Of Noble Birth (8 page)

“Untie me.”

Nathaniel glanced up at
the sound of her voice. The others had nodded off. A few were even
snoring. He had been sleeping, too, but came instantly awake when
she spoke, making Alexandra wonder if he ever lowered his
guard.

“No.” He closed his eyes
again.

“Please. I can’t feel my
hands. Or do you think I might actually overpower the five of you
if given my freedom?”

“I don’t fear you in any
way.” He didn’t bother to look up.

“Then you’re simply being
cruel.”

Blue eyes regarded her
beneath half-open lids. “You’ve no idea of the meaning of the word,
although your father is certainly a master of the
discipline.”

“So he’s
my
father now? I don’t
even know the man. But a few hours ago, he was
our
father, if I remember
correctly.”

“Sometimes I’m loath to
make the connection.” Nathaniel sighed and shifted in his
seat.

“If he’s anything like
you, that’s understandable,” Alexandra muttered. Struggling against
her bonds, she tried to relieve the swelling in her hands. “What is
it you want from me?”

“I want nothing from you.
You are only a pawn.”

“So you don’t hate me
personally. Only my father. Or rather, this duke of, what is it,
Greystone?”

“You’re more astute than I
would have guessed.”

“If you have nothing
against me, then untie me.”

A lazy smile told her he
wasn’t even tempted. “If I unloose your claws, I’d not get any
sleep. I can hardly believe the hellcat we carried away from
Manchester would sit, docile.”

“A brougham is coming up
from behind,” Tiny called from the driver’s seat.

Nathaniel tensed and sat
up. “At this pace?”

“What is it?” Trenton
asked, yawning.

“Someone is about to
overtake us,” Nathaniel explained. “Pull off the road on the down
slope of the next hill as soon as you can find sufficient cover,”
he called back to Tiny. “We can’t outdistance anyone with these
nags.”

“Who do you suppose it
is?” asked a man with the shadow of two or three days’ beard
growth.

“I don’t think it’s
anything to do with us. But we can’t be too sure.” Nathaniel leaned
over and opened the door, sticking his head out to peer behind
them.

A biting, cold wind
smelling of heather and gorse rushed into the carriage, making
Alexandra shiver. While the day had been warm, the night promised
to be chilly, and she had fled Madame Fobart’s without so much as a
cloak.

“They’re too far back for
me to see,” Nathanial reported.

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.