tiny, in fact. Might I even say miniscule? You see, I’m used to Lord Drummond, who is…well, not to brag, but rather well proportioned. Huge, as a matter of fact. Enormous, even. Compared to you at any rate.”
Hampton’s erection diminished before her very eyes. Rafe was correct—she could shrivel a man’s cock with her acidic tongue.
She gestured magnanimously with her bound hands. “Well, go ahead then. Make sure you let me know when you’re done, I’m not sure I’ll notice.”
He bellowed and struck her across the cheek with an open palm. She winced, but a slap was nothing compared to being killed or raped. Hampton jerkily buttoned himself back into his breeches and retreated to the window, casting murderous glances over his shoulder.
An arm shot through the broken panes. Hampton disappeared out the window before Minerva could blink. Rafe, it was Rafe. A howl of rage was followed by a scream of terror and pain. Minerva couldn’t stop chanting his name.
The relief of hearing her voice was acute, but when he heard the slap, a red haze of fury descended. A peek over the windowsill revealed Minerva tied to a bed, exposed from the waist up. Hampton’s hands would be cut off first, followed by his bollocks and then his apparently miniscule cock.
He reacted viciously, pulling the smaller man through the window. Jagged glass cut them both. Pain didn’t register. Blood lust sang through his veins as he systematically pummeled the man, starting with his face.
Hampton didn’t stand a chance. His ineffectual blows glanced off Rafe like pebbles against a boulder. Breathing hard and wiping Hampton’s blood off his knuckles and onto his breeches, Rafe dropped the man to the leafy ground. Hampton was conscious and rolled on the ground, moaning. A few well-placed kicks would finish the bastard off.
While Rafe had been beating Hampton, Simon had freed Minerva. She clutched her bodice together. Her face was wh
ite under streaks of grime and smeared blood.
“Did he touch you?” His voice was harsh.
Minerva bit her lip. “Yes, but—”
“Goddammit! I’m going to slaughter him.” Rafe picked the man up by the back of his jacket and slammed a fist into his belly. A rib cracked, leaving him grimly satisfied. More, he needed to inflict more pain. He hauled his fist back, but an impediment halted his forward motion. Annoyed, he threw the encumbrance off.
“Stop it. Please, stop. You’ll kill him.” The anguish in her voice penetrated his murderous daze. She sat on the ground. The bloody contusion on her temple was stark against her pale face. Her dress had parted to expose a line of white skin to her waist.
He had done that. Not Hampton. He had thrown her to the ground. Hit her. The red haze dissipated. The rush of blood in his ears slowed. Pain from cuts shot along his arm and made his hands throb.
The blackness he tamped down on a regular basis had boiled over. She stared at him like he was some unknown monster ascended from hell.
“Don’t kill him. Please. He’s hurt beyond all decency as it is. Let him go, just…let him go.” Her voice held a trace of fear. Was she scared of him now? She scrambled to her feet and reached for him, but he pulled away. Swaying, she appeared on the verge of collapse.
Rafe turned his back on her. “Simon, take her back to Wintermarsh and fetch a doctor.”
“I don’t need a doctor, I’m fine.” She laid a fluttering hand on his shoulder.
He shrugged it off and stepped farther away. “Go. Now.”
“I…I’ll see you back home, Rafe. Won’t I?”
Home. He had wanted it to be her home and had foolishly imagined her there. Pictured a nursery full of tow-headed children. Pictured teaching them to climb the apple trees and swim in the pond. Pictured her in his bed every night. Ashamed and ill, he almost fell to his knees with the grief of a dream lost.
A Brazen Bargain: Spies and Lovers, Book 2 Page 26