A shiver of revulsion raced through him.
Now it all became clear.
Why Simone had been kidnapped and then so easily allowed to escape. Why the henchmen did not attack, and instead attempted to push him toward this dark corner.
Tristan had deliberately sought a means to rid himself of Gideon, using Simone as bait. And rather than facing him in an honorable fashion he had sunk to means beyond all shame.
Feeling rough hands pushing at his back, Gideon effortlessly stepped to one side and brought up his dagger to slice at the nearest servant. He managed to cut the man’s upper arm, but he did not even blink as he continued to grasp for Gideon. Another set of hands caught his arm and Gideon heaved him aside. His momentary distraction, however, left him open to attack from the other side and he barely had time to turn as a third villain threw himself directly into his midsection and knocked him to the ground.
Gideon’s head hit the flagstone with a dull thud, and for a moment he was dazed. He thrust out with the dagger, managing to split open the stomach of the man who leaned over him, but his head exploded in pain once again as one of the men swung a cudgel to his right temple.
With blood pouring down his face, Gideon struggled to regain his footing. Although he was far more powerful than the humans, he was weakened by the blow to his head and hampered by the nearby snare that threatened his very existence.
Gaining his knees he reached out to efficiently hamstring the scoundrel with the cudgel, but a sharp pain in his side warned him that one of the two men still standing had drawn his own dagger. The stinging blade continued to rein blows upon him as the other man attempted to drag him closer to the snare.
Gideon growled in fury, fighting back the blackness that threatened to overcome him. He swung out with his blade, but without warning the man pulling at his arm suddenly crumpled at his side. He blinked through the blood running into his eyes, his heart freezing as he watched Simone swinging a lead pipe with frenzied strength. Moving around him she continued to swing until with a loud crack it connected with the remaining villain’s head and he tumbled forward with a low grunt.
For a moment shock and pain held him silent as he regarded the slender warrior with golden curls and deadly pipe, then with a low, rumbling laugh he collapsed onto the hard stone floor.
Shaking from head to toe, Simone sank on her knees beside Gideon.
Even in the shadows she could see the dark blood flowing through his jacket from the half dozen stab wounds. Even worse, his face was nearly unrecognizable as a large lump swelled until he could not open his right eye. There was a deep gash on his forehead that still bled and another she discovered as her hands brushed through the thick ebony hair at the back of his head.
It was a wonder he was still alive, she acknowledged with a grim pain that bore a hole straight through her heart. With such a loss of blood combined with the horrid blows to his head, a lesser man would have been ready for his grave.
“Hold on, Gideon,” she pleaded softly, unaware that tears ran unchecked down her cheeks.
Preparing to rise and go in search of help, Simone nearly swooned with relief when a scuffling noise at the doorway was followed by the familiar forms of Gideon’s coachman and a groom.
“Lady Gilbert?” the coachman called hesitantly.
“Over here, and please hurry,” she said in impatient tones, forcing her wobbly knees to hold her as she pressed herself upright. “Mr. Ravel has been hurt.”
Sparing a speculative gaze at the four men in varying stages of unconsciousness, the coachman swiftly joined Simone, followed closely by the groom.
“Bloody hell,” the coachman choked out at the sight of his master so badly wounded, only to give a sudden cough. “Pardon me, my lady.”
She waved aside his discomfort. “We must get him to the carriage.”
“Yes, at once.”
With a motion to the groom, the older man bent to drape one of Gideon’s arms over his shoulders then, waiting for his companion to do the same, they carefully hauled the barely conscious man upright.
It was a struggle to lead Gideon out of the building and down the alley, but with a great deal of grunting and an occasional muffled curse the two servants managed to half drag their master the length of the street and load him into the carriage. Trailing behind, Simone still clenched her thick pipe, silently praying, and at the same time keeping careful watch for any hidden ruffians.
She would not be caught unaware again, she told herself with a shudder at the memory of being roughly captured by the strange villains. Even now her stomach threatened to heave at the feeling of being utterly helpless as she was being tied to the post with no notion of what was to happen to her.
Worse even than those nights her sister would come and drag her from her bed ...
Simone gave a sharp shake of her head as she climbed into the carriage behind Gideon. Now was not the time for such thoughts.
Somehow she had to ensure that Gideon did not die.
Sinking onto the floor of the carriage she regarded the man sprawled upon the carriage seat.
“We must get him to a doctor,” she said to the two servants who both hovered in the doorway with matching frowns of concern.
“No,” Gideon abruptly moaned. “Take me home.”
Simone raised herself to her knees to glare down at him. “Do not be a fool. You are badly injured.”
He reached up to grasp her wrist, the black eyes glittering between his thick lashes.
“Simone, I wish to go home.”
“You need a doctor... .”
“Gads, must you always argue with me?” he demanded with a weak smile.
Allowing her gaze to lower to the shredded jacket, Simone noted that most of the blood had already begun to dry. Perhaps the wounds had not been as severe as she had first feared.
In any event, she could always send for a doctor once they reached Mayfair.
“Very well,” she grudgingly conceded. “But if you die on me ...”
“I will not die, that I can promise you,” he retorted in darkly certain tones. “Now, can we please be on our way?”
Needing no further prompting the coachman and groom hurriedly shut the door and scrambled into their positions. With a crack of the whip they were bowling away from the dank streets of St. Giles and threading their way to the more respectable neighborhoods.
Simone grasped the edge of the seat as she continued to kneel over Gideon, barely resisting the urge to trace the battered features of his countenance.
The swelling of his eye appeared to be lessening but she knew that the pain must be near unbearable. No one could endure being stabbed and beaten with such savagery and not be in utter agony, regardless of his annoyingly male determination to be brave.
Unable to do anything for the wounds, she reached out to squeeze his fingers, hoping to at least distract him from his pain.
“How did you find me?” she asked softly.
He grimaced as he turned his head so he could meet her worried gaze.
“I was at your home when the lad came to tell me that you had been taken. He was quick-witted enough to follow the hack so I would know where to search.”
Simone briefly recalled a grimy-faced lad that had been hovering outside the brewery when she had dashed out to find a weapon to use upon those madmen attacking Gideon. At the time she had barely noted him, but now she realized that the pointed face and overlarge ears had seemed vaguely familiar. As if she had seen him in the streets more than once.
She gave a faint shake of her head. “But how did he know who I am or where I live?”
“It seems that all of London knows of the ‘Wicked Temptress,’” he attempted to tease in light tones.
Simone was not so readily convinced that the lad just happened to know who she was, nor that he would risk himself being connected with the villains by going to her house.
Indeed, she was beginning to suspect that the boy was in the employ of Gideon Ravel and was being paid to follow her.
“Mmmm.”
His lips twitched at her knowing glance, but it was swiftly followed by a grimace as the carriage hit a stray stone.
“Are you hurt?”
“A few scratches and bruises, but nothing that will not heal. I was more frightened than anything,” she wryly admitted.
“Not nearly frightened enough, obviously.” The dark gaze suddenly glittered. “When I am recovered we will have a long discussion concerning your foolish behavior. I told you to escape.”
She gave a loud sniff, not about to admit that she would have as soon stabbed herself in the heart as to have left him to the mercy of the scoundrels.
Such a confession would reveal far more than she was ready to admit even to herself.
“You do not give me commands, Mr. Ravel,” she told him pertly.
His fingers abruptly squeezed her own with surprising strength. “I will not allow you to be harmed. No matter what the cost.”
Her heart gave an odd shudder at his fierce words, but she managed to keep herself from behaving like one of those foolish chits that simpered and purred at every man who cast a glance in their direction.
“Who were those men?” she demanded.
“Wretched souls who have fallen into the power of Mr. Soltern.”
“They were ...” She shivered as she recalled the blank, slack-jawed men who had treated her more as a piece of trash they had picked up off the street than a lady. “I do not know. It was almost as if they were ill.”
“Their minds have been destroyed beyond hope.”
“Destroyed?” Her breath caught in her throat. “How?”
There was a moment’s pause before he at last answered, “Fear.”
That was not what he had been about to say, but she was not at all certain that she desired to know the truth.
If Mr. Soltern could do that to men toughened by the harsh streets of London, what could he possibly do to her?
“Why did they not simply take my necklace if that is what they wanted? I could not have halted them.”
“I do not believe it was the necklace they desired.”
“Then, what? Money?”
“Perhaps,” he replied.
It was a perfectly reasonable deduction, but Simone found herself recalling how easily she managed to slip from the ruffians once Gideon had arrived. They had not so much as called out when she had been bundled out of the door.
“No, not money,” she said slowly. “Once you entered the building they made no effort to hold me captive. They were only interested in you.”
“Perhaps because I was the one holding the dagger,” he suggested in dry tones.
“It was more than that, they were seeking to harm you,” she reasoned out loud, her brow furrowed as she recalled the manner the villains had surrounded Gideon. Then suddenly her eyes widened as the truth at last struck her. “That was why I was captured. To lure you to that building. Mr. Soltern wanted you... .”
“There is little use in dwelling upon Mr. Soltern’s motives,” he firmly interrupted. “We are safe.”
Simone shivered as she regarded his poor, battered countenance. He had come so horridly close to death.
“Until he decides to try again.”
“We shall take greater precautions from now on.” The carriage rattled to a halt and he offered her a strained smile. “Ah, I believe we have arrived. My coachman will see you home.”
She offered him a frown of outrage at his presumption. “Do not be daft. I am not leaving you.”
“Simone.” He gave her fingers a warning squeeze. “Wicked temptress or not, you cannot be seen entering a bachelor’s establishment without so much as a maid to give you countenance.”
She gave an impatient click of her tongue. “You are injured.”
“Society will not care.”
“Well, I care,” she announced in stern tones. “Now, hush so the servants can help you inside.”
The dark gaze narrowed at her commanding tone, but at that moment the door was pulled open and Simone hurried out of the carriage so that the servants could help Gideon to the house.
She was not about to leave his side until she was absolutely certain he was properly attended to.
It took surprisingly little effort to negotiate Gideon from the carriage and into the house. In fact, he barely allowed either of the servants to do more than help keep him steady, and Simone gave a disbelieving shake of her head.
She would have sworn he was a breath away from dying when they had been in the brewery. It seemed amazing he was still conscious, let alone walking.
Entering the foyer, Simone halted as the servants continued up the stairs with Gideon. She knew that he would probably balk at having her present when they undressed him and put him to bed, although she would readily have done the task herself if only to assure herself that his wounds were not as grievous as she had feared.