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  As Alexandra’s hands glided over his warm skin, she wondered about the vendetta between Nathaniel and the Duke of Greystone. Why did Nathaniel hate his father so badly? Why would he risk a hangman’s noose to capture his sister? And what would he do when he finally learned that she was not Lady Anne?

  Alexandra dismissed the last question as irrelevant. She wouldn’t be around to find out. She’d be well on her way to London and to the safety of her aunt.

  Nathaniel’s eyes closed, and Alexandra felt the tension leave his body. She doubted he was asleep, but she only needed to dull his reaction by a fraction of a second. Keeping one hand working the muscles on each side of his spine, she reached back for the stiletto he kept in his right boot.

  Groaning softly when her fingers touched a particularly tender spot, Nathaniel shifted as if to make himself more comfortable. Alexandra almost had the knife. Gently lifting the leg of his pant, she quickly grasped the handle and pulled. The stiletto slid easily from its place, but Nathaniel’s reflexes were quicker than her own. He had her on her back, pinned beneath him, before she could threaten him in any way.

  “It would seem my massage is being cut short, so to speak.” He grinned, squeezing her hand until she dropped the knife. “Too bad. It felt good while it lasted, perhaps proving that even you have a few redeeming talents. Now I shall enjoy a good night’s rest while you languish on the floor.”

  “You had no intention of giving me the bed. You were only using it to bait me.”

  “Let’s just say that I have now learned what I needed to know. At least I won’t feel guilty while you sit on the floor, tied like a dog to the post.”

  Alexandra tried to free her hands from his punishing grip. She wanted to wipe that enraging smirk off his face. “I’ll scream if you bring that rope near me.”

  “Then I’ll gag you. For someone who hates a hood, you’re willing to risk much.”

  “You’re a cad.”

  “Which is far better than a fool, and a fool I’d be to let you get the better of me.”

  His eyes glittered like sun glinting off a blue sea, and Alexandra realized that Nathaniel might be many things, but a fool he was not. He had the senses of a cat, and the athletic prowess to match.

  “Let me up,” she said. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Certainly.” Kicking the knife far away from her reach, Nathaniel let her go. “No doubt you’re ready to retire, now that sleeping arrangements have been made.”

  Almost before Alexandra knew her own mind, her hand lashed out and slapped Nathaniel’s jeering face. They both rocked back, surprised when her palm hit its target with such force. A red welt appeared almost instantly.

  “I’m glad you’re so eager to deserve whatever treatment you receive,” he said, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her to the foot of the bed. “I was going to leave you enough rope to lie down, but with your peculiar brand of wisdom, you’d only hang yourself with it.”

  “No!” Unwilling to suffer the pain and degradation of being tied up all night, Alexandra began to struggle again. But it was only a matter of minutes before her hands were bound in front of her and then tied to the bed. As Nathaniel had promised, she didn’t have enough rope to lie down.

  “You’d better hope I don’t get free,” she threatened. “ You have to sleep sometime.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” he replied. “Perhaps I’m giving you too much credit, but if you do manage to get loose, it wouldn’t be a good idea to bother with me. The door is that way.”

  “Oh… you! You’re insufferable!” Bringing her knees up between her arms, Alexandra laid her head down and tried to block Nathaniel from her consciousness. She soon realized, however, that she would have to address him again.

  “You’ve got to untie me. I’ve got to…” she stopped, wondering how to tell him what she needed. “A lady needs a little privacy occasionally.”

  He crossed the room and retrieved the chamber pot from its place behind a cloth curtain in one corner of the room.

  “You’re not going to untie me?” Alexandra asked in surprise.

  “You don’t deserve it.”

  “But how will I—”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  “I deserve to take care of natural bodily functions without you watching my every move.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I have no interest in watching you.” He stretched out on the bed, lying on his stomach, his face buried in the crook of his arm.

  Alexandra made no move until she thought Nathaniel was asleep. “Boar… ogre,” she muttered to herself. “I hope your father catches you and hangs you from the tallest tree.”

  He didn’t respond.

  She pulled and twisted on the rope, but the knot proved tight and well made. She only managed to jerk the bed a few inches from the wall.

  “Hold still,” Nathaniel snapped, rolling onto his back and covering his eyes with his arm.

  Alexandra glared at him. “There will come a time, when I will even the score.”

  “Plan your revenge tomorrow,” he told her. “Get some sleep. You might need it.”

  With a sigh of defeat, Alexandra waited as long as she could before relieving herself. Then she eyed the screen dubiously, wondering how to return the pot to where it belonged. She certainly had no desire to sleep with it.

  Suddenly a wicked thought made her lips curl into a smile. Grabbing the enamel pot around the base, she prepared to launch it right on top of Nathaniel, smelly contents and all, when a cutting voice gave her pause.

  “You can’t imagine the terror of what I will do to you if you don’t put that thing down immediately.”

  So he was awake. Alexandra’s smile withered. He didn’t move to stop her, didn’t so much as remove his arm from across his eyes, but she got the feeling he was almost daring her to incur his full wrath.

  She clung to the pot for a long time, so sorely tempted that she had a difficult time letting wisdom overtake desire. When she finally set it down, she did so carefully, to ensure it wouldn’t splash on her, then pushed it as far under the bed as she could. If she made Nathaniel too angry, she’d start a fight she could only lose. And she didn’t want to incite his imagination as to the possibilities of what a strong man could do to a captive woman. He was a scoundrel if ever she’d met one. But he was right about one thing. Tomorrow was another day, and she’d do her best to make it as miserable for him as possible.

  Chapter 4

  Nathaniel feigned sleep until Anne finally nodded off. He couldn’t rest while she sat on the floor without so much as a blanket. That he admired her despite himself enraged him. She was certainly unlike the women of her class, most of whom were priggish and without an enlightened thought in their heads.

  Anne was quick-witted, courageous, and demonstrative. Nathaniel glanced with chagrin at his bandaged hand. Not many women he knew, or men for that matter, would have risked what she did to attract the attention of that brougham. It was a smart move. She knew he couldn’t harm her if he wanted to trade her for Richard. She had taken a calculated risk, and Nathaniel considered himself lucky that it hadn’t panned out for her.

  He frowned, glancing down at the foot of the bed where Anne’s head kept nodding off its perch upon her knees. She was indeed a brave girl. Every victory he obtained at her expense was hard-won. Perhaps he could be a little easier on her.

  Nathaniel untied the rope around the post, cursing himself for being a softhearted fool. Using his good arm for strength and his stump for balance, he gently lifted Anne and laid her on the other side of the bed. She stirred but didn’t come fully awake. Then he fastened the rope to the post above her head and covered her with blankets.

  Lying back down, Nathaniel moved carefully so he wouldn’t wake her. It had been a long day. He watched his captive curl into a ball, giving the appearance of almost childlike innocence, and felt a flicker of desire at the sight of her more feminine curves.

  Shocked by his body’s effrontery, he q
uickly diverted his thoughts. Anne was his sister. Beyond that, she had been raised with everything he had been denied—the money, the power, the family. He should hate her.

  And he did, Nathaniel told himself. It was just that any woman so fair of face and form would make his pulse quicken. But when he fell asleep he dreamed of long blond hair spilling down onto his naked chest. And the woman above him was Anne.

  He woke suddenly, disgusted that his subconscious would betray him with such incestuous fantasy. It had been too long since he had enjoyed the company of the fairer sex, he decided. Planning to remedy that as soon as he could and thereby put a quick end to the madness of his mind, he shifted in the bed to ease a cramped muscle and felt Anne’s womanly softness pressed to his backside. She had migrated the full length of the rope toward him, instinctively searching for the warmth his body radiated.

  Nathaniel swallowed hard as the flicker of desire he had experienced earlier flared again, fanned by his dream and the wonderful feel of her. Anne had no idea where she was, he knew, and he smiled to think of how she might react if she were to awaken at this moment.

  No doubt she’d try to hit him again. He touched his cheek where she had slapped him earlier and decided he was glad her hands were tied.

  Anne murmured something unintelligible, then snuggled more closely against him. He decided not to disturb her. Though he dared not allow himself to touch the flesh that molded so comfortably to his side, the light scent of perfume that clung to her clothes was a treat in itself.

  * * *

  Alexandra woke by degrees. Sun filtered into the room through a large gap in the draperies, which had been drawn across the window. For a moment she imagined herself in her own bed. She burrowed deeper into the quilts, luxuriating in their warmth, until something, or rather someone, moved. Then the events of the previous day came back to her in a flood of remembering. Nathaniel! What was he up to now?

  Her eyelids flew open, but she couldn’t see him. He was behind her, his chest to her back, his legs curving beneath her buttocks. The last thing she recalled was the cold, hard floor. How did she come to be in his bed?

  Lying very still, Alexandra listened as Nathaniel’s slow, regular breathing tickled the hair above her ear. His body was relaxed, formed comfortably to her own. She was certain he was asleep. But he was more like a black panther than a man. Sleek, well muscled, always wary, he could pounce anytime. She’d have to be very careful.

  Cautiously inching away, Alexandra wondered again how she came to be in that cozy spot. She had never been so close to a man. Willy had kept her closeted away, toiling in the house or garret. The pleasures typically associated with intimacy remained a complete mystery, but the feelings she’d experienced in those first moments of wakefulness had spoken volumes. She had felt more content, more complete, than ever before. In a way, that revelation frightened her almost as much as Nathaniel did. If all men were like her stepfather, they weren’t to be trusted.

  At the edge of the bed, Alexandra let her feet slide silently to the floor. A backward glance confirmed that Nathaniel’s sooty lashes still rested on his cheeks. His chest, broad and golden, continued to rise and fall gently. He didn’t so much as stir.

  She let her breath out and began, once again, to work the rope that bound her hands. She had to escape. Nothing she said convinced him or any of the others that she wasn’t who they thought she was.

  Her wrists were chafed and bleeding by the time Alexandra managed to loosen the tarry bands enough to reach the knot with her fingers. Still, she was making little progress. The rope was too well tied.

  Frustration threatened to bring her temper to a boil. Drawing in a deep breath, Alexandra tried to calm herself. She needed to think. There had to be some quicker way to escape. Nathaniel wouldn’t sleep forever.

  Glancing around the room, Alexandra’s gaze lighted on the dagger he had thrown away from her the night before. If only she could reach it. She crept forward, straining as the rope became taut, but it was no use. The knife remained several feet beyond her farthest reach.

  Damn Nathaniel. Damn the bloody luck that landed her in his hands on the very day she planned to escape from Willy. Would she never be free? She’d been Willy’s slave, his whipping post, his convenient victim. But something inside her had received its full measure, and regardless of the consequences, she could take no more abuse.

  Flouncing back onto the bed, Alexandra used her feet to deliver the blows she wished her fists could land.

  “You!” she accused, venting her rage at last, “I hate you!”

  Nathaniel yelped in surprise. Coming instantly awake, he tried to ward Alexandra off, barely managing to save himself from a hard fall to the ground.

  “So this is my reward for sharing my bed?” he asked in astonishment.

  “Am I supposed to be grateful to you? When I shouldn’t be here in the first place?”

  She launched a heel into his muscular inner thigh, and Nathaniel sprang to his feet. He was wearing only his trousers, and his stomach looked flat and hard, nothing like Willy’s rounded paunch, though Alexandra tried not to notice. Determined to land a powerful blow, she aimed for his groin, but Nathaniel whirled away, making her miss him completely.

  He caught her foot with his hand, tripping her, and together they tumbled back onto the bed.

  Alexandra winced in pain as he landed on top of her, then she tried to twist away from his grasp by rolling to her right. But Nathaniel had ahold of her dress. She gasped in surprise when she heard the fabric rip.

  Nathaniel froze, and she went limp. His gaze dipped to the top of her décolletage, which now revealed a bounty of soft, rounded breasts bulging above her corset.

  His mouth quirked into a grin. “As much as I feel rewarded for this little tussle, might I suggest that propriety would be better served by a more ladylike demeanor? I might be your half brother, but I’m no eunuch.”

  “Let me go,” Alexandra pleaded, frightened by his look of open admiration. The blue of his eyes had deepened to inky black, and he was brazen enough not to look away.

  Again, Alexandra felt grateful that Nathaniel believed her to be his sister, for it might be the only thing to keep her safe from him. At the moment, even that seemed a thin thread on which to hang her well-being.

  “Let me go,” she repeated. “I’ve never done anything to you. I don’t even know you.”

  His smile disappeared. “This isn’t between you and me.”

  “Then let me go.”

  “I can’t.”

  Alexandra recognized determination in the set of his jaw, the rigid line of his shoulders. Nathaniel was a much more formidable foe than Willy ever was, and would not be easy to outwit. He was strong, and cunning, with a fierceness that frightened her. Something told Alexandra that nothing would sway him from his purpose.

  “Let me up,” she said, feeling all too vulnerable. She wanted to cover what the tear revealed, stop his unwanted appraisal.

  Nathaniel rolled off her slowly, as though he anticipated another sharp heel to a potentially vulnerable part of his anatomy.

  Alexandra worked her way to the side of the bed, where she stood and turned away.

  “Look what you’re doing to yourself,” Nathaniel said in a softer tone. “Come here.”

  Her hair had come loose from its pins and tumbled down her back in disarray. Tucking what she could behind her ear, she glanced back over her shoulder to see blood from her wounded wrists, red on the sheets. “No.”

  “Come here, you little fool,” he insisted. “I’m going to untie you. Though you haven’t earned your freedom, you’re not smart enough to quit straining against the rope.”

  A sharp knock and Trenton’s voice through the panel turned Nathaniel’s attention to the door. He strode across the floor, and when he unbolted the lock, Trenton nearly fell inside.

  “There’s a man searching the docks for you,” he explained, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. Then he caught sight of Alexa
ndra’s disheveled appearance and the bed.

  “Oh hell, Nathaniel. How could you? She’s your sister. The duke will never let something like this go unpunished.” He began to pace the floor. “I should have stayed with you last night. I knew you wanted revenge, but I never dreamed you’d take it this way.”

  Nathaniel appeared puzzled until the line of his vision followed Trenton’s to the sheets. Then his eyes went wide as he realized what his friend believed.

  “Wait.” He lifted a hand in protest. Crossing to Alexandra, he indicated her wrists. “‘Tis this you see, nothing more.”

  Trenton raised his brows as Nathaniel threw his cloak over Alexandra’s shoulders, inadvertently making the tear in her bodice more obvious as well.

  “I tell you, I was more abused last night than she. I vow she bears my father’s ill-humor,” Nathaniel told him.

  Pausing as though weighing the proof in the room against his trust, Trenton said, “She tore her own gown, I suppose?”

  “It’s a long story.” Nathaniel waved him off. “But I’m sure you didn’t come here to rescue the virtuous maid. So what is it?”

  “We’ve got problems.”

  “What?”

  Alexandra trained her eyes on Trenton’s face, wondering if their problems were also her problems. Could things get any worse?

  “There’s someone visiting the taverns along the wharf asking for you. I’m not sure who he is, but he claims to carry a message from your father.”

  Nathaniel stroked the black stubble that had begun to grow on his chin. “Why is that a problem? That’s just what we’ve been hoping for.”

  Trenton frowned, causing his brows to pucker. “I’m not so sure. If you’d seen this fellow, you might agree. He calls himself Rat, and he doesn’t look like anyone your father would normally deal with. I told him you’d meet him at noon today, just in case, but I’m not sure you should go.”