Of Noble Birth Page 6

  Alexandra pictured an approaching vehicle, its corner lanterns cutting through the night, and wondered who it could be. Nathaniel, no doubt, feared it was the duke, or someone who served his interests, coming after Lady Anne. But Alexandra doubted Greystone had reason to pursue them beyond retrieving his carriage. Why would he care about the abduction of a mere needlewoman?

  Alexandra thought it might be Willy. While he owned no carriage, he could have rented one. Rushing to her rescue was definitely out of character, but trying to retrieve something that belonged to him was not. She had half the money for the skirts, and she made his living. He’d be loath to lose her, for all of his abuse.

  Suddenly the carriage ground to a halt, and the three men sitting on Alexandra’s right nearly landed on the floor on top of her. She was thrown against Nathaniel’s and another man’s knees. Then they were all jarred back and forth as Tiny headed off the road, presumably toward some kind of cover. When they finally stopped, everyone except Nathaniel jumped out, each pulling a knife from his boot or a pistol from his belt.

  “Conceal yourselves well,” Nathaniel cautioned in a low voice. “We don’t want a fight unless we’re forced to it.”

  “I’ll take a fight whenever I can get one,” someone whispered back with a coarse laugh.

  “Not tonight. We’ve better things to do with our time,” Nathaniel told him.

  The door slammed shut as the sound of horses galloping down the road grew loud. Alexandra hated the thought of seeing Willy again, yet she prayed for some kind of rescue. The manner in which her kidnappers had drawn their weapons left little doubt that they knew how to use them, or that they would hesitate should the need arise.

  Nathaniel bent down to grab Alexandra by the arm and pull her up against him. “Just in case you have any idea of screaming,” he said, “I wouldn’t.” Producing a gleaming six-or seven-inch stiletto, he held it to her neck.

  The brougham was close now. The rumbling of horses, iron wheels, and creaking wood vibrated the ground. Alexandra could scarcely breathe, but she could feel the razor-sharp edge of the knife pressed to her skin, could almost taste its metallic blade.

  Nathaniel thought she was Lady Anne. By his own admittance, she was a pawn he planned to use against the Duke of Greystone. Certainly, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to kill her and lose his advantage. Or would he?

  The glimmer of a lantern appeared outside whilst the horses beat their quick tattoo in the dirt. Whoever traveled the lonely road wasn’t slowing down. In a few seconds, her only hope of rescue might be gone.

  Twisting slightly, Alexandra sank her teeth deep into the hand that held the knife, then she screamed with an abandon she had never known.

  Nathaniel cursed and lunged on top of her. She fully expected the blade to slice her throat. Instead, he threw it away, letting it clatter to the floor as he shifted his grip on her. Scarcely had her voice risen on the night air than Nathaniel used the only thing available to him to silence her: his mouth. The salty taste of his blood, still on her lips, filled her mind as his tongue forced its way between her teeth, stifling her cry for help.

  Somehow reluctant to bite again, Alexandra writhed, attempting to free herself, to gasp for air, to scream again. But without the use of her hands or feet, she could do little. Nathaniel was too strong, too big. He stretched out, lying on top of her, until she couldn’t move at all.

  Spent, she listened to the receding sounds of the passing carriage until only an echo remained.

  She was helpless.

  Nathaniel’s breath warmed Alexandra’s ear. His heart thumped, almost audibly, above her own, but he didn’t move for what seemed like a long time. When finally he rolled off, she gasped at the anger in his face.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t do this to Garth,” he told her, looking at her teeth marks in his hand. “Some of my men are not so long-suffering as I. Next time, you’ll wear a gag and a hood.” He ripped a piece of silk from the hem of her dress with his teeth, then wound it around his wound.

  Alexandra swallowed hard, knowing he meant every word. She had gambled on the brougham, but her wager hadn’t paid off.

  And now Nathaniel held all the cards.

  * * *

  They reached Liverpool late in the night. Alexandra was exhausted. The ropes around her hands cut deep into her wrists, but she dared not complain, not while the bandage around Nathaniel’s hand was stained red with his blood.

  “Get me a room,” Nathaniel told Tiny when they stopped outside an inn called the Turnbull Tavern. “I’ll stay here with our fair captive while the rest of you head back to the ship. If I haven’t heard anything from my father in three days, I’ll meet you on board.”

  “An’ what will ye do with ‘er in that case? Turn ‘er loose?” Tiny asked hopefully.

  “I’ll turn her loose when Greystone releases Richard, and no sooner,” Nathaniel replied as the rest of them climbed out, “just like our message said.”

  “But—”

  “Tiny, now isn’t the time to develop a conscience,” Trenton piped up. “None of us likes capturing defenseless females any more than you do, least of all Nathaniel. Just follow orders and everything will work out all right.”

  “Aye, sir.” Tiny glanced at Alexandra. “But she may be nothin’ like the duke.”

  “And she might be a lot like him.” Nathaniel saluted Alexandra where she sat, still on the floor of the carriage, with his injured hand. “She’s certainly not as defenseless as one might suppose.”

  Alexandra didn’t respond. She felt as though she’d been dragged for miles, and she couldn’t wait to sleep on something softer than the floor of the old carriage. The last thing she wanted right now was an argument.

  She watched Tiny’s broad back disappear into the inn, a Tudor-style building on one of the wider streets in town, before it occurred to her that her situation might not have improved. Where was she going to sleep? Nathaniel had told Tiny to rent only one room, and she doubted whether he’d be kind enough to give her the bed. The only thing in her favor was their supposed close relation. It precluded the possibility of her being raped as well as kidnapped, especially now that the others were returning to their ship.

  “What if Greystone wants to exchange? Will you send for us first?” Trenton asked.

  “I’ll not arrange a meeting with him, if that’s what you mean. It would be a trap. When I have proof that Richard is free, I’ll leave Anne with money enough to get home, and we’ll be far away by the time she makes it.”

  Alexandra sighed in despair at this revelation. She could languish as their captive for an eternity before the Duke of Greystone released Nathaniel’s man. He’d surely not act on her account, not when his own daughter was safe and sound in Manchester, or Scotland, or wherever it was Lady Anne’s mother lived.

  “Good enough,” Trenton said. “We’ll be ready to sail when you arrive.”

  Tiny returned with a key for Nathaniel. “The steward will bring ye some food,” he said. “Yer room is up the stairs, first door on the right.”

  Nathaniel turned to Alexandra. “Are you ready, m’lady?” he mocked.

  “Aren’t you going to cut me loose?” she asked. “You can’t very well carry me in there like this.”

  “You’ve got a point.” Turning to Garth, Nathaniel said, “I’ll need the gag, and the hood, I believe.”

  “No! I won’t make a sound. I promise.” Alexandra pressed back as far away from him as she could. “I can’t bear the thought of that hood. Please, don’t put it back on.”

  “Why does it bother you so?” Trenton asked curiously, but Alexandra didn’t answer, knowing they wouldn’t believe her anyway.

  She kept her eyes trained on Nathaniel. “I won’t so much as murmur, I swear.”

  “Forgive me if I tend to be doubtful of someone who would like nothing more than to bring the whole place down around me.”

  Climbing back inside, he took Alexandra by the shoulders. “Tie it on while I hold her,
will you Trenton?”

  Trenton paused. “She has such an aversion to that bag. Isn’t there another way? What if I carried her up the back stairs?”

  Nathaniel hesitated. “We can’t risk it. We might encounter someone. Just tie it on. She’ll survive.”

  Alexandra thrashed about, resisting them until they were grunting and breathing heavily with the effort. “She’s certainly got spirit,” she heard one of them exclaim when both the gag and the hood were finally in place.

  “I hate to see her abused too badly,” Trenton replied.

  “She’s just spoiled,” Nathaniel scoffed. “Don’t you go soft on me like Tiny.”

  “But look at her.”

  Alexandra couldn’t stop the spasms that began to rack her body as soon as the hood was knotted securely about her neck. She had to breathe through the bag and the wadded strip of cloth as well, and it felt for all the world as though she’d suffocate.

  “We’ve got to take it off,” Trenton exclaimed. “She’s having a fit.”

  “Or she’d like us to think so. Just throw my cloak over her so it will look like I’m carrying my sleeping wife up to our room. Quickly,” Nathaniel demanded. “The hood will come off soon enough.”

  Nathaniel scooped Alexandra up while Trenton covered her with his cloak. “It’ll only be a minute,” he assured her. Then she felt herself being carried swiftly into the stifling hot inn. A piano played in the background, originating from what sounded like a crowded tavern, but the pungent smell of tobacco smoke was the last thing she remembered.

  * * *

  Nathaniel felt Anne go limp in his arms. Was this some kind of trick? His sister was more of a fighter than he ever dreamed she would be, especially after having been raised with everything she could ever want. He had expected Anne to prove herself a simpering female, duly frightened of him and his men. But this woman was strong and resourceful. Or she was used to manipulating others to achieve her own ends. He couldn’t decide which.

  He shook her, attempting to elicit some response.

  Anne’s head lolled on his shoulder.

  Nathaniel began to worry that something might really be wrong. Scaling the stairs as quickly as possible, he flung back the door to their room and laid her on the bed. Then he removed the hood and the gag.

  She was unconscious. Nathaniel stared down at her, feeling a twinge of guilt at having abducted a completely innocent woman. His half sister was not to blame for the way his father had treated him, but Nathaniel could figure no better way to obtain Richard’s release. And his friend had to come first.

  With his stiletto, Nathaniel cut the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles. Then he began to massage her hands and feet, trying to improve the blood flow. He had heard much about his sister’s beauty. Looking at her now, he had to admit that the reports fell far short of reality. Silky strands of long golden hair, loosened from her coiffure, gleamed around a delicate oval face. Thick lashes rested on her cheeks. She had a small, pert nose and a full, sensual mouth. Nathaniel couldn’t help but remember the feel of her soft lips beneath his own. That he’d actually enjoyed the sensation greatly bothered him.

  He had to be careful, or he would become as weak willed as Trenton and Tiny. Though he had never seen Anne before, she was his half sister. She and a son had been born to the duke and his second wife after the death of Nathaniel’s own mother, and anything so closely connected to Greystone was—had to be—anathema to him.

  Nathaniel dropped Anne’s hand when her eyes fluttered open.

  “Where am I?” she asked, then groaned when she saw him. “I hoped you were just another bad dream. But dreams don’t taste like blood, do they?”

  “No.” Nathaniel turned as a knock resounded at the door. “That’s our supper. You’re hungry, no doubt.”

  Anne rubbed her temples as though trying to relieve a headache. “Among other things,” she said dryly. “Providing meals must be one of the problems associated with abducting people.”

  Nathaniel paused to look back at her. “Keeping them sane is another. That hood makes you a little crazy.”

  “I wasn’t afraid of the dark before...”

  “Before what?”

  “Before Willy.”

  The knock came again. Nathaniel crossed the room to answer it. “Who’s Willy?” he asked, his hand on the knob.

  Anne sighed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  * * *

  Supper consisted of poached salmon, jacket potatoes, cut greens, leg of mutton, and several dishes Alexandra didn’t recognize. She ate ravenously. She had seldom experienced such sumptuous fare and had no intention of letting any of it go to waste, despite her circumstances.

  The food seemed to appeal to Nathaniel less. He sat back and watched her, occasionally tipping a glass of wine to his lips.

  “Do you always eat so voraciously?” he asked in amazement when Alexandra ladled seconds onto her plate. “Or is it your strategy to break me before your father can send for you?”

  She glanced up to see a smile play at the corners of his mouth.

  “I haven’t had a bite to eat all day,” she complained. “Besides, food takes my mind off the pain in my hands and feet. They ache terribly, you know.”

  His brows lifted. “Yes, you look as though you’re in a great deal of pain.”

  “I am,” Alexandra cried indignantly. “You and your men are brutes to keep me tied up all day.”

  “I’m holding you for ransom. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

  He was teasing her. Alexandra ignored him, savoring her last bite of a delicious pudding she had never tasted before and could not now identify. The hotel room wasn’t large, but it was clean. Decorated in ivory and green and furnished with a tester bed, an elaborate washstand with a tiled back, a large wardrobe, and a thick pile rug to cover the wood floor, it lacked only a fireplace. Had Alexandra been staying at the inn for any other reason, she might have found it quite comfortable.

  “If you consume so much when you’re hurt and upset, I’d hate to see what you require when you’re not. I pray you don’t forgive me,” he chuckled, intruding upon her thoughts.

  “There’s not much danger in that.” Alexandra tried to put some fire into her words, but it was difficult to sound angry when she was so full and sleepy. Besides, she had been right about Nathaniel. He was exceptionally handsome when he smiled. She let her gaze slide over his face, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks as she remembered the feel of his tongue parting her lips.

  “I’m glad to see that you’re at least as tired as I am,” he commented, oblivious to the course of her thoughts. “Otherwise, it would be difficult to sleep on the floor.”

  She grimaced, wondering how she could have thought him appealing only a moment before. He was a black-hearted scoundrel, nothing more. “I expected as much. You’d think you’d treat your sister with at least a little kindness and respect.” Alexandra knew she was foolish to play on Nathaniel’s belief that she was Lady Anne, but his haughtiness goaded her. “Do I at least get a blanket or a pillow?”

  “You’ll get what you earn.”

  Alexandra set her fork on the table with a thunk. “What does that mean?”

  “I could use a good massage.”

  “Hire a maid.”

  “Why should I, when I’ve got you? Besides, I can’t exactly bind and gag you and sit you in the corner. And I can’t invite anyone to my room with you on the loose.”

  Alexandra picked her fork back up and twirled it thoughtfully. “Only if I can earn the bed,” she said at last. “An hour’s massage for one night of sound sleep.”

  “A massage from a woman unused to giving that sort of thing—of giving anything—isn’t worth the bed. My best offer is a pillow and a blanket.”

  “I have strong hands.” Alexandra stood, rounded the table, and began to knead his shoulders.

  He moaned. “Very well. You can earn the bed.”

  Alexandra smiled to herself. Mayhap s
he could cause Nathaniel to lower his guard after all.

  When Nathaniel had set their dishes outside the door, he removed his shirt, exposing broad shoulders that tapered to a lean waist. A matting of dark hair covered his chest, trailing down his flat stomach to a mysterious end somewhere below his belt.

  Alexandra had to fight the impulse to stare. This man was a criminal. He had abducted her. Yet she could not explain the tremor that went through her at the sight of his naked torso.

  With effort, she pulled her gaze away and had him lie across the bed. She was not experienced with massage to any great extent, though sometimes her fellow needlewomen relieved the aches and pains caused from long hours of sitting by rubbing one another’s backs. Alexandra felt somewhat confident she could improvise from there. Of course, Nathaniel expected her to have received many massages over her lifetime. Such luxury was a favorite pastime of the aristocracy.

  Nathaniel’s back was smooth and tanned to a honey brown. Though Alexandra couldn’t help noticing his narrow hips, firm buttocks and long legs, it was his deformed arm that held her interest the longest. It was misshapen, to be sure, but it wasn’t a hideous appendage. The same golden skin covered it as the other.

  “What’s wrong?” Nathaniel’s eyes seemed to measure Alexandra carefully. “Are you going to give me a massage, or do you share our father’s distaste for my deformity?”

  Alexandra glanced away, embarrassed to have been caught gaping at him. “I was just wondering how I was going to get you off the bed should you fall asleep on it,” she lied.

  “You wouldn’t get me off. You’d run away. That’s why I won’t fall asleep.”

  Alexandra smiled in spite of herself. He thought he had guessed her plan. Perhaps she could surprise him.

  Climbing onto the bed, she positioned herself on her knees for maximum strength, then began to smooth out the corded muscles in Nathaniel’s back and neck. An occasional sigh told her she was successful in her desire to relax him, and to her surprise, she soon found herself enjoying her work. Nathaniel’s physical attributes were exceptional, from his thick black hair to his cleft chin. And there was something sensual about the way he smelled—all dust and sweat, leather and horses.